#being pretentious about liking small bands is actually great because you never have to put yourself through too much to get a good view and

[bioaccumulation]

lov my chemical romance... but hate stadium tours so much...

[hopetofantasy]

‘HUMO’s big youth survey - Sex, love and relationships’ - With Nathan Bouts

- TW: explicit content and mentions of sexual assault, intimidation, getting drugged, (internalized) homophobia, slutshaming, dubious consent, sexualization -

‘How does youth look at love? Do they go all out or keep it safe with a round of virtual sex? An experienced trio may reveal it all: Billie Leyers (25) is the third child from the well-known family Leyers and singer-song writer. Marie Van Uytvanck (21) recently kicked it off with her band Kids With Buns all the way to the semi-finals of ‘Humo’s Rock Rally’. For the testosterone at this table we’ve got Nathan Bouts (22), actor in the youth series��‘wtFOCK’. ‘I long for some spontaneity again. May I squeeze your butt?’

- Note from hopetofantasy: Marie is the same person who made the LGBT+ podcast, where Yara Veyt talked about her sexuality. -

The first number: 6 out of 10 youngsters think a serious relationship is important. Do you guys dream about that? Billie Leyers: “A lot of my girl friends are really looking for steady relationships. I’m not that type of person, I’d like to see what crosses my path. But for some kind of reason I still end up in one. Since I’ve been sexually active - soon it’ll be 10 years ago: huray! - I’ve had three long relationships. Now I’ve been together with Jasper (Maekelberg, from ‘Faces on TV’) for two and a half years. Coincidentally, it’s the man I wish to grow old with.” Nathan Bouts: “I think a serious relationship is a nice idea, but at the moment I don’t have one.” What kind of boxes should a potential partner tick on your list? Nathan Bouts: “Sounds pretentious, but I want someone with a certain intellectual level, someone I can talk to. She must be sure of herself.” Billie Leyers: “It’s the same for me. It doesn’t matter if someone is a good plumber, an actor or a musician, he should come home and talk about his day with passion. The biggest turn-off is someone who just smokes joints on a couch and doesn’t know how to handle his life.” Marie Van Uytvanck: “I might have a really weird box to tick: if I get to know someone, I want to see her Spotify-playlist. I can be really attracted to someone with the right playlist.”

Has Spotify provided you with a relationship yet? Marie Van Uytvanck: “Not yet. The fact that I was stuck in the closet for a long time, sure has something to do with that. I think a lot of people might have wondered for a long time if I was asexual. So, no. It just took me seven years before I was completely ready to share it with everyone.” You made a podcast about it: the ‘Uit De PodKast’. There, you talk about how you’ve told your parents. Marie Van Uytvanck: “Friends knew it already, but I waited a long time to come out at home. Actually, my parents just know about it recently: I’ve told them during lockdown, with a letter. Their reaction was really sweet. They mostly felt shitty for me, because I felt unhappy about it for years on end - I’ve known I liked girls since I was 14. I’ve never had a serious relationship, but I’ve dated someone for a long time. Even that was very complicated, because I was still in the closet. So we saw each other in secret at a café across the country (*laughs*). Ridiculous: two girls could sit next to one another perfectly, without people thinking they’d be on a date.” How is your relationship with your parents? I’m wondering, because there doesn’t seem to be a conflict between generations with the current one: four out of ten would even like to live in the same area as their parents.  Marie Van Uytvanck: “Since I came out to them, our bond has strengthened. Right before my coming out, it was a bit weird. During that time we went on vacation together. I’ve never longed for my own dorm more than on that trip. But now, I like to hug my mom all the time. The big secret isn’t a road block between us anymore.” Billie Leyers: “I live with my partner, but I get a long with my parents very well. Sometimes too much, I guess. If I didn’t call them or one of my sisters by noon, then Jasper asks me what’s wrong. Why should we even rebel to our parents? I’ve got the impression that their generation was far more rock-and-roll than ours. My dad gets annoyed at the festivals nowadays: opening bags and searching people, what’s rock-and-roll about that? Back in his days, everything was far more relaxed. They were the generation of the orgies. I wouldn’t mind to go back to that. It’s all too goody-goody now.” RETWEET! Out of all the serious relationships between young people, one out of five people met online. Five years ago, that number was only 15 percent.  Marie Van Uytvanck: “I’ve done it a few times, but I don’t think Tinder dating is pleasant. The idea that you meet someone and have to approve them, doesn’t feel right to me. Spontaneously meeting someone in-person with whom it clicks, seems way more fun. Even when it’s not that easy, since I fall for people of the same sex.” Billie Leyers: “I’ve got zero experience with Tinder. My relationships always started at school.” Like 1 out of 3 youngsters.  Billie Leyers: “I’ve met Jasper at school too: he was the mentor for my thesis. So yeah, I’ve run off with the teacher (*laughs*). I’ve seen it in my environment though, online dating. They’d be chatting for weeks or months, eventually meet up and then find out that there is no spark between them. It’s a shame, three months of your life in the thrash.” Marie Van Uytvanck: “Of course: you’ve been idolizing them for a while. Also, in a chat conversation you can still think before you send something, so no mistakes either.” Corona has been an obstacle in the life of the single: 73 percent of them hasn’t had new dates since March.  Nathan Bouts: “I didn’t experience the lockdown as dramatic. I just completely focussed on my music. With results, since my first single will be released soon.” Marie Van Uytvanck: “So you didn’t do anything the whole time? Not that I’ve done illegal dates during lockdown, but afterwards I’ve had some new dates. And no, it wasn’t always with social distance or face masks. Dating like that, seems a bit weird, no? (*Speaks to Billie*) Wasn’t it hard for you guys, as a couple?” Billie Leyers: “With a lot of couples it was the one or the other: they fell in love more than ever or it was over. It went surprisingly well with us: we’re perfectly in tune with each other. We give each other the much needed space.” Nathan Bouts: “That’s a great relationship you have! It seems fun to have something similar during the next lockdown, even though I’m kinda attached to my own independence. I’ve had a relationship of three years. If we were together for a week, I needed a few days to myself afterwards. Also, I think it’s terrible to sleep next to someone.” Marie Van Uytvanck: “Retweet! I’ve got the exact same. During the day, I’m already all over the place: I’ve got ADHD and talk too much. So when I get home, I’d like to go to bed, lay in my own smell.”

SQUIRREL IN BED Only 5 percent of serious teen relationship have met each other at a café. Do you guys walk up to someone at the bar? Billie Leyers: “Only the creepy types still do that. ‘You seem nice. Can I have your number?’ Then you leap back immediately, if you’re a woman.” Nathan Bouts: “Really? I think a guy could still do that though. I don’t - I hate flirting - but I see a lot of friends of mine do the same. They even use me. Then they pull me along at my arm, until the girl - they like to hit on - sees me: “Look, it’s my friend, Jens from ‘wtFOCK’. My character is a somewhat chill dude without any complexes, who’s seriously confident, so that resonates with the ladies. I don’t want to use that to impress them, but my friends don’t get it: ‘Why don’t you use that attention to sleep around?’.” That would be the 14 percent who fits the statement: if you’re young, you have to try as many sex partners as you like. Billie Leyers: “I’m not a guy, but the time you could dance with a girl and suddenly kiss her on the mouth, is completely behind us, I guess. If you’re not careful, they could accuse you of sexual assault afterwards. I long for a time we could do that again. Not that I’m pro-sexual assault, but a little bit of spontaneity is allowed, right? Everything has a question mark now: may I kiss you? May I squeeze your butt? Life has gotten less romantic.” Marie Van Uytvanck: “At parties, I still see - excuse me: saw - that happening, though: squeezing the butt. All my girl friends are bothered by it.” Nathan Bouts: “(*nods*) Some of my friends can’t go out for an evening of dancing without some dude grinding against them.” Billie Leyers: “But those are the creepy types. Only them still dare to try. Although: a while ago, I was walking over the Groenplaats with my bike in hand. Suddenly some guy asked me timidly if he could walk along. First I thought it was weird, but it was kinda cute too. He walked with me and said goodbye in a polite way. He probably noticed that my ‘I’m taken’-light was on. If I was single, I might have given him my number. That would be a nice story, right?” Do you think, just like almost one out of three young people, that #metoo is being greatly exaggerated? When asked the guys, it’s even 38 percent. Billie Leyers: “Difficult topic. I’m not that into hashtag MeToo, I guess.” Marie Van Uytvanck: “You have to be careful with statements like that. I do think people abuse the #metoo to get attention. It’s a small amount of people, but like that, they ensure that serious issues get cast into the shadow and that people even use the hashtag as a joke.” Something is happening though: 1 out of 4 girls say they’ve experienced sexual assault and intimidation. Billie Leyers: “Are those also the girls who get squeezed in the butt? For me, sexual intimidation resonates more with skewed balances of power at work. It’s still disgusting of course, but different than someone who puts his hand on your arm at the bar. I think we’ve gone too far in that issue. We’re all human and fumble about.” Marie Van Uytvanck: “You’re right in that. One time, there was a guy a few meters away, starting at a girl on the dance floor. Okay, that wasn’t nice, but it was the ‘Gentse Feesten’ (= a 10-day music and theatre festival in Ghent, known for its partying until the late hours) and everyone was drunk. Suddenly that girl said: ‘I’m gonna fix this.’ She went to get security and they tossed the guy out, while everyone was looking at him as if he was the biggest pervert, who assaulted her. On the other hand, I heard a lot of complaints of girls that they’ve been drugged at parties too.” Nathan Bouts: “Not only girls experience that. I was at a party once and a girl put a bottle of water in my hand, while asking: ‘You thirsty?’. I don’t know if that water was meant for me, but I’m sure they put something in it: I felt weird and dizzy afterwards, I barely made it home with my bike. At home, I sat on the toilet for three hours, not knowing where I was.” Of the girls who had sex, a third did experience it (once) against their wishes. 16 percent of guys state the same. Marie Van Uytvanck: “Last year I was on a trip to Berlin with my class. In the club a woman drugged one of the boys and got him off. If that’s not assault, I don’t know it anymore... But the weird thing was: the boy acted as if nothing was wrong. He even seemed proud of it.” Billie Leyers: “For men, the cliché still stands: every guy likes to get a blowjob. If the guy was proud for real, though, there shouldn’t be a problem.” Did you experience sex against your will, Nathan? Nathan Bouts: “Not really against my will, but it happens that I lose the desire halfway through. It’s my own issue: I get distracted really easily. I could be having sex and suddenly think: why did Nelson Mandela die? Or which color should I paint my wall?” Marie Van Uytvanck: “So relatable. Do you have ADHD too?” Nathan Bouts: “Could be: I’ve got the attention span of a squirrel. Sometimes I can get distracted by the abstract aspect of ‘sex’ itself: what in god’s name is my body actually doing? Then it suddenly gets too graphic.” Now I’m very curious of your first time. Nathan Bouts: “Terrible! When I was 14, I was going to, but then she changed her mind. I didn’t mind that it eventually took a few years: I was 17. What can I say about it? The expectations were high, but not a lot happened.” Billie Leyers: “Isn’t the first time clumsy for everyone? (*to HUMO*) Don’t you have any statistics about that?” Not about that, but I do have numbers about the age of young people when they first have sex. Guess. Nathan Bouts: “Pretty young, I guess. 14? 15? That’s what I hear around me.” 16,7. That’s barely a difference with 2015 (16,6) or even 2010 (16,8). And everyone keeps thinking that young people do it at a younger age. Billie Leyers: “I’ve had a false start, like Nathan: when I was 14, it almost happened. But as soon it was clear that he was going for more, I thought: ‘ho, we’re not going to do that!’ After that experience, it took me two more years before I went all the way. (*to Marie*) So, question: have you ever felt something for a guy?” Marie Van Uytvanck: “Yes. I can feel sexually attracted to a boy, but not romantically. I don’t get butterflies in my stomach for boys.” Five years ago 70 percent of girls thought love and sex should always go together, now only half thinks that way - just like the guys. Do girls have more meaningless one night stands too? Marie Van Uytvanck: “Just with someone random? I don’t like that at all.” Billie Leyers: “I think it might be something. I told before that I usually have long relationships, but in that period between two relationships my inner Samantha from ‘Sex and the city’ emerges and then I could go for a one night stand. When I’m single, I’m a different version of myself, more animal than human, and totally focussed on the physical.” Never had a bad experience? Billie Leyers: “Oh, I did. Once I thought, even before it ended: oops, I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t stay the night, but I left at 6 o’clock in the morning. The regret already appeared. With a good one night stand, both parties are on the same wavelength: you both know it’s noncommittal, almost for sport.” Don’t you get looks for that, as a woman? Billie Leyers: “I’m not the last drunk girl on the dance floor and someone who sits on some other guys’ lap a half an hour later. If you go to your place with a one night stand in a discreet way, nobody will point fingers.” Nathan Bouts: “I wish I could do that, cut sex from love, but I’m too self-conscious for one night stands. Before I can be completely vulnerable, I have to know the other person through and through. Once, I’ve tried it, but as soon as we were laying in bed, I didn’t felt the spark anymore and I just wanted to leave. I couldn’t even get him up. I did went down on the girl and apologized: ‘Sorry, I don’t think more than this will happen’.” Marie Van Uytvanck: “Crazy that I heard that from a guy’s mouth, for once.” The young people who did have sex, have done it with an average of five different people. In 2015 it still was 3,3. With guys, the number is even higher than girls: seven compared to three. Nathan Bouts: “I’m far below that: I’ve only been with two girls in total.” Billie Leyers: “(*shocked*) Really? I’ve got more. That’s probably my Samantha that has something to do with that.” Marie Van Uytvanck: “I didn’t have that many sex partners either, especially with the whole closet-thing. If you have sex with a woman, then the question remains: what’s sex and what’s foreplay? Do you count going down as sex or foreplay? Even among us, dykes, we’ve got that kind of conversations. Everyone sees that differently.” Should you, as a girl, better name a lower number every time when it comes to sexual partners? Billie Leyers: “I guess you better not say a number higher than the average.” Marie Van Uytvanck: “I don’t have that impression. Don’t boys experience the same, nowadays? ‘He fucks everyone’.” Nathan Bouts: “Actually, yes. Men can be sluts too.” TRIO WITH A LOG From the survey we can conclude that girls go for partners of the same sex far more than boys.  Billie Leyers: “Between my almost-first time and my real first time, I’ve been with a girl for a year. She was my best friend. Our first kiss was a joke, but soon enough it turned into something serious. We were in love, although you should take that with a grain of salt: we were in love like 15-year-olds could be in love. They didn’t know that at home: I only stayed over at her place for a suspicious amount. I can still feel attracted to girls, but I couldn’t be with a girl anymore. Emotionally, it’s too much and physical it’s too less.” Nathan Bouts: “Boys won’t admit quickly that they would like to try something with a boy. We still live in a macho culture.” The statistics are worrying: 1 out of 6 boys think it’s a problem if there’s a gay friend within their group. A quarter doesn’t think having a transgender between their mates is okay. Nathan Bouts: “I’ve kissed a dude before. I don’t think it’s disgusting at all. I can still look at a man and think: that’s a handsome man. Not that I have the desire to give him a blowjob, far from it, but objectively, I can still find a man beautiful. I think a lot of men think like that, but won’t dare to admit it. For me, that seems like bottled up macho frustrations. I’m not bothered by it.” Marie Van Uytvanck: “When I was prepubescent, I had a weird phase where I didn’t notice that I might be gay, even though it was as obvious as it could be. Not that I participated in gay bashing or made homophobic comments, but I pretended that I thought it was disgusting. I was probably scared of how people would look at me if they knew. (*to Nathan*) Did you know you’re in my podcast? I’m using a scene from wtFOCK where your voice can be heard. It’s such an amazing tv series for young people who are gay, because you guys treat it as a normal thing. As a teen, I missed characters or storylines where I could recognize myself in.” Nathan Bouts: “We’ve often received reactions from young people who are grateful for what we did. Because of us, they took that step to come out.” For the first time, we asked young people to define themselves. 9 percent checked the ‘bisexual’ box, 4 percent call themselves ‘gay’ or ‘lesbian’. How do you guys define yourself? Marie Van Uytvanck: “I’m homo-romantic and bisexual, but you can call me gay. Rather that than ‘lesbian’, because that sounds ugly.” Billie Leyers: “I think all those labels are a bit tiring.” Nathan Bouts: “Me too. If I have to, I’ll define myself as heterosexual, but at the same time I think it’s difficult to label myself. Who knows if in one year, I’ll meet a man whom I could fall in love with.” Marie Van Uytvanck: “Nice that you can admit that, as a man.” Something seems wrong with the tolerance of boys: two girls who walk hand-in-hand, is a problem for 7 percent of them and 28 percent still thinks it’s weird. Marie Van Uytvanck: “I never walk hand-in-hand on the street, but I wouldn’t do that with a boy either. I simply don’t like it. From the girls who do, I hear that they keep getting sexualized: then they’ll get horny comments directed at them.” Nathan Bouts: “It’s because of porn: lesbian porn is the most viewed category - I read that somewhere.” Are you part of the 30 percent that has seen porn with their partner? Nathan Bouts: “With a partner, I wouldn’t do that. You still have each other?” Billie Leyers: “Nowadays everyone can admit that they watch porn. Watching it together has a certain thrill to it. You’re getting horny by watching the same thing, without touching each other. That’s part of the fun.” Nathan Bouts: “Hm, maybe I should try it.” Something else you could try: sex with multiple partners at once. 6 percent of the sexual active youth has done it. Nathan Bouts: “I don’t know if that’s my ambition, a threesome. It would make me even more self-conscious. And I would think of the practical stuff: how do I organize that? What’s my role? Do I have enough hands to pleasure everyone?” Billie Leyers: “(*laughs*) You’ll need a log!” Marie Van Uytvanck: “Nowadays you see that question pass by a lot on Tinder: couples seeking a third party.” Billie Leyers: “In that concept, I would only like to be the guest star. It’s probably terrible to be the girl in that couple. Immediately, the next day, you’ll think: ‘Will my partner think she was more pretty or better?’ I would only get more insecure.” RACY MATERIALS And what about virtual sex? Of the experienced youngster, a third has done it. In 2015, it was only a quarter of them.  Marie Van Uytvanck: “I wouldn’t dare. I already think that people spy on me through my camera. I would be scared to end up like those three famous people.” (= Two months ago, the nudes from three famous Belgian people were leaked and shared without consent on the internet, causing a storm in their personal lives as well as their fanbase and the Belgian people.)  Billie Leyers: “Every time the conversation comes up, I think: I’m so happy I didn’t have to go through that.” Nathan Bouts: “Absolutely. (*makes a cross for good luck*) I’ve send a nude pic once too, but never with my face on it. Even if that gets leaked, nobody will know that it’s me.” Marie Van Uytvanck: “Will we ever know what happened with those people? Who knows, it might’ve been a hacker.” Who of you have seen the images? Marie Van Uytvanck: “Someone pushed them in my face, but I’m kinda blind - my sight is 3 out of 10 - so I didn’t see a lot (*laughs*).” Billie Leyers: “I’m teaching at an art school and I’ve heard 13-year-old girls scream to each other: ‘I’ve got Peter de Veire!’ As if it’s about Pokémon cards you could collect. I corrected her: ‘It’s Peter VAN de Veire and don’t you have something better to do?’.” Do you still dare to do it, sexting? Billie Leyers: “Yes. If my partner is on tour for three weeks, then it might derail to sending each other racy materials. But our bond of trust is strong. Plus: it feels comfortable to know that you have as much incriminating evidence of the other on your cell phone as he has of you.” In ‘De Morgen’, there was an article about the sexting-scandal, with the headline: ‘The spread position between prudish and voyeurism.’ Which side is the youth leaning into? Billie Leyers: “I wouldn’t know. On the one hand, you’ve got Cardi B who’s rapping about wet ass pussy and that sex is the most normal thing in the world, but if you click on a clip of one of those famous people, you’re suddenly a criminal. A weird position, yes.” Marie Van Uytvanck: “Nowadays with every topic, you’ve got two groups. Is Cardi B now the ultimate feminist or is her song just vulgar? It’s the first one for me. I think it’s cool if women can sing about their pussy too, whilst men can rap ‘suck my dick’ for years and nobody bats an eye.” Nathan Bouts: “I’m not a fan of the song, but it’s good that they talk about it. Except: if I open TikTok and see 9-year-old grind on that song, then I think: what image are they growing up with? Two females with fake breasts and a collagen butt who roll over the floor: soon they’ll think that every women needs to look like that.” Let’s end with romance: do you see yourself ever getting married? Almost 1 out of 4 think marriage is outdated.  Nathan Bouts: “I don’t think so. Too expensive and too much effort.” Billie Leyers: “It doesn’t have to be expensive? I see the principle of marriage starting a revival soon. I would like to get married.” And then get two children? An average of two, like most young people? Billie Leyers: “I used to say ‘when I grow up, I want to have 12 children’. That’s because I’m from a big family myself, as were my parents. When the Leyers-clan organizes a family day, we need our own venue.” Marie Van Uytvanck: “I want to have kids, I just don’t want to push them out myself. The idea that a child grows inside you, I don’t like that.” Nathan Bouts: “I want kids too. Two to start, and then we’ll see. Some time ago, I saw a kid on the tram and thought tenderly: ‘A child of my own...’ A slight surge of nesting instinct, I guess.”

[petersasteria]

The Forces of Nature || Ch. 2

Pairing: Peter Parker x Superhero!Reader

Summary: “There’s this kid out there that can control the wind or something. I think she’s a great addition to the team. Let’s recruit her.”

Peter was torn. He didn't know what to do. All the information he got was a lot to take in. First of all, Tony wanted to recruit someone new even though they could catch 'The Violent Swine' on their own. Second of all, Tony wanted to recruit Y/N; the girl he despised. Lastly, he had never spoken to Y/N before. While he and MJ ended on good terms, he never approached Y/N because he simply had no reason to. Approaching her now would be so weird. Plus, his jealousy might get ahead of himself.

So, he sought advice from Ned the next day at school. Peter grabbed his things from his locker as Ned told him about something that happened yesterday. Peter couldn't focus, though. All he could think about was how he could recruit Y/N without actually saying the word 'recruit'. Peter swiftly turned to Ned and whispered, "I have something to tell you and you CANNOT tell anyone."

Ned stopped talking and quickly nodded his head, "Okay. What's up?"

Peter closed his locker and fully turned to Ned, "Do you know Y/N?"

Ned nodded with a smile, "Yeah, she's really nice. She's new here and she's friends with MJ. Why'd you ask?"

Peter looked around to see if anyone was listening. He knew he didn't have to because no one would pay attention to him and Ned, anyway. But he just wanted to make sure. As much as he despised Y/N, the least he could do was to make sure no one else heard his and Ned's conversation.

"She has super powers." Peter whispered. Ned's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. After all, it's not every day that you get to hear someone having super powers. "Close your mouth or flies will get in there." Peter said and nudged Ned, who closed his mouth immediately. Ned was about to speak when MJ and Y/N passed by.

"Hey losers." MJ said with a bored look on her face. Y/N stood next to her looking flawless as ever. She was wearing a plain white blouse paired with a skirt that had a nice shade of green that ran all the way an inch below her knees. Around her waist was a dark green belt and her white Keds made her outfit look complete. To top it all off, she wore a dark olive green headband to keep her hair from going to her face and a thin gold necklace around her neck with a star as the pendant. In summary, she looked prim and proper. It was cute.

Peter looked at Y/N up and down and his face contorted in disgust, "What the hell are you wearing, Y/N?"

Y/N looked at Peter with a shocked expression because they've never spoken to each other before. Heck, Peter never even made an effort to acknowledge her presence at school in spite of having the same classes. Y/N looked down at her clothes before she looked at Peter with a small smile on her face, "Clothes. I'm wearing decent clothes, Peter."

MJ and Ned snickered at her response. Peter rolled his eyes and said, "I know that, dumb-ass. But what the hell is that style?"

"U-Um, the- the 1940's...?" Y/N stuttered. She didn't know why she stuttered, but she was certain about one thing: Peter was being mean. She thought only kids were mean, but she never expected people to be mean in high school. In her old school, everyone was nice to her.

"Did Steve Rogers throw up on you?" Peter teased.

"E-Excuse m-me? Steve Ro-"

"Yes, Captain America, doofus!" Peter rolled his eyes. "You look like a grandma. Were you frozen like Steve too? I bet he knew who you were, grandma."

"Cut it out, Peter." MJ said sternly. They made eye contact and MJ shook her head in disappointment. "Let's go, Y/N. These losers aren't worth it, especially Peter."

MJ walked ahead and Y/N just stood there as she looked at the two boys, "Um, have a nice day, guys!" She quickly followed MJ and Peter huffed. Ned lightly smacked the back of Peter's head and asked, "What the fuck is wrong with you??"

"What do you mean? Have you seen her?" Peter asked with an amused expression.

