#but what about the ghost singer lady and her boyfriend that was so cool as a human that he got reincarnated into a cat

[seventeenangrybees]

i know i’m over a decade late to the spirited (2010) hype but i just finished it and the lack of betty and potter closure is somehow more heartbreaking to me than the actual show’s ending

[allegra-writes]

“Heartfelt”

Bar musician! Harry styles x Bartender!Reader

General audiences

Warnings: None

Just some Valentine's day fluff with our favorite green eyed boy. Dedicated to @gaycinnamonrollgirl for giving me the idea, and @tomsrebeleyebrow for patiently listening to me endlessly gush about Harry Styles and still being my friend. Happy belated Valentine's day 💖

"You don't have to say you love me

I just wanna tell you somethin'

Lately you've been on my mind..."

Adore you - Harry Styles

...Oh, she looks so good, oh, she looks so fine

And I got this crazy feeling that I'm gonna ah-ah…

"Bartender, my good friend! I'll have my usual and a plate of your finest chips, if you would be so kind"

It was closing time when Harry, the local musician, sat in front of you, elbows on the bar you were wiping down while humming to Patti Smith's "Gloria".

You raised an eyebrow at him, but the willowy man could see the slight tremble at the corner of your lips, a tell that you were suppressing a smile.

"I'm afraid the kitchen is closed, mister Styles. Sam left an hour ago."

"Yes yes, but I have it from a very good source he left you a big pile of leftover chips before he did," He accused, "you know, as he does every night..."

You frowned in confusion,

"I thought you hated cold fries. That you found them to be, and I quote, soggy and disgusting" 

"I guess you can say I acquired a taste for them" He shrugged, mischievous green eyes sparkling, "Just like you did for this lowlife songwriter in front of you and the heartfelt conversations you share with him" 

"Did you now?" There was an edge of scepticism in your voice, but you were already disappearing inside the kitchen. 

Harry's heart did a little jump as you didn't immediately deny liking him.

"Hey, Joe" he called out, "why don't you go home? I'll help Y/N close when we're done…" 

There was a deaf noise as a young waiter, the only person left in the bar beside the two of you, set the last chair on top of a table. 

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I got this" he reassured him, "did it dozens of times. Go home to your girl"

"Thanks, mate!" The second brit practically skipped on his way to the backroom, but turned around just before reaching the door. "Listen, you know I like you, but if you hurt y/n in any way…"

Harry smiled, genuinely. He could never get mad at anyone that protective of you.

"You know where I live. Pick my sister on the way, though. I think she would like to join you."

Joe rolled his baby blues,

"I know you're not a creep. I meant her heart"

"Yeah, me too…"

Whatever your friend saw inside Harry's eyes was enough to convince him. He nodded and left, as the musician got up to lock the front door and turn the "open" sign off. 

If you noticed Joe's absence at your return, you didn't comment on it, simply setting the giant pile of chips and two cans of cherry cola you were carrying, down in front of Harry, who had returned to his seat. 

"Ah, you always have the good stuff!" the sigh that left his lips as he took the first sip of the soda was not unlike the one any of your regulars made after the first taste of something strong after a hard day. 

"Rough night?" 

"Kind of. Good show though, so at least I have that going on for me…" 

"It really was, I'm actually impressed" You had to confess, "And surprised too, it was a bold choice going acoustic on a night like this, with such a big audience," So many people had gathered to see the show that the bouncer had to start rejecting people so you wouldn't have trouble with the fire department "but it definitely worked" 

There was a slight blush on the singer's cheeks when he replied, far more humble than you were used to,

"Well, you know, Valentine's day and all that. The band, all have boyfriends and girls they wanted to spend the evening with…"

You tilted your head,

"And you didn't?" It was hard to believe, when almost every night he played there you would see him leave with a different, always sculptural, painfully perfect girl. Or man. 

Harry didn't reply, choosing instead to stuff his face with stale fries.

"Alright then" You raised your shoulder in surrender, "keep your secrets…"

He squinted in disbelief,

"Did you just quoted The Lord of the Rings at me?"

"Did you just recognize my Lord of the rings quote?" You countered.

"You are such a nerd!"

"Look who's talking, chicken little!" You gestured at his powder blue sweater with a yellow baby chick at the front and herringbone pants. 

"Oi!" His manchester accent popped out, like it always did whenever he lost his cool "I'll have you know, this is Gucci"

You scoffed,

"That doesn't make it any better, it just means that you spent a shit load of money to look like my third grade teacher, mister Harrington!" 

"Ok, first of all," he countered, "your teacher sounds awesome and second-"

An inelegant snort escaped your mouth. Harry's emerald eyes pinned you down. 

"Second of all, you're no one to talk either, kitten hoodie" 

You could feel the heat creeping up your cheeks. Praying he couldn't see your blush in the dim light, you took a mouthful of soda to cool you down. 

For a moment, none of you said anything, the sweet notes of Fleetwood Mac's "Dreams" the only thing filling the silence.

… Players only love you when they're playing

Women, they will come and they will go...

"Listen, y/n-"

"If I'm being honest-" 

He chuckled,

"I'm sorry, ladies first" 

"Now I'm not sure if I wanna tell you…"

"Come on" A grown ass man pouting should not be that cute, "I want to know"

You feigned a long suffering sigh,

"Fine, if you must know- If you must know, I actually like your new style. It's way better than that... rock and roll cliche... thing you had going on when we first met" You gestured vaguely in the direction of his body, "You know, the long hair, black clothes, doc boots…" 

He flinched, 

"Ugh, Don't remind me. I was trying too hard back then. And not only with my clothes, with my music too"

"Oh, yeah, I remember. All you used to sing about was" You chose your words carefully, "frisky girls and being horny…" 

"Well, to be fair, I still sing about being horny"

"Yeah, but now you're…"

You trailed off, unsure of how you could explain the difference, the change in your feelings towards his music, without explaining the change in your feelings towards the man that made it.

However, Harry would not let it go that easy. He was used to you being sharp, opinionated, guarded. Now there was a crack on that armour, and he wanted to see what was underneath it. 

You hadn't even realized how close you had leaned into each other until his hot breath fanned over your face.

"Now I'm what, y/n?"

More real. More mature. More emotional, as if he had finally found the link, made the connection between sex and love. 

"More open"

Harry smiled,

"Open. Yeah, I like that…"

So close. He was so close now, his malaquite eyes were out of focus. So close you could feel his magnetic field, the gravity of his atoms pulling in yours.

"Harry…" 

Never in his twenty seven years of life and over ten as a musician, had he heard a more beautiful sound than his name, breathlessly falling from your lips.

"Yes?" He murmured, lips ghosting over your soft, perfect ones.

"No"

"No?"

"No" You repeated, more firmly, taking a step back, putting as much space between the two of you as possible, "I know what this is"

"And what is this, y/n" To your surprise, he didn't sound mad, or demanding. He sounded confused and sad. Dissapointed but unsurprised, as if he had expected it to go south or… never had dared expect it would actually happen at all. 

"A bad idea" You explained, "with guys like you, is always the same: You have beautiful women throwing themselves at you every night. And you take them home with you cause why wouldn't you? You are young, and free and hot. There is nothing wrong with taking what's being offered" 

"Y/n-"

"I'm not saying it's your fault" You went on, ignoring him, "And I'm not saying you don't fall in love, sometimes. But that's the exception, not the rule, and I… I'm the kind of girl that's the rule. Not the exception"

Harry had always thought the worst that could happen to him was losing your friendship. Finally making a move, a real move, and getting rejected by you. He thought that was the definitive pain, the one that would obliterate him, if things were not to work out. And he was almost certain they would not work out. 

But sitting there, in front of you, separated by a wooden bar that might as well have been the great wall of china as you stood there, arms around yourself, small and defenseless as you explained to him all the reasons why you wouldn't allow yourself to love him… that was way worse. 

"What if you already were my exception?" He blurted out, before he could stop himself, "What if I was in love with you?"

You laughed, bitterly.

"Harry, I'm not even your type. I've seen you leave night after night with models and socialites and actors, each one more surreally stunning than the last one…" You didn't have a bad self esteem, you didn't. You considered yourself attractive, but the people Harry usually went for were on a whole different level.

"Yes, but that's only because the most absolutely perfect woman in the world for me, keeps me at arm's length!" He rubbed his face in frustration, "And it's so maddening, so fucked up, the way I can't even get away from her long enough to get over her, because even the pain of seeing her every night knowing I can't touch what I see, that I will never have her, is better than the pain of being away from her. 

So I keep on taking home the hottest people I can find hoping they will keep me distracted long enough to fill the hours until I can see her again… until I can-"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Never, in all the time you had known each other, had Harry given you a single signal indicating he had any kind of feelings for you. Your relationship had always consisted of friendly banter and quip battles. Sure, you could get flirty sometimes, but you were a bartender, flirting was pretty much your customer service voice, and he was a musician, he would flirt with his own shadow if he could.

Harry opened his mouth to explain, but a familiar melody started coming from the still working speakers.

Walk in your rainbow paradise

Strawberry lipstick state of mind…

"Hey, this is my song!" You didn't quite understand why he seemed so marveled, "You never added any of my songs to your playlist before!"

Oh. Oh.