"Yeah, I've seen her. I actually like her outfit." Ned said with a frown. "Get over yourself, man. Take a chill pill. Relax. Why are you mad at her, anyway?"

"Mr. Stark wants to recruit her to be an Avenger because of her powers." Peter said quietly. Ned furrowed his eyebrows, "What's wrong with that? You should be happy that you have someone your age on the team."

"She's not on the team!" Peter shouted, his voice echoing the school corridor. Students turned to look at Peter as he muttered apologies. They quickly looked away and as soon as they did, Peter continued, "She's not on the team, not yet at least. Mr. Stark wants ME to recruit her and I kinda don't want to but I know I have to. I'm having a dilemma."

"That's easy. Just befriend her." Ned shrugged as they walked to their class. "That doesn't explain why you're so mean, though. I mean, it does, but it's not enough."

"She's also better than me at everything. Teachers used to ask me the hardest questions, because I was usually the only smart guy in class. Now, this bitch comes in walking around like she owns the fucking school-"

"She's literally shy, Peter."

"-And she effortlessly grabs the teachers' attention?! Now, they give HER the hardest questions and I'm stuck like everyone else! It's annoying, Ned! I used to be the big shot nerd around here. It also doesn't help that she's part of the decathlon team. She's also in the band when I joined again!"

"You know, I heard she joined every club." Ned informed.

"Even glee club? There are only, like, five people in that club." Peter snorted.

"Hey, I'm in that club!" Ned exclaimed. "And F.Y.I., we have 10 members. Not 5."

Peter rolled his eyes and sarcastically said, "Thanks for informing me, Ned."

"No problem, Peter." Ned smiled as they stopped in front of a classroom. "This is my class. See ya later, dude!"

"See ya!"

They did their handshake before Ned entered and Peter left. He internally groaned when he entered his classroom to find an empty seat next to Y/N. His day was not great.

He walked towards her as she fixed the stuff she needed on the table. She looked up and saw Peter. She gave him a small smile as he sat down next to her.

"Hi, Peter."

"Hi, grandma. Where are my cookies?" Peter mocked and gave her a sarcastic smile. Y/N didn't have the time to respond because their teacher came and discussed about world history.

"Good morning, class! Today's topic is about the Tudors. Has anyone have an idea on who they are?" Mrs. Johnson asked.

Y/N ecstatically raised her hand and answered with a bright smile. Peter glared at her and looked away. "Of course, you fucking know. You know everything." Peter muttered under his breath. Y/N heard this, but she didn't let it phase her or bother her. Peter was just a boy anyway and he was allowed to feel upset or annoyed or angry. He was only human, after all.

After a long discussion about the Tudors, the bell finally rang. However, Mrs. Johnson had other plans. "Class, before you leave, I have an announcement."

The whole class groaned because they were all ready to leave. Y/N sat patiently, though. All her things were neatly tucked away in her bag. As the students trudged their way back to their seats, Peter turned to Y/N, "Why are you such a pretentious girl?" Y/N turned her head to look at him.

"You don't have to act that way all the time." Peter added.

"Pretentious? What do you mean?" She asked with a confused look on her face.

Peter sighed in frustration, "Pretentious. Like, why do you have to act all prim and proper or something? Why are you acting like the queen is coming?"

Y/N looked away and looked down at her hands that was resting on her lap, "I'm sorry if it annoys you, then."

"Don't be sorry. Be better." Peter said before turning to look straight ahead.

"All of you will be paired for a presentation about the Tudors. Your partners will be your seat mates. I'll be going around to tell you what your topics are and you're free to go." Mrs. Johnson said as she started roaming around.

Peter groaned. He currently hates his life.

When Mrs. Johnson arrived at their area, she smiled proudly, "Ahh, Ms. Y/L/N and Mr. Parker! I'm so glad that two of the smartest people here are joining forces for this presentation. Your topic is about Elizabeth the First. I'm expecting a lot from both of you. You’ll present Monday next week."

Y/N and Peter smiled at Mrs. Johnson as she walked to the next one. They both grabbed their stuff and walked out the classroom. Peter quickly walked to his locker as Y/N followed him. He opened his locker and put his things in it and getting the things he needs for his next class.

"Wow, you walk really fast!" Y/N chuckled lightly.

"What do you want, Y/N?" Peter internally groaned. He slammed his locker shut causing Y/N to jump slightly. He turned to look at her with an annoyed look on his face.

"I, uh, I figured that we could work on the presentation together later today. You know, the earlier we finish, the better." Y/N politely smiled at him.

"I can't. I have the Stark Internship." Peter shrugged. He sees her at school every day since she got there and she wants to meet up after school for their presentation? It's a no from Peter.

"That's why we have cellphones and social media, Y/N. But you wouldn't know that because you're such a grandma." Peter spat before walking to his next class. Y/N went after him and walked beside him, "Can we walk to class together, then? We have the same classes, anyway."

Peter abruptly stopped walking and fully turned to her, "Fine. We can walk to class together. In one condition."

"Sure!"

"Don't fucking talk to me unless it's really fucking important. Like, literally shut up unless it's an emergency. You can also talk to me when I start the conversation. Just speak when spoken to. Got it?" Peter said. Y/N just nodded her head. "Good. Let's walk." Peter said as he began to walk to their next class with Y/N trying to catch up.

Their next class was chemistry and Peter made it his ultimate goal to try and beat her in answering all the questions. Every time he beat her, he smiled proudly to himself. At one point, he let out a small, celebratory, 'yes!'.

Y/N giggled and Peter looked at her, "What?"

She shook her head and smiled to herself, "Nothing. It's just adorable whenever you get an answer right. I admire you, Peter. You're really smart."

She didn't talk again after that, but Peter blushed at her words. He shook it off, though. He didn't want to be distracted. He was too competitive.

When lunch time arrived, Y/N sat with Peter, Ned, and MJ like usual. MJ was reading her book as she chewed on her sandwich. Y/N sat next to her and smiled, "Hey MJ."

MJ smiled at her, "Hey Y/N. What's up?" They began talking about random stuff. Peter sat next to Ned and Ned immediately asked how his classes were.

"They were alright." Peter said and ate his lunch.

"How the process of befriending her?" Ned asked. Peter shrugged. Ned sighed, "Peter, just do it. She's really cool, I swear."

Peter was about to respond, but Y/N interrupted him. "Ned, I have something to tell you!" Y/N smiled as she stood up from her seat and moved to sit in front of Ned.

Ned subtly nudged Peter as he smiled at her, "What's up, Y/N?"

"I already have a song idea for our performance on graduation." Y/N smiled excitedly. "Also, I have good news."

"Oooh, what is it?" Ned asked, matching her excitement.

"So, I'm doing community theater, right?"

"Yup. What about it?"

"I got you a part in our show!" She squealed. Ned was in shock. Peter looked at Ned expectantly. He wanted an explanation. He didn't know Ned was into that.

"Wow! Thanks, Y/N/N! That's so cool! I'll text you, okay?" Y/N smiled before going back to her seat next to MJ.

"Um, Ned? Please explain." Peter said. He's never been more confused in his entire 18 years of existence.

"Oh, I wanted to try my hand at theater. So when I found out that Y/N did community theater during summer until now, I asked if I could join. Then, I got in!" Ned grinned. "I can't wait, man. I'm excited. And that's how you befriend someone, Peter. You're just stubborn and jealous."

Peter said nothing and just ate his food. The rest of the day, Y/N stuck to her word stayed quiet. Peter immediately left after the last class to patrol and to go to the compound. His patrol was surprisingly short. No crime was happening that day. 'Maybe the criminals are lazy today.' Peter thought as he swung his way to the compound.

When he arrived, he was informed by Pepper that everyone was waiting for him in the meeting room. He went inside the meeting room and took off his mask and sat on the empty seat, "Hey everyone!"

"Ahh, young spider boy! It is always lovely to see you." Thor smiled.

"I'm just surprised he's on time." Bucky said with his arms crossed. Sam hummed in agreement.

"Okay, let's skip the pleasantries-" Tony said but Scott cut him off.

"Let's go. Grab your pistol." Scott sang with a smile as everyone looked at him. "Get it? From Hamilton? 'Blow Us All Away'?"

"Scott." Steve said sternly. Scoot cleared his throat and said, "Sorry about that Tony."

Tony just looked at Peter and asked, "So, how's the recruiting? We all really want her on the team now."

"Yeah, it's about time we have another girl in here." Wanda said.

"Preach!" Natasha said. "We want her in the team now."

Peter looked at everyone and sighed, "I'm still figuring out how I'll do it. Besides, why do we need her? We're the Avengers! We can do anything."

"Is this some misogynistic thing?" Natasha raised her eyebrow. Peter quickly shook his head, "N-No! Of course not. It's just that we don't need another person in our team. We're all powerful together."

"But imagine her in our team. We'd be MORE powerful." Rhodey added. A chorus of "that's true" and "yup" filled the room. Peter leaned back on his seat and sighed.

"Kid, she has powers BEYOND ours. She's powerful, it's admittedly scary." Tony explained.

Steve nodded, "Tony's right. If she could control the wind, we figured that there's no doubt she could control other elements. And if we're right, we really need her more than ever."

"The more, the merrier." Scott said with a shrug. "If you ask me, I agree that we need that kid. All in favor of getting her on the team, raise your hands."

Scott and everyone except Peter raised their hands. Peter sighed and gave in, "Fine. Maybe we do need her."

"Yes, so do your best in recruiting her. We don't take 'no' for an answer." Tony said. "We also don't want the swine flu to kill more innocent people."

"Swine flu?" Peter asked with a confused look on his face.

Steve chuckled, "I understood that joke. That's a good one."

Peter drowned out everyone else as he thought to himself deeply. He didn't know what to do. He didn't really hate her. He just disliked her. If he didn't recruit her, he'd be in trouble and Tony would probably take his suit away or something. If he did recruit her, he'd have to think of something on how to do it. But what'll happen if he doesn't do it?

"Hey, Mr. Stark?"

"Yeah?"

"What happens if I don't recruit her? What'll happen?" Peter asked. "I'm just curious."

Tony thought for a bit and looked at Scott and smiled before turning to Peter, "Scott will recruit her. He has a daughter and he could probably relate to her on some level or something."

Scott cheered and grinned, "If Peter fails, I solemnly swear that I got this! I can fulfill the task that you thrust upon me."

"Man, you're weird." Sam said as he looked at Scott. Scott just shrugged, "At least I'm unique and I love it. I encourage Cassie to be unique too. I love that kid so much."

Peter nodded, "Okay."

If he did it, he'd have to befriend her. If he didn't, his suit would probably be taken away and Scott would do it instead. He guessed trying to befriend her wouldn't be so bad.

-

Y/N entered the apartment she shared with Eunice. It wasn't small, but it wasn't really big either. It was just right. She loved every second of every day living with Eunice. They clean the apartment together every weekend, they sing together, on Eunice's day off she takes Y/N to the mall and buys her new clothes, they dance when one of them plays music, and so much more. Y/N loved Eunice like an older sister she never had.

Y/N went straight to her room and called Eunice.

Hi! I'm sorry I can't answer the phone right now. Please leave a message after the beep.

Y/N sighed and left a message anyway, "Hey Eunice! I just got home. So, uh, I just want you to know that. I'll cook dinner tonight, by the way. Love you!" She hung up and did her homework.

About an hour later, Y/N started to prepare for dinner. She decided to cook lasagna, because why not? She and Eunice loved lasagna. Thirty minutes into cooking, Eunice arrived home.

"That smells delish, Y/N!!" Eunice grinned as she entered the apartment and closed the door. "Do you need help?"

"Can you please set the table and wash the things on the sink?"

"Sure!" Eunice started washing the used utensils on the sink as they talked about their day.

"Oh, hey! It's your birthday next week and it falls on my day off. Why don't you invite your friends over? We could have a small celebration here." Eunice said excitedly. Y/N smiled at the thought and said, "I'll ask them."

Her only friend was MJ and she wasn't even sure if she and Ned were friends. If she invited Ned, he'd probably bring Peter. The things is, Peter disliked her. Strongly disliked her. She didn't know what to do.

"Is everything okay?" Eunice asked, her voice lacing concern.

"Yeah." Y/N smiled. "I was just thinking about something."

"Tell me about it." Eunice smiled.

"There's this guy at school named Peter and he really dislikes me for some reason. He's also my partner in world history. He's always so angry at me or something. I haven't even done anything." She sighed heavily.

"Hmm... maybe he likes you." Eunice teased. "Boys do that when they like someone. Either he likes you or he's jealous of you. BUT don't ever assume things, okay? We don't know his side of the story, so let's not judge him no matter how much you say he dislikes you. Just get to know him better. You said he was your partner, right?"

"Yeah."

"So, try and befriend him while working on your project or something. Both of you need to work together to get a decent grade and you'll both be friends in no time." Eunice suggested.

"You know what? I never thought of that. Thanks, Eunice." Y/N smiled and pulled Eunice in a tight hug which Eunice gladly returned.

"I'm starving." Eunice chuckled and pulled away. Y/N laughed and continued cooking as Eunice set the table. After a while, the food was ready and they ate their dinner.

"This is really good, Y/N." Eunice said with her mouth full.

"Thanks." Y/N laughed. "Should I prepare it when Peter gets here for the presentation thing?"

"Definitely."

"That's settled, then."

* * * *

𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @myblueleatherbag​ @harryismysunflower​ @buckys-little-hoe​ @justanothermarvelmaniac​ @itstaskeen​

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @marvelousell​ @justasmisunderstoodasloki​ @rubberducky-jrr​ @petersholland​ @osterfieldnholland​ @miraclesoflove​ @god-knows-what-am-i-doing​ @perspectiveparker​ @parker-potters​ @itstaskeen​ @call-me-baby-gir1​ @the-panwitch​ @iamaunicorn4704​ @chloecreatesfictions​ @holland-styles​

[emisfritish]

Home is an Irrevocable Condition

Pairing : Sarawat / Tine (2gether the series)

Summary :  Sarawat is having the worst day. And then Tines comes along and suddenly everything seems a little less bleak.

Because I could not get this idea out of my head, have a little Saratine hurt/comfort.

——-

Today had to be one of the worst days, Sarawat thinks to himself while lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling. 

First, he’d had a huge paper to turn in this afternoon and because he’d been so busy lately, he hadn’t been able to see Tine at all today, rushing to finish his paper on time instead and completely forgetting that they were supposed to have lunch together. He was so focused on the political climate in Thailand in the 18 hundreds that he had actually stood up his boyfriend, and he didn’t even realize it until he saw Tine’s texts an hour later asking if he was okay. God, he was an asshole. And because of all that wasn’t enough, he’d then run into Phukong and Mil, of all people, which had led to a huge fight with his brother, and he was just… So done with today.

Even now, hours later, Sarawat can’t get some of the stuff his brother threw at him during their fight out of his mind. He knows that he’s not always the best brother, that he can be cold and seem uncaring sometimes, but some of the stuff Phukong had said… God. His brother knew exactly which buttons to push to drive Sarawat crazy and hurt him, and he didn’t hesitate in doing so earlier when Sarawat had made another comment about him dating Mil.

It had been months since they started dating, and although some time had passed, Sarawat just couldn’t get behind them. After everything that happened while he and Tine were still figuring things out, and all the hoops Mil had put his brother through before he agreed to even consider dating him, Sarawat just couldn’t stand the older boy.

His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a key in his door, and Sarawat doesn’t have to turn towards it to know that it’s Tine, probably mad at him because of their lunch. Having no energy to get into another fight, Sarawat just remains lying, staring at a spot that he can see on his ceiling in total silence. 

He hears Tine move around a little, putting his key down on Sarawat’s desk and removing his shoes probably, before he feels a dip on the bed as Tine comes and lies down on his back next to him, shoulder brushing with his. 

Taken by surprise, Sarawat remains silent, his brother’s words still ringing in his mind.

Sarawat feels Tine shift slightly next to him, and without a word, his boyfriend plugs his headphones into his phone, before putting one earphone in Sarawat’s ear and the other one in his own and pressing play. 

Hearing the first notes of the song and recognizing it instantly, Sarawat feels a rush of emotion and fondness overtake him, and he closes his eyes, hoping to make the sudden humidity behind his eyelids disappear.

Deep inside our hearts, we both know it well.

The first line of the song washes over him, and although Sarawat doesn’t feel like he can smile quite yet, he reaches on the mattress with his hand until he manages to find one of Tine’s. The other boy intertwines their fingers properly and lifts their hands to kiss the back of Sarawat’s, before laying both of their arms back on the mattress in between them.

Scrubb might be Tine’s favorite band, but if Sarawat had to pick a favorite song of theirs, Deep would be it. Throughout his relationship with Tine, it’s become one of his go to songs to listen to, and the significance of Tine picking that one to play in this moment isn’t lost on him. Scrubb is Tine’s favorite band, but this right now, is entirely for him.

It hadn’t always been Sarawat’s favorite song of theirs, usually preferring songs with more of an edge to them. But the song is now so deeply rooted in Tine and in their relationship, it never fails to remind Sarawat of his first meeting with the boy and of how far they’ve come since. How better things are today. For that reason, the song means so much to him today, and although he isn’t sure if Tine knows why this song is his favorite exactly, he loves Tine so much for picking it now. 

If you listen to Scrubb when you’re sad, you’ll feel better. Like someone is comforting you.

Sarawat doesn’t know if it’s the song, really, but the man playing it and silently lying beside him definitely seems to help, his presence already soothing the sting of his brother’s words a little.

They listen to the song in silence, Sarawat getting lost in the lyrics and the feel of Tine’s hand in his, and when it ends, neither of them moves for a few minutes.

After a moment, Sarawat feels Tine push himself forward slightly and press a kiss to his shoulder, before he lies back down on his back, his face turned toward Sarawat. 

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, almost as if afraid to break the silence.

Sarawat doesn’t move and just keeps staring ahead at the same spot, although he doesn’t let go of Tine’s hand either. 

“I’m sorry about lunch,” he ends up answering, wanting to get that off his chest.

He feels Tine squeeze his hand tighter in his.

“It’s okay Sarawat, it doesn’t matter. I wasn’t mad. I knew you had that paper to finish and I figured my genius boyfriend had just gotten lost in his writing,” Tine says, and Sarawat feels his heart squeeze in his chest. How did he get so lucky as to have a boyfriend like Tine ?

They remain silent for a few minutes, Sarawat still trying to soothe his hurt by clinging onto the strong feeling of his boyfriend’s hand in his, before he breaks the silence. 

“How did you know something happened ? Did your friends in #TeamSarawat’sWives group tell you ?” he asks, feeling his lips lift up in a small smile for the first time all day. 

He hears Tine laugh softly, although he doesn’t need to actually be looking at him to know the other boy is most likely rolling his eyes at him, used to his teasing about being a member of the group by now.

“But Sarawat, it’s so convenient ! Every time I’m looking for you, all I need is to look at the group and I can instantly know where you are !”, is an excuse he’s heard too many times to count by now. 

Sarawat doesn’t quite believe him though, and he thinks Tine just enjoys seeing small videos of him throughout the day. His boyfriend is cute that way. 

“Close… Man told me,” answers Tine with a laugh. 

Sarawat feels his smile disappear from his face. Of course. He knows a few members of the fan group caught the fight on video, but he had completely forgotten that Man was actually there to witness it. And Man being the nosy yet well-intentioned friend he is, would have told Tine about what happened.

“Do you want to talk about it ?” Tine asks softly after a few more moments of silence, and Sarawat hesitates. He knows that if he truly doesn’t want to, Tine won’t push him. But he thinks maybe talking about it might not be the worst thing.

“I’m okay. It’s just, Phukong said some stuff that got to me… And him and Mil are… And I just can’t…,” Sarawat starts to say, constantly changing his train of thought because he’s still so angry.

“I get it. I mean I may be your… How did he put it exactly ? Your ‘precious dimwit of a boyfriend’, but I understand how you feel. Your brother has quite a way with words when he is angry.”

Sarawat winces. So someone had definitely filmed the fight then. And Tine had seen the video.

“You know he doesn’t mean it,” he whispers, trying to reassure him. Since him and Tine had officially started dating, his brother and his boyfriend had become almost as close as brothers themselves. 

And like actual brothers, they could get on each other’s nerves like crazy. But Phukong loved Tine fiercely, and Sarawat knows that his brother didn’t mean what he was saying about him. He just wanted to find the quickest way to hurt Sarawat and, well… Everybody knew that Tine was his weak spot.

“I know. Phukong can just be a little shit sometimes, what else is new,” says Tine fondly, while rolling his eyes. He turns towards Sarawat again. “You know he didn’t mean the stuff he said about you either, right ?”

“Oh, you mean the fact that I am the worst brother ? That I’m pretentious, and cold and I make everything about me ?” asks Sarawat, not quite able to keep the bitterness from showing in his voice. 

“Yeah, those would be the ones,” sighs Tine. “Look, Phukong doesn’t mean it. You know he doesn’t. You’re a great brother, Wat. You care so much about him and about his happiness. And you’re not pretentious or cold, you’re introverted, it’s different. And you definitely don’t make things about you. And when he’s not being a little shit, Phukong knows that too.”

He pauses to turn on his side facing Sarawat, and although Sarawat can’t look at him yet, afraid the tears will overflow from his eyes if he does, he can feel Tine’s eyes on his face. 

“He just knows exactly what to say to play on your insecurities and hurt you. And because you inadvertently hurt him by criticizing his relationship and his boyfriend, he just pushed back.”

“I just hate him so much Tine. So much. And I don’t understand what Phukong sees in him,” he says, getting worked up again. “Like out of all the people out there, why did he have to pick him ? And it’s not even about the fact that he hurt me, or he hurt you, it’s about the fact that he hurt him. He hurt Phukong multiple times, so why does my brother still bother ?”

Tine doesn’t say anything for a moment, before whispering.

“Well I hurt you.” Sarawat whips his head around to look in his boyfriend’s eyes and opens his mouth to contradict him, but his boyfriend continues before he gets the chance to. “No, no, I did Wat. I hate that I did, but before we got together and during that whole fake boyfriend scam, I hurt you. Multiple times too, as a matter of fact. And yet we’re good together, wouldn’t you think ?”

“It’s not the same Tine, it’s not the same at all. Yes, I was hurt, but you never hurt me intentionally. You would never do anything to intentionally harm anyone else,” Sarawat says, begging with his eyes for his boyfriend to understand. 

“Maybe so,” Tine ends up conceding. “But we don’t know what Mil is like now. Maybe he’s changed…”

“So you’re saying I should just accept him with open arms, even when I know he’s very likely to end up breaking my brother’s heart ?” Sarawat asks, genuinely distressed as to what he should do. 

“No, that’s not what I’m saying either,” says Tine, brushing one of his hands on Sarawat’s left brow and cheek. “What I’m saying is that if you keep pushing Phukong on this issue, you will be the one who ends up losing him. The heart wants what it wants, we both know that. And right now, for some unknown reason, Phu’s heart wants Mil. I’m saying maybe we should back up before we’re the ones that end up losing him when he doesn’t want to be part of our lives anymore,” he finishes gently.

And in spite of the anger that Sarawat still feels curling in his stomach, his heart stutters when he hears Tine using the word ‘we’. Because they are a we. It is their life. Both of theirs, together. And even with everything going on right now, his love for Tine overpowers everything for a while. 

After a minute or so, Sarawat nods softly before turning to his side, and pressing his face to Tine’s neck. He feels his boyfriend’s arms go around him to hug him close and he just closes his eyes and sighs softly.

“I still don’t like him,” he ends up whispering. 

“Noted,” answers Tine, and Sarawat can discern the trace of laughter in his voice. 

They hug quietly for a while, Sarawat feeling the hurt from the fight disappearing the longer they stay in the position.

“Look, I don’t really give a crap about Mil, Wat,” Tine ends up saying. “But I do care about you, and I hate seeing you this miserable every time you fight with your brother. So maybe we just let your brother be for a while, and let him try to be in a relationship with Mil. Maybe it’s a mistake and it’ll end up poorly, but ultimately, it’s his mistake to make. And if it does end poorly, then we’ll be there to help him then.”

“We”. Again. God, he loves him so much. 

Not saying anything in answer, Sarawat nuzzles Tine’s neck and he feels Tine press a kiss to the only part of Sarawat he seems able to reach, his upper cheek, before resting his forehead on the top of his head.

“So are we going to talk about the reason why you’re wearing a shirt with a giant Mickey Mouse on the front ?” Sarawat asks after a few minutes, his face still hidden in his boyfriend’s neck and he feels him sigh against him. 

Tine probably thought that Sarawat, in his distress, hadn’t noticed what he was wearing, but that was grossly underestimating him. Sarawat always noticed Tine, and he saw the tee-shirt he was wearing the minute his boyfriend came into his sight.

“I was telling a story to Ohm and Peuk this morning, and I completely forgot I had a cup of iced coffee in my hand. I tipped it over my entire shirt, and because I was already late to class, I had to borrow Peuk’s gym shirt, and the man apparently has  an unhealthy obsession with that mouse,” Tine recounted with a deadpan voice. “I got stuck wearing that tee-shirt the entire day. Let me tell you, my teachers were not amused.”

Hearing the story, Sarawat actually snorts in Tine’s neck, shaking his head fondly. For someone so smart, his boyfriend could be so ridiculous sometimes. But god was he lucky to have him, he thinks fondly.

As if sensing his feelings, Tine hugs him closer to his body and nuzzles the top of his head, pressing a kiss in the middle of his hair before whispering something. And although it’s completely unintelligible with the sound of Tine’s voice muffled by Sarawat’s hair, he knows his boyfriend enough to know exactly what the other boy said. 

“I love you too, Tua woon wai,” he whispers back in his neck, and he feels Tine hug him even closer to his body.

So maybe today wasn’t the worst day after all. It still sucked, and he knows his future holds another very uncomfortable conversation with his brother, but well… At least, he’s not alone anymore. At least, he has Tine, and somehow, Tine always manages to make everything feel a little better.

[tiesandtea]

SUEDE – now with humour

Suede featured in the Danish free music magazine GAFFA shortly after A New Morning came out, October 2002 (no. 10). An interview with Brett and Mat, short comments on the album tracks, and a review. 

Photos by Casper Helmer and Morten Larsen. The magazine can be downloaded as .pdf here (look for pages 22-24 and 50).

Translation of the interview by Peter Albrechtsen under the cut. Own work.

OUT OF THE DARK

Brett Anderson and the rest of Suede have acknowledged that the substance that dreams are made of can neither be ingested nor inhaled. It has to come from the heart. And it does on their new album A New Morning, which was one of the topics of conversation when GAFFA met a transformed band in Copenhagen

FIRST HE TURNS LEFT, TAKES A FEW STEPS FORWARD and looks towards the mirror in front of him. Then he turns right, but keeps looking at himself. Everything is taking place in sliding movements, and there is evidently some satisfaction with what the mirror shows: The black leather jacket with a retro cut and a white back label sits tight around the slender, yet top-trimmed body.

If you didn't know better, you would think that Brett Anderson was practicing for a catwalk. The 35-year-old Suede frontman is hardly going to throw himself into that kind of thing for the time being, though he would be guaranteed to do well with his obvious expertise in hip twists, affectations and flirting from the edge of the stage. Right now, though, Brett is in a Copenhagen luxury hotel, where he's trying on a jacket just purchased by the band's British make-up artist, Nicci Welsh, who eagerly watches Brett's shameless poses. Brett is satisfied, but he has a twinkle in the eye at the same time, which reveals that something is hiding behind the charismatic singer's wide smile and chalk-white teeth.

–What do you say, Mat? Isn't it cool? Brett asks and looks over to his childhood friend, bassist Mat Osman, who understands well the look Brett's sending: Now, Mat must nod affirmatively. So he does. Brett looks over at Nicci with "thank you – yes, he would like to take the leather jacket home with him to London". But Nicci has also noticed Brett's hidden agenda and politely but firmly points out that "if you just thought to give it to a friend when you get back to London, then you can easily forget that."

Oops. Brett is exposed and quickly hands the jacket back to Nicci, but his now even cheekier grin shows that he certainly does not feel guilty, but simply perceives the whole scene as a bit of a show-off. As he himself puts it, a few minutes later: –Had it been three years ago, I would have kept the jacket for fun and given it to a friend 14 days later – simply to take advantage of my position as a pop star.

In other words, Brett Anderson has undergone certain changes over the three years since Suede's previous album, Head Music, and their brand new, fifth opus A New Morning. And the changes apply not just to his relationship to leather jackets, but simply to his whole lifestyle. In fact, the whole band's lifestyle.

Breakdown

Ever since the ten-year-old debut single, The Drowners, Suede have been heavy consumers of drugs all over the world, and they have never hidden that. Right from deliberately ambiguous song titles as Heroine and The Chemistry Between Us for opinions on the benefits of narcotics in provocative interviews, which the sensationally horny British press has lapped up themselves. "Coke is good for sex", "it's great to hear music on ecstasy" and "it's better to take drugs than to drink, because then you have a better next day" – all immortal quotes from Anderson.

But now it's over: Suede is clean – or something like that – and Brett clearly states that "I have become a happier person. My life on hyperspeed is a chapter over. I've even gotten into a good shape!"

–You start taking drugs because you want to feel good. It's that simple. And at some point, you do not feel good any more. It's that simple, too. That's what happened to us, Brett states in a dry and declaratory way.

Since Head Music, Suede had to say goodbye to keyboardist Neil Codling, who collapsed due to overexertion on Suede's tour in Australia in the autumn of 2000 (actually 1999). Half a year later, he quit completely because he suddenly had a relapse after having been recovering otherwise, and was about to break down completely. Neither Brett nor Mat clearly want to talk about it, but then admit that "it made them reflect on some things around both the band and themselves“. Brett, however, insists that “It was many different elements that led to what has happened with our lifestyle in recent years. Both the band and I myself have entered a new stage."

The changes around both Brett and Suede have also taken place over a longer period. First, Anderson started with giving the critics right who had complained loudly that he repeated himself on Head Music. Then he moved from the hectic London into his newly acquired country house in the peaceful natural area of Croydon (somewhat similar to when he moved into a monastery to write the texts of Suede's eight-year-old masterpiece Dog Man Star). He totally isolated himself, lived without a telephone and television, "buried" himself in literature and wrote the first lyrics for A New Morning.

–Oh, now it's starting to sound like I've gone and became boring, Brett chuckles, but hurries to add: -This is certainly not the case. In the old days, I deliberately avoided literature because I was terrified that literature would spoil my pure language. I would not be a sexless secretary who clapped on a typewriter. But now, I have found out that it doesn't necessarily have to end that way, and I read like an obsessed now. I read like a motherfucker. In one of the new songs, Obsessions, I refer to Bret Easton Ellis, but my favorite author is Albert Camus.

Actually, my paranoia about literature just says all about how far out I once have been. I was so afraid that my mindset would be infected by everything possible, but honestly, I must have had a hysterical tendency to pump everything up to pretentious heights. After all, both love and music are in fact very basic emotions, Brett says, who, however, admits he let out a roar when he went as far as to get his hair bleached last year ("it looked like crap, for God's sake," he sighs with one head-shaking laugh). However, it was an obvious sign that Brett felt the changes coming. And enjoyed it to the fullest drag.

Producer problems

In fact, Brett enjoyed being away from the big city so much that he persuaded the others to go to Iceland for a while and work further on the material that gradually became structured. In Iceland, the band briefly collaborated with Sigur Rós producer Ken Thomas, who, however, should turn out to be the first in a series of failed attempts to find the perfect producer.

–The magic was missing, Mat explains, but the creativity did not fail, and the band engaged in vastly different concepts around the upcoming album – "we considered making both a pure acoustic pop and an electronic folk record."

A New Morning became none of those. After leaving former Beck producer Tony Hoffer, Suede ended up slipping into the studio with Stephen Street, who is best known for his collaboration with The Smiths and Blur, and with Street behind the mixer, a renewed focus was there. The opening number Positivity took only three hours to write, and Brett describes it as "one of those magical moments in a band where everything melts together in the most beautiful way."

Those kinds of moments are, of course, the result of the fact both I and the rest of the band are dedicated to the music in a different way than before. Every single moment in music is important to me now. Every single moment in my life is important now. I have rediscovered both myself and the music, proclaims Brett, who hasn't changed in one aspect: He is still extremely talkative, well-worded and energetic – even when he explains it new album title:

–It's not so strange if A New Morning sounds as a religious quote – the last few years have truly felt as a bit of a revelation. We have chosen to see life from a new perspective. We have pretty much spent the 90s on an insanely exalted search for success, fame, money and all that sort of thing. Of course, music was the starting point, but it was all about consuming, savouring and worshipping life excessively. For me, this record is about having a completely different approach to life: Life is something small, fragile and completely unique. Something to watch out for. The new record is simply more intimate, human and much more honest.

This shouldn't be perceived as if Brett is now taking distance to his characteristic textual universe populated by the sad fates of the big city. On the contrary.

–I still have a great sympathy for people who are left in the lurch by the system and politicians, and I will continue to have that, he emphasizes, adding that "it's very much my self-understanding that has changed recently – not my worldview". Osman nods approvingly at Brett's side and adds with no hidden allusion to the title Dog Man Star, that "if you were born in a pigsty, you have so much to achieve, so much to flee from" – both Brett and Osman originally come from the unglamorous London suburb of Haywards Heath.

–Our songs have always been about ordinary people who achieve extraordinary things, and that's how we have been as a band as well, I think. You can easily be something special, even if you come from the pure nothing, and we have stuck to it, even though we have personally driven it too far into the extremes. We are still very much real people who have lived very real lives, and our songs are still about very real feelings, Brett points out.

–We will always fight for all the people who are trying to cope against all odds, and who try to maintain pride in adversity and frustration. Now we just have more surplus, passion and energy ourselves to fight the battle. Now we can really do it with an open heart.

Photo descriptions: "I HAVE RE-DISCOVERED BOTH MYSELF AND MUSIC" Brett Anderson "I HAVE BECOME A HAPPIER PERSON. I'VE EVEN GOTTEN INTO A GOOD SHAPE!" Brett Anderson

A New Morning

– according to Suede themselves

Positivity

Brett: –In many ways our programme statement: It really strikes a new, more cheerful tone. As I said, it was written in no time, and that's pretty incredible for us, because we're really perfectionists when it comes to songwriting.

Lost In TV

Brett: –Probably my favorite track on the album. The melody is based on backing vocals, and in that part, the song is more related to the Beach Boys and the Beatles than to old Suede. Why is there no one doing that kind of thing anymore?

Obsessions

Brett: –This is the last piece we wrote for the record. That's my favorite text. The fun of it is that the lyrics are in a way very personal, but at the same time guaranteed incredibly universal. I will undoubtedly receive many fan letters about that song.

Lonely Girls

Brett: –One of the first songs we wrote. A lovely lullaby-like groove. We even use bongo drums on it. A really nice number, which probably comes from the fact that I originally wrote the melody while I was in the countryside.

Beautiful Loser

Brett: –One of those songs where I really sing in a different way than usual: Harder, raw, dirty. In many ways, it's the album's ultimate live number: The energy is fearless, and the chorus is silly.

Streetlife

Mat: –It started as krautrock: The same groove that ran and ran and ran for eight minutes – it was totally Germany in 1971 – but it changed radically when the chorus appeared purely out of nowhere.

Ashtray Girl

Mat: –Ashtray Girl and Beautiful Loser are perceived the most as “old-school Suede”, but actually, they were both written by Alex Lee, who is our brand-new keyboardist. Funny, right? Another funny thing is that the lyrics are totally meaningless.

Untitled

Mat: –My favourite along with Streetlife – right complex and yet a simple song. Originally a very folk-like song, but our producer Stephen Street made it more electric. Suddenly we began to sound like a whole band.

...Morning

Mat: –It's about getting up in the morning, and we discussed a lot how we could underpin that with sound. Several weeks later, we ended up sticking a microphone out of Brett's kitchen window. So simple. So difficult.

One Hit To The Body

Brett: –It's our attempt to make an I Will Survive. It's about me having to pull through, no matter how smashed I am. Actually an old song we rediscovered in the studio. Reminds of Bruce Springsteen, oh.

When The Rain Falls

Brett: –Believe it or not: it was originally a spoken-word number in the style of Serge Gainsbourg. I sat down and breathed heavily into the microphone. Now it has become something else after all, for I had to admit that I sounded neither French nor sexy.

Suede: A New Morning

Reviewed by Jan Opstrup Poulsen

After the very electric Head Music, Suede landed soft and comfortable in the poetic corner of A New Morning. Brett Anderson still sings about beautiful losers and self-created troubles of youth, but melodically, A New Morning is a luminous and optimistic album. As on the masterpiece Coming Up, it’s the individual songs that are in the centre, like little stars in the night sky. But Suede doesn’t have the usual tempo of melodies at all. A New Morning is distinctly an album of ballads, and in Brett Anderson's most captivating moments, the album hits sublime moments. There are more typical Suede songs on the album, like the excellent Beautiful Loser, that we have heard from them before. A ballad like When The Rain Falls doesn’t change the state of affairs either, although one has to indulge in a grumpy admiration how Suede fabulously handle these ballads. On the other hand, great things happen in the opening song Positivity, which is a proudly towering pop song. This magnificent approach to pop songs fits Suede's finely tuned melodies like a glove and is well followed up on several songs on the album like Lost In TV and Astrogirl. Brett Anderson hasn’t become less affected, and guitarist Richard Oakes balances, as always, on the edge of disruptive, to end up in a harmonious melody line. But on the more ordinary songs, Brett Anderson sings with the desperation of an angry rock singer and to that extent, he reaches beyond the edge of the stage as a performer. A New Morning therefore has all the ingredients for a good Suede album that will divide the record people between rapture and contempt for these assumed excesses, respectively. But it's just too sour to be negative when the world can be so bright and inviting.

[pretoriuspictures]

https://www.talkhouse.com/on-the-virtues-of-cinematic-failure/

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Most journalists who have spoken to me about my new erotic drama PVT Chat (starring Peter Vack and Julia Fox and streaming now on most VOD platforms) assume it’s my first feature film. Actually, it’s my third. My first two features never played a single film festival and haven’t been seen by more than a few hundred people (mostly friends and/or curious followers of my rock band, Bodega). They were financial failures (even though they were made extremely cheaply), but you couldn’t call them critical failures because nobody has ever reviewed them. I spent the last decade working on these films and yet their cultural footprint is practically nonexistent.

Despite that, I still believe in them and hope one day I’ll make a movie (or record) that inspires people to seek them out. My early cinematic attempts certainly failed at behaving like normal movies, but to me it is precisely this failure that makes them interesting.

Godard said of Pierrot le Fou (1965), “It’s not really a film. It’s an attempt at a film.” This is a purposefully cryptic statement, but I think I understand what he meant. There is a sketch-like quality to his films from that period. He was less interested in following a particular plot through to its conclusion than suggesting narrative ideas and moving on. He enjoyed employing classical narrative tropes but didn’t want to waste screen time on the proper pacing required to sell those tropes to an audience. Instead he filled his screen time with spontaneous personal, poetic, and political ruminations that occurred to him literally on the day of filming. Many found – and still find – this approach infuriating, but for a select number of Godard disciples, like me, this type of filmmaking is still revolutionary. I remember seeing Weekend during my sophomore year of college at the University of South Carolina and having my mind completely ripped open. Suddenly the world wasn’t a small, mediocre, predictable place – it was full of music and color and philosophy and eroticism. There were people out there genuinely disgusted with the status quo and boldly proclaiming it with style.

Godard’s work is a fulfillment of the dream of the caméra-stylo – a term coined in 1948 by Alexandre Astruc that argued it was theoretically possible for someone to compose a film with as much direct personal expression as exists in prose. In order to achieve this level of expression, one often needs to move beyond the realm of mere plot and narrative naturalism, the principle that what you are seeing on screen is real. (On most movie sets, the filmmakers and actors work overtime to sell this illusion.) Films that focus solely on plot, character psychology, and one literary theme have to direct the majority of their screen time toward plotting mechanics and emotional manipulation of the audience. What you gain in dramatic catharsis you often lose in intellectual honesty. There’s always a tradeoff. I am invested in a cinema of the future that veers toward self-expression, but doesn’t need to avoid dramatic catharsis as Godard’s films did. Certainly many filmmakers my age are working to achieve such a synthesis of intellectual directness and narrative pleasure. Experimentation is required and many “bad” films need to be made to pave the way for future successes.

I graduated college in 2010 high on this dream of the caméra-stylo and philosophy (my field of study) and in 2011 started filming my first feature, Annunciation, with experimental filmmaker Simon Liu. Annunciation is an “adaptation” of the Mérode Altarpiece, an early Northern Renaissance oil painting triptych by Robert Campin. The film features three short separate narratives, one for each panel of the famous 15th-century painting. I wanted the performances in Annunciation to be controlled and somewhat surreal, as if the whole film existed in a heightened but slowed-down hypnotic state; I was thinking about Bresson, Ozu, Antonioni and, of course, Godard (particularly his work from the ’80s). There is some plot, but the main goal of the movie was to reveal the miracle of existence in the everyday. And because the Mérode Altarpiece depicts the scene in Christianity where the Virgin Mary was impregnated by light alone, the film had to be shot on 16mm film.

Now picture this: a 22-year-old walks into a conference room in Midtown Manhattan and gives this pitch to a producer who was then investing in thriller movies: “Every time light strikes a piece of celluloid, a miracle similar to the Annunciation scene occurs: an image appears in the likeness of man that redeems our fallen world and reveals it to be the beautiful place that we take for granted in our normal day-to-day.” This wasn’t met with the enthusiasm I was hoping for. “Don’t you see,” I said, “this is a film about the ecstatic of the quotidian! This is a film that audiences will flock to! It could do for Williamsburg and Bushwick what Breathless did for Paris!” Looking back, I am both shocked and charmed by my youthful naiveté, courage and idiocy.

I was laughed out of the room, but the producer was kind enough to wish me good luck and welcomed any future pitches, should I come up with something any “normal” person would want to watch. I never thought of films in the tradition of the caméra-stylo as being elite works only for the gallery or the Academy. I, like Godard before me, have always assumed that audiences are intelligent and long for thoughtful, challenging movies. That belief I carry to this day and thankfully it sometimes seems to be true. How else could you explain the recent success of heady films by Josephine Decker or Miranda July?

Thanks to small donations from family members (and credit cards), I was able to shoot Annunciation without any official backing. I cast the film with a mixture of non-actor friends and some undiscovered Backstage.com talent and dove head first into the production. Right as our principal photography began, Occupy Wall Street gained momentum, so Simon and I spent time at Zuccotti Park filming our actors experiencing the movement. The hopeful promise of OWS seemed to reflect the yearning desire of our film’s protagonists as well as our own idealist cinema experiment.

When the film was finished and edited, I naively assumed that we were well on our way towards global cinematic notoriety. Surely, I thought, this important film that manages to blend fiction with actual footage of OWS would premiere at Cannes or Berlin and the Criterion Collection would issue the DVD shortly after. In actuality, it was rejected from every single film festival we submitted to.

Undeterred, I conceded that maybe there were a few minor structural flaws in the edit. It was probably a little too long and perhaps the three separate narratives would work better if they were crosscut more. A year later, this new edit was again rejected from almost 100 festivals. Stubbornly, I thought that perhaps what could really bring the movie together was a comic voiceover by my then cinematic muse Nick Alden (who is a lead in both Annunciation and my second film, The Lion’s Den). Audiences seemed to ignore the comic tone underlying Annunciation. If only I could unearth it, they wouldn’t be put off by the pretensions to greatness the movie wore on its sleeve. There is nothing so offensive to American audiences as pretentiousness.

I didn’t send the overcooked voiceover version to festivals. I knew it was forced and worked against the core concept of the film. But it was then that I started for the first time to have doubts about Annunciation. Maybe my film wasn’t as emotional or clever as I imagined. Maybe it was bad? “No,” I decided. The film, whatever its flaws may be, has value. Herculean delusions of grandeur come in handy when you are trying to become an artist.

I opted to edit the film back to its original state, but without some of the weaker, obviously didactic moments, then hosted a few local screenings in NYC (most of them at DIY venues where my rock band would play) and put the film up for free on Vimeo. Around this time, it occurred to me that editing Annunciation had been my film school. Failure is a wonderful learning tool. Editing the same raw material in a myriad of different ways taught me about pacing and tone. Still to this day, when I find myself in a certain state of mind, I open up the Final Cut sessions and do a new edit of the footage just for fun, like some sort of DIY George Lucas tinkering with the past. Last year during quarantine, I did a new edit of Annunciation and uploaded it to Vimeo without telling a single person. It has become my own little cinematic sandbox to play in.

When people did chance upon one of my myriad edits, they often commented that they enjoyed its style but found the acting too unnatural. My response to this was to make my next film, The Lion’s Den, a cheaper HDV feature that doubled as a political farce and an essay about naturalism in cinema. The film is about a group of ding-dong radicals who kidnap a Wall Street banker and plan to donate his ransom money to UNICEF so salt pills can be provided for dehydrated children. The UNICEF plot was drawn from Living High and Letting Die, a 1996 work of moral philosophy by Peter K. Unger. It was both a serious attempt at political philosophy and a total slapstick farce; I was imagining the comedy of errors in Renoir’s The Rules of the Game mixed with the Marxist agitprop of Godard’s La Chinoise.

The acting style in The Lion’s Den was purposefully cartoonish; at no point in the film could an audience member believe that what they were seeing was real. I like to think that The Lion’s Den was an attempt at theatre for the camera, part Shakespeare and part Brecht. This was my own personal response to our epoch’s hyperrealism fetish. At the time, I believed that the current obsession with neo-neorealism, mumblecore and reality TV was worth combating. Art with a realistic aesthetic, I thought then, was inherently conservative and accepting of the political status quo (whether the artists were aware of this or not). Art with an imaginative anti-realistic aesthetic, so I thought, was utopian. It opened new vistas and ways of thinking and being. It dared to believe in a more beautiful world than the one we are living in.

The making of The Lion’s Den was extremely difficult. It was by far the hardest thing I have physically done in my life. At the time, I was malnourished and broke, not unlike the character of Jack in PVT Chat; my diet for that month we made the film consisted mostly of coffee, rice and beans, ramen, light beer, and the occasional waffle or fruit smoothie from the vegan frozen yogurt stall I worked at. Unlike Jack, my addiction wasn’t cam girls or internet gambling, but independent filmmaking. I begged, borrowed and scrimped $10,000 to make a film I knew I wouldn’t be able to sell. Despite having some key collaborators near the beginning of the shoot, most of the film was made with just me, the actors and a loyal boom operator, all living together in a house in Staten Island. This meant that I had to assemble all of the cumbersome lights for every setup, handle the art for every scene (which involved a lot of painting), block the scene and direct the actors, throw the camera on my shoulder and film, and then at the end of the day transfer the footage while logging the Screen Actors Guild reports and creating the call sheets for the next day’s scenes. Exhausted both mentally and physically, I often couldn’t stand up at the end of the day’s filming.

Once we’d wrapped and everyone had gone home, I stood in the middle of our set and played Beethoven on my headphones. Within seconds, I began bawling my eyes out, partly from exhaustion but also from the melancholy that all my friends had left and I was now alone for the first time in a month. I collapsed and slept for hours. When I woke up, it was my 26th birthday. I celebrated by watching Citizen Kane alone and then started the process of painting the walls back to a neutral white. The actor Kevin Moccia (who has been in all three of my films and actually works as a house painter) heroically came back to set and helped me. I told him that despite all of the agony of the past weeks (my bank account was now in the red, with overdraft fees piling up), I was happier than I had ever been. Working passionately on something that has great value to you is, without a doubt, the key to happiness.

Shortly after returning to the real world and my job at the vegan yogurt shop, I passed out while on the clock and was taken to a hospital by my very supportive girlfriend. Turns out, all I needed was an IV and some nutrients to get back on my feet, but unfortunately the trouble with The Lion’s Den had just begun. At some point, I formatted the production audio memory card and, in one instant, accidentally deleted everything on it. For the next two years, my friend Brian Goodheart and I worked with all of the actors to dub all of the dialogue and sound effects in the movie. Each actor had to completely re-do their verbal performance. It felt like remaking the entire movie. The result made the film especially un-naturalistic (which pleased me at the time) and it turned out far better than I think Brian and I expected.

By then, I had some hopes that The Lion’s Den could reach a small audience. It is aggressively philosophical but also features a love triangle, a car chase and a final shootout. Its comic style, I was hoping, would attract people who were put off by the purposeful flatness of Annunciation. Nevertheless, the movie was also rejected from every conceivable festival. I now realized that submitting an aggressively experimental narrative film without a single famous person in it to festivals is basically like flushing your money down the toilet. Yet I continued submitting, like an addict at a casino putting all of their savings on the roulette table. You never know, right?

In hindsight, I now see The Lion’s Den as a very angry film that perhaps uses comedy to soften the blow of some of its hotheaded fervor, and suspect some of its critique of capitalism and naturalism came from hurt and jealousy. “You think my work isn’t natural enough, eh? I’ll show you motherfuckers naturalism!”

Sometime in 2017, to my surprise I became smitten with certain neo-neorealist filmmakers (Joe Swanberg, in particular) and decided I wanted in on the mumblecore party, albeit from my own outsider perspective. I began to see how I could work symbolically with naturalistic performances, which led me to my latest film. PVT Chat is by no means a work of strict realism, but nevertheless focuses on believable dramatic performances. The film’s cast blends some actors from my past work (Kevin Moccia, Nikki Belfiglio, David White) with some heroes of the modern neo-neorealist indie cinema (Peter Vack, Julia Fox, Buddy Duress, Keith Poulson).