"Yeah, well" Harry could now clearly see your darkened cheeks as you stumbled over your words, "I guessed I never liked one of your songs so much before" 

This time, he was the one blushing and avoiding your eyes.

"What would you say if I told you-... If I told you I wrote this one for you?"

"I'd say you're full of shit" You scoffed, "Didn't you tell me you only ever wrote about girls you had dated?"

"No," he corrected, "I said I only ever wrote about women that had broken my heart…"

"How did I break your heart?"

Harry sighed. Your walls were back up, higher than ever, and he didn't know how to break through them. It wasn't your fault -and had it been your fault, truth was he could never blame you either, there was something about you that made it physically impossible for him to get mad at you- you spoke from experience, he didn't need to unlock the secrets of your past, didn't need the details. It was obvious you had been burned before, and though he hated it, hated them for whatever they had done to you, he couldn't fault you for trying to protect yourself.

Not when he wanted to protect you too. 

"You didn't like me, back when we first met"

"Harry-"

"No, it's ok. You didn't like me, and you were right not to like me. I know you probably didn't realize it but, that first time you rejected me, when I flirted with you that very first night and you rolled your eyes at me… you changed my life"

"What? How??"

"You weren't wrong, I was a cliche. And I was trying way too hard, to be cool, act like a rockstar… but you took a look at that guy, at that though, playboy, sex, drugs and rock 'n roll guy… and you hated him" Harry snickered. You didn't understand what about all that was so funny, "I had created that guy so that everyone would like him, and you hated him. And the funny thing is-" He finally met your eye. No, he caught your eye and imprisoned them, "The funny thing is, you hating me for what I wasn't, somehow allowed me to start being myself a little bit more, because if you already disliked me… then I had nothing to lose" 

You didn't quite know what to say to that.

His bright green eyes were unable to face yours, choosing instead to focus on the palms he was picking at,

"Is that why you… uhm…" You pointed at his sweater.

"Yup" He admitted, "I showed up here one day, on laundry day, in one of my old nerdy sweater vests and you smiled, when you saw it"

"I remember that!" You chuckled, "It was the brown striped one, it almost looked like a crop top, cause it obviously didn't fit anymore"

Harry nodded,

"I may have had a couple grow spurts since I got that in high school" 

"Ok, but, you made it work somehow…" 

"Thank you. The point is…" he turned serious again, his deep, rich voice even more hypnotic than usual. Or maybe it was just you, for the first time allowing yourself to enjoy it without reservations. "The point is, you didn't like cool Harry, but you liked the real me. Even if just a little bit, and that meant the world to me. I… I adored you because of it. So I wrote a song for you, cause even if I couldn't say it to your face, I had to get it out. Just like I had to get this out tonight"

He opened his arms wide, in his typical ta-da gesture, sad, resigned smile on his face, before getting up from his stool, grabbing his jacket and guitar case.

"You don't have to say anything, I don't expect you to love me back" He declared, "I just- I thought I'd let you know. Valentine's day and all that."

He turned to leave, his own voice still signing in the background,

I'd walk through fire for you, just let me adore you

 Oh, honey…

"Harry, wait!" You almost fell on your face, trying to jump over the bar, but managing to stop him right before he reached the door. His poorly concealed smirk told you he might have seen your little show, but you didn't care.

"Did you mean it? That you'd do anything for me?" 

"I did" He confirmed, earnestly, "I still do. Anything you want, just say the word"

"Well then," you took a step towards him, that he mirrored without even noticing, "what about a date? A daytime date. At a public place." You clarified. Harry did smirk at that.

"What's the matter, afraid you won't be able to keep your hands off me?" He teased, leaning closer. 

"Don't ruin this, Styles" You warned, raising to your tiptoes to meet him eye to eye.

His smile faltered, replaced by the most sincere intensity you had ever seen on his handsome face,

"Wouldn't dream of it, bartender" He whispered, before capturing your lips with his.

[ill-skillsgard]

I need Faust and Faith's reunion after he's done touring 👉👈 No pressure or anything. I just miss them a lot!

I always miss Fausty boy! I have some other prompts I wanted to incorporate into this one, but it was getting too long. I hope you enjoy!

+

Warning: 18+ mentions of public sex, mature language, anti-religious overtones, mentions of blood, violence, death, and drug use.

Summary: Faith goes to her first black metal show and asks Faust about the black circle.

- Not based on Lords of Chaos. I use Faust!Valter’s likeness only as inspiration.

Read more Faust x Faith here [x]

The duelling guitars screeched through twin stacks of speakers and filled the auditorium with malfeasance. Faith had never witnessed such a carnal reaction. As she watched from the side stage, the crowd below opened into a whirling pit of black-clad showgoers, pushing, jumping and banging against each other. The drums kicked into a blistering rhythm, and her attention turned toward the man she barely recognized with white and black makeup painting his face like the ghost of a demon.

Faust punished his drumkit with expert precision, his arms blurring in the chaos of their first song. His black hair swung as he banged his head without missing a beat. Horned and studded limbs spilled over the metal barricade, tongues lolled, and eyes lit with blissful fury. The singer's growls seemed to rise from the depths of hell, a monster shrieking at its thralls for more destruction.

Even with earplugs in, Faith felt the music blowing back in waves, shaking the column of her throat and turning her brain to mush. She dared slip one plug out to hear the true volume and quickly stuffed it back in when the intensity struck.

During the ambient interludes between songs, the crowd roared still. A few hundred people raised their hands, praising the men on stage. It reminded her of church, how they would let their eyes roll back, chanting the hymns and facing their palms skyward. This was no church she had ever set foot inside. The walls were painted black, the floor sticky from spilled beer, and its congregation made her gathering's displays of loyalty seem demure. The air reeked of salty skin and malt embedded in the paint from nights like this.

Faith saw people wearing shirts with Faust's band logo on the front, and a burst of pride warmed her belly. Though she was remarkably out of place, there was an odd sense of welcome. She could run headfirst into the crowd and get swallowed up and spit out like anyone else.

When they finished their set, Faust retired his drumsticks to a holder, chugged an entire bottle of beer and took a brief bow to the crowd before walking off stage. Faith bounced as he approached and scooped her off the floor, smearing her face with paint from around his mouth. When he set her down, his lips were partially visible through the now grey muck.

"How was it?" Faust asked.

"You guys are amazing. That's was so cool, babe!"

"Ah, you're just saying that."

"No, really! I can't believe how crazy they went for you!"

Faust sneered playfully, though their reception had been one for the books. "Probably 'cause half the crowd are friends of ours."

"Doesn't matter. You still kicked ass."

Faust's smile was unbreakable from a show well played and seeing his girlfriend waiting for him at the side of the stage. He led her to the green room as stagehands and managers nodded them through and let her dab the corpse paint off her face in the bathroom. Faust sopped up the sweat in his hair with a towel and changed his stage clothes before Faith returned. His bandmates soon joined them, and the chatter was unintelligible. People from other bands came in to talk and congratulate the young group on their first cross-country tour, and soon the back was filled with people hanging VIP badges from their pockets.

Faust pulled Faith from the bedlam before the room grew too hot. They made their way to the main floor and the rows of merchandise tables. Faith couldn't help but feel privileged to have access to the other side of the tables where Faust told her she could stash her coat and purse while a lineup of fans waited to purchase t-shirts and albums. Admirers pulled Faust away several times to take photos and shake hands. Faith watched in awe as people took turns posing with her boyfriend, who stayed looking stoic in his half-melted face paint. Her boyfriend. People from all walks of life wanted proof they'd met him, asking him to sign album covers and tour posters.

When Faust broke away from the clamour of excited metal fans, he took Faith's hand and pulled her through the crowd to a stairwell guarded by security. He flashed his tour badge, and the guard permitted them to the balcony where a few other musicians sat in a less crowded area.

"Come on, let's go outside. I need a fucking smoke," Faust said.

They went through a set of metal doors to an outdoor balcony where two men leaned against the railing, passing a joint and chatting. One spotted Faust, and a smile cracked over his face.

"Hey, Faust. Great show, man. We watched from the balcony. You guys were fucking killer," the man passed the joint to the drummer.

He hauled a significant bout of smoke into his lungs, then expelled it into the night air, handing it back with a nod.

The man refused. "Pass it to the lady."

"She's good," Faust said.

"I'll take a hit," Faith countered.

Faust glanced at her, brow raised high. "You sure?" He chuckled.

"Yes. I'll be fine."

Faust handed her the joint and turned to his fellow musicians. "Thanks. Glad you guys enjoyed the set."

As Faith inhaled, the other man turned to her and offered his hand to shake. "Hey, I'm Janne."

"Faith," she mouthed around a lungful of searing smoke.

"This is Yosh," Janne gestured at the man who'd initially offered Faust the joint. "Good to meet you."

"Is this your girlfriend, Fausty?"

"Yeah. She's my girl."

"Aw, that's cute. Didn't take you for the relationship type, to be honest. You like this scary son of a bitch?" Yosh asked.

Faith giggled as she looked up at the towering man dressed in black while he lit a cigarette. "He's not that scary. At least not to me," said Faith.

"Good man to have by your side at a show. You might get trampled down there."

"This is actually my first show."

Yosh choked on a hit and coughed, "really? And you came to a black metal show? That's ballsy."