I want to end with a bit of advice to other filmmakers: Don’t put your self-worth into the hands of festival reviewers or distributors. The future of the moving image will belong to the films that are willing to risk cinematic failure. If you make an earnest film that doesn’t behave like a normal movie, I want to see it, even if it is full of technical or narrative mistakes (which it most likely will be). There’s no right way to make a movie. Follow the dream of the caméra-stylo and make a film that if nobody else made, wouldn’t exist.

[freddiesaysalright]

Peace Like A River Part 1

A Gwilym Lee x Reader Story

Summary: Reader is a stand up comic with a pretty dark past. She has a three new lights in her life: her daughter, Violet; her anonymous correspondent, Dear Friend; and Gwilym Lee. 

Word Count: 3.4K

Tag List: @psychosupernatural @someone-get-a-medic @bensrhapsody @deakyclicks If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: Sorry this took so long! I had like the snippet of an idea for this and then needed more for a plot, but I think I’ve finally got it together lol. Hope y’all like it!

Part I here we go!!!

Grinning, you read over the letter once more from backstage. His words in that graceful, loopy handwriting warmed you from your heart to your toes. You sighed contentedly, stuffed the paper into your back pocket for luck, and waited for your cue.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage, Y/N Y/L/N!” the host cried. 

You shook out the last of your nerves and walked out on the stage, waving and grinning at the huge crowd that stood and applauded for you. You had never done a show for an audience this large and it was both intimidating and exhilarating. 

“Thank you!” you said, as you waited for them to stop cheering. “Thank you. Thank you all for coming. Really, I appreciate it because whenever I have to go out and do things, I think about killing myself.”

A nervous titter went through the crowd and you smiled again.

“Seriously, I do. I’ll think about killing myself over nothing. Like, the other day, I was in the car on my way home from the store and my sister called me and asked me to stop by her place and help her and her husband move furniture. And I actually thought ‘If I crashed my car right now and died, I wouldn’t have to go move any fucking furniture.’”

They laughed.

“It’s crazy, I know, but I casually think about it any time I’m even minorly inconvenienced. But what stops me from doing it - like, my next line of thought - is something equally meaningless. Like, in that scenario with my sister, the thing that held me back was like, I thought ‘But fuck, Bohemian Rhapsody is coming out in like two months and I really wanna see that.’”

A couple cheers came through the laughter and you smiled.

“Oh, we got some Queen fans in here tonight?” you said. 

More cheers.

“Yeah, cheer, clap, fuck yeah!”

A swell of shouts and whistles went through the crowd and you joined them.

“Fuck yeah, y’all were raised right,” you said when it settled down. “Queen is a great band. Just four sexy dudes making banger after banger. They’re legitimately my favorite band. I’m not gonna lie, they really got me through some shit, but we’ll come back to my trauma later.”

You paused for a small bit of laughter.

“Now normally, I don’t like when comedians talk about Queen. And by that, I mean, I don’t like it when comedians talk about Freddie Mercury,” you said. “And it’s not for some pretentious reason like they’re not real fans or something. It’s literally just that when people joke about Freddie Mercury, they joke about the same two things - his teeth and his sexuality - two extremely fucking boring things to joke about.”

You took a sip of water.

“Not only are they boring, they’re just rude. Like, these are things this man was born with and couldn’t change about himself - he had no control over that. What he did have control over - the fucking ridiculous lyrics of Under Pressure.”

A giggle went through them. You smiled.

“I’m serious. Have any of you ever looked up the lyrics to that song? Most of it doesn’t really bother me, it’s just those weird scat-like shit Freddie does between verses. Like, they have these great, meaningful lines followed by Freddie going ‘Um, bah, bah, bay.’ What the fuck?”

They laughed.

“That shit is in the official lyrics of that legendary song and I think about that every goddamn day. That and fucking ‘dee, dah, day - ok!’ Shit like that is how you know these dudes were on drugs. One of those guys came up with that, pitched it to four other people - if not more - and they all went ‘fuckin genius’ and bam! Under Pressure is one of the greatest hits of all time.”

They laughed harder.

“I guess I’m not as disturbed by that as I am by the fact that the people ate it up like they did. It’s one thing for those guys to say it’s genius, but then for us as the public to say it as well just fucks me up. The first time I heard that song I was like ‘what the cinnamon toast fuck am I listening to?’ Shit was weird.”

You took another drink as they laughed. 

“But honestly, I don’t understand why people go for Freddie’s sexuality when there are clearly much more roastable things to talk about. I don’t care how rich and famous he was, if you’re a straight white guy making fun of gay brown guy for being either or both of those things, you’re punching down, dude, and that’s not comedy, that’s just being an asshole.”

For that, they applauded. You continued on through your set, and this audience was great for you. They were responsive and you held their attention throughout. You were almost ready to close the show.

“I always like to end my shows with the most important person in my life,” you said. “I’ve talked about her already tonight, and she’s my daughter, Violet.”

The tech guys put a picture of her up on the projector behind you. You beamed at it. 

“That’s her. She’s three years old and she’s my everything. She’s the reason I get on stage and in front of cameras. She’s the real reason I don’t crash my car to get out of moving furniture.”

With one final laugh, you bid them goodnight. You took a little bow at the roar of applause and smiled widely. You said a few more thank yous before the spotlight dimmed and you walked off stage to the sound of cheering and clapping. It never ceased to amaze you how far you had come. 

Someone took the mic for you as your assistant approached. She was a recent hire, and something you initially resisted. But now that your name and brand had grown, you really did need the help. Her name was Stacy, and she was incredibly efficient. You liked her, as did Violet, which sold you on hiring her.

“Great show,” she said with a smile. “Vi is asleep in the green room. We’ve got a couple VIP guests for you to meet before we take you both back to the hotel.”

“Alright, lead the way,” you replied.

You followed her to another room backstage where you saw a group of men. Most of them had their back to you, but one face, you recognized. Gwilym Lee, who you considered a friend, even though you hadn’t spoken in a while.

Before you had really thrown yourself into standup, you did a bit of acting. You and Gwilym shot a pilot of a sitcom that unfortunately never aired, but while filming, you had become really close. You even felt like he was flirting with you a few times, but back then you were nowhere near ready to start a new relationship, so you’d kept things strictly platonic. Nowadays, you mostly liked each others pictures on Instagram as your main form of communication. But life was busy for both of you. You were on tour and he had gone on to films.

You started to smile but then froze when the man next to Gwilym turned his head. You grabbed Stacy’s arm harshly.

“Holy shit is that Brian May?” you wondered.

She chuckled. “Yeah! The VIP guests are Queen and the cast of Bohemian Rhapsody.”

“Shut the fuck up!” you cried. “Really?!”

“Yep,” she assured you. “Go on in and say hello.”

Your stomach dropped with nerves. Again, you shook yourself free of them and donned your stage personality. Slipping into that mask was where you were most comfortable. While you talked about the things you had endured in your comedy, there it was lighthearted, and you did not have to face it head on. You could throw a joke out and dodge it. 

“Well, hello!” you said brightly as you entered the room. 

They all turned eyes on you and smiled as you were introduced. Brian May and Roger Taylor were without a doubt the most thrilling to shake hands with, but Rami Malek, Joe Mazzello, and Ben Hardy were also exciting. When it came time to shake hands with Gwilym, you offered a warm, friendly smile. 

“It’s great to see you again,” you said. “It’s been two years or so now?”

“Just about,” he replied. “You were wonderful.”

“Thank you!”

“Gwil was the one who convinced us to come tonight,” Joe explained. “He said you were hilarious on set when you filmed before.”

“That’s sweet,” you replied. “It is a shame that show never took off, it was a good one.”

“I certainly loved it,” Gwilym said. 

You chatted with them for a bit. They all were calming to be around. Brian and Roger were complimentary of your bit about Under Pressure, which eased some of your nerves about the set. Even though you were, you didn’t feel like you were putting on a show for them. In minutes, it felt like they were your friends. 

The door opened shortly after and in walked Stacy, hand in hand with your very sleepy daughter. She clutched her stuffed dog close to her chest as she ran right to you and crawled into you lap. You wrapped your arms around her and held her close, kissing the top of her head. She eyed the guests warily. 

“What are you doing awake, sweetie?” you asked gently, stroking her hair. 

“She woke up for a little while,” Stacy explained. “I tried to get her back down but all she wanted was Mommy.”

You smiled. “That’s okay. You can have Mommy whenever you want her.”

She snuggled into your chest, turning her face away from the strangers. 

“You don’t want to say hello?” you wondered, and she shook her head. You looked at the guys. “Sorry. She’s kinda shy.”

“That’s alright,” said Brian. 

“She’s grown up,” Gwilym said. “Last time I saw her, she was just learning to walk.”

“Oh, yeah,” you remembered. “She actually walked right into you during a scene.”

You both chuckled at the memory.  

“The director was almost mad, but she was so cute,” he continued. 

He knelt down in front of you and gently touched her arm. She turned her face to just barely peek at him. 

“Hi, Violet,” he said sweetly, smiling at her. “It’s been a while.”

Her brow furrowed. 

“You were still a little baby,” you explained to her. “But you’ve met Gwilym before.”

She relaxed and looked between you and him. 

“Daddy?” she questioned. 

You stiffened and cleared your throat uncomfortably. Then shook your head. 

“No, baby,” you told her. “No Daddy.”

She pouted at you and then hid her face again. You looked apologetically at Gwilym, who shrugged it off. He started to get up, but hesitated to pick something up off the ground. It was your letter that had been in your pocket. He held it out to you. 

“Is this yours?” he asked. 

You quickly took it, your face flushing with embarrassment. Even though there was no way he knew what it was, you still felt really shy about the whole situation. 

“Yeah, thanks,” you said, not meeting his eyes as you stuffed it back into your pocket. 

“A letter?” he questioned. 

“Just some particularly touching fanmail,” you lied. 

“Not enough people write letters anymore in my opinion,” said Roger. 

“Why sit and write a letter when you can send a text?” Ben replied. “It’s much faster.”

“Yeah, but I sort of miss the anticipation involved in letter writing,” Brian said in agreement with his bandmate. 

You continued to visit with them as Violet slowly fell asleep again against you. For a while, you felt Gwilym’s eyes on you intensely. His expression was odd. It appeared he thought he knew something more about you. It made you shift in your seat a few times before at last, he seemed to let go of whatever question was burning in his mind. 

They visited for about another half hour before you really did need to get back to your hotel, and so did they. You said fond farewells to all of them, reassured them that you would see the movie, and then it came to Gwilym. 

“We’re in New York for a few days,” he said. “Let me know if you’d like to get coffee or something and catch up.”

“That would be great,” you replied with a smile. 

You gave him a side hug since you had Violet on your hip, sleeping soundly. Her stuffed dog slipped from her hand but Gwil caught it before it hit the ground and handed it to you. 

“Can’t have that,” he said lightly. 

“Thank you,” you returned, taking it. You looked at all of them. “Have a wonderful night, guys. It was so great chatting with you.”

They all bid you one final farewell. Gwilym was the last to leave and you shared a lingering look with him before he closed the door. You continued to stare at the spot where he disappeared, realizing now how much you had missed him these last couple years. 

“Ready to go to bed?” Stacy asked. 

With a yawn, you nodded, and she ordered an Uber to take all three of you back to the hotel you were staying in. It wasn’t far from the venue, since you would be doing three shows there this week before moving on Boston. Stacy eyed you with an odd smirk as you stared out the car window. Finally, you looked at her. 

“What is it?” you asked, a bit snappier than you intended. 

“You and Gwilym Lee seemed to have a little something going on,” she said with a sly smirk. 

You rolled your eyes. “We just knew each other a couple years ago. Besides, you know I’m...involved with someone.”

“Ah, right,” she said, rolling her eyes now. “The ever elusive Dear Friend.”

“Hey, if anyone’s elusive, it’s me,” you said. “I was the one who made the arrangement what it is.”

“Y/N, you write letters to some mystery man,” she replied. “He could be anyone. Gwilym Lee is a real person and right in front of you.” 

“Dear Friend is a real person,” you argued. “I’ve just never met him.”

“And yet you’re convinced he’s your soulmate,” she returned. “I just don’t get it. How can you fall in love with someone through paper?”

“You don’t understand,” you said. “You’ve never read his letters. He’s so...eloquent and smart. And I can be myself with him. I can share my deepest thoughts and desires without any fear of judgement. He does so with me as well. It’s a real connection. The strongest I’ve ever felt with anyone.”

“You don’t know anything real about each other,” she insisted. “Not your names, not your jobs, where you live-”

“Those things don’t matter,” you cut across her. “The real stuff is deeper than that. And that’s where Dear Friend and I meet.”

“Whatever,” she said dismissively, weary of having this discussion yet again. “You’ve got your family reunion on your last day in town. I suggest you find a man in person to go with you. If you show up without someone again, I think your mother will actually lose her mind.”

You considered this. She was right, your mother absolutely hounded you about your romantic life since Violet was born. You told her you weren’t ready since your marriage had left you so scarred. You didn’t tell her about Dear Friend, though, since you knew she could never understand something like that. Plus, you had only been corresponding for a year.  

“I think Gwilym would go with you,” Stacy said, nudging you with her elbow. 

“I was thinking more along the lines of hiring some actor to be my boyfriend,” you replied. “I don’t want to expose Gwilym to my family. He’s been nothing but nice to me.”

She chuckled. “At least take him up on the coffee. I really think you should explore your options in case this Dear Friend isn’t who he says he is.”

“I will take him up on the coffee,” you assured her. “But it’s not a date. In the meantime, find some poor struggling actor to go with me and get my mother off my back.”

“I’m on it,” she assured you, already looking through her phone to get started. 

You reached the hotel at last. You took Violet to your room, bidding Stacy goodnight as she went to her room next door. You tucked your daughter into bed and kissed her on the forehead before heading over the desk. You pulled out the letter from Dear Friend that was still in your pocket and read it once more. Then you pulled out your stationery and pen to begin your reply. You were halfway through your letter when you remembered Gwilym. 

You opened your phone and pulled up his number, which you had from your days of being coworkers. You opened up a text to send to him and found yourself blanking on what to say. You had written paragraphs to Dear Friend, but when it came to asking someone to get a simple cup of coffee, you had no idea how to phrase it. It made you all the more certain Dear Friend was your person. Words came easily when talking to him. 

You went with your stage personality. You sent a casual, “Is tomorrow too soon for that coffee?” with a silly emoji. Then you returned to your letter. Gwilym texted back almost right away and suggested meeting around nine in the morning, which you agreed to. Then you finished writing your letter and sealed it in an envelope for Stacy to send off in the morning. 

The letters always took some time. One thing you knew about Dear Friend was that he was from the UK. The PO box you sent the letters to was in London, but you could also tell from the way he spelled things. You often teased each other about these differences. So of course, they took longer to send and receive. But, you agreed with Brian May that the anticipation of getting one was one of the most exciting parts of the experience. 

Another benefit of him being across the pond meant that your opportunities to meet were few. In fact, you hadn’t had one since you started writing. It was a bit of a relief. You knew you loved Dear Friend, but keeping him at arm’s (well, ocean’s) length felt safest. And after your brutal marriage to Violet’s father, Henry, being safe was of top priority for you. And yet, the desire to be with Dear Friend grew daily. It just terrified you to face the reality of it. 

The next morning, you dropped the letter and Violet off with Stacy while you went to meet up with Gwilym. You went to a local coffee shop and ordered. You paid, and he protested, but you insisted, and assured him that he could get it next time. You grabbed a table and started talking. You told him you were still living in Los Angeles and that you were mostly doing shows out in California. You tended to avoid New York, since Henry and his friends and family were still there and he was still an NYPD officer. You couldn’t avoid it on tour, though, nor your family reunion. You told Gwilym about the reunion, but not the part about you ex-husband. 

“You’re hiring someone?” he asked, baffled. “A stranger?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Some guy that was rejected from Broadway or something. I’ll pay him, and we’ll come up with a story for my mother, and then the next time I see her I’ll tell her how we tragically broke up.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll do it for you.”

You blinked. “You really don’t have to-”

“I don’t mind,” he said. “We’re friends. I know meeting strange men is difficult for you.”

Gwilym knew that Henry had abused you because you talked about it in your sets. You never got into gruesome detail, although you had confessed a few things to Dear Friend. You talked on stage about not dating because of what you had been through. It was extremely kind of Gwilym to offer this, and you weren’t sure how you could thank him. Your comedian mask slipped on again. 

“I’m not sure I can afford your rates, Mr. Lee,” you teased. 

“How much was my coffee?” he returned. 

“Five dollars,” you told him. 

“Well, it turns out, for friends, I offer a discounted price of five dollars,” he joked. “So, consider it payment for the coffee.”

Your brow furrowed. “Are you sure about this?”

“Really, it’s fine,” he reassured you. “It’s just one day.”

“I can’t tell you how grateful I am,” you said, seriously. 

He raised a curious eyebrow at your tone. 

“I mean, it’s just one of the nicest things,” you continued, blushing once again under his gaze. “You’re a very generous person, Gwilym.”

“Perhaps,” he said. “Or you’re just still getting used to kindness.”

You smiled, unwilling to go any deeper. 

“Let’s chalk it up to a combination of both,” you said lightly. 

You finished your coffees and headed to the door. He had to go to an interview and you were going to take Violet around the city since the weather was nice. As you hugged goodbye, you smiled up at him. 

“See you Saturday?” you asked. 

“Saturday,” he affirmed.

[thecorteztwins]

(Maddy and Haven fic! Tagging @sammysdewysensitiveeyes since it was their idea. TRYING to tag @esteicy-blog but TUMBLR WON’T LET ME LATELY) They had met in Limbo, literally. Both of them had been awoken, trapped there, after their respective demises, due to their being “tainted” with demonic energy. Thus, rather than going on to wherever everyone else got to, they instead did not truly perish, but merely had moved, including their earthly body, to another plane, one where such energies allowed them to survive. The denizens there let them be, and indeed gave them both a wide berth. The power of the demons that had left their marks on these women had the same effect on lesser entities as the scent of an apex predator did on smaller ones in its environment--keeping them far at bay in fear.  It was a boon, yes, keeping them from being torn to shreds or worse by the loathsome inhabitants of the realm, but it was a bitter one. A reminder that they were forever marked, forever set apart, forever a part of them warped and evil and wrong even though they had thought their nightmare was over with their deaths.  They had found each other, there in that twisted geography, two alien loners, two angels lost in hell. Naturally, they had banded together as traveling companions, roaming the only world that would have them anymore.  Along the way, they’d learned about each other. Madelyne had opened up first. Her pain was a raw, angry one, a pain that reached out of herself because it was too much to contain in her own limited being, in anyone. She had made the world itself feel her pain, made all of Manhattan share it; she was not private with it. Yet in her strange way, she had come to be possessive of it too; it was one of the few things that was HERS. Haven, who had kept the secret of her “Voice Within” for twenty years (though it turned out, in the end, she didn’t know its TRUE secret), who was not the headstrong spitfire that Madelyne was, but instead raised a restrained and refined lady who had only ever broken one rule (and paid dearly for it) while Madelyne made her own, took more time. She was still ashamed, something Madelyne was not, and something Madelyne encouraged her against once she knew about it. ”Just because the creatures who did this will never feel shame,” she’d said, “Shouldn’t mean we have to!” Madelyne KNEW this wasn’t her fault---or Haven’s---and that was what made her mad! Madelyne, someone who had been a hero with the X-Men, someone who had advocated mutant rights back when she’d so foolishly thought herself human, had a strong sense of justice---and she raged at how it had been denied them both, while Haven took a sad, silent, stalwart approach. But when Madelyne had begun to express her experiences, bringing them forth in angry tears or bitter comments, Haven had begun to open herself to Madelyne in kind. Not to compete with Madelyne’s pain, but to comfort her in sharing it, as so few could. Both of them were also women of great compassion. Haven had been a philanthropist, tormented by the pain of others and using all her great means to assuage it. Madelyne had helped save lives with the X-Men....and given up her own life to save the world. Save the world, ironically, from the same creature that had entered it again years later through Haven’s womb. They were women who, in their natural state, cared deeply and truly and, in Maddy’s case, fiercely for others---thus, naturally, they had compassion for one another. And it helped them find compassion for themselves too, though each believed the other lacked enough for herself. Maddy, because she saw that Haven was not vengeful. Haven, because she saw that Madelyne was. Like right now; returned to Earth and life by unknown powers (Madelyne assured Haven it was a pretty regular thing) the redhead had immediately begun a plan to attack the X-Men, in particular Scott Summers and his new telepathic paramour. A plan that, Haven, of course, opposed. “How many of them had an evil phase?” Madelyne griped, “How many former villains are in their ranks? And yet it’s ME ALONE who is forever outcast from them. If they want a wicked witch to hate, I’ll give it to them!” “Have you tried to rejoin them?” “No! But they might have offered.” “But you would refuse?” “Yes. But they should offer. I was with them for years. Some even met me before they met the OTHER WOMAN. How can they just forget me for her when they knew me FIRST?”     “ It doesn’t sound like they were worthy friends for you, Madelyne. If they’ve forgotten you, why not forget them? It’s unfair, for you to be the one burdened with a grudge.”     “They deserve it!” Madelyne exclaimed in pained, furious passion, her eyes wrenched shut from sheer emotion, her fists raised and clenched, her body actually doubling over as though she had been struck in the stomach. Haven’s voice was still calm...and yet, with no less emotion, in its own serene, loving way, “What about what you deserve?” That took Madelyne aback, and instead of answering it, she ejected in shocked, accusing betrayal, “You’re trying to manipulate me!” For Madelyne, of all people, knew manipulation when it came her way. It had been there with her first breath...and her last. She would say she’d never expect it from Haven, but the truth is, she expected from anyone in the end. As for Haven, she did not deny or deflect it, and that did surprise Madelyne somewhat, though it did not pacify her. “I...suppose so, yes, you’re right. It isn’t how I think of it, but I am trying to urge you towards a goal that I want, even as you’re telling me that I want the opposite, and I am trying to use words to appeal to you. To steer you, even. Because I don’t want to MAKE you do anything, Madelyne, and I doubt I ever could. But I do wish that you would want something different.” “And what would you get out of it?” “My initial response is, nothing. But upon a moment’s reflection---I would get my own happiness. It pains me to see someone so victimized, so wounded, so wronged, and it also pains me to see anger, hate, vindictiveness, even when justified...especially since it continues to hurt you. So in you doing what I believe will alleviate your pain, mine would also be alleviated. And I suppose also, I am trying to push my own worldview. To move you in the direction I believe is right, because I believe it is right. I do genuinely wish for you to be happier, to be better--but there is a certain arrogance in my belief that the path I advocate will provide that, and that the one you have chosen to pursue will not. It’s understandable to push back against that, to be angry, to be insulted---especially since it’s coming from someone who should understand where you are coming from.”

“So you want me to be like you. You just want me to forgive everyone and let this go, because you think being a doormat is the moral high ground?” “Forgiveness...helped ME heal. Holding a grudge..may be what helps you heal. That’s for you to decide. But not forgiving them...does not mean you must still pursue vengeance. It tethers you to them, as much as you were tethered before by the machinations of others.” “Don’t preach at me!” Madelyne nearly screamed, face and body twisting in pain again, “I earned my vengeance!” “It is not the validity of your rage I question,” Haven tried to urge her back, “It is your willingness to hurt yourself for it. I don’t want that for you, Madelyne. You’ve been so wronged. You deserve more for yourself than becoming a villain in someone else’s story.” Madelyne felt patronized and also penetrated, simultaneously like Haven was pretentious and self-righteous and talking down to her and trying to tell her what to do and how she felt...and also like her description was exactly accurate. A villain in someone else’s story. Because it always had been someone elses story from the start, hadn’t it? Not hers, never hers. She was the lover, the mother, the evil witch, but never the heroine. She was there to be sacrificed or sacrifice others, but never to save them or be saved. And every time she tried to strike back at the X-Men...she couldn’t deny, the cycle continued, with her pain and humiliation and rejection and defeat all over again.    clenched her heart like a squeezing fist , the knowledge that this was all that she had left to her now if she stopped...she was nothing. her life was intertwined with theirs, with scott, from the start. If she gave it up, as painful as it was, who was left? She’d used to be so confident. I am what I am, she had said to Sym. But that had been before she’d known what she REALLY was. A fake. An illusion. A ghost made flesh, who only existed now so long as she returned to haunt those were truly real, truly alive, truly people. People with REAL memories and REAL desires, things they TRULY had lived and felt. Even Haven had that!       “You have a life to go back to!” she yelled, “This IS my life!” “It doesn't have to be,” Haven had moved towards her, standing close to her, had put her hands on Madelyne’s upper arms, gently holding her, looking into her suffering, angry green ones with her own sorrowful loving dark ones, “You can make your own life---you have nothing now, but that means your canvas is clean--” “It will NEVER be clean!” Madelyne was in agony, and nearly in tears. “People can change, Madelyne. You weren’t always like this, were you? Your experiences changed you. You can change again.” Her voice a sob, Madelyne turned her face away from her fried, “There’s no going back.” “No,” Haven agreed softly, “There isn’t. But there can be going forward. You can never be how you were before, never un-know what you now know. But you can also be a new person. We’re all always changing. You can too---and this time, you get to steer.” Her hands moved down to Madelyne’s own, fingers intertwined with hers, and Maddy found herself grasping back. In a small voice, she asked, “Where do I even begin?” How did one start making a life, an entire person?  How could you build YOURSELF from nothing? “Let’s start with something you love,” said Haven gently, “Something that’s just yours. And always has been.” Madelyne thought a moment. Then she turned her face back to Haven, opening her eyes, which had been clenched shut again a moment ago, “I think I’d like to fly again.”