"Well, it's not really my thing, but I wanted to see them play. I came from out of town just to be here tonight," Faith said proudly.

"Oh, right. You guys are from the green belt, right? Or should I say, the black circle?" Janne tittered.

Faust's eyes grew stony. "No. I'm not part of that shit. Bunch of fucking posers."

"We were just talking about the church fire there a couple weeks ago. You guys are known for that, aren't you?"

"I don't know. Guess so," Faust shrugged.

"They said there was a body found after they put out the fire, and it was nailed to some pieces of wood...like a cross or something. Can you believe that shit? How metal is that?"

Faith swallowed. She had heard the news break the day after the fire before they announced the unidentified body and after Faust had surprised her at the bus stop. They had prayed about it in church the following week and set up a collection to bulldoze the wreckage and reconstruct the chapel even bigger than before. Her mother was so stricken from the news that Faith had to spend a night at her parents' house consoling her while her father bad-mouthed the city's youth.

Bunch of heathen Satan-worshippers in this town. If I'd have known how disgusting some of these people are, I'd have never moved us out here.

Faith, her sisters and their mother all huddled on the sofa watching reruns of Full House while Stan stood hard-backed at the front window, peering out every few minutes as if the culprit might attack them next.

Oh, Stan, you don't know who did it. You can't point the finger when the police haven't even updated the community. Give the embers a chanced to cool. Besides, it's places like these that need the most help. We'll raise the money. I just hope to God they catch the people who did this.

All Faith could think about as she ate her sundae next to her sister was what she was doing the night after the fire. While the fire department was busy putting out the flames across town, she was pressed against a brick wall getting fucked by one of the heathen Satan-worshippers her father despised. She tried not to connect dots that had no business forming any kind of picture. Faust's appearance had been a coincidence.

I'll tell you who did this... It's that damned black circle. They've done it before, and they'll do it again.

Faust waved a hand in front of Faith's face, and she flinched from her reveries. "Babe? You there?"

"Oh, sorry," she laughed. "Kind of zoned out."

"Wanna head back inside?"

Faith didn't realize she was shivering until Faust rubbed her upper arms. "Sure. Yeah, let's do that."

"One puff of a joint, and you're on another planet, huh? Good seeing you Janne, Yosh... We should tour again."

"Yeah, man. As soon as possible. We're always on the road. We'd love to have you out for as many gigs as you guys can handle."

Faust nodded and clasped hands with both men before urging Faith along with a palm on her bottom. Once they made it inside, he snuck his fingers under her skirt and pinched her hard enough to give her a jolt but not to hurt.

"Faust!"

"What? No one's looking. Hey, you wanna check out our tour bus?"

Faith went to the balcony railing and saw the next band setting up their gear. She pointed below and turned to Faust. "Won't we miss the next band?"

"You actually wanna stay and watch?"

"Uh, yeah! This is my first show. I wanna see all the bands."

"All right. We can stay up here or go to the floor. But I'm warning you, it can get ruthless down there."

"I want to go down. It looks fun."

"Then we have to go now. We'll try to get right up front where you won't get swallowed in a circle pit."

"Really?" Faith gasped. "Like, right up front at the barricade?"

"Sure, why not? If you want the full experience. I'll stand right behind you and make sure crowd-surfers don't land on your head. Then after, I'll show you the bus, and...I dunno...Probably fuck."

"Oh my goodness, Faust. Yeah, right!"

"I'm serious. I'd fuck you right here if there weren't people around."

Emboldened by his suggestion, Faith whirled around and stared up at him with her brows lowered. "What's all this about the black circle?"

Faust scoffed. "What are you talking about?"

"I've heard it mentioned before and that you're part of it. I just wanna know. Is it some kind of gang?"

"Do I look like I'm in a fucking gang? No. It's just some dumb shit they made up in high school."

"They as in your friends?"

"It's stupid and means nothing."

Faith stood in place. "Well, they're saying that church burned down because of your friends. Aren't you afraid someone might ask you questions?"

"I'm not afraid of shit because I've been on tour this whole time."

"Faust—"

"What did I tell you about the twenty questions? Now, do you wanna go watch the show or do you wanna keep talking about irrelevant shit?"

Dissatisfied with his response, Faith clammed up and followed Faust to the main floor. They wriggled through the tightening crowd and got upfront before the lights lowered, and a gust of smoke covered the stage. Ominous chanting heralded in a band dressed in black hoods. Faith watched, awestruck, but in the back of her mind, thoughts of the black circle fermented, giving off a foul smell she couldn't ignore.

After the headlining band opened with pyrotechnics and the frontman tossing a skull of pig's blood over the crowd, Faust took Faith around back, where the tour buses formed a barrier between the street and the venue. He led her inside and turned on the light to reveal the interior in a state of disarray. Beer bottles overflowed in the sink, ramen noodle wrappers littered the floor, and spiked leather decorum hung over seats and tables. There was a shredded porn magazine, its contents pinned to the wall and drawn over with a black marker, breasts shooting fire and snakes slithering out of places that made Faith blush.

"Sorry about the smell. Touring always has a distinct odour of unwashed balls and puke."

Faith tried not to touch any surface until Faust showed her to the back lounge area, where they sat and looked at each other in prolonged silence. Faith reined in a smile while her boyfriend sat back and studied her face.

"I'm glad you came. Sorry that it's probably more chaotic than you expected."

"It's okay. I'm having fun."

"You sure? I know it's not really your scene."

"You're my scene," Faith said.

He reached for her hand. Faith thought he meant to hold her, but he tugged her closer instead, straddling her over his lap. His hands came up under her skirt and over her ass while they kissed. Faust pulled away as she rocked her hips forth and placed his hands on her hips.

"So, how's school?"

"You're really asking me about school when we haven't seen each other in weeks?"

"What? Is there something else you wanna do?"

"I think you know what I want."

"Yeah, but I want you to say it."

Faith peered down the hall, past the bunks, toward the front of the bus. "What if someone comes in?"

"Not like my band hasn't walked in on you sucking my cock before."

"Oh my gosh, don't remind me."

Faust darkened, pulled air through his teeth. "Did you miss me?"

"Of course, I missed you. How is that even a question?"

He tilted his hips up and let Faith drop when he relaxed. She tugged his shirt up to appreciate the trail of hair leading down from his navel.

"What did you miss the most?"

"Your big, throbbing heart," Faith giggled. "I missed cuddling with you and going on walks together. Waking up with you beside me. Your cooking."

Faust pulled her down for a hug. "All right, all right. I get it. You wanna fuck, just not in the bus."

"Do your bandmates fuck girls in here?"

Laughter burst from his mouth as he rocked Faith back and forth. "They fucking wish."

The couple chuckled until another silence proceeded. Faith saw the fiery look in Faust's eyes, the appetite for her body that never tapered, his joy from having her there on his tour bus. Yet, all Faith saw was a building on fire, flames flickering behind his green stare. She smothered the thoughts with a kiss Faust took for permission to explore under her skirt again. Maybe she could kill her suspicions by reminding herself how much he loved her, the lengths he would go to protect her.

Voices yelled outside the bus, distracting Faith but not Faust, who rolled beneath her hips, oblivious to the arousal shooting through his groin.

"Yeah, come on, baby. Pull my cock out and sit on it for me. It'll be quick."

"Faust!" Someone shouted outside of the bus.

Faith pushed on his chest and perked toward the sound.

"Where the fuck is that asshole? First, he fucks off for an entire day, loses his phone, makes us cancel a show, and now the prick can't be dicked to help load out because his bitch is here? Getting real fucking sick of the bullshit, Ola."

"Mordy, chill out, man."

The bus door opened, followed by a waft of cigarette smoke. Boot tread hammered across the floor, and Mordy swayed through to the back, scoffing when he saw Faust with his girlfriend perched on his lap.

"You wanna take apart your drumkit, or are you just gonna let it sit in the way of everyone's gear? Oh, sorry, should have known you were too busy to be fucking bothered."

Faust lifted Faith off his thighs, and she bounced on the sofa as he shot up and stared Mordy down. The bass player didn't flinch.

"What? What're you gonna do, Faust? Punch me out? Good thing it's our last show. Wouldn't want your personal business getting in the way of the biggest tour of our fucking lives so far."

"You don't know shit, so I suggest you shut your mouth."

"No, I'm not gonna shut my mouth. Someone has to stand up to you, and none of these pussies will. Go load out your fucking gear, man!"

Faust smelled whiskey on Mordy's breath. He was far too sober to start a fight with the bass player and nodded, shouldering past him. Mordy crashed into the wall and cursed as the drummer stomped off the bus, leaving Faith fidgeting with the edge of her skirt and unsure if she should follow. Mordy scoffed at her and exited the bus after Faust, shouting until she no longer heard him.

When Faust returned, Faith stood up and wrang her wrists. "Should I leave?"

"We're both leaving," Faust muttered as he tore open the zipper on his backpack and scrounged up his clothes and stage effects to stuff inside. He ducked into the small fridge and took four bottles of beer, sticking two in the holders of his bag and pocketing the other two inside his leather jacket.

"Come on. We're out of here."

"But, neither of us have a car, and we're far from home," Faith said.

"Call a cab."

Outside of the bus, guitar cases and boxes of merch waited for loading. Faust opened a tote, wrenched open a steel moneybox and took some of the cash inside. He found Faith's coat and purse and passed them to her before kicking a hole into the plastic container. Mordy and Ola noticed this as Faust walked away with Faith in tow.

"Hey, asshole! What do you think you're doing? You can't just fucking take off with the merch money!"

Faust turned around, grabbed his crotch and flipped them off. "Suck my dick, fuckbags. Find a new drummer."

[cricket-scribbles]

Musician AU || Clintasha

They met at a music store, an appropriate beginning for an impossible relationship that should have never taken root. But somehow, Natasha Romanoff, world renowned violinist, and Clint Barton, aspiring country singer yet to hit it big, found themselves in a coffee shop on the corner, discussing their completely different tastes in music.

“Top three favorite musicians,” Clint said. He raised his eyebrows expectantly as he met Natasha’s gaze over the rim of his cup. Black coffee for him, cappuccino with cinnamon and nutmeg for her.

Natasha glanced off to the side in thought, her perfectly manicured red fingernails tapping out a rhythm on the tabletop.

“Tchaikovsky, of course,” she said slowly. “Rimsky-Korsakov...” She paused and her fingers went still and silent, palm laid flat to the table as she narrowed down the last composer. “Shostakovich,” she said with finality, confident in her decision.

Clint made a face. “Don’t you ever want to listen to something a little more...I don’t know...up to date?”

“They’re classics for a reason,” Natasha protested. Despite the coolness of her tone, there was a glint of amusement in her eyes. “What about you?”

Clint didn’t even have to think about it. “Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, and Glen Campbell.”

Natasha didn’t make a face. She was too composed for that. But she did make a disgruntled noise. Clint spread his hands.

“What?” he said with a laugh. “I didn’t say you had to approve.”

“Don’t you ever want to listen to something with a little less...” Natasha waved her hand in a dismissive gesture as she searched for the right word. “Twang?”

“Watch it, lady,” Clint said lightly. “I grew up on that music. A Boy Named Sue was the first song I learned on my guitar when I was seven. I haven’t looked back since.”

Natasha pressed her lips into a barely-there smile with a small hum. “There’s still time to convert you.”

“To what?”

“The challenge of Russian composers.”

Clint snorted. “You’ll convert me to Swan Lake as soon as I can convert you to Ring of Fire.” He squinted one eye shut as he looked at her. “Although I could picture you as a Carrie Underwood fan. Singing at the top of your lungs about totaling the cheating ex-boyfriend’s car.”

Natasha ducked her head with a soft laugh - the first laugh Clint had heard from her and he wanted to hear it again and again as often as possible.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll admit it. Maybe country music has its perks. Just for that one song alone.”

“I knew it. You’ve memorized all the words, haven’t you?”

“No, but it sounds like something I should take notes on.”

Clint shook his head. “I’ve created a monster.”

His phone went off in his pocket with a text message, sending up a tinny refrain. Clint sighed. His brother’s car finally gave up the ghost and he needed a ride home. 

Natasha reached across the table and took Clint’s phone.

“Uh,” he said. “What are you doing?”

“Getting rid of your ringtone,” Natasha muttered, flicking through his screen.

“Excuse me. That was a classic.”

Natasha huffed. “No, it was not. If you want a classic, we can talk about Beethoven’s Fifth, or literally anything by Vivaldi. Not Rhinestone Cowboy.”

Clint opened his mouth to object then snapped his mouth shut again when the full impact of Natasha’s words sank in. He leaned back, drumming his hands on the table in victory.

“So you do listen to country music,” he said with a smirk. 

Natasha slid his phone across the table back to him and rose from her chair.

“And I suspect you know more about Russian composers than you’re letting on,” she replied. “I’ll quiz you on that next time.”

Next time.

Clint glanced down at his phone. Natasha’s number was nestled into his contact list under Swan Lake.

[wantisamlindyla]

Your Ghost - Chapter 3

Fandom/Pairing: Mike/Eleven Rating: Will be M in later chapters. Summary:

New York, 1999.

He wanted her to live again, even if she could only come back to him through the pages of a book.

Read previous chapters on AO3 here:

15 December 1984 - Day 399

 Mike was playing with his Super Comm in the fort when Nancy found him.

 He was flipping from channel to channel aimlessly when Nancy knelt down and ducked her head under the blanket. “Hey,” she said gently.

“Hey.” Mike looked up at his sister. Her hair was still curly and pinned back in an updo, but she’d scrubbed her face clean of makeup and switched her dress for pyjamas.

 “I think your friends missed you tonight at the dance.”

 Mike just shrugged. “I didn’t really see the point in going. We didn’t go any of the previous years.”

 Nancy refrained from reciting a list of reasons why he should have gone to the Snow Ball as his parents had during dinner last night. She just watched her brother closely.

 “Are you ok?”

 Mike frowns in confusion. “Me? I’m fine, what about you? Barb’s funeral was yesterday.”

 Nancy shook her head. “I’m fine. It’s really her parents that are grieving. It happened a year ago for me you know? But for them...I guess when she disappeared they still had hope, but now...it’s like they’ve lost her all over again.”

 Mike listened to her intently, taken aback by the fact that Nancy was telling him all this.

 “You know,” Nancy continued, “I was just…sad for so long after it happened. Then all I felt was angry, angry at myself, angry at Steve, angry at Mom and Dad. I felt like I needed someone to blame. But yesterday at her funeral…all I felt was…peace. Like wherever she is…she’s ok, you know what I mean?”

 Mike nodded. He could definitely relate to the feelings of anger and the powerlessness Nancy had just described.

 “Yeah, I mean, sure. What you and Jonathan did, getting the lab shut down.” He smiled at his sister, “It was ballsy, and brave. What you guys did for Barb…and Will, it was good.”

 Nancy looked at him seriously, “We did it for El too,” she said.

 Mike stared at her.

 “I’m really sorry I haven’t been around much for you this year Mike. I know it’s been hard on you, I should have made more of an effort to be here for you. It didn’t really hit me until tonight. I was watching Dustin, Lucas, and, Will, dancing and goofing off and I realised that it wasn’t just me who lost Barb, you lost someone last year too.”

 Mike didn’t say anything, he couldn’t. He looked down at the Super Comm in his hands, desperately trying to stop the dam that was building in his chest.

 Nancy didn’t say anything. She sat there on the basement floor next to him and waited patiently.

 Finally, Mike raised his head and said tearfully, “I used to get this feeling…she was with me. All year, at random moments, I’d get this prickling feeling on my neck or this funny feeling in my stomach, like she was right there in front of me. Sometimes I thought I could see her. I thought I was going crazy. But now I can’t feel her anymore. Ever since that night the thing came out of Will and Hopper said that somehow forced the Gate shut. I’ve…I’ve lost her. She’s really gone.”

 As soon as the words came out of his mouth he burst into tears. Huge, gulping, painful sobs tore out of his chest. Mike realised he hadn’t cried at all since that night when his mom had arrived at the school in a panic and pulled him into her arms.

 All this time, he’d been holding onto hope that El wasn’t truly gone, that she would find her way back to him somehow.

 A long time later, he realised that he’d crawled into Nancy arms. She clung onto him tightly, tears slipping silently down her cheeks.

 “She’s really gone isn’t she?” Mike asked Nancy fearfully. “I don’t know if she’s at peace or not, how do I know?”

 Nancy sniffled and brushed her brother’s messy hair away from his forehead like she had done when he was much younger.

 “Maybe...El really was with you, this whole time. Maybe she was too scared to move on….but… now the Gate’s closed, and she knows we’ll all be safe from the monsters. And she doesn’t want you to feel sad for her anymore so she decided to move on.”

 Mike rested his head on her shoulder, listening to his sister’s steady heartbeat and her words. He wanted it to be true but at the same time he was also frightened she was right, that El had left and walked by herself into the dark, some place he couldn’t follow.

 He asked Nancy something he’d been turning around in his mind for over a month, but too afraid to voice in case it sounded insane.

 “Nancy…do…do you think it was her that stopped those demodogs outside Will’s house that night?”

 Nancy didn’t say anything for a while. She considered it. “You mean…like her ghost?”

 Mike sniffed and wiped at his face, “Yeah.”

 “Maybe. It could have been. I mean…with all the crazy shit we’ve seen…who knows right?”

 Mike laughed, “Yeah, right.” He felt a bit better, cleansed somewhat by his tears. “Thanks Nance.”

 Nancy smiled at him, “You’re welcome. I just want you to know I’m here for you ok?”

 “Ok.” She squeezed him in a tight hug and then she left.

 Mike stayed in the fort by himself a while longer. Then, he stood up slowly, and he started taking apart the blanket fort bit-by-bit.

 He folded up the bed sheets carefully and laid them on the chair. He, rolled up his sleeping bag, placed the cushions back on the couch and took the heavy books he had used as weights and stacked them neatly back on the desk.

 “Goodbye El.”

 ***

 Mike was just stepping out of the shower when he heard his phone ringing. He dashed out of the bathroom clad only in a towel to grab his phone. “Hello?”

 It was Lola.

 “Hey, did I wake you?”

 Mike checked his watch. It was 3 am in the morning in San Francisco.

 “No, not at all.”

 “How’s the tour? Where’d they put you up?”