[OOC note: Originally, I had written out a bit where Madelyne finds out Haven’s past through telepathy. But then I ended up writing them as having opened up organically to each other prior to this argument, and I liked that better. However, I still really liked the mind-reading scene, even though I cut it, so here’s my outline of how it would have gone down: And what are our similarities, Mother Theresa? One of the saddest expressions that Madelyne had ever seen outside a mirror. The crazy thing was, it wasn’t even in her face, which remained as gracefully composed as that of a geisha. It was all in her huge, dark eyes, and the furrowing of the thick brows above them. She was struggling with something. Her eloquent tongue was finally wrapped around something she couldn’t spit out. It made Maddy curious enough to keep listening; what was Miss Perfect here hiding? Did she accidentally step on a bug once and was living in agony with the guilt? An expression of relinquishing, of defeat, replaced the struggle on Haven’s face. She shut her eyes, and there was the sense she had let go, submitted to something, and was steeling herself for it. Opening her eyes back at Madelyne, she said, “I...think it is better to show you. I have not the strength to say. Not now. Maybe not for a long time. But hopefully, one day.” “You want me to read your memories.” “It...is a deeply intimate thing, I know. I understand if you do not wish to.” didn’t usually get that people understood how intimate it was for the person whose mind was being read, but seldom considered how much so it was for the telepath too seemed especially hesitant, must not like people poking around in her brain few did but she was offering anyway Madelyne didn’t think she’d be persuaded, but she was intrigued enough she had to see Well, hold tight to your socks, girl. I’m going in.   seen it seen it all used by a man for her body, abandoned with her child not yet born a demon for her pregnancy 20 years without control 20 years forced into a role she didn’t choose, would never had chosen attacked by X-Men died alone no sympathy, no one, Roma herself---someone Madelyne had met and remembered fondly, someone who had given Maddy life again after her first death---there to tell her she deserved it, even as she begged Roma, begged her not to save her but to stop her monstrous child The Adversry The Adversary, dear god was it possible?! The Adversary---the same demon that had KILLED Madelyne in that first death! Well, not exactly---it had not struck her down, but she had offered her life to Forge’s spell to bind it away from this reality yet it had traveled through time, twenty years back, and found refuge in the womb of this woman, this human woman, human til she wasn’t, just like Maddy, just like Maddy, just like Maddy--             and saw too, the reason for Haven’s hesitancy to show this not just the pain, the shame, the intimacy no, another reason Haven had been telepathically invaded by force before, violated, that was how Haven had felt it, as a violation, how Madelyne therefore felt it now through her memories Xavier forced his way in despite her repeated pleas and outcries against it, had KNOWN she was hiding something in Haven’s forgiving retrospect, she thought Xavier had done the right thing, because she HAD been hiding something, something terrible, she HAD been responsible for the deaths of millions and answers must be found, Haven understood, Haven forgave, Haven thought he had been right to do it as much as it hurt her still but Madelyne did NOT forgive for all her grudges over her self, Madelyne could still take on new ones for other people, because Madelyne still CARED for others, even the people she’d never met, had no ties to, it was why she had left Sebastian Shaw despite him never harming HER, because his actions had the potential to harm other people even if she never saw it And she saw this now, and she did NOT forgive, she--- pulled away, gasping as though for air, like she had been deep underwater physically instead of deep in Haven’s mind Haven’s sorrowful look remained, had increased, and Maddy indeed understood why now     ]

[fflewddur-fflam-bonfamille]

A Christmas King: The Royal Wedding

In which Fflewddur and Marie get married. [Dated: April 25th, 2020]

@marie-a-fflam-bonfamille @lou-bonfightme @ber-bonfamille-lyons

FFLEWDDUR:

The day had finally arrived. Fflewddur Fflam was getting married to the most beautiful woman in the world. He had woken early, energized and eager to go even though he knew that the wedding would be a long process. It would be ceremonial, it would have every elaborate thing possible. Still, he got into his dress uniform, his aid carefully helping him set it all right. Not a button could be out of place, his hair was carefully styled and groomed until it shone.

Before he knew it he was heading out of the palace entrance, his beautiful gray horse Ferdinand tacked up and ready for King Fflewddur to mount and kick off the parade to the cathedral. Fflewddur put his crown on his head and then had another aid help him up and into the saddle, settling and smiling at his servants. “Thank you everyone. I’m honored to have you all at my side on such a special day.”

Without another word, he nudged his horse forward with his thighs, the beautiful stallion trotting forward quickly, taking them out through the gate, where a marching band was already out in front playing the processional music. Just behind the marching band were two royal guards, riding black horses. As Fflewddur started down the path they had set on, three other guards came in behind him, making sure their king was properly protected as he paraded through the charming town of Vvlandersnazm.

Fflewddur had been trained for this type of fanfare all of his life. So he smiled at the cheering crowds at the side, he gathered his reins in one hand and waved. The cheers grew louder and a bigger smile spread across Fflewddur’s face. Who knew this part of it could actually be fun? He’d never really thought of it until Marie. But here he was, feeling the excited energy building and building as the procession made its way toward the cathedral.

It felt like forever and not long at all before his part of the procession came up to the front of the cathedral, a man stepping forward to gently take hold of Ferdinand’s reins. Fflewddur grinned and hopped off the horse carefully, patting the obedient stallion’s neck. “Thank you.” He was pulled aside just inside the cathedral to change into a new (non horse scented) set of trousers and stepped forward so he could prepare to head down the aisle and wait for Marie.

MARIE:

Marie had thought she would barely catch a wink of sleep, going to bed as she had with butterflies in her stomach and champagne bubbles in her chest, making her feel giddy and bright. Tomorrow she would be married, in front of a kingdom that would soon be hers. How could she sleep with such excitement?

And yet she did. Marie woke to the bright spring morning light filtering in through the curtains, warming her skin. She didn’t linger to enjoy it — there was a lot to do before she could so much as leave her bedroom. There was a quick breakfast whilst she carried out her morning skincare routine, and then there was the hair, the makeup, and the dress. There was a small army of people to help, of course — the room was a flurry of activity, the dress designer and a makeup artist flown in from Paris, her friends lounging around the room, or otherwise running around trying to find garters and perfume and hair clips. Her mother hovered, as Marie had no doubt she would, and before they left for the cathedral the Dowager Queen popped into the room with a gift: the tiara she had promised for the young bride for the day.

The flurry of activity didn’t disturb her, though. In fact, Marie didn’t move much at all; she sat in a chair at the dressing table, being supplied with whatever she needed — most of which was attention. Once she had been assured that her soon-to-be husband was clear of the building, with absolutely no chance of them crossing paths, Marie was ready to leave.

It was exactly what she had expected: sitting in the back of the carriage with her father, waving at the crowds that huddled at the roadside, waving flags and cheering the procession. The guards on their high white horses didn’t serve any distraction from her, as far as she was concerned, her chin tilted up just a little like the royalty she was soon to be.

She took a moment, as they climbed the cathedral steps, to stop and turn around. To direct one more wave and a dazzling smile at the people of her fiancé’s kingdom. Perhaps some would see it as a stunt, to win their affection, but as far as Marie could tell, she already had it — she just wanted to soak it up a little more.

But there was an order to these things; once inside the cathedral, she was ushered into a small side room, to wait her turn. The music from the band began to pick up, and her mother continued to fuss, adjusting the veil around her shoulders until Marie took her hands, and held them gently.

“Maman, why don’t you go take your seat? We’ll all be out soon enough.” She assured her, stepping forward to kiss her cheek. “Les garçons,” she began, turning now to her brothers. “Are you ready?”

TOULOUSE:

Toulouse was not ready. Nor was he happy. But, at least he was here. He supposed if he was not, he would come to regret it. Even though he was sure there would be another--and one that was actually proper. For now...this was what they were saddled with. And Lou really did try to be happy for Marie, but every time he looked at her, his brain simply fast-forwarded to six months, a year from now: with a Marie no longer smiling and sparkling with diamonds.

However, he played his part, patting his mother’s hand while she weeped and fretted, making sure Berlioz was where he was supposed to be at any given moment, he’d even been polite to the Dowager queen and the rest of Fflewddur’s family. The last thing he wanted was for his behaviour to reflect poorly on Marie or their own family. They were the Bonfamilles, after all.  

If Marie wanted to play moral high ground, well, Lou was an expert at such games.

“No, I’m not,” he told her with a smile, and to anyone who did not know them, it would come off only as a tease, “but I don’t have much say in the matter so--” he shrugged his shoulders, but he did step forward and leaned down to kiss her cheek.

“Tu es très belle, ma petite. Je t’aime.” At least that much was true.

MARIE:

Marie hadn’t been sure about Toulouse.  She had refused to lose any sleep over it, of course, but he had said he would be there, and she had trusted him with that much. If there was one thing about Lou, at least, he was a man of his word — and he could be trusted to dress the part as well.

“Thank you, mon cher,” She replied, turning from one brother to the other as they waited for their cue, her bouquet clutched in both hands. “Berlioz, are you ready? It’s the best man first, and then Toulouse, and then you.” She looked between the two of them. “Got that?”

BERLIOZ:

Oh yeah, this was going to be an absolute disaster. Eventually.

He was reminded of Baktin’s Carnivalesque, not to be a complete pretentious prat-- but that’s what he thought about when they’d arrived at the castle from the storybooks, when he saw the lavish decorations and the uniforms. Here they all were, a cast of characters straight out of a play-- Fflew the Parody King, Marie the Jeweled Fool of an Off-brand Princess, Lou the Disgruntled, and Berlioz, well, Berlioz supposed he was the audience surrogate, leaning on that fourth wall or looking for a camera (because there would be so many cameras today). They’d all played this scene before. Remember, he nearly said to Lou, when they’d both been forced to act in Marie’s pretend weddings when she was a little girl? She usually married Lou (let’s not get too Freudian about it), wearing Maman’s make-up and pearls. There was no difference between those games and this one, at least to Berlioz.

But hey. He was here to have fun. He hoped he and Lou were both wrong. He hoped that Marie would be a happy queen and a happy wife. He hoped the kingdom wasn’t secretly bankrupt. He hoped that Fflew was more than his ego.

If not, then he hoped they’d all look back at this day with as little embarrassment as possible.

So here he was, in his Marie-approved outfit, texting Simba live updates. “Huh?” Ber said and then-- quickly put his phone away and smiled a typical sheepish Ber smile. His little sister was so serious. Always so serious. He hoped one more time that this was the wedding she always wanted, if she couldn’t marry Lou after all.

“Yup.” He thumbs-upped Marie. “Promise not to trip on the way down.”

He should kiss her cheek too. Say something profound. “Je suis heureux pour toi,” he said then, and smiled softly.

FFLEWDDUR:

The music started to play and Fflewddur was the first to start down the aisle, a great big smile lighting up his face as he passed by his family, the nobles of Vvlandersnazm, the various guests that Marie had invited and all. This was the kind of wedding he’d once worried over. Now he felt like the luckiest person alive to be marrying a woman as wonderful as Marie was.

He made his way over to the altar, his good friend William off to the side standing in as a proper best man. Fflewddur nodded at the bishop who took responsibility for all the major weddings in the country, turning and settling at his spot to await the moment that he would see Marie come down that aisle herself.

 “You’re in it now aren’t you mate?” His friend whispered to him and Fflewddur snorted and elbowed him. “Happily so. I can’t imagine anyone as perfect as my Marie.” He knew he’d railed about the monarchy and arranged marriages and all the other customs that could come up with the system to William countless times. But he really was happy. Marie was going to make him very happy. He let his hands clasp loosely in front of him as he waited, every moment building the anticipation for his dream come true.

MARIE:

Marie, of course, was the last to leave the little vestibule they’d been tucked away in. She watched each pair go off in turn, her brothers and some ladies of the kingdom, a few lords, sons of local nobility and a few of her friends from home, from Paris, dolled up in petticoats and hairpins that would make their ancestors shiver. Marie didn’t give it a second thought, of course; had there been a mirror she might have glanced in it, but she knew how she appeared. Like a princess; like a bride. Soon to be one, and already the other.

“Ready?” Her father asked, leaning his head down close to hers, his voice a stage whisper. He was smiling, but Marie had a feeling it wasn’t entirely a joke.

“Very.” She replied with a smile of her own, turning to look front and centre before they stepped out of the room, and began their walk down the aisle.

The music filled the cathedral from floor to ceiling, but Marie strained her ear for the soft oos and ahs of the crowd, the old ladies in fancy hats and the little girls stood on tip toes watching her as she passed. Marie smiled at all of them, as many as she could; but the closer they got to the altar, the less her attention strayed, and Marie looked to Fflewddur, greeting him with a grin.

When she joined him just before the bishop, her father placed a hand on the small of her back, his gaze meeting her fiancé’s. “Look after her,” he said softly, his voice a warning as he took a step back. Marie simply smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek before she turned to Fflewddur, to take his hand.

“Hello,” She whispered, feeling giddy as she did, unable to hide her smile.

FFLEWDDUR:

The music started to fill the cathedral, and Fflewddur turned so that he could face the aisle properly, a smile lighting up his face as Marie came down the aisle toward him. She was absolutely stunning, a vision in her white dress and Fflewddur couldn’t take his eyes off her. He didn’t want to.

“I promise I will,” he replied, gently taking Marie’s hand and lifting it so he could kiss the top of it. “Hello Marie. You look so beautiful.” He was in awe of her and overwhelmed by his fortune as he turned with her to face the bishop. This was the most important moment of their lives, he was sure. It had his heart pounding like mad, but the smile on his face was genuine.

“We are gathered here today to join this man and woman in holy matrimony.” The bishop said a lot more about weddings in the eyes of God and all that but Fflewddur didn’t pay much attention to that. He smiled at Marie, mouthing ‘I love you’ at her when he caught her looking. He didn’t really focus back in until the bishop said “I ask you each to repeat the marriage vows. If you have vows of your own you may say them at this time.”

Fflewddur focused back on his beautiful bride, reminding himself of the vows he had repeated to himself over and over so he could say it freely, so he could express himself as he should. “Marie, there will be many people that think that our passion is too quick, our passion is too wild, and that we’re not thinking about the future. Those people couldn’t be more wrong. Since the moment I met you I had this feeling that you were the one for me. Never have I been as understood as I have by you, and I would never have thought about marriage at all for myself until I met you. But I did meet you and I knew that I needed you with me. I wanted to be with you for the rest of our lives. I want us to have a family and grow old together. I picture the future and all I see is spending as much time as I can with you. For the first time I want to figure out what it means to be a proper ruler, if only so that I could rule at your side. I want to meet our future hand in hand ready to see what comes next. I love you Marie. I’m so happy that you’re going to be my wife.”

MARIE:

Marie could only smile back at him, sneaking glances at Fflewddur now and then; her cheeks would be hurting by the end of the day, no doubt, and there was a thought in the back of her mind about laughter lines, but it was her wedding day. Perhaps she was allowed a day off from worrying about wrinkles (in her face, anyhow; her entire morning had been spent worrying about wrinkles in her dress).

It felt surreal. Like a dream, or like she was playing a part in a film. Fflewddur said his vows, more beautifully written than Marie could have imagined, certainly on par with the vows her imaginary husband had always come out with in her daydreams, and it felt like at any moment, someone would yell cut!, and the whole thing would be done. But there was no director, no one waiting to critique her performance — no one but herself, anyhow.

Much like a performance, however, Marie had memorised her lines well. Word for word, each inflection in the right place. She had been in the Swynlake summer performance quite a few times now; memorising lines was old hat.

“Fflewddur,” She began, her smile bright. “When we met, I did not know it would bring us here. I did not know many things, in fact,” She laughed, remembering their trip at Christmas, finding out that her boyfriend was the king of a place she had barely even heard of. “But this, certainly, was the last thing I expected. And I’m glad. I’m glad that we’re here, together. I can’t imagine anyone else I would wish to spend my life with. There is a quote that I’ve always loved: Il n’y a qu’un bonheur dans la vie, c’est d’aimer et d’être aimé. There is only one happiness in life — to love, and to be loved. I can’t imagine anything better than loving you, and being loved by you. Whatever that might entail.”

FFLEWDDUR:

Every word that came from Marie’s mouth felt like magic. Despite their brief acquaintance, despite how quick they had gone from dating to engaged, he knew this was right. Fflewddur knew it in his heart, and he couldn’t help but mouth ‘I love you’ at her after she had finished.

The bishop gestured for the rings to be brought forward, and Fflewddur carefully lifted the one made for Marie, gently reaching for her hand. The bishop guided the words, and Fflewddur carefully slid the ring on his fiancee’s finger as he echoed them: “I Fflewddur Fflam take you Marie Bonfamille to be my wife to have and to hold from this day forward. For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish til death do us part.”

He made sure that the ring was just right on her finger before he drew his hand way, but not before he added a gentle squeeze of their hands, to express his love where he couldn’t quite kiss her yet. That would go against tradition. He hardly glanced at the bishop repeating these vows for Marie to say. His focus was solely on her, on his bride.

MARIE:

How often had little Marie wondered it would be like to have a ring on her finger? How many times had she almost slipped one on and then worried about the bad luck, setting the ring on her middle finger as if she had never done it in the first place. Having her engagement ring, even if she hadn’t had it for very long, felt like something magical. As if she were the only woman in the world to get to enjoy such spoils. She had moved her engagement ring to her middle finger, just for now; she didn’t want anything to get in the way of her wedding ring, and the gentle weight of it as it sat on her finger.

She looked up at Fflewddur as he squeezed her hand, and resisted the urge to squeal. It took her a moment to gain the composure to look at the bishop, pressing her lips together to hide her smile as she waited for her turn to say the traditional vows.

The bishop raised his eyebrows at her, and Marie gave a little nod; she was ready. She held Fflewddur’s ring carefully, as if it were made of glass, as she set it on his finger.

“I, Marie Antoinette Bonfamille, take you, Fflewddur Fflam, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward. For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish til death do us part.”

FFLEWDDUR:

Fflewddur smiled at Marie, nothing else mattering now that they had their rings, they had said their vows...all that was left was for the priest to say those words he’d been waiting for since he’d proposed. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

He didn’t need further encouragement, leaning in, his hands already reaching up to gently cup her face as he did it, pressing his lips against Marie’s gently, lovingly before he let that turn into something a little more passionate. He loved his wife. She was his wife now! And as Fflewddur finally pulled away, he had nothing but stars in his eyes for the woman he loved.

“I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Fflam-Bonfamille! Our monarchs! Long may they reign!”

MARIE:

It seemed to move so swiftly, the ceremony, the kiss that made her knees weak, and then it was time to move back down the aisle, showered in confetti and the praise of their families. Marie couldn’t help but laugh, her hand holding Fflewddur’s tightly, the cool feeling of his wedding band beginning to warm as it settled against her skin. The doors to the cathedral were pulled open in anticipation of them, revealing the carriage and its white horses standing ready and the crowds of assembled Vvlandersnazm residents, cheering and waving their flags.

Marie pressed herself to Fflewddur’s side, looking from him to the crowds with a bright smile on her face. She raised her hand in a wave, and was surprised to find she felt almost overwhelmed. In a good way, of course - she had always wanted this for her wedding day. To be adored, to be the centre of attention, but never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined this.

A footman gestured for them to come forward, so with her husband by her side Marie began the path down the steps, getting settled in the carriage as the horses were urged into a trot.

“This is amazing,” She beamed, turning to Fflewddur. “I love you.”

[heystuckstuck]

humanstuck au headcanons

aradia is half italian, half black, with olive toned, light brown skin and dark brown eyes. she has long, curly brown hair that she does not brush or comb. she’s tall, about 5’10, and thin, with minimal curves, though she is not stick-thin. she often plays d&d with tavros, vriska and terezi. her closest friends are feferi and tavros, with whom she likes to larp and play videogames. she has an outstanding interest in archaeology and collects dead insect wings. she also dabbles in self-taught taxidermy. she’s odd, but fairly friendly, so she’s well-liked at school and amongst her friends. she lives with both of her parents and is an only child. her cousin damara lived with them through highschool, but the two of them didn’t get along very well. she has a sheepdog named frogger, who she takes on her adventures to potentially haunted places. 

tavros is mexican and has hesitant speech with a fairly heavy accent. he’s got tanned skin and dark brown hair styled into a fohawk and brown eyes. he’s got freckles scattered across his face and nose. he’s fairly small, standing at only about 5’6, and his chest is thin with a tiny amount of pudge collecting at his tummy. he also has fairly muscular arms, from after his accident, when he was wheelchair-bound. he, vriska, terezi,and aradia were in a car accident their freshman year, killing his mother and causing his legs to be amputated from the knee down. he has robotic prosthetics gifted to him by the members of his school’s robotics club. he is very interested in disney, particularly peter pan, pokemon, and likes to watch anime. his best friends are aradia and nepeta. he also has a service/emotional support dog, a pomeranian named tinkerbell. he’s also vegetarian. 

sollux is half korean, half swedish and has both heterochromia and a lisp. he doesn’t show much of the swedish side at all, with his olive toned skin and black hair, which he keeps fairly shaggy. he doesn’t like to cut it. his twin sister is nepeta, but he doesn’t spend a ton of time with her. his closest friends are karkat and feferi, who he sort of both hates and loves simultaneously. he has bipolar disorder and forgets his medication fairly frequently, despite leaving post-it’s all over the house to help him remember. he likes to play video games and code things and he’s pretty good at it, which is a fact he doesn’t let people forget. he’s tall, 6’0, and very skinny because his diet consists of coffee and cheetos for the most part. he has debilitating migraines and a tendency to have somewhat prophetic dreams, so anytime he has a nightmare, he feels paranoid beyond all belief. 

karkat is half indian, half greek, which evens out his skin tone so he’s in between light and dark skinned. his eyes are hazel and he has thick, heavy eyebrows. he actually has a very pleasant looking face, appearing very approachable until he opens his mouth. he has a very grating sense of humor, which tends to hurt people’s feelings, but he doesn’t really mean any of the harsh things he says. he enjoys watching romcoms and helps his girlfriends paint their nails and braid their hair and does so with only a traditional karkat grumble of it being too much effort, not that it’s emasculating. his closest friends are dave and sollux, which he would never admit because he is too busy pretending that he hates their guts. he considers himself the leader of their friend group and so does everyone else, relying on him for begrudging advice and tough love, despite really being a softie underneath it all. he’s fairly tall as well, 6’0, but pretty thick and slightly muscular. he doesn’t work out a ton, just enough to keep himself toned. he is the only other person to join nepeta and equius in their daily gym routine. 

nepeta is sollux’s twin sister, so she is also half swedish and half korean. they are fraternal twins and she picked up all of the swedish genes. all of them. so many swedish genes. she’s fairly small in stature, barely scraping 5’4 and has short, honey blonde hair and blue-green eyes and thin lips. she also had a cleft palate when she was younger and has a scar on her upper lip from getting it fixed. she’s very muscular and tough, and extremely strong despite her small size. she has a full six pack. her closest friends are equius and tavros. for the most part, she spends her time with equius working out and arguing and utilizes her time spent with tavros to practice her other hobbies, like larping and d&d. she has a pet cat that she named pounce de leon and she takes her for walks, which she enjoys. 

kanaya is armenian and originally from england, and so has an accent. she has short ink-black hair and hazel eyes bordering on the green side. she is very elegant and wears a full face of makeup everyday, with dark lipstick ranging in tone from ruby to emerald to black sometimes. she likes to practice her makeup skills on her friends, including the boys, which, excluding eridan, will not let her. she is a lesbian and is out and fairly proud of her identity. her mother is a fashion designer and kanaya is following fast in her footsteps. she enjoys spending her time gardening and reading erotic vampire romance novels, which she shares with karkat. her closest friends are karkat and vriska, both of whom she fusses over and drives them absolutely crazy. she has a penchant for knitting and gives her friends homemade scarves for christmas every year. it’s a tradition. she’s fairly bottom heavy with curvy hips and a small chest, which brings her great embarrassment. she also has very long legs and is quite tall, standing at about 6’1. 