 Mike looked out the window of his hotel room onto 58th street which was already teaming with people at six in the morning. “The Plaza.”

 Lola gave a low whistle. “Jesus. What I wouldn’t give for four walls and a private bathroom.”

 Mike had started dating Lola about a year ago. She was the lead singer of a rock band that was on tour 8 months of every year so she spent most of her time on the road in a tour bus with five of her bandmates.

 They’d met at a mutual friend’s party where Mike had been intrigued by her tattoos and she had made fun of the way Mike wore his shirts; buttoned up and tucked neatly into his jeans.

 “Did you just finish up? How was tonight’s show?” Mike inquired.

 They spent a minute catching up.

 His dinner with Will had been postponed until tonight, they were going to a sushi bar in the West Village.

 Lola was frustrated with the gigs their manager was booking for them.

 Mike was probably going to head to Indiana for a few days after New York.

 There was a lull in their conversation and Mike stared out his window at the city feeling strangely unmoored.

 He could have blamed it on exhaustion and the long tour, he hadn’t slept a wink last night. But it wasn’t that, ever since his candid interview on the radio, he’d felt like he was slowly unravelling.

 “Mike, are you ok? You sound...distracted.”

 Mike tore his eyes from the window. “No, no, I’m fine. Sorry, just got distracted.”

 Lola paused for a moment. “Is...is there someone there with you?”

 Her strange tone didn’t register with Mike immediately. “What?”

 “Am I...calling at a bad time?”

 “What?” Mike was startled. “No, no, of course not, I’m just...I’m tired that’s all.” Then the full meaning of Lola’s question hit home. His confusion morphed to anger.

 “Why would you think that I was with someone?”

 “Are you mad? It’d be cool with me you know. It’s not like I own you.  We’re both adults. We haven’t even been in the same state as the other these last three months.”

 “What? I...have you slept with someone else in the last three months?”

 “Jesus, no. I’d tell you if I had, why are you so angry?”

 “Because you just accused me of cheating on you-”

 “You can’t cheat on me Mike, we’re in an open relationship.”

 Mike blinked. He plopped down on the edge of his bed trying to process the bombshell his girlfriend had just dropped on him.

 “What? We’re what?” He was getting tired of saying that. “We’re in an open relationship?”

 “Of course we are honey.”

 “But I didn’t know...we never talked about it.” Mike was bewildered. “Is this a new dating rule I haven’t been told about? You’re presumed to be non-exclusive until proven otherwise?”

 Lola laughed, “No, no it’s just the way it is. If I tried to slap a label on our relationship then we probably wouldn’t have made it past two months.”

 Mike was stunned. “I...I always thought of myself as a conventional guy Lola. Too old fashioned for something like an open relationship. I barely even understand how that works. What are the rules?”

 “There are no rules Mike. We see each other when we’re both in town. We have a good time together, then you’re off working and I’m back on the road.”

 “Have most of your relationships been...open?”

 Lola paused. “No, you’re the first one.”

 Mike processed this for a minute. “So the problem is me. Am I….do I come off as a commitment-phobe, or am I too much of a nerd to be full time boyfriend material?”

 Lola sighed, “No sweetie. You know exactly what the whole intense broody author thing does to us ladies. You being really good in the sack helps too.

 You’re just obsessed with your work. You don’t leave much room for anything else. And you like your space. Be honest, what is the longest relationship you’ve had with a woman?”

 Mike didn’t want to admit to her that theirs was the longest running relationship he’d had at that moment.

 “It’s not that easy to build a relationship when we’re separated all the time. Maybe when we’re back home we could try making more of an effort? Maybe I’ll even go on tour with you in July. I’ll help JJ out at the merch stand.”

 Lola laughed lightly, “Well that I gotta see.”

  ***

Mike had a book signing and an appearance at a small event at the Brooklyn Art Museum that day before he caught a taxi to the West Village around seven that evening to meet Will for dinner.

 Will kept apologising profusely for having to postpone dinner so many times.

 Mike had to assure him it was fine. Usually he would have stayed at Jonathan and Nancy’s apartment, but his sister and Jonathan were currently away on assignment and Mike would have felt strange sharing the small space with Mrs Byers.

 “She’s invited Hopper to spend Christmas day with us this year. How weird is that gonna be? Not weird-bad but weird blast from the past you know? Anyways I’m flying the next day to Hawkins the next day but it’s kinda a big deal. Next thing you know they’ll be moving in together...”

 Mike couldn’t really reconcile the fact that Will’s mom was dating Hawkin’s former police chief. He had mixed feelings about the man.

 Hopper had moved away so suddenly in ‘85, after everything that had happened, Mike couldn’t help but feel a bit abandoned by the guy. But Mike couldn’t ever blame him, he had saved his and his friends’ lives countless times.

 And really, who could blame the man for not wanting to live in a town where kids got possessed by shadow monsters and there were creatures going around eating the townspeople?

 Will must have noticed Mike was unusually silent during dinner. He nudged his elbow against Mike’s. “Hey. What’s up with you?”

 Mike looked over at his best friend. Nobody in Hawkins would have recognised the handsome man sitting beside him as the Zombie Boy who had been picked on by bullies his entire adolescent life. He was tall and broad shouldered, the California sunshine had left him with a healthy golden tan. His light brown hair was well-cut and styled so that it didn’t hide his startling blue eyes or his sharp cheekbones.

 Mike felt like a lanky, pasty vampire sitting next to him.

“Nothing.” He picked at his seaweed salad listlessly. “Apparently I’m in an open relationship with Lola because I’m afraid of relationships.”

“Huh?”

Mike explained the morning’s telephone call with Lola to Will. When he finished, Will didn’t respond immediately, he just took a long drink of his beer. Mike felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“You agree with her don’t you.”

Will sighed and gave Mike a wary look.

“I just don’t think you’ve met the right person yet that’s all.”

“You think I have problems with being in a committed relationship?”

“You have control issues.” Will stated plainly. “But so does Nancy, it’s fine.”

Mike didn’t feel like arguing the point with Will. Maybe he realised, deep down, that they were right.

He’d always known something was a bit broken inside him, a little bit skewed, but he’d always thought he was in good company amongst the party.

But he hadn’t realised how everyone had really moved on and how desperately he was still clinging on to the past.

***

Mike decided to take the subway instead of sharing a cab with Will after dinner.

He wanted to walk.

He wandered aimlessly through the city for a while. He got a drink at a tiny hole in the wall jazz bar and listened to the band playing for a while. Then he bought an overpriced coffee from a tiny diner across the road.

It was almost midnight when he decided to catch the last train back to his hotel.

There were only a few people waiting for a train on the platform. There were a few tired looking shift workers on their way home and a group of noisy teenagers and a young woman sitting on a nearby bench.

The woman’s glossy brown hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail and she had a large pair of thick black glasses slipping down a cute button nose which was buried inside a worn and well-loved book.

Mike realised with a start that she was reading his first novel. It was a rare first edition. His publisher had only printed a conservative 500 copies. There had been a printing issue and fthe raincoat on the small figure on the cover had turned out green instead of yellow.

The sounds of a train approaching caused the woman to look up from her book.

Mike’s breath caught in his throat.

He couldn’t take his eyes of her as she closed the book and placed it carefully away in the handbag she was carrying, her movements precise and careful.

She stood up, she slipped the straps of her handbag onto her shoulder and caught Mike’s gaze and froze.

They both stood there on the platform unable to move or do anything else but stare at one another.

Mike wondered if he was dreaming.

He had been thinking about El so much these past few days that perhaps his mind had somehow conjured her to appear before him.

But...she was El, but she wasn’t.

The frightened little girl with a shaved head was gone. In her place was a beautiful woman with long brown hair, but those eyes, those eyes that were staring at him behind those black wire frames.

El’s eyes.

Mike felt his mouth stretch into a smile, and then he was beaming at her.

She’s alive.

She’s ok.

She’s back.

He needed to touch her. He needed to hold her.

He took a step towards her.

The spell broke. El started like a frightened doe and bolted towards the train.

“El! El!”

Mike started after her, but the train door slammed shut in his face with more force than was usual.

“Shit!! Shit!” Mike slammed his fists against the train doors, barely noticing when the other passengers turned their heads to stare at the madman pounding on the side of the train and screaming.

He tried to make a break for the next train carriage, but all the automatic doors were closing.

Mike pressed his frantically hands to the glass window where El was staring at him. “El! El! It’s Mike! Mike!”

The train started to move. He moved with it, staring at her, desperately trying to take in every detail and commit it to memory, her sweet face, her wide eyes, the tears slipping silently down her pale cheeks, her pink sweater and the name-tag clipped to the front which read, ‘Jane.’

“I’ll find you El! El! I’ll find you!”

She shook her head, he watched her mouth form the words, Mike. No.

Then there were two pairs of hands on his arms, pulling his hands away from the glass and heaving him off the side of the train.

The train sped past him and disappeared into darkness.

And she was gone.

[ao3-hipster-fangirl-trash]

For the carry on ask thing I really just want to say all of them😂. Or if that takes too long the ones you really want to answer😊 Sunglasses dude just because he's cooler than me

Banshee: What’s something you love so much that you just really want to run around and scream about?

Probably my best friend @thehatwhisperer caus she’s an awesome ‘mythic bitch’ who absolutely supports me through anything, like i can call her about the stupidest things crying and she will always help and console me and make me feel better about myself, no matter what time of day it is and it makes me feel so amazing.

Bonety Hunter: What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever had to ‘hunt’ down in the store?

I once had to hunt down two giant boards of wood, three cans of white spray paint, a spool of wool and 600 nails for an art project, the poor cashier looked terrified caus these planks were like, A1 size, that’s really the weirdest thing ever.

Centaur: If you were a centaur, what would be your preferred weapon to fight people with?

Specialised bow and arrow FITE ME I’M AN AESTHETIC BITCH

Chimera: Have you ever sent a chimera after anyone? And if you haven’t, who would you love to send a chimera after?

I can’t exactly remember if sending a chimera is good or bad, and imma assume bad, so probably ever guy that ever tries to tell me that I’m bisexual when I specifically say that I’m pansexual, and then argues to me about what bi and pan is.

Demon: If you could choose any human to be the vessel for your demon soul, who would it be?

Tom Holland, caus A) he’s hot B) I could date harrison osterfield (If he’s bi/pan/gay/polysexual) C) TESSAAAAAA

Devils: What’s the evilest prank you really want to pull?

Pretending to date a dude and get my parents hopes up then make out with a girl in front of them.

Dragon: Does your pet a dragon breathe fire or ice?

Fire duh, he/she/they could warm me whilst i sleep and keep me safe, and be a great cuddler.

Dryad: Would you be a dryad that helps those who come seeking information or would you hide away in the trees and spy on everyone?

Probably hide in the trees and spy on everyone, knowing me i would chuck berries and them and think I’m being helpful too

Fairy: What type of fairy would you be? (A pizza fairy, a comfy sweater fairy, a rain fairy etc.)

A rain fairy, caus i fucking love rain, the dew drops that it leaves on leafs, the freezing cold winds and the beautiful sound against an iron sheet, rain is my shit dudes. Either that or a night fairy, because i adore the stars and when it is absolutely pitch black and you can literally see the milky way

Flibbertigibbet: Is that the sound you make when you sneeze? If not, what is it?

Either the loudest sound you have EVER HEARD IN YOUR ENTIRE LIFE or the smallest noise ever there is no inbetween

Ghost: If you were a ghost, what’s the first thing you would do?

Meet celebrities and fucking haunt their hot asses, like just hang around tom holland and help him out and send him good vibes, or like open doors for tom hiddleston caus he’s so polite, he needs a polite ghost to pay him back for his loveliness

Goblin: How would you style your fabulous hair if you were a goblin?

Like storm from x-men except teal, caus that shits tight

***Goat: You recieve a baby goat as a birthday present; what do you name it?

SHIT PRESSURE I DON’T KNOW ok delilah, caus I’ll sing hey there delilah to her and i ain’t EVER HEARD OF A GOAT NAMED DELILAH

Gnome: If you could grow anything in your garden, what would it be?

Gryphon: Would you rather be an eagle, a lion, oR bOtH?!?!?

Kitchen Skink: If you were to fight a kitchen skink, would you win? (I’m sorry I have no idea what a kitchen skink is)

Leprechaun: What would you do with a duffel bag full of Leprechaun gold?

Well i’m half irish so probably take em out for a pint of Guiness and have a good time with em, chill out and be cool.

Manticore: Which would you rather have: shark teeth, bat wings, or a scorpion tail?

BAT WINGS MY DUDE THAT WOULD BE THE SHIT AND IT WOULD BE SO FUCKING COOL I COULD FLY AND JUST SCREAM AT PEOPLE AND FREAK THEM THE FUCK OUT

Mermaid: Under The Sea or Part of Your World?

Part of your world, i could sing that till i die i swear

Merewolves: What’s the grossest food you’ve ever eaten?

OK SO STORY TIME i used to live in france and there was this place where we got lunch, and once we got this horrible seafood stew, somehow the carrots were undercooked, the mussels were overcooked and chewy, and the fish was falling apart in the stew and tasted rotten, it made me throw up i hated it.

Minotaur: Are you good at solving mazes or do you totally suck?

I once ran through a maze as a kid and never made it to the centre, despite having gone super fast and been in it for like 3 hours

Ne’er-do-wolves: If you could be any magickal creature on this list, which would it be?

I’d be a fucking nymph no joke my dude they’re awesome for sure

Numpties: How do you feel about people sitting in the front seat when they were kidnapped by fucking numpties?

Absolutely disgraced, horrible, disgraceful

Nymph: Would you rather sing beautifully or dance beautifully?

Sing because fuck it i want to be a gorgeous singer, and if i can’t dance then someone can teach me yas

Ogres: What is your favorite movie? *cough* SHREK *cough cough*

THE MARTIAN AND A HITCHHIKER’S GUIDE TO THE GALAXY FUCKING FITE ME

Phoenix: If you could explode into flames and come out completely unharmed anytime you wanted, what would you use that skill for?

Probably exams, if someone dies in an exam then everyone gets their predicted grades and i’m gonna help my buddies out, i joke about it sometimes but damn i would for my friends

Pixie: What would trail behind you if you were a pixie? (Sprinkles, bacon bits, rose petals, tiny skulls etc.)

Fucking lightning my dude, imagine you step on water and fucking lightning spreads on the surface of it that shit would be tight

Rakshasa: (Rakshasa means ‘protect me’ in Sanskrit) What does your name mean?

Sophie: wisdom/wise

Siren: What is the one thing Sirens could sing about that you would not be able to resist?

Self improvement, like if they offered acting classes or art improvement i’d go right over there like fuck the crew of my ship imma crash it and improve myself fuck em

Snow Devil: If you had a perfect snowball in your hand right now, what would you do with it?

Take a picture, then a video of me shoving it down my little brothers shirt and freezing the shit out of him

Sprite: Which would you rather be, a sprite that can breathe underwater or a sprite that can fly?

BREATHE UNDERWATER I COULD EXPLORE EVERYWHERE ONLY 5% OF THE OCEAN IS EXPLORED I WANT TO SEE WHAT’S THERE THAT WOULD BE SO COOL

Tooth Fairy: What do you think the Tooth Fairy does with all of those teeth?

I was always told they take the teeth and turn them into pearls and make beautiful mosaics from the different coloured pearls (this was in a kids book) but i also like the idea from rise of the guardians that they hold memories

Trolls: What’s your favorite phrase? (Example: Fuck a nine-toed troll)

“Aight my dudes”, that or “ah nipple fuck” i don’t know i just love the phrase

Unicorns: Would you be a pleasant and gentle unicorn that grants wishes or would you be a powerful kickass unicorn that stabs anyone who gets on their bad side?

Bit a both, pleasant to my friends or a complete asshole to anyone who insults them, these are my friends, hurt them and u get stabbed

Werewolf: Who is your favorite werewolf?

There was this one animatic of a werewolf who had a boyfriend and called him puppy and that would be my fave werewolf ever, like i might share it on here but it makes me happy af

Worseger: How do badgers personally impact your life? Could they get any ‘worse’?

Not really, badgers don’t ever really bother me and i don’t bother them

Wraith: Would wraiths be creeped out by you too?

Duh, i’m freaky as hell

Vampire: Who is your favorite vampire? (Besides our lovely Basilton of course)

Probably dracula’s ladies, like in the traditional story he has 3 beautiful women who entrance men to their deaths and they’re really kick ass to me

and you’re not wrong sunglasses are so kick ass

[wigwurq]

WIG REVIEW: TWIN PEAKS - THE RETURN

The awful wigs you like are going to come back in style this summer! Twin Peaks, land of mighty good coffee and awful awful wigs are back, and with them some new bad wigs that we waited 25 years for! 

As there are 18 episodes, I will be updating this post as new episodes air (and adjusting if the show’s wigs wurq as a whole or not). Now let’s journey back to the Black Lodge and discuss:

EPISODE 1 

Good Dale is still stuck in the Black Lodge, while Bad Dale is driving a fancy car, hanging with teenage randos, and having a party in the front (and back!) with the worst male wig this side of John Travolta’s everyday life. 

This wig is the kind of thing you’d pick up at Ricky’s to be a shaggy vampire for Halloween. OOF. The only thing more disturbing than the wig, is of course Special Agent Dale Cooper’s crispy tan which is the second most disturbing tan by an evil dude on tv (Trump's still #1). 

However, Bad Dale’s new life did lead us to the clear star of the show: BEULLA! Glamour, fashion, and beauty wrapped into one. 

Elsewhere in non-wig storylines, some random teenager in NYC is getting it on with Grace from The Nanny and getting mauled to death by glass box ghosts (YOU HAD ONE JOB TO DO, IDIOT!), some nosy neighbor in South Dakota is implicating Matthew Lillard in a librarian murder, Ashley Judd is helping Tony from West Side Story run the Great Northern and Dr. Jacoby is serving double sunglass reveals while getting some sweet new shovels. Obvs? Meanwhile, the Log Lady, now the victim of female hair loss, decides to get on the horn about Dale Cooper. I have to say, this might be the one wig that wurqs in the episode and it’s not technically a wig but a baldcap with some wisps on it. Still, carry on Log Lady - please never change no matter how much hair you lose. Your Sally Jessy Raphael eyewear is still everything. 