terezi is korean and adopted by her mother’s friend. this friend happens to be the mother of the person she has dubbed her scourge sister, vriska. terezi is slight and made of all angles and bones and stands at 5’7. she wishes she was taller, because she’d be a more threatening presence that way. she has braces, always with bands colored teal and red. she has black hair and dark brown eyes and is so thin because she exists on a diet of sugary snacks and that alone. she’s the captain of the school’s debate team because she refuses to admit defeat. she has an albino ferret called chief deputy pyralspite, which serves as the mascot of the debate team. her best friends are karkat and sollux, who she consistently harasses and refuses to leave alone. her hobbies include mock trials, eating fruit snacks, and searching abandoned buildings with aradia, in the hopes of catching a spook. she thinks it would be fun. 

vriska is 6’2 and thin. not quite as thin as terezi but she’s still very angular. she has long blonde hair that she dyes blue at the ends with kool-aid and dresses in baggy flannels and t-shirts that do nothing for her. she’s of swedish descent and looks it, with her extremely pale skin and hair. she’s adopted sisters with terezi and latula and the younger sister of aranea. things get more complicated when you throw in her step brothers, eridan and cronus. her mother married their dad when she was in 7th grade and she’s been spitefully teasing eridan ever since. she’s lanky and awkwardly built and doesn’t have much charm about her but makes up for it by meddling with her friends. she lost and eye and her arm in the car accident she was in freshman year and sometimes she thinks her left arm still itches. it doesn’t cause it no longer exists. her closes at friends are tavros and kanaya, who she likes to mess with. she likes spiders and creepy crawlies and often can be found begrudgingly helping aradia find them. 

equius is tall and exceptionally broad at 6’4. he has long hair that he wears down all the time despite his tendency to sweat and really likes horses. he really likes them. he works out daily with or without nepeta, and defends her daily. he’s odd and people find him vaguely off-putting more often than not. he has a weird obsession with gamzee that nepeta insists is a crush. his best friends are nepeta and gamzee, despite his inability to either take it easy or smoke weed. he finds most of his friends to be bothersome but he likes them anyway. he’s native american and has black hair and eyes that are bordering on black as well. 

gamzee is a stoner. he’s exceptionally tall, 6’7, and very very thin, despite constantly eating. he’s dark skinned with vitiligo and tends to have a slow reaction time. he’s weird but he’s so nice that everyone likes him except his friends, who sort of hate and love him at the same time. his attempts to learn to ride the unicycle have all ended in failure but he is determined. his best friends are tavros, who raps with him, and karkat, who pretends to be unable to stand him. he has wild messy hair and giant hands. he’s a juggalo and listens to icp and loves them, despite being nonviolent. 

eridan is from australia and has a watered down aussie accent that he tries to make as english sounding as possible. he’s on the swim team with feferi and has thick muscles and a broad chest. he’s 6’3 and actually very handsome, with an angular face and a sharp nose. he wears huge glasses and dyes a chunk of the front of his hair blonde, which offsets his attractiveness. his hair is medium brown and his eyes are a bright shade of hazel. he’s half indian, half white and so his skin is deep medium brown and covered with soft freckles that he is embarrassed about. he loves history class and is also on the debate team and is the only person who can even come close to arguing terezi down. he enjoys watching war documentaries and actually appreciates historical musicals (exhibit a: fiddler on the roof). he enjoys all of his friends, despite pretending not to, and he will participate in all of their hobbies with them. he often comes across as pretentious but has been dialed back a lot by the teasing of his friends. his closest friends are feferi and karkat. 

feferi is hawaiian. that’s all. just kidding. she has long curly hair and bright brown eyes. she’s in show choir and on the swim team and the class president and nobody knows how she manages to balance all of them. she’s thick and muscular, about 5’10 and bubbly very consistently. she is one of the few who is rarely annoyed by her friends. she enjoys swimming, exploring and actually quite enjoys playing games with her friends. her closest friends are eridan and sollux who don’t get along very often and constantly bicker despite caring for each other a lot

john has pale skin and black hair and the bluest eyes ever. he’s got a lopsided smile that he wears almost all the time, with those goofy too-big teeth. jade is his older half-sister, with whom he shares a father. he enjoys terrible movies and pulling pranks on all of his friends. no one is safe. he’s known for always joking and never really being serious, unless it’s about whatever movie he’s most recently watched. he’s never seen a movie he didn’t like, with the exception of every movie that karkat likes, mostly to irk him. his closest friends are dave and karkat and he spends most of his time with them. he’s the proud owner of a small golden cocker spaniel named casey. he’s 5’11 and fairly trim due to his fast metabolism. 

jade is john’s older half-sister. they share the same father, who is white, but her mother is a pacific islander. she was raised by her mother until the age of ten, when she passed away. she then moved in with her dad and half-brother, john. jade has long, dark hair and deep hazel eyes. she’s tall and fit from years of adventuring. she often goes barefoot and has very calloused feet and hands. she enjoys gardening and has a strong love for animals. her closest friends are tavros and feferi. she’s tal, 6’0, taller than john, which bothers him, of course. she was gifted a white german shepherd named bequerel for her thirteenth birthday. 

dave is tall, 6’2,  lanky and pale with little muscle mass to be found. he’s not albino and has light blonde hair and reddish brown eyes. he spends most of his free time mixing songs that he shows to no one. he explores haunted places with aradia and they share a mutual fondness for dead things. more than anything else, he enjoys giving his friends a hard time. he enjoys swords and takes up boxing his freshman year, which he’s surprisingly good at. he joined the debate team with terezi purely for shits and giggles but ended up enjoying it far more than he expected. he’s the proud owner of a pug dubbed “the mayor of can town” and a white german shepherd named maplehoof, who is beq’s littermate. 

rose is shorter than her twin brother, standing at only 5’2. she makes up for her lack of height in sarcastic and analytical spirit however, and patronizes all of her friends to the point that they don’t even know if she likes them or not. she does. she has short blonde hair and a  pinched face with thin lips and large eyes. she’s a proud lesbian and is very open about her sexuality. she enjoys reading and actually gardens with jade and kanaya a lot of the time. she’s an enthusiastic knitter, her specialty being sweaters, which she makes for her friends and siblings. she has a sturdy tuxedo cat called jaspers and she likes him but also doesn’t at the same time. 

[peanutbutterisland-blog]

Lui- A short story by Owami Jackson

Chapter 1: Franks intro

So, how do you start one of these things? Do I tell you my name, the backstory of my character, where I am from? How and why I killed Lui?

*Fuck I ruined the whole story didn’t I? Oh well. Guess we have to start somewhere

Okay boys and girls, to save you the suspense and inner turmoil, yes this is the story of how I killed a girl named Lui. This is not an attempt to bait you into reading a story. You could easily go watch a reality show about this kind of stuff, I mean you’d be surprised at how much of this shit happens, and is televised. honestly I could give two fucks about you or the author of this short story who saw it fit too conjure me from his imagination because he couldn’t sleep or because of his “anxiety” but since we are here I’ll give you the 411. This is not a story about murder nor is it a story about romance, I’m sorry if you wanted a sequel to “A fault in our stars” but this is unfortunately not the place, go rent it at a DVD store like the rest of the perverts who still go to DVD stores. As you will come to find my personality borders on asshole territory. This is not a trait I am particularly fond off but I’m not the author here. So if you are ready for a nihilistic, self-centred, self-deprivation kind of story, buckle up your seat belt ladies and gentlemen, its time for a ride. Oh and my name is Frank.  

Chapter 2: Why is it so hard to find a good blowjob in Paris?

It’s a beautiful city Lyon, dead middle in the heart of it all, who would’ve thought a piece of shit like me would make it to a place like this. Don’t get me wrong I much rather be in my shitty apartment, with my noisy ass neighbours but every once in a while you find something that gets you out of the house and gives a rational explanation to the world. You might be asking yourself why I’m in Paris or where I’m from. Let’s just say I’m here for a permanent vacation and I can’t disclose where I’m from because I don’t know you guys like that.

*or the author is a lazy fuck who can’t give me a decent enough back story because his writing this dead late in the middle of the night and doesn’t have any depth.

The thing about the city of Lyon is that you actually start to believe the romantic hype. Its covered by water as if it was being hugged by Atlantis, the air is warm, the noise is music and the music is art. The afternoons, oh God the afternoons, the sky turns a light navy blue with small stokes of the pink sunset embellished on top of it. Sitting outside of a hotel restaurant and eating what could only be described as an orgasm in my mouth feels like paradise.  

Waiter: can I get you anything else monsieur?        

Just top me off on the wine would you. No, matter of fact bring me the bottle and add a gin and tonic while you’re at it

Waiter: aucun problème

Okay back to you lovely annoying readers; yes Paris, Lyon a beautiful part of fucking civilization, if I wasn’t going to blow my head off in the next couple of days I would have moved here  

*is it me or did I ruin another vital part of the story, Fuck!

Okay let’s make this quick, we’ve wasted enough time talking about a city that you can just google. I came here because out of all my travels it is the most beautiful place I have ever been to. This is where I plan to kill myself, everything is already planned, I’ve booked an exquisite hotel in the presidential suite with an extraordinary balcony view, I know what my last meal will be and I’ve hired enough prostitutes and drugs to give Charlie Sheen a boner. While your reading the story please don’t act like you care and even if you did, I did tell you that I’m a piece of shit so that says a lot about you weirdo. This will not end with a coming to Jesus moment; I will not tell you a sad backstory as to what lead me to this decision. The only thing I can say is that I am okay, I’m just not happy. I figured shooting myself in the head would be quicker and as a last ode to me being an asshole someone would have to clean my mushy brain and skull fragments and that brings me so much joy. Now back too regular proceedings.

Concierge: sir I have been informed to tell you that there is a female waiting for you at the front desk

Oh yes, the first of many lovely prostitutes that will be joining me, send her up Garson

Concierge: yes sir.

Time for my first act. I’m guessing you weirdos are going to stay and read about my sexual escapade, just don’t masturbate to it, it’s hard enough giving a good performance to an A list prostitute from Paris and having you weirdos jacking off to it, this is not 50 shades and you are not a middle aged housewife, grow up. What I can tell you though is that I’ve frequented some of the ladies of the night in Paris and despite their beauty they can’t give a decent enough blowjob, I mean it’s like they are  physically trained not to produce decent fallatio. It’s a question that has plagued me for years but nonetheless I digress. So yeah this whole backstory shit has been fun but it’s time for me to go, see you in the next chapter.

Chapter 3: Baby! Baby! Baby!

Even in the desolate night where the room is quiet and covered by luminance moonlight, the air in Paris is still warm. I mean I am sleeping next to two prostitutes with nothing on but the air is still comfy. If you’re here to find out if the blowjob was good, yes it was. Turns out when you use two girls the tongue ratio is rationed and abracadabra you have a good blowjob now back to the story pervert.

I’ve never been one to have a good night’s sleep. the last time I slept a full night was when I was blacked out drunk and even then I woke up to take a piss but fell on my own vomit and hit my head on the toilet seat thus inducing a slight concussion but it was a good night’s sleep nonetheless. When I can’t sleep I tend to take a walk, luckily this was a city made for mid night walks and I needed to go buy more condoms. As if only the day was replaced by the moon, the city of Lyon was still vibrant and full of life. bars where open, jazz players where still playing on the road and couples walked around freely as if they were at a market in the middle of the day, I asked one of the locals for the nearest convince store and the fucker told me it was three blocks away. I didn’t mind, it seemed the further I walked the further away my problems became, I got to the convince store and started browsing as one does when in a foreign convince store. Everything is the same if you don’t count the different cereals and sodas. I was the only one in the store at least I thought I was until I heard the softest voice talking to the store clerk. I’ve heard French before I mean how can’t you when you’re in the middle of fucking Paris but this sounded heavenly, almost extra-terrestrial like an instrument yet to be created but sounded like something sweet from your past. I walked in front of the store, as one would do upon hearing the voice of an angel and in awe, I saw her. I’m not going to give you the whole rom com speal because like I said this is not a fucking romance. She was just there, like she was meant to be there as if she was there for me. She had a little back pack and short dress complimented with airforce 1 sneakers and a tiny hat. I had to say something; I had to fill up the space that was between us. “Bonjour, what adventure are you going to? Fuck do you speak English, sorry I mean uhhm fuck never mind” she smiled and said “Hey my name is Lui, yes I do speak English and do you have any adventure we can go on”. I paid for my shit, left the condoms of course and we walked around the city the whole night talked about our lives and our past and…

*fuck this is turning into a romance isn’t it

Fast forward to the end of the night we found ourselves next to a fountain talking about shit we knew we weren’t going to remember, she told me she lived near the hotel I was at ,a tiny apartment full of paintings done by her and her eccentric friends. She said she was having a party later into the day and invited me, I mean a night with pretentious art dealers and middle-aged drunks didn’t sound half as good as a night of sniffing cocaine up a hookers ass but she intrigued me and I wanted to go. The great thing about hookers is that they never run out so I could spare some debaucherous time to be a social human for one night, I mean semi social.

*relax we’re going back to the plot of the story in the next chapter you impatience fuck  

Chapter 4: Expiry date.  

It was the tiniest apartment I have ever been in but with some miracle, it was able to house 15 drunken belligerent artsy fartsy bearded and incense-smelling individuals. The music switched from pop rock to electric folk to some weird shit that can only be described as LSD in liquefied form and everybody in the room seemed to know everything about the musician or band. It was as if I joined a cult unknowingly and we were about to fuck a goat and eat celebratory rice cakes. From the minute, I entered the room I immediately regretted calling off my nightly escapades with hookers and cocaine until I saw her. She had a short poker dotted skirt on with the harshest BDSM boots I’ve ever seen in my life, her hair was shaped like a mushroom and she had glitter all over her face.

*can somebody tell this Disney ass author that this is not A FUCKING ROMANCE NOVEL

The minute I clocked eyes with her she gestured me towards her friends, I put my hand up as if to say no thanks, she saw my reluctance, smiled and came right over to me

Lui: thank you for making it, I didn’t think you would come

Frank: yeah, I haven’t listened to pop rock in a while so I decided to pop in

*Good she’s smiling  

Lui: would you like something to drink?

Frank: yeah what do you have on the menu?

Lui: this is Paris so we have wine obviously, I can make you a gin cocktail and we have beer if you’re trying to be a prude

Frank: I’ll be a Prude thank you.  

Lui: ill be right back, just don’t move

Frank: I’ll be right here

I scrolled through my phone looking at pictures I’ve already seen before as one does in a socially award situation. A pixie girl with pink hair came up to me and proceeded to bombard me with a verbal avalanche of gypsy talk and indigo gibberish. I entertained her for a while until Lui came back to save me. Lui and I sat on the sofa together and besides the interruptions of people telling us how high or drunk they were we had a very in depth conversation. Within an hour we were making out, we decided to go up the roof of her apartment for some fresh air.

Frank: i expected a bed looking unto the stars but I guess this will do.

Lui: I’ve had sex on harsher and more abstract places

Frank: London 2003 I had sex in a cemetery while people where burying my father.

Lui: Wow! Impressive, Paris 2012 I had sex in a church with the youth pastor while the service was still in progress. The pastor’s wife walked in on us and told the whole church, my mother didn’t talk to me for years.

Frank: Wow, I didn’t take you in for a church person.

Lui: what can I say Youth pastors are hot.

The sky was bare with sprinkles of stars. the stars were clear and vivid as if they wanted you to look at them. The moon was not shy as well. a crescent moon held the sky together and on top of the roof, it looked larger than life. As always the air was warm, I laid the big trench coat I had, on the floor and well yeah we had sex.

*I’m sorry but what’s this author’s obsession with my sex life like fuck, has he heard of porn before?

Lui: Fuck! Oh my God. Ahhhhhh, wow you’re amazing.

Frank: You’re not too bad yourself. Wow, thank you, I guess.

Lui: you’re welcome. Im gonna miss this

Frank: I mean we can do it again.

Lui: no I mean sex, intimacy, love, passion just life

Frank: are you transferring to a nun school tomorrow?

Lui: I have Lupus and not to get into the nitty grittys of it all but yeah im going to die in a couple of months, I’m in pain every day and I want to kill myself everyday but I never find the strength to do it

*well this just got awkward.

Frank: one way to kill the romance Lui

Lui: I’m sorry but were never going to see each other again so I just thought id lay it all onto you

Frank: well if there’s an afterlife, which there isn’t, ill be sure to pop you in a visit

Lui: I’ll be next to Jesus and the youth pastors trying to get some dick

Frank: You’re hilarious, life shouldn’t take people like you, you deserve to grow old and have kids and grandkids and share your light and lessons with them

Lui: I’ve made peace with it, I mean I don’t have control over it but I do have control on how I want it to happen

Frank: oh yeah?

Lui: I want my last moments to be in an island at a beach somewhere looking Over the horizon with wine in my hand a blunt in the other and a smile on my face

Frank: wow that’s a very specific request

Lui: I read it on those cancer books those white people read, you know the ones where one teenager is dying of cancer and the other does something romantic for them

Frank: like ‘A fault in our stars’?

Lui: Exactly! But  I know I’ll probably die in a hospital or in my house if I’m lucky.

Frank: I never thought I’d have sex and talk about a terminal disease right after

Lui: stick with me baby and you’ll be introduced to a world of new sexual dialogue.

We walked back into the party, I had every reason to leave but I wanted to stay, so I stayed. The party ended at 3 in the morning. The host blacked out and I had nothing to do so I cleaned up her house, I went to a local coffee shop at 6 in the morning, came back to the apartment to find her awake, blushing and with a terrible hangover. I gave her coffee and waited for her to come out the shower, I didn’t know what I was waiting for but it seemed like the right thing to do, I heard a gut wrenching scream from the bathroom. I ran in and there she was naked, convulsing in pain, I held her and tried to cradle her to health but it didn’t work. I called the ambulance and spent the rest of the day in hospital. Throughout the day her friends and her family showed up. They all asked who I was and I just kept on saying I was an acquaintance. The doctor came in and told us that She was responsive but she was in immense pain, she could make out words and she kept on telling the doctors that she was in pain and she just wanted to go. The doctors said there was nothing they could do but wait. the pain wouldn’t stop. She could go home and wait to die there or die in the hospital. A decision was made for her to go home. I walked passed the doctors as secretly as I could, grabbed a wheel chair, went into her room and took her out the back of the hospital. I called out a cab and told him to drive to the beach, it was 5 o’clock in the morning and the sun was coming up. We pulled up to the beach, I gave the cab driver a thousand Euros and told him to wait for us. We pushed the wheel chair onto the sand close to the water, I took off her shoes and put them in the water, I cradled her and we watched the sun rise. A tear fell from her eyes, she tried to mumble out a thank you but she couldn’t move her mouth, I looked at her and kissed her on her head. I took her back into cab and told the cab driver to drive back to her apartment, laid her on her bed. Took a pillow and smothered her the fastest way I could. Her hand shaking with pain from her Lupas, stopped and for a while it seemed like her body was at peace, I left a note on top of the kitchen counter next to the cold coffee detailing what I had done and why I did it. I told her parents they could hate me or blame me but this is what she wanted. I also gave them the address of my hotel. I took her phone, called the first contact I found and told them that she was at her apartment.

*I told you this is not a fucking Disney story

Chapter 5- Walking with the lights off

I honestly don’t know how you stayed through out the story but you’re here now, you’ve made it, I would say I’m proud of you but I don’t really care. I guess the author wanted the last chapter to be a mushy moment that would provoke me to come to a Jesus moment and not kill myself

*pussy

And he was right, I think my character arch was cemented in the last chapter. I found something that I cared about and realized that life is meaningful and watching a life fade away in-front of my eyes, she made me realize that I have so much to live for, Sike I’m still going to kill myself. I told you that I’m a nihilistic asshole and things would come to this, you read on and I told you not too, so now that we’re here time to end this chapter with a bang.

I waited in the hotel for 4 days and no one came, no police, no family member and no friends. Sometimes blue lights would flicker outside and I would get myself ready but they never came. I don’t know what I was waiting for, redemption, pain, punishment, I don’t even know why I left my address in Lui’s apartment. All I know is that in the days and nights I spent with Lui I felt a sense of belonging that I had never felt before and doing what I did to her made me realize that maybe I do have a moral compass. Within 5 days I figured the family had understood the letter and how she was in pain, I hoped that they understood that I didn’t do anything maliciously. Until I got a visit from a middle aged women in all black attire with sunglasses on. It was Lui’s mom. We sat in the garden of the hotel and I didn’t know what to say, I mean what do you say to the mother of someone you’ve killed. She looked at me, and said “Your eyes carry pain, just like my daughters eyes” I didn’t say anything. That was not something I was expecting her to say. She continued  “I’ve been fighting with my family the whole week on whether we should arrest you or kill you ourselves”. I then replied “Since there are no police here I’m thinking you decided to do the latter?”

“No, I convinced them not to do both, you see I knew the pain my daughter was going through, I think I just got selfish and wanted her to stay a little longer. I want to thank you for helping her with her pain, although you’ve brought my family great pain as we couldn’t say goodbye to her the way we wanted to, you’ve closed a chapter that needed to be closed. I wanted to see you before you disappeared, I don’t know why but I wanted to see your eyes and now that I’m here I realize that there is no one who can save you from your turmoil, your eyes long for a rest you can’t have, I pray that you find solace in this life or the next” and just like that she got up, shook my hand and left. I didn’t know what to feel afterwards but I knew what I had to do.

I grabbed a gym bag, walked out the hotel room at 3am in the morning, I hired a cab to drive me to Lui’s apartment, I left flowers on the entrance of her apartment I then told the driver to drive to the beach, I waited till the clock hit 4:30. The sun came up slowly. It was beautiful I didn’t deserve the view . I kneeled along the shore and took out the gun

*you see, one thing I know about myself is that I’m very self aware. I know my wrongs and I know my rights(as little as they may be). I understand that I’m probably a sick individual, I understand that sometimes someone like myself needs help but I think I’ve ran enough, from my past, my demons and myself. I don’t remember a time I was ever happy and I don’t resent God, my family or myself for it. I have limits and I just happened to run out of them. Sometimes you just have to take the brunt of your inner turmoil and throw them in the fire. As much as I am an asshole, I have a soul and I hope somehow I’ve been able to leave a positive peace of myself attached to someone and changed their lives cause it would be a shame living such a shitty life to not impact at least one person, anyway....

BANG!!

End.

[supergenial]

Top 8 Doujin Albums 2019

Hi everyone, Superthony Genialtano here the internet’s busiest doujin music nerd, and it’s time to bring out the yellow flannel for the yearly roundup that I completely forgot to do last year. Just a neat little list of my favorite doujin albums of the year.

I will include releases from last year’s winter comiket, and won’t include things from this year’s winter comiket though. As I always say: “If you want to be included in yearly rankings, then don’t release your shit in december”, much less in the very last 3 days of the year which is when winter comiket usually takes place. I will also simply list my favorite picks from the year without any kind of objective measuring or strict order, consider them to be placed at random as I do not believe in strict numeric rankings for music. Having said that, click below to continue on to the list and happy holidays to you all.

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-Gensou Crisis by IRON ATTACK! (Metal)

As I often say, Iron Attack is very hit or miss, and this one's a complete hit. Ever since sadame yuku kamikaze they hadn’t made a song that truly wowed me but this time they went ahead and exceeded expectations not once, but 5 times. The eponymous Gensou Crisis, Nihon no Stage, Isekai Stage, Space Stage and Last Boss Stage are some of the better work they've ever done in my opinion. I also just like how the american stage is chock in the middle of Isekai Stage and Space Stage, like sure, that is a totally normal level progression, America is somehow more badass than a whole other world but not as much as space, sure. Just an awesome album, can easily recommend this one. 

(Also pretty funny that they tried to re-capture the glory of Nihon no Stage in their latest album, Japonism, but the results weren’t as good)

-Metatron by DJ DEPATH&M​-​Project (electronic, hardcore, rave) (Bandcamp)

Yeah, I listen to non-chu2 non-denpa stuff too, don't genreshame me. This album is a banger, just sick, can’t even call it a rollercoaster because it never slows down for any reason. Throughout it's longitudinal 16 tracks it keeps me hyped up, I'm parsing really hard to try and find a song to say something negative about but I just fucking cannot, these guys really went out and made an album with no lulls in it, just a full hour of non stop climax action, though to be fair it is a compilation of their older works so it had to be at least this good. Still, awesome, 10/10.

-Crimson of the Sleeping Princess by Elymusia (Gothic Metal) (Booth)

I was not expecting to fall so hard for this album but here we are. We've previously translated 2 songs from the album and will probably get around to doing the rest Someday. Tokeitou no majo, owari no hajimari and the eponymous song are all just absolutely amazing tracks among my favorites for the year. Sure, the eponymous does go on for a bit longer than it should, but I still listen to it entirely so that's quite a feat. Kuro no majo Athena is also a really cool track. Steam World and Tada Sore Dake no ohanashi, to be fair, are not amazing but at least they set the tone for the character Machina. The contrast of steampunk characters fighting gothic witches is a really good idea, so I dig it even if the shift from the first to second song is a bit jarring.