The recipient of the Log Lady’s call is none other than Hawk, the most credible member of the Twin Peak’s sheriff service. Michael Horse’s glorious locks are obviously not a wig but let us all luxuriate in them regardless. And let us NOT miss Michael Ontkean who showed his homophobic truth by trying to block his gay movie Making Love from being a part of the documentary masterpiece The Celluloid Closet. SASHAY AWAY FOREVER!

EPISODE 2

This episode doesn’t offer us much more in the way of wigs, but we do get far more intimate with Bad Dale’s awful wig.

This look is decidedly tan Glenn Danzig all the way.

The most upsetting reveal about this wig is that it has a half ponytail involved. NO THANK YOU.

Back in the Black Lodge, Good Dale meets up with old friends Leland, Mike, and Laura Palmer herself - none of which are wearing wigs and none of which seem to have aged at all (though Laura is moonlighting as a lamp so maybe that’s why). Good Dale also meets up with a wise Tim Burton tree who explains that Bad Dale has to come back to the Black Lodge in order for Good Dale to leave. Seems legit, but unfortunately Bad Dale is busy murdering his girlfriend. 

Sorry, gurl. 

We end the episode at the roadhouse where an ubercool indie band is playing for some reason. The lead singer has a pretty wiggy look but all signs point to a dye job. 

We also see the triumphant return of Sherry, whose (wigless) salty mom posse involves none other than Gia Carides, aka LIZ EFFING HOLT FROM STRICTLY BALLROOM! YAYS! CAN I DRINK WITH YOU GUYS?

EPISODE 3

We begin with Good Dale shape shifting through space, meeting a nice lady with no eyes who falls into the void and another lady who points us in the direction of a steampunk electrical plug to the outside world. But do we want to go out there?

We soon discover that the “real world” involves another Cooper doppelganger - Nevada’s own Dougie - who wears a mustard-colored blazer, knows a nice prostitute, vomits creamed corn, and has a terrible wig.

Seriously, I don’t know if the wig budget on this show was given to eye-covering prosthetics or what but clearly they skimped on the wigs. Just seriously depressing stuff - I’ve seen more believably realistic wigs in haunted houses. Speaking of haunted houses, Dougie gets whisked into the Black Lodge and implodes into a sea of black smoke (I finally understand Lost?) Regardless, bye bye, terrible wig! 

Elsewhere, Bad Dale and his bad wig are trying not to barf their way back to the Black Lodge while living through the worst Lincoln commercial ever. It’s unclear where Bad Dale ended up, but Good Dale shapeshifts his way back into Dougie’s life - for better or worse?

Finally, Hawk gives us the best “do not disturb” sign ever (donut disturb 4evr) while he and his luscious locks try to run the Twin Peaks sheriff’s department basically with absolutely no help from anyone else. Ok maybe the donuts helped.

EPISODE 4

Good Dale Cooper is living his life as Dougie Jones, whose son is future/current(?) cult leader, Sonny Jim Jones. Cooper is learning to do everything again, from dressing himself to drinking coffee while assisted by frazzled wife, Naomi Watts. Meanwhile, Bad Dale Cooper has been discovered covered in creamed corn in South Dakota and his old boss, Gordon Cole (as played by David Lynch) has to look into the matter, but not without an assist from everyone’s favorite trans FBI agent, Denise Bryson.

Denise, like a fine wine, has aged well. As strong and confident as ever, and looking damn fierce.

Compared to the wig David Duchovny wore in the original series, this wig is a serious upgrade. Defrizzed and oh so quaffed, it’s a dignified thing of beauty.

We do get into a grey area here, wig-wise, however. It has been my intent on this blog to never review wigs that we know as an audience to be wigs (thus why I sadly never review RuPaul’s Drag Race).  Denise’s wig in the original series was definitely a wig within the narrative of the show, since Denise (nee Dennis) had only recently come to the conclusion that he was trans and started donning a wig and dressing as a woman.

25 years later, who is to say if Denise is wearing a wig or if we are to believe that this is supposed to be her own hair? Far be it for us to tell Denise what to do with her coiffure so it becomes difficult to judge this as a wig or not. If we are supposed to believe it is a wig, then yes - it’s a good wig within the narrative! If we are supposed to believe it is hair...well it’s not perfect. It certainly looks like a wig, albeit a good wig. As I’ve said time and time again, only if a wig looks like real hair does it truly wurq.

Still, as a character, Denise WURQS so amen to her regardless.

And can I get an amen for Wally Brando? Wigless though he may be, he is a the only possible child of Andy and Lucy. May your shadow always be with us. 

EPISODE 5

We begin this episode as Good Dale Cooper tries to navigate the world in the body of Dougie Jones. For some reason, no one is bothered by the fact that Dougie is basically a walking zombie, from his frazzled wife to all of his coworkers.

Just a guy super stoked for coffee with little ability to function in society - nothing to see here!

Back in Twin Peaks, a wigless Shelly and Norma are looking FINE AS HELL and seem to not have aged a day.

Also Shelly’s daughter (perfectly cast as Amanda Seyfried) has an asshole boyfriend (as played by the asshole brother from Get Out, who is really making a name for himself in the world of asshole characters). 

Oh and obviously, Dr. Jacoby runs an extreme lefty webseries out of his cabin, and whose #1 fan is obviously Nadine:

Who is still lookin’ like the spectacular nutbar we all love.

The only wig of the week is the nightmare on top of Bad Dale’s head. Even behind bars, this wig is wreaking havoc much in the way Bad Dale is hisself! Nope.

EPISODE 6

Most of this episode concerns itself with the increasingly poor decisions of Dougie Jones and with every misadventure, I just long for Good Dale Cooper to wake the hell up! We are also introduced to a slew of new characters. Twin Peaks is truly beginning to get as sweaty with characters as Game of Thrones and winter is friggin’ coming. 

We meet Bathazar Getty, whose early career was spent being an off-brand Liev Schreiber and who has somehow morphed into an off-brand Henry Rollins. He played some coin magic on off-brand young Nicolas Cage (who is in a dead heat for worst Twin Peaks character with Deputy Chad). 

We also revisit our favorite trailer park manager, Harry Dean Stanton, who is an ageless angel.

The only wig this week comes in the form of a lounge lizard played by none other than Laura Dern. 

We are only given one scene with this wig so I don’t have the information necessary to review it properly. In other words - if this wig is supposed to be real hair, it is obviously terrible. But if it is supposed to be a wig as I suspect since David Lynch lounge lizards are usually wig-wearers (see: Isabella Rossellini in Blue Velvet), then whatever - you do you, Laura Dern! 

(And you always do.)

EPISODE 7

Ugh, wake up Good Dale Cooper! The boring misadventures of Dougie Jones continue in this episode, though he does disarm a little person assassin “like a cobra” so I guess this is progress.

Meanwhile, Gordon Cole visits Diane and we don’t get much more information about her or her wig. Though Diane in general is a mystery. Throughout the original series, she was a faceless secretary that Dale sent daily messages to. Now, whether or not she is trying to pass this platinum wig off as real hair remains the #1 mystery of Twin Peaks. But I’m guessing it’s a wig (within the narrative of Twin Peaks) so whatever. It’s a bad wig allowed to be bad. 

Though now that we have seen her retro cool apartment, I think I know Diane’s backstory:

She’s obviously a latter-day Iona (from Pretty in Pink) who, rather than dating a yuppie (yuck!) decides to take a secretarial job for the FBI while the record store industry dwindled in the early 90s, stopped hanging out exclusively with teenagers, and started calling herself Diane. MAKES PERFECT SENSE. 

Both chicks have an affinity for platinum wigs, apartments with Atomic/kitschy details, and DRAMA.  Well that’s one mystery solved! You’re welcome, internet. #prettyinpeaks  

Anyhoo, Diane (nee Iona) visits Bad Dale in the clink and it was a regular wigout party of nonsense.

I feel like when two bad wigs meet like this, something meaningful should happen, like the Black Lodge imploding or getting to spend more than 5 minutes with any of the original characters.

Instead, we are gifted like 20 minutes of Ashley Judd (bless her, but STILL) following a mysterious sound around the Great Northern. And seeing the roadhouse being swept for what must have been 3 hours. 

We end with Bad Dale getting sprung from the clink by uttering the magic word: STRAWBERRY! Not to be confused with Carol Channing’s magic word, RASPBERRY. Watch out, world: Bad Dale and his bad wig are on the loose!

EPISODE 8

We have so many questions going into this episode, but before any of them can be answered, we have to hear from THE Nine in Nails! The dream of the nineties is alive in Twin Peaks, and this part was a damn nightmare. NEXT!

Bad Dale Cooper, fresh from being sprung from jail, gets shot down by his partner in crime. Is this the last we will FINALLY see of him and his horrendous wig? Probably not, because some ash covered garbage people come over and seem to revive them. Who are these ashy garbage dudes? For answers, we (OBVIOUSLY) travel to B&W New Mexico in 1945.

There, an atomic bomb gives life to these soot monsters, a bug/frog combo, and, of course, BOB! 

Meanwhile, in what might (?) be the same steampunk universe where that eyeless lady that Good Cooper encountered that eyeless chick back in Episode 3, our favorite friendly giant and some chick with some serious costume jewelry and eyebrow tweezers watch these ashy garbage dudes and then are gifted a golden blob with the face of Laura Palmer on it.