I also find it hilarious how in trying to go for an english name for 深紅の眠り姫(Crimson Sleeping Princess) they went and added two unnecessary words, but idk, it makes it funny so it’s cute. Overall great album, liked it from the beginning and it has only grown on me further. 

-Kyousou Rinne Roosen Renetto by Ariabl'eyeS (gothic) (translations)

The sequel to a classic. Anyone could've predicted this is one of my favorites for the year so there's really no surprise here. SUI's song is still a stand out for me, but the eponymous song is also pretty amazing. I really, really would've loved to attend the live as they told the audience beforehand to sing along with a certain part and I'm sure it would've felt so fucking powerful to be there, but we are but slaves to our own prisons in this life. Still, great album, also as far as Ariabl’eyeS goes this is actually their album with the least recycled tunes since automata, so good going for them on coming up with some new stuff every once in a while.

-SPD GAR 02 by Megarex Label (rave) (bandcamp)

I've had my eye on Megarex Label for a while since their Fugene albums, and they have not disappointed me yet. Just really exciting, new-sounding music. I was actually really debating myself on which was their better album of the year between SPD GAR 02 or NEONSTRIDE and I ultimately went with this one but it's a pretty good sign when a group can put out two amazing records within a single year, even if to be fair it's a collaboration between several music producers and talents. Speaking of putting out too many records in one year-

-Mugen Ayakashi Yakou by Hatsuki Yura (neo-japanese) (lyrics)

Look, Onyx Veil was an amazing album, sure, I like basically every song in it, sure. BUT I ASK: does it have Yura singing about taking lives with her demon blade? In a duet song with a cool male voice for the sword? No? Didn't think so. Therefore, Ayakashi Yakou edges out a victory if only slightly. This album goes for a japanese sound rather than sticking to the fantasy tunes Yura usually brings us and boy, it fucking works, if you enjoy the likes of Wagakki Band then you gotta give this one a try. Right from the get go Oiran Yagyou is an absolute banger and it's about a cool prostitute, then Renkai shifts things up by being fairly cheerful and when you least expect it, bang: Youtou Raikouzan. Give a nerd a song about a girl with a demon blade and he won't shut up about it. I'm the nerd. Excellent album, but then again Onyx Veil is also high up there for me even if this one edged out the victory, maybe it's just the recency effect why I prefer it, who knows. Also make sure to visit Meri's blog where she has extremely in-depth translations for these and many other albums by Yura, god bless her soul.

-Mukunaru Hoshi no Koujo Planetalica to Yutaka na Shikisai to Uta no Koujo Asterika, by el ma Riu (Fantasy) (booth)

Very conflicted on this one. The imagery to the album is pretty captivating with those two princesses on the cover and the way the title turns upside down, I'm sure Claude Von Riegan would get along with Asterika. This album has my favorite song of the year, which is undoubtedly Ancient Call「火」. Yet the rest of the album is simply good, not super fantastic and not nearly on the same level as the first track. 

Naming 4 songs the exact same and having them each represent a different element, I would've expected a fairly similar rhythm to all of them but instead they're all entirely different. I do think the fire one is the real bomb in the album so maybe building up to it would've had a better effect than dropping it right out in the first track. I say all this because prior to listening to the album I remember being super impressed with the last track which is the one she uploaded on her youtube. But once I listened to the album entirely all I was thinking was wow, I want more of that first track, I need more. Not that the rest is bad, but just, the first track is so amazing dear god.

Still, it got me to follow el ma Riu more closely and her twitter presence is honestly adorable, she uses emojis all the time and even name searches herself and gets super excited whenever people praise her and basically, she rules, and her newer albums Vert and Akatoki were also pretty cool so it's an overall victory. Also check out this more recent artwork of the two girls, they’re so cute.

-Zettou no Labyrinth by Ariabl'eyes (gothic) (tumblr won’t let me embed more videos lol)

Yes I'm putting them twice, you know I have favoritism for them so might as well not dance around that fact. No announcement this year has made me as excited as knowing they'd revive chiisana majo to himitsu no hon even if only for one of the 6 worlds in it. Yes, that shit hyped me up even more than the Bravely Default 2 announcement.

It’s also just so weird, like it’s fanservice for me or like I summoned this into existence, like a monkey’s paw. “I want chiisana majo to himitsu no hon 2″ bam, this does it, a forgotten project from over half a decade ago revived for no reason. “I liked that witch better when she had no back story” bam, this has an evil witch with no backstory. “The best songs are the ones with both Luna and Rena” bam, this has like 3 of them, way more than usual. Are they reading me? I doubt it, but this means that their japanese fanbase has been thinking the same things as I so it actually feels pretty cool how we’re on the same page. Like Bunnyhop said about Death Stranding: “I know it’s pretentious to say you have a personal connection with a work but...” yeah, it does feel like that for me.

The album does take six minutes to get going (with two small narration tracks sandwhiching a decently rehashed old track), but once we get into it kokou no megami, ao no kajitsu and zettou no majo are amazing songs even if they so, SO blatantly rehash older sounds of the band like come on, the influences from automata and coffin are so blatant it's almost a parody, not to mention we also get a girl in a coffin and an evil witch trying to bring about the end because she's a dick so it's like, you're just gonna rehash coffin and romanesque like that and call it a day? Not only do you rehash sounds in every album but also stories now? Yes, that's exactly what they did and it still worked. Aaaahhh, I hate to love this band, they have me grabbed by the balls and I can't escape, awesome album I loved it.

And that is it folks, what a nice year for doujin music this has been, I truly hope the next is even better because I really do have fun checking out new bands and shit. Also in case if you want more well let’s give it up for those that almost made the cut.

Runner ups:

-Artificial Flower by Mame (gothic) (booth)

This album is a diamond in the rough, it’s truly excellent just needs a bit more polish to make it into the big leagues with me, plus maybe a more scarring vocal performance. Not that it’s bad, it almost made the cut! but the vocals are permanently subdued in their tone, just give me some fang and I’ll swoon.

- ななめが王国 by ななひら and mega  (denpa) (translation)

I mean what can I say, 4 tracks are ok and the other 4 are amazing, it balances out. Plus if they do conquer the world one day I don't want to be on their gulag list, might as well praise them while it still counts.

-Vocis Helix by Sennzai  (fucking epic) (booth)

This is like the epitome of "music I'd like people to believe I listen to, but that I don't actually listen to that much". 

-Extra in Out by Cytekinesis (lolicore) (bandcamp)

“Lolicore? I haven’t heard that name in years...”

-Papermoon by Polysha (electronic, psytrance) (bandcamp)

A surprising latecomer, maybe with a bit more time it’d be up there with Megarex but alas, fate and synchronicity did not work in it’s favor.

.

.

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And many others, we could be here all day! so let’s cut it short and call this a darn good year for doujin music. Next year I’ll probably spend less time listening to doujin music as I’ll be gushing over the inevitable new Sound Horizon album and the Bravely Default 2 soundtrack, plus it’s inevitable Linked Horizon album about it. Yes, this is the year, Rinne HAS to be this year folks. Anyway, see you all next time and remember: if you like an artist with a very small audience, tell them about it, they’ll probably be thrilled.

[brightingales]

Birthday fic for Lena @jamesandharrystuff !! I saw you and @ivymaples talking about potential proposals and whoops, this happened. I hope you’re having a wonderful birthday! Aries is the best star-sign ;)

“As lovely as this afternoon has been,” Marnie says, putting her cup back in its saucer with a precise ‘clink’, “I would very much like to know what it is that you are after.”

Harry tries very hard to keep the disappointment from twisting his features. He actually thought that he was being quite subtle.

“Who says I have to be after anything,” Harry tries, wondering if there is any way that he can salvage the situation.

“Oh please. Over the last year you have picked up so many of James’s habits it’s rather endearing. And whenever James wants something, he makes sure that we go out for a nice day of retail therapy and high tea before he drops the bombshell.” She selects one of the dainty cucumber sandwiches from the cake stand and consumes it in two lipstick-red bites. “I’m not complaining; I just want to know. You and James aren’t in any trouble, are you?”

“No!” Harry rushes to reassure her. “No, everything is fine with us. Better than fine. That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Ah ha! I knew there was something,” Marnie says, victoriously. “You should never doubt a mother’s instincts when it comes to her boys…”

Harry almost doesn’t register what she has said; he’s too busy eyeing up the last smoked salmon sandwich and wondering if he can subtly grab it before Marnie does. He wonders what his former self would make of this situation and his new-found love of pretentious food. But eventually, he realises what her words have implied. She’s been doing this for ages – slipping in little references to how Harry has become part of the family. Marnie gave him a watch for his birthday that she proudly told him used to belong to her father. She made him help James carve the Turkey at Christmas because of some Nightingale tradition. She made a very strange tasting cocktail for New Year’s and made him, James and Romeo all try it, using the same excuse of “it’s tradition!” If Marnie thinks Harry doesn’t know what she’s doing, she’s very wrong.

But that’s why he’s brought her here, after all.

“It’s James’s birthday soon…” Harry begins.

Marnie waits for a moment as Harry’s words die in his throat. He hadn’t realised how nervous he would be.

“… and you want my help picking out something for him?” she offers.  “Honestly, I’m a bit surprised – the tie you bought him for Christmas was perfect! I have absolute faith in your gift-buying abilities.”

“It’s not that… well… it sort of is,” Harry says. Unable to stop stumbling over his words he decides that it’s probably best if he just shows her.

The small box has been burning a hole in his pocket ever since he picked it up from the jeweller this morning. It’s almost a relief to have it out on the table, where he can see it, and be reassured that he hasn’t lost or dropped it. Marnie’s eyes go wide as she looks at it, then Harry, then back at it as Harry picks it up again and with shaking hands, opens it.

Inside is a simple gold band.

“Do you think he will like it?”

“Is this…? Are you…?” now it’s Marnie’s turn to stumble over her words.

“Yes. I’m going to ask James to marry me.”

Marnie takes up Harry’s hand in her own. “You know, Harry, you really didn’t have to ask me. James is fully grown, and he can make his own decisions. But I’m honoured and flattered that you asked. Of course, you can propose to him! Nothing would make me happier and I’m sure the same can be said for James. You’ve made such an impact on his life. No one has ever made him as happy as you.”

Tears begin to well in her eyes. “Just the thought of you telling my baby boy that you want to spend the rest of your life with him…!” she dabs at her eyes with a crisp linen napkin obviously trying to stop her mascara from running. “Oh! I’m just so thrilled for you both!”

“Ah Marnie, that’s great,” Harry says, patting her hand in a gesture that he hopes comes across as comforting rather than patronising. “But I actually just wanted to ask if you’re sure he wouldn’t prefer platinum instead of gold…”

It’s like he’s slapped her. And for a horrifying minute, he thinks she’s going to revoke her permission and demand that he end his relationship with James right this second. But then she gives one loud “ha!” and descends into a fit of giggles.

“It’s perfect just the way it is, Harry,” she reassures him once she’s finished laughing. “He’ll love it, just like he loves you.”

“I hope so,” he replies, trying not to think about the long wait that he is now facing until he can finally give the ring to James.

The weeks pass slowly, but eventually, James’s birthday arrives. For the first time in ages, they have a celebration at the flat – just a few drinks with some friends. Though Harry does manage to procure some specially made canapés from the Hutch. He didn’t tell his dad exactly what they were for, but from the knowing and slightly crestfallen look in his eyes, Harry suspects that his dad might be regretting the fact that they have grown so distant. That might be why, when Harry goes to pick up the food for their party, there is a bottle of the red wine James always orders packaged alongside the antipasti.

James spends most of the evening drinking said wine as he threads his arm around Harry’s waist and makes small talk with their friends and colleagues. Harry always used to feel overwhelmed when meeting the lawyers James works with but after a few awkward meetings and stilted conversations he’s managed to ingratiate himself into the social circle. He’s even setting up a book club with Hannah from accounting.

They’re all very sensible and adult which means the evening is over by 10 pm. As Romeo and Marnie begin to pack everything away Harry pulls James to one side.

“I’ve got one last present to give you,” Harry says, gesturing his head toward their bedroom.

James smirks at him, a low hum rumbling in his chest. “I look forward to it. But maybe we should wait until my mother is out of the house?”

Harry just grins back at him, takes him by the hand, and leads him away. When they’re finally alone James uses this to his advantage, tugging Harry close to him by the wrist and pulling him in for a searing kiss.

“I can’t wait to see what this gift is – so secretive that you can only give it to me in the bedroom.”

“It’s not so much that it’s secretive. I just wanted to see your reaction. Properly. Without everyone else there.”

He takes a deep breath, screws his courage to the sticking place, and takes the box out of his pocket.

James’s eyes light up as he opens it. “It’s gorgeous Harry.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes!”

James quickly slips the ring onto his finger before pulling Harry back in for more kisses. Harry loses himself in James for a few minutes, grabbing at James’s shirt and enjoying the feel of his body under his hands. But as they break apart for air, he realises that something has gone a little awry.

“Um, James,” Harry says, casting his eyes down to where James’s hands are gripping his shoulders. “You’re wearing it on the wrong finger…”

“Pardon?”

“Well, aren’t engagement rings supposed to be worn on the left hand?” “Engagement?”

Harry nods. James has gone ever so pale and Harry doesn’t trust his voice not to shake if he says anything more. He doesn’t know what he’ll do with himself if James says no.

“You want to… You want to marry me?”

“Of course,” Harry sighs. “I love you, James. I want to be yours – completely, utterly. I want to be your family, I want to be your husband, and I want you to be mine.”

James stays silent, still processing. Harry knows this is his last chance to say everything he needs to.  

“I thought I knew what love was before I fell for you. I thought I knew what it meant to be loved by someone. But I was wrong – so wrong. The love I knew before was so small, so weak compared to what I feel for you. You make my heart race, James. You make every day better, just by being in it. And I need you to know that. I need to show the world what you mean to me…”

“Yes,” James interrupts. “I’m sorry, I just needed a moment. Yes, of course I’ll marry you!”

Harry throws himself back into James’s arms, so relieved he thinks he might start sobbing. But James quickly untangles himself.

“Sorry,” James says at Harry’s disappointed expression. “I just need to…” he works the ring off his right hand and places it triumphantly on the finger of his left.

“I did wonder why it was a bit tight…” James observes as Harry laughs at him and snuggles up against his fiancé. They’ll go back and tell Marnie the good news later. For now, Harry just wants James all to himself. Now, and forever.

[pdchronicles]

Long Post about Trolls in WoW

I have, for a very long time, had an issue with the way Trolls are portrayed in World of Warcraft.  On the surface, this must sound like a rather pretentious and borderline entitled statement to make, and I understand that.  I’m not trying to sit here and tell Blizzard how they should portray a group of people that they’ve created in their own game and in their own intellectual property.  Instead, I’m trying to explain a potential that I see in them.  I’ve mulled over making a post about this in a place where someone at Blizzard might actually see it, but I’m concerned it will come off as a bunch of complaining in an already saturated echo chamber.  I’m also not confident enough in my own ability to effectively capture my thoughts and articulate them into carefully ordered words.   Before I continue, be aware that I’m going to be referencing things that I’ve seen in BfA’s beta, so there will be heavy spoilers in this post.   I was prompted to make a post like this after seeing the outdoor content that will be released with the new Warfront feature in Arathi Highlands.  Before this content was datamined, we learned that Witherbark Village got an overhaul in its design, with new assets added to spruce the place up and make it look quite nice, and very Troll (even Zandalari) themed.  The Warfront content includes a quest to kill 20 Witherbark Trolls in order to drive them out of Arathi Highlands.  The quest for both the Alliance and the Horde are the same, albeit with slightly different text.  Here is the quest text for the Horde-side quest: “The bloodthirsty Witherbark tribe has always refused to join the Horde... and now that the Horde holds Arathi, we will succeed where the Alliance has failed. Drive the forest trolls from the Highlands.“ In a war between the factions, wouldn’t it make sense for the Horde to try to gain any allies that it could?  A bloodthirsty group of Trolls seems to fit right into the Horde that Blizzard is currently portraying to us.  It’s right there in the quest text.  The Horde’s mentality here is “if they’re not with us, kill them”.  It’s true that this convenient alliance has been done before, such as way back when the Orcs aided the Darkspear Trolls.  Or, when the Taunka joined the Horde in Wrath.  And it’s likely being done again with the Zandalari, because I don’t understand how they would join a Horde led by an undead unless the circumstances were incredibly dire.  (More on that later.)  However, I think the only thing more tired than “convenient alliances” is the “Trolls being driven away from their home” trick.  Darkspear by the naga.  Drakkari by the Scourge.  Amani by the elves.  Frostmane by the Dwarves.  And so on, and so forth.   I think that it’s totally in-character for the Alliance to want to drive the forest Trolls out of Arathi.  However, I think it would make more sense for the Horde to try to work with them, even if it’s just leaving them be and perhaps encouraging them to attack the Alliance for them.  It’s possible that I’m stuck clinging to an idea about the Horde that is no longer relevant.  Before we had Garrosh, who was interested only in orc superiority, and before we had Sylvanas, who cares only about herself, we had a Horde that served as a refuge for the people of Azeroth who suffered because they were different.  This was something that I could relate to, deeply, because I have always felt different myself.  I’m a gay man living in a predominately conservative part of the United States, a country that seems on the brink of a moral crisis, where the people in charge, if they had their way, would deny me basic human rights in the name of their religious beliefs.  I live in a country where the current “president” jokes that his vice-president wants to “hang all the gays”.  I don’t think I need to explain this in any more detail to show how my own feelings of being an outsider made me relate to what the Horde was.  They were a group of misfits who banded together to help each other because the other people around them hated them and didn’t want them to be a part of their world.   The Horde feels much different now.  I struggle to both relate to it, and feel like I’m a part of it.  Still, it would be nice to see a little bit of that from time to time, and the situation in Arathi Highlands offers a small opportunity to do so.   Another reason I felt I needed to rant about all of this is because I’m simply tired of the Trolls being the go-to bad guy fodder.  As if it wasn’t obvious, they are my favorite race in the Warcraft universe.  I love the fact that they are one of the oldest sentient civilizations.  Zuldazar is the oldest city, still standing, in the world.  They mastered magic before the elves.  Elves are descended from Trolls, the magic of the Well of Eternity mutating them into what they are.  Trolls, through their Prelates of Rezan, also mastered the art of the holy warrior before Human paladins ever came into existence.  The Amani Trolls hunted down the C’Thrax and sacrificed almost everything they had to defeat Kith’ix.  They saved the world.  Trolls are the oldest (we think) non-Old God or non-Titan created beings on Azeroth.  They called the Titans “The Travelers”, and they witnessed the Titans first battle with the Old Gods.  Trolls never enslave anyone.  When the lower castes of the Zandalari wished to leave the Empire and go out into the world, the Zandalari encouraged them to do so.  These lower castes would eventually become the Gurubashi, Amani, and Drakkari tribes.  It’s because of these tribes that the Aqir haven’t destroyed Azeroth.  The Trolls’ persistence at hunting them down forced them to split up into separate groups themselves:  Azjol-Nerub, Ahn’Qiraj, and the Mantid Empire. That was quite the history lesson, but it helps to articulate my point.  The Trolls have a long, deep, and varied history.  This makes it an absolute travesty that they are used for little more than villain fodder and comic relief in the game itself.  Every circumstance of the Trolls doing something evil can be traced back and attributed to one thing:  Desperation.  They are constantly losing their home to outside invaders.  The first example of this was the elves, who stole the Troll’s lands because they wanted the magic within it.  The Great Sundering, a fault of elves, caused terrible destruction, death, and starvation for the Trolls.  In desperation, the Trolls called out to their gods, and these calls were answered by Hakkar, and this led to even more suffering.  The Drakkari killed their own gods for their power in a desperate attempt to stop the Scourge from destroying their tribe.   I could go on like this for a really, really long time, but I think you get the point.  For a people so ancient, with so much history, and so much potential for their culture, they deserve better than to be slowly and efficiently erased from existence.  But, that’s what’s been happening over the course of WoW’s history.  Just look at the Darkspear.  They have gotten so little development that we don’t even know who’s leading them right now.  We don’t even have very many of them left to be candidates for the role.  The elephant in the room, of course, is the incredibly disappointing end to Vol’jin’s character arc by unceremoniously killing him off by a random demon in the opening act of Legion.  There are so few notable Darkspear characters that Blizzard invented a new one, just so the Alliance could kill him during the Battle of Lordaeron.  They have already killed off so many of the Tribe that they had to invent one...to also kill off.  This, in a game that felt the need to add two more “races” of playable elves in a game that already has two.  And a new class that’s only playable by elves.  I have never understood this direction. With all of this on my mind, I hope you can see where I’m coming from when I say I’d like to see something other than “kill the Trolls” in a quest.  But, let me shift gears here, and maybe be a little more optimistic for a while.   I’m thrilled that the Zandalari are being added as an allied race for the Horde, and I’m excited that we’re going to get to explore and experience Zandalar.  I do think it’s unfortunate that these things are being added to the game now, because the faction war is really putting me off.  More specifically, the direction of the Horde, and Sylvanas leading it, is really dampening my enthusiasm and I’ve been really struggling to get past that.  It’s going to be really depressing if their methods for getting the Zandalari to join the Horde will be to make them suffer so incredibly that they have no choice but to ally with them.  But hey, I said this was supposed to be optimistic now, so let’s get to that.   In the novel Shadows of the Horde, Vol’jin mentions that King Rastakhan has a plan to unite all of the Trolls once more.  This plan is only hinted at, but it’s described well enough that it is clear that whatever this plan may be, it is different from that of the Prophet Zul.  Vol’jin denied Zul’s offer of joining with him (along with the Drakkari, Farraki, and Gurubashi), and the events of BfA fully reveal what Zul’s plan ultimately entails.  (Hint:  It’s not good.)  King Rastakhan’s plan appears to be different from this, and doesn’t seem to involve any of the shady shit that Zul’s been up to over the last several years.   In that same novel, while Vol’jin is conversing with the spirit of his father Sen’jin, the elder Darkspear seems to indicate that perhaps it is time that a Shadow Hunter once again leads the Trolls, like it was before the formation of the first Empire of Zul.   Fast-forwarding ahead to BfA itself, there is an area in Zuldazar that is sort of a Troll embassy.  It’s a place where a representative from the different Troll tribes meet, each tribe represented by speakers.  The Amani, Farraki, and Gurubashi, being the largest of these tribes, have their own specific areas.  The other, smaller tribes all hang out together.  The existence of this area might just be for flavor, but I like to believe it has some other purpose.  It could be there to give further merit that King Rastakhan is working on a plan to unite the tribes once more.   In addition to this, there is a Zandalari NPC in Zuldazar who offers to give you a glimpse of your future, in a way.  One of the possible things that she tells you mentions the unification of the Troll tribes.  

Again, it could be here for flavor.  But, why?  I’d like to think this is another hint that Rastakhan has some sort of plan for the Trolls, and that we, the player, could be a part of it.  And since this is seen during the Horde leveling experience only, it means it’s the HORDE player that could be a part of it.  The optimist in me hopes this is foreshadowing an eventuality where many, if not all, of the Troll Tribes join the Horde.   Naturally, there are a thousand holes that can be poked into this.  But like the Trolls I love so much, all of this wishing and hoping is a result of desperation, because we’ve been given so very little in regards to the Trolls for years now.  Blizzard just can’t seem to help themselves when it comes to making Trolls suffer.  It doesn’t stop in BfA.  Nazmir is an entire zone dedicated to killing Trolls (Blood Trolls), and there is no option or hope of saving them.  The Zandalari, in turn, are made to suffer through the murder of several of their most revered Loa by both the Blood Trolls and Zul’s fanatics.  It’s questionable whether King Rastakhan will even survive the expansion.   These thoughts, this negativity that I have has been plaguing me for a very long time.  It started in full with Vol’jin’s death.  I don’t mind admitting that watching that happen made me cry, if that’ll better articulate how strongly I feel about this race of misfits.  I’ve felt a pang of sadness and regret every time I’ve watched Blizzard unceremoniously kill off a Troll character before they could be fully developed or their character arcs brought to a meaningful conclusion.  Zuni.  Torunscar.  Zul’jin.  Vol’jin.  Durja.  Zin’Jun.  Not to mention the countless “cannon fodder” NPCs.  The voice line of a dying Troll on the Broken Shore yelling “Da pain!” still fucking haunts me.  Blizzard’s portrayal of Trolls is heartbreaking.   As you can probably tell, I care a bit too much about this.  Trust me, I recognize that.  I’ve been dealing with this in a number of different ways, not least of which is continuously reminding myself that WoW isn’t for me.  It’s for a huge audience of different people with different interests and different passions, and it’s unfair of me to expect my own desires to be fulfilled.  At the end of the day, my point here is that I see incredible potential for amazing stories and it frustrates me that I seem to be in the minority about that.  Games are an amazing medium and they offer this unique ability to make the player feel like a hero.  That feeling is the main reason why I play games in the first place.  The real world is complicated, ugly, confusing, and it’s not always clear which choice is the right one.  In games, it can be different.  You can see the wrong and you can stand up against it or help to fix it.  I’m finding that more and more difficult to experience in WoW because I’m playing a race that I feel its creators care very little about.   In an attempt to wrap this up, because I’ve been at this for way too long already, I want to see what Blizzard has in store for the Zandalari.  Their portrayal will likely decide if I still stay invested in WoW to any degree, or if I finally leave it behind for good.  None of the characters I have exist canonically in WoW’s story any longer.  Why the hell would I put them through that?  But, I still enjoy the gameplay and getting inspiration for my own stories from Blizzard’s creativity.  This is their game and their story to do with as they please.  I’m just hoping they recognize the potential that they have with the Trolls and start utilizing them for something better than they currently are.  Thank you for reading.  