IT ALL MAKES SENSE NOW! J/k j/k I have no idea what is happening. On the wig front, I will say that costume jewelry eyebrow tweezer lady has a pretty sweet finger curl wig. 

Fast forwarding to New Mexico in 1956, we meet a young couple who deliver some incredibly stilted dialogue at one another. Their costumes also suggest a high school play that is set in the 1950s but they only go shopping for costumes at the GAP. We’ve all been there. Doesn’t wurq. Also, I’m not sure what pincurl nonsense is happening on this chick’s head but it is neither historically accurate or attractive. NOPE.

Anyway, ash zombie #1 decides to go on a quest for a cigarette light, which obviously turns into a bloodbath.

I will say this much: this terrible 50s wig deserved to GO. All hail ash zombies! 

EPISODE 9

Bad Dale Cooper lives! All hail ash zombies?? I don’t know if it’s the zombie makeover or what but this is the BEST this wig has every looked. 

Sadly, this is short-lived as Bad Dale Cooper meets up with his accomplices/Academy Award Nominated Actors Tim Roth and Jennifer Jason Leigh and this terrible wig gets cleaned up and its half pony tale back and it looks awful again. UGH. Side note: Tim Roth’s denim jacket with the cut off arms IS THE LEWK. 

Back in Twin Peaks, Lucy and Andy are chair shopping (#TeamBeigeChair) and the sheriff A-team (SCREW YOU AND YOUR LUNCH, CHAD!!!) are doing some detecting. They pay Bobby’s mom a visit, where she reveals a super cool chair hiding place (maybe get this chair, Lucy and Andy?) and a secret message from beyond. Dun dun dun! 

And as always, Diane and her Pretty in Pink Iona wig are KILLING IT as always in fashion and correct opinions. It still remains a supreme mystery as to if Diane is trying to pass this off as real hair, but regardless: let the lady smoke. She’s been through enough! It IS a f*cking morgue! 

In the end, we meet some teenage heroin addicts/vampires(?) with awful hair which is likely just awful hair and not wigs. They also have serious skin ailments that I never want to see again. Let’s just maybe never see them again. Please?

EPISODE 10

We are officially more than halfway through this series and no closer to getting rid of Dougie Jones in favor of Good Dale Cooper. Wake the hell up, Coop! (Tho dang, you’re looking good - and Janey E agrees!) Otherwise, this episode is pretty much all about domestic abuse and its witnesses. Seen here: a wigless Harry Dean Stanton having some guitar “me” time which was ruined by Shelly’s daughter and her terrible boyfriend...

Can you guys please be quiet so HDS can play his damn guitar in peace?!?! Side note: domestic abuse begets domestic abuse: does this remind anyone of Shelly and Leo?

But the scumbag of the week (and the millennium?) definitely goes to Richard Horne. Not to be outdone by hit-and-run child murder, this week he gave us trailer park murder and familial abuse/robbery all while the Teddy Ruxpin of nightmares above must bear (get it?) witness. Oh and yes - we see what you did there with that glowing orb head, David Lynch.

Of course, scumbags love company and OF COURSE Richard Horne is in cahooks with Deputy Scumbag, Chad, who he asks to intercept his trailer park murder victim’s blackmail letter. WE HATE YOU CHAD. Luckily, Lucy is totally on to Chad. #TeamBeigeChair4Ever

Back in Vegas (UGH), Tom Sizemore is setting Dougie up with the help of these wigless, flaky cocktail waitresses. The fact that these three didn’t somehow break into song sorta surprised me. 

The mazel of the week def goes to Nadine, who finally has her silent drape empire in the form of her storefront, RUN SILENT RUN DRAPES. Way to make your lifegoals a reality, gurlfriend! She’s also obsessed with Dr. Jacoby’s vid-blog, but obvs.

We also get some more news from the Log Lady - Laura Palmer is the ONE! Whatever that means? It has been brought to my attention that my previous assessment of this being a good wig may be false - the actress who portrayed her, Catharine E. Coulson, died of cancer shortly after reprising this role. So this is likely her actual hair. I stand corrected! Just goes to show you that just when you think you’ve found a good Twin Peaks wig - it turns out to be real hair. Nothing is as it seems in Twin Peaks but we can always count on the continuity of bad wigs? With this new information - this episode is entirely wigless! Why am I even writing this?!?!

Maybe just to rejoice in the epic performance of Rebekah del Rio (no relation to Bianca, sadly) who we all know and love from Mullholland Drive. Bitch is in straight up Black Lodge cosplay and it WURQS.

EPISODE 11

The more we watch this show, the fewer and fewer wigs we seem to get. And the more we realize we are just stuck with Dougie Jones. Wake up, Good Coops!

Anyway, this week the domestic violence from last week’s episode got particularly EXTRA when Amanda Seyfried decided to amp her Lifetime Movie life up to 11 and get a gun, demand her mom come over with her car, take the car, almost run her mom over, and go shoot at her two-timing, d-bag of a husband. I seriously think I saw this movie starring Tori Spelling a few different times on Lifetime but David Lynch makes it SO MUCH MORE ARTY.

Great hiding place, you guys! Also, why yes that IS GERSTEN HAYWARD, aka Lara Flynn Boyle’s lil sis who is great at piano! 

This did lead to a pretty sweet family reunion at the RR though seriously, Bobby, just arrest your daughter’s husband already.

This reunion was briefly interrupted by coin enthusiast/fake Henry Rollins, Balthazar Getty who OF COURSE is going out with Shelly. You make bad dude choices, Shelly! Why am I suddenly rooting for Bobby?!?!

Oh and also there was a sudden diner shootout followed by passenger seat exorcism, because: Twin Peaks.

The only wig of the week was brought to us by pillar of effervescence, Diane. The jury is still out (and will forever be out?!) on if she is trying to pass this wig off as real hair, but I give up: you just do you, Diane.

And also please continue to sit on stools while the rest of the world sits on chairs. Is that thing from Blaine? Anyway, you’ll always be on a pedestal to us. 

After an some map detective work from Hawk and another call from the Log Lady, an otherworldly vortex sighting, and an unfortunate Matthew Lillard cranial injury, we end the episode in the weirdest Se7en parody ever but hey: there’s always room for cherry pie?

Oh, and god bless you and your fabulous makeover, random casino garbagelady! You look so sparkly! 

EPISODE 12

Why am I still updating this blog post? Why am I still watching this show? Why is it taking everyone five extra minutes to say what they need to say and why am I falling asleep? These are all questions I had during this episode. Not much happens - and slowly. We did get to see some old, familiar faces, though. Our favorite alcoholic, Sarah Palmer, had a grocery store meltdown about turkey jerky (AS ONE DOES) and we finally got a visit from Audrey Horne!

Sadly, it appears that Audrey did NOT marry eyebrow plucking enthusiast Billy Zane in favor of a really grumpy little person named Charlie. Audrey HATES Charlie and all his goddamned paperwork, especially when she needs him to get up and go to the roadhouse with her to find her missing lover, NO MATTER HOW TIRED HE IS.

UGH, Charlie. As with all scenes in this episode, this scene is about 10 minutes too long, and at no point was there any mention of how Audrey’s son killed a kid and tried to kill a lady (CHARLIE IS GOING TO HAVE SO MUCH PAPERWORK TO DO OVER THAT). However, I would have gladly watched Audrey Horne dance to a jukebox for 10 minutes.

Speaking of scenes that go on too long - THIS BITCH. Seriously, how long does it take you to GET THE EFF OUT of a room when Miguel Ferrer has some important business with David Lynch?!

The only wig in the episode remains to be the enigma that is Diane’s wig. I have previously stated that we may never get the information we need to judge this wig and if it is trying to be real hair or not so again: I give up. You just keep doing you, Diane. LET’S ROCK!

EPISODE 13

EPISODE 13 YOU GUYS. I have been updating this long-ass blog post FOREVER and we’re no closer to getting rid of Dougie Jones!! He is even now gifting his family with nice cars and gym sets so it feels like he’s not going anywhere. WHY WHY WHY. Wake the HELL UP, DALE COOPER!!!!

Meanwhile, Bad Dale Cooper is looking rougher and rougher ever since his Woodsman reincarnation - he is now truly a garbage person. And his wig is still absolute trash. 

This week did test our loyalties in that we found ourselves in an arm wrestling match of the damned and were sorta rooting for Bad Coop against some other garbage people. Coop was victorious (sorry about your face, bro), but with that wig, we are all still losers.

In other bizarre hair news, what the hell is up with Ed’s hair?! This is NOT a wig but I really want to know who was driving the train with this hair “style” if you can even call it that. Looks like some pretty good soup, though. 

Oh, and apparently James can sing in falsetto? Wonders never cease. Still no sign of Lara Flynn Boyle who may be our only salvation at this point. We are all Sarah Palmer watching the same boxing match over and over again hoping for salvation. Maybe next week?

EPISODE 14

We are on the last lap of this show, and things are (sorta, kinda) coming together. Thanks (of course?) in part to the oldest Bond girl, Monica Bellucci, and the prophetic dream Gordon Cole had about her. The puzzle pieces seem to be fitting now. Thanks