[calliopesquill]

A Year in the Life: Chapter 17

Hi everyone.

I'm so sorry this chapter is so late. I didn't get as much written as I had planned. This section has been fighting me a bit, and I've a lot to plan for the next few chapters, so it may be slow coming as I fine-tune what happens next. There's some pretty big stuff coming and I want to make sure that I do it properly.

This means unfortunately I will not be able to resume my weekly posing schedule. I will try to have a new chapter up every 2 weeks.

Thanks so much for your patience.

And with that, on with the chapter!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 17: It Takes a Murder to Catch a Murderer

         Julio was visiting an old friend in town when he heard the news: after two years of evading the law, Ernesto De la Cruz was finally back in police custody.

         The moment he heard he made his excuses and headed immediately for home.

         He hardly dared to believe it. De la Cruz seemed to vanish like smoke after Día de los Muertos, with neither hide nor hair being seen of him since. To finally have him in custody again was honestly a little surreal. Julio was not ashamed to admit that he wished he’d taken a crack at that slippery snake in the grass himself during the showdown at the Sunrise Spectacular. Not just for his own personal satisfaction, but for all the heartache that Ernesto’s selfishness had brought to Julio’s beloved Coco.

         Over the course of their lives together, Coco spoke to him often of her father. Never within earshot of Mamá Imelda or their daughters, of course, but during those quiet moments of their courtship, those rare times when they actually got to be alone. Coco did not have the luxury of many detailed memories of her father, being only three years old when Héctor left on that fateful tour, but she remembered his voice, his laugh, and the joy that had been the heart of their lives until the day he left. Although everyone else tried to convince her otherwise, there was a part of her that had always believed that he would come home someday. Julio remembered the hopeful glances towards the chapel doors the day of their wedding, the way her smile dimmed when someone else walked through the door. So when the truth of what happened to Héctor finally came out, Julio swore to do everything in his power to make things right again.

         They had almost lost him that night. That Miguel had managed to preserve Coco’s memories of her father had been nothing short of a miracle. And when it came time for Coco to join them in the Land of the Dead, the look of joy on her face when she was finally reunited with her father was one that Julio would treasure for the rest of his days.

         She had been devastated and furious to learn of what had befallen him, and Julio was quite certain that more than one of her exploratory ventures into the city over the last couple of years had been in search of the man she had once called her Tío Neto. His Coco was warm and bright as the sun, but many who looked at her forgot that sunlight could burn as well as soothe. With De la Cruz now behind bars, well, Julio was looking forward to the moment when Coco finally got her shot at him.

         Julio picked up speed as the house came into view, clinging to his broad-brimmed hat so it wouldn't get lost behind him. He burst through the gate, skidding to a halt on the worn cobblestones, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision with his sister.

         Rosita caught him before he could fall, steadying him with careful hands. “Ay! Julio! What is it? What happened?”

         “D-De la Cruz--” He panted, bracing his hands on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath.

         “Que?”

         “De la Cruz,” Julio repeated. “He’s been arrested.”

         “QUÉ?!”

         Rosita’s exclamation brought the rest of the family running, the twins colliding in the doorway of the workshop as they raced outside.

         “What is it?”

         “What happened?”

         “Ernesto De la Cruz has been arrested,” Rosita answered, hardly daring to believe it herself.

         “En serio?” Victoria asked

         Julio nodded. “It’s all over town. Hernando and I heard it from Señora Marquez, whose Tía Maria works at the police station. She said they put him through booking a couple hours ago.”

         “Where did they find him?” Coco asked.

         “Well, that’s the crazy part -- “

         Gustavo was late. This in itself was unusual enough to be remarked upon by the other band members. Gustavo was always early, mostly for the purposes of gossiping and ragging on any unfortunate band member who arrived after he did. It was agreed that he might be a bit pompous, a bit pretentious, but he had never in his entire afterlife missed a rehearsal. But with no word of his whereabouts either way, they were forced to begin without him.

         No sooner had the opening bars left their instruments than a door swung open, striking the wall with a clang, and Gustavo burst into the warehouse. He didn’t even stop to close the door behind him, making a bee-line for the band. “De la Cruz has been arrested!”

         The song ground to a squawking halt as the words sank in. As a one the musicians scrambled from their seats to hear the news, conveniently forgetting in wake of the celebrity arrest whose murder De la Cruz was guilty of. They didn’t notice how Héctor remained frozen in his seat, hands resting numbly on his guitar. They didn’t notice the look of panic, of pain in his dark eyes as he tried to keep himself together.

         But Nell did. Instead of gathering around Gustavo with the rest, Nell went straight to her friend’s side, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You okay?” She asked softly.

         Héctor nodded, grateful for the support.

         “They brought him in about an hour ago,” Gustavo continued, reveling in the attention as even the artists abandoned their projects in favor of the news. “They’re saying he was dropped on the steps of the police station by a flock of alebrijes.”

         “Wait, a flock?” The cellist asked with a small frown.

         Gustavo nodded. “A bunch of giant birds! I didn’t believe it when he told me, but it’s all over the city. Dropped him in a heap right on the steps, and kept him pinned until the policía came out to investigate. ”

         Héctor and Nell exchanged looks of silent communication. You don’t think --

         Maybe? Who else could it be?

         With the others distracted, Héctor and Nell gathered their things and raced immediately for home.

         They were most of the way to the house when they ran into Coco and Julio. All it took was a single look at each other’s faces to see what they knew. Coco hugged her father tightly, fists clenching at his back as she struggled to keep it together. It was a good couple of minutes before either of them could find the words to speak.

         “They found him, Papá,” Coco told him when she pulled back. There was a tense look in her eyes, part worry for her father, and what could only be described as a kind of eagerness.

         “I know,” Héctor said, with an attempt at a smile. “Gustavo… he told us.”

         Coco made a face of mild disgust. Like the rest of the Riveras, she couldn’t stand the violinist. She could only imagine the ham-handed method by which this news had been delivered. “What did he say?”

         “Not much,” her father answered. “Just that he’d been found and brought to the police station by a bunch of alebrije. We thought he might have been making that up, but…”

         “It’s true,” Julio confirmed. “I was in town with a friend when I heard, and came straight home. Mamá Imelda and the others have already left for the police station. She asked us to come and get you and meet her there.”

         Héctor flexed his fingers unconsciously on the strap of his guitar case, then nodded. “Come on, then. Let’s not keep her waiting.”

         They arrived at the police station to find it under siege. The entire street was packed with reporters armed with recorders, microphones, and cameras of every conceivable age and size. They watched the station doors like hawks eyeing a rabbit warren, waiting for even the slightest sign of movement. Pushing their way through the crush of reporters to reach the door was a battle in itself, and serious consideration was given to summoning Pepita or Buttons to disperse the crowd so they could get through.

         A pair of stone-faced officers guarded the doors, preventing even the more determined of the reporters from simply pushing their way inside. Coco and Julio were first to gain the steps and were about to be turned away when Héctor and Nell finally broke through the crowd behind them. Thankfully one of the officers recognized Héctor from the Sunrise Spectacular incident two years before and after a brief argument with his partner, he allowed the group inside.

         The inside of the police station was only marginally less hectic than the outside. Just because Ernesto De la Cruz had been arrested didn’t mean that all crime in the Land of the Dead had come to a halt -- though admittedly the crime rate in the Land of the Dead was significantly lower than it was in the Land of the Living. The center of the chaos seemed to be on the second floor, where a very angry, very familiar voice could be heard insulting the grooming habits and parentage of one Ernesto De la Cruz.

         “Well… I guess we found Imelda”, Nell said, holding back a snicker of amusement. The sheer variety and creativity of Imelda’s curses was impressive, and Nell filed the more unfamiliar ones away in her memory for future use.

          they made their way up the wrought-iron staircase, Imelda’s protests became clearer. Ernesto, it seemed, had been placed under solitary confinement, and would be allowed no visitors except his lawyers, and the officers assigned to the case. This was not at all what Imelda wanted to hear, as after that cabron murdered her husband and twice attempted to murder her great-great-grandson, she very much intended to crush his skull to powder with her boot. Which was not, of course, something that she said aloud, but was very much implied by the insistence in her tone.

         Coco, absently fingering the fringe of her shawl, did not blame her in the slightest. It was she who knocked on the office door, nudging it open to find her Mamá shouting at officers Flores and Vega. She had to give them credit for standing their ground. Mamá Imelda was fierce when she was in a temper, and denying her took no small amount of courage. “Mamá? We found them.”

         Imelda cut off her tirade, immediately running to embrace her daughter and husband. “Ah, mi familia! At last. This man, he says they have De la Cruz in custody, but they will not allow us to see him.” As she spoke she gestured to another skeleton behind the desk who was dressed in a charcoal-colored button-down shirt and black slacks.

         “As we were explaining to Señora Rivera,” Officer Flores said with no little exasperation. “This is a very high-profile case. Ernesto De la Cruz is being kept in solitary confinement for his own protection.” They had considered putting him in a regular holding cell with the other inmates but there was such an uproar the moment they brought him in that a private cell was the only option. If the other inmates had simply been fans, that would be bad enough. But between the stolen songs and murder charges… Yeah, definitely better to stick him by himself. “Due to the public nature of this case, visits will be restricted solely to Senor De la Cruz’s lawyer. Officer Vega, myself, and Detective Espinosa, who is the lead investigator on this case.”

         It was a reasonable precaution, all considered. Darn it. Imelda was not the only Rivera who had a boot with Ernesto’s name on it. Nell found herself wondering how many other musicians’ works Ernesto had taken credit for over the years.

         Espinosa himself looked less than impressed with Imelda’s demands, though privately he thought that the woman deserved a few moments alone with her husband’s murderer. He’d wanted to take a boot to the bastard’s face himself. Unfortunately given his position these were not thoughts he could voice aloud.

         “So, what happens now?” Julio asked.

         “Much the same as before,” Officer Vega answered. “You are still in contact with Señor Bernal, si?”

         Imelda nodded. Bernal had been assigned to their case early on, and they remained in contact with him in the months since. Less so recently, as until the events of a couple weeks before, it seemed less and less likely that De la Cruz would ever be apprehended. Imelda had sent Victoria and Rosita for him just before they left for the police station. “He should be on his way here.”

         They arrived a few moments later with a tall, thin skeleton man dressed in a finely-tailored suit that might have become fashionable some time in the late 1960’s. Victoria and Rosita trailed behind him, a familiar blue crow alebrije with colorful trailing tail feathers perched on Victoria’s shoulder. The bird let out an excited caw and after giving Victoria a companionable nudge with her head, she swooped across the room to land on Nell’s outstretched arm.

         “Hey, Lady. Were you keeping Victoria and Rosita company?” Nell asked as the bird side-stepped her way up to her shoulder.

         “This is your alebrije?” Detective Espinosa asked her, standing up from behind the desk.

         “One of them,” Nell answered as Lady gave a soft chirp. “Lady’s mom and a brother and sister.”

         “Are the others birds as well?”

         “Yeah. What is it you are trying to ask me, Detective?”

         “Nothing,” he replied. “Just curious. You have some very clever alebrije, Señorita Rey. They managed to do what two years of police involvement couldn’t.”

         “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,” Héctor cut in. “Wait. Are you saying that her alebrije are the one who found Ernesto?”

         The detective nodded. “Dropped him right on our doorstep. Your little blue Lady there had her talons hooked in his collar and would peck at his head every time he tried to get up. Her Mamá — I’m assuming she’s the big green one — just sat on him and wouldn’t let him up until a group of officers came to investigate.”

         Julio pressed his mouth shut tight, his mustache quivering in his attempt to keep himself from laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of the image.

         “I don’t suppose any of you has a dog alebrije?” Espinosa asked, remembering something that he’d seen in the arrest report.

         The Rivera’s exchanged looks. “Miguel’s alebrije is a xolo,” Héctor told him.

         “Ah. Well, that explains it. There were also reports of a skinny, winged dog gnawing on De la Cruz’s leg.”

         Miguel spent his next several lunch hours researching ghosts. There were certainly no shortage of reported hauntings, but none of the stories that he read was able to tell him what he wanted to know. What was it that kept spirits from crossing over? Oh sure, there were plenty of theories, but Miguel was 100% certain that half of the so-called “experts” out there hadn’t encountered a real ghost in their lives.

         Based in the different accounts he had read, Miguel had been able to separate the types of hauntings into two separate categories: impressions and actual ghosts. Impressions were snippets of time and intense emotions that imprinted on a place. The apparitions that resulted often repeated the same few moments in time, over and over again, but never acknowledged the living world. And then there were spirits like Antonio and Candela, who were autonomous and did not follow any kind of time-loop restriction. As a whole both kinds of spirits tended to be limited to a certain area of effect, usually a single building or street. He wasn’t sure how it was that Antonio seemed to be able to wander anywhere he wanted in Santa Cecilia, and wondered absently how big his range actually was.

         They had established the previous night that Antonio could not leave Santa Cecilia. Miguel had tried to take him to talk with Candela at the hospital to see if she had any answers, but he was unable to appear outside of town. Miguel spent the next hour catching up with Candela and checking on Nell. He knew from speaking to her parents that there had been no change, not that he had anticipated any, but he always felt better when he could see for himself.

         Unfortunately the ghostly nurse didn’t have any answers for him. She didn’t know what kept spirits from crossing over any more than the people on the internet did. And nothing Miguel read gave him any clue as to how he could help Antonio cross over. Except for straight-up exorczing him, which was not at all something that Miguel wanted to do. Firstly, because that would mean telling people that he could see ghosts, and he’d rather keep that to himself if he could. And also, who knew where Antonio would be sent afterwards? He could end up in the Land of the Dead like he was supposed to, or he could end up somewhere terrible, or just completely disappear. No way would Miguel risk doing that to the poor kid.

         He told him so one night while they were strolling through town. “It’s, like, the only thing that everyone can agree works but we’re not going to do that, I promise. We’ll find another way.”

         Antonio nodded, keeping his eyes carefully ahead as they walked. “Thanks, Miguel.” What else could he say? He’d been resigned to being trapped in the world for so long, it was strange to have hope again. He didn’t want to trust it, and there was a part of him that was tempted to tell Miguel to just stop looking. It was impossible… wasn’t it?

         “Hey.” Miguel reached out, catching his sleeve. “You okay?”

         “Yeah,” the boy said softly. “I just...I don’t know why you’re putting in all this work for me. What do you care if I’m stuck here or not?”

         Miguel did a double take. “¿Esperar, qué? You’re kidding, right?”

         Antonio ducked his head, refusing to meet his gaze, and said nothing.

         “Hey, look at me.” He gave the boy’s sleeve a short jerk. “Do you honestly believe I’d just leave you like this if there was anything I could do to help?”

         “I -- No. Maybe.” Antonio admitted, looking shamefaced. “I just… I don’t know why you care so much. You barely know me.”

         Miguel was silent for a moment. He had a feeling that Antonio wasn’t looking for an “I’d do it for anyone” kind of answer. “I don’t want to see anyone else left behind.” It seemed so obvious, once he finally said it aloud. “Papá Héctor, all of his friends in Shantytown…. Every one of them was left behind and forgotten. They disappeared because nobody passed their stories down. Kept separate from everyone else, even in the Land of the Dead. Nobody deserves that. Nobody deserves to be left behind. So I want to help you cross over, if I can. And I’m going to find your photo and add it to our ofrenda so you’ll never be forgotten.”

         Antonio looked stunned. Never, in life or in death, had anyone ever been willing to do something so kind for him.

         Miguel crouched in front of him, gently wiping the tears from his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie. “Hey, It’s okay chico. We’re amigos, right? Amigos help each other.”

         Antonio just cried harder, throwing his arms around Miguel and hugging him tightly. Miguel returned the hug, rubbing one hand soothingly over the boy’s back as he had seen his Mamá do to Soccoro when she cried. After a few minutes the sobs quieted, but Miguel did not pull away until Antonio was ready to let him go.

         “You okay?”

         The boy nodded, wiping his eyes with his sleeve and giving a watery sniffle. “G-gracias.”

         “De nada.” Miguel said with a small smile. “You ready to head home?”

         Home… That sounded pretty great. Antonio smiled back. “Yeah, let’s go home.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And that concludes chapter 17! I hope it was worth the wait. 

Love you all!

[jancys-blue-bayou]

Jancy and all of the numbers honestly?? Lol

Lmao I got two asking for all the numbers at the same time and a couple of more asking for specific ones so here we go with all of them!

1. Which one is the better cook

Covered this before, it’s Jonathan since he’s helped his mom out with cooking and other stuff since he was a kid and cooking is something he enjoys doing. Breakfast is his specialty. Nancy is potentially hazardous in the kitchen. Since Karen loves to cook she has tried to teach Nancy but Nancy has never been into it. At most she can boil water or make grilled cheese. In college she feels bad that Jonathan does all the cooking for them so she makes him teach her some and from then on she cooks a bit too, even though Jonathan continues to make most of the food since he enjoys it. He really loves cooking for Nancy.

2. What their love letters look like

Well I don’t know about proper love letters but Nancy definitely leaves little notes in Jonathan’s locker at school all the time telling him how much she loves him and giving him weirdly specific compliments because he’s so shy and modest all the time and she wants to remind him that he’s awesome. Plus she loves how he blushes and smiles every time he finds a note. (Also sometimes the notes have little messages relating to what she wants him to do to her that night……..) Jonathan on the other hand as always prefers photography to express himself, sometimes he’ll just randomly give her a photo he took of her that he loves, sometimes with a scribbled declaration of love on a note with it.

3. Which one outlives the other, and how they cope

LALALALA DUSTIN INVENTS A POTION THAT GIVES THEM ALL ETERNAL LIFE LALALALALALA seriously what is this question alternate is they’re one of those couples where both live to be a hundred and then dies within an hour of each other next to each other holding hands but LALALALA ETERNAL LIFE

4.What they do on date night

They don’t really have like a proper date night often (like calling and asking the other one out for Friday night like I bet Steve did with Nancy during their relationship) because they just hang out together all the time, doing everything or nothing together. Like after school just hanging out at his or her house (mostly his), talking, listening to music, watching movies, doing homework, doing… other stuff. They’ll go on long walks in the woods, sometimes they’ll just go for a drive to get out of Hawkins for a while. A date night is usually going to a diner and going to the movies. And Nancy will surprise Jonathan with getting tickets for a concert in Indy or Chicago to see some cool band.

5. How many kids they’ll have

One or two, and the two being close in age. My small little close-knit family.

6. How they decorated their bedroom

It’s definitely a joint effort. Nancy goes full into planning mode, making lists and asking for Jonathan’s opinion on everything, and he gives it happily (Jonathan is the farthest thing from the bullshit boring guy response of “Whatever you want is fine with me babe”). They agree on most, but if they disagree on something like the color of the duvet Nancy will inevitably win that argument and Jonathan is fine with it. He mostly cares about what goes on the walls and that everything is nice and soft and that Nancy is comfy. As for how it actually looks I think it’s very personalized, lots of softer earthy colors and a lot of stuff on the walls, a lot of photos that Jonathan took but that it’s Nancy who insisted on hanging there, and then most of the time it’s a bit of a mess with clothes and books and stuff laying around everywhere.

7 Which one is the worse driver

Nancy. We haven’t seen her drive in the show, I h/c that she has a driver’s license but don’t like driving that much, she prefers to let Jonathan do it. Jonathan is a very good, attentive driver, checking everything, Nancy is not bad but she gets anxious driving and has a tendency to speed more. She prefers letting Jonathan drive so she can kick her feet up on the dashboard and relax, she feels safe with Jonathan behind the wheel. Jonathan likes driving, likes the sense of control. Nancy doesn’t like driving alone, being alone in the car for a longer stretch triggers a bit of anxiety, being alone in this little space for so long. Jonathan of course loves it when Nancy is with him in the car but doesn’t mind driving alone either since it gives him time to just relax with music and clear his head.

8. What they argue about

Not a lot, really. They bicker for fun about stuff like music, Nancy teasing Jonathan when he’s being a bit pretentious. But they’re in sync on all the important stuff that matter, like how they’re totally in sync when it comes to monster hunting and taking down the lab, both just being fuck yeah let’s do this. I just have a really hard time seeing them having a big serious fight about something. At most Nancy could get frustrated with Jonathan not giving himself enough credit until the point that she yells a bit at him about how he’s awesome and should realize that.

9. Which one swears more

Totally Nancy lol! Here it’s like Jonathan and Will are both so soft-spoken while Nancy and Mike are not lol. Nancy would curse a bit over little things all the time like dropping stuff or forgetting something etc, and then curse a LOT if she like loses at a board game, which doesn’t happen often. Jonathan would curse at Lonnie if he ever shows up, and Nancy would too. I can also see Jonathan suddenly losing it and cursing if something happens logistically that’s out of his hands but that screws up his/their plans, like getting frustrated when it’s out of his control. Like I don’t know, problems with a moving van or something and he suddenly curses a lot and Nancy is totally bemused and then he’s like “Sorry, sorry” and Nancy just laughs.

10. What TV shows they watch together, and which ones they hide from the other

A bit tricky this, I don’t have super-good knowledge of US tv in the 80s. But like imagine them cuddled up on the couch lazily watching Cheers and both calling out “Norm!” at the same time. I don’t think they hide anything from the other but like Nancy watches a lot of trash tv if she’s sick or on her period just laying on the couch in front of the tv, that she normally doesn’t watch and Jonathan is bemused and sits and watches it with her even though he can’t stand that reality tv or day time tv (all those people yelling and fighting! Can’t they just get along?).

11. What their first impression was of each other

Little kids in first grade, Jonathan is super shy and barely talks to anyone and the other boys tease him and Nancy mostly just plays with Barb but thinks Jonathan seems seems nice and walks up to him in the sandbox and asks if he wants to play one day when Barb is sick and Jonathan nods because he’s thought that Nancy seems really nice too. Then when Will and Mike become friends they see each other around a lot and Nancy is always nice to Jonathan and invites him to her birthday parties when they’re little kids and even if they’re never really that close because Jonathan is shy and always taking care of his family so he doesn’t have much time to socialize, there’s always a liking there.

12. What they do for their anniversary

Dodge questions from others regarding what the anniversary is of (First kiss? First date? First time? like um yep) and celebrate in their own way. Both saying it’s not that important but Jonathan being a sappy dork getting Nancy a flower and Nancy tries to make his favorite food to surprise him but it gets burnt and so they order in. (And then they fuck, ahem).

13. Which makes a bigger deal of birthdays

Oh god, both! Both of them totally go all in to make it the best possible day for the other. Maybe a slight edge to Jonathan though since he’s like basically throwing rose petals at Nancy’s feet every day anyway so her birthday is very important. Nancy knows that Jonathan doesn’t like being the center of attention that much and takes that into consideration while making sure he has the perfect low-key birthday (totally scheming with Will and Joyce for it).

14. What nicknames they call each other

Well let’s start with the great classic headcanon of Nancy calling him Thumper because he’s her fluffy bunny. Then there’s of course Nance, and Nancy will say Jon sometimes for short but she prefers Jonathan because she thinks the whole name is so pretty. That’s really the most common, I don’t think they’re that much of a Sweetie/Honey couple. Oh, but Jonathan blurts out “Babe” once during sex and Nancy really likes that and so that continues, and sometimes “Baby”, for both of them.

15. What they would change about each other

Nothing, really. Well, again Nancy would like Jonathan to not sell himself short. She loves how comfortable he is in himself, who he is and what he likes, but she’d like for him to admit to himself that who he is, is an awesome person. Jonathan wouldn’t change a thing about Nancy. Well, maybe a little thing like we see in S2 when Nancy hears a mysterious sound in the dark woods at night and her instinct is to just march towards it and Jonathan runs after and tugs her back, putting himself in front of her, he absolutely loves her fearlessness but sometimes would like for her to maybe think for a second before charging right towards danger, because he’ll always protect her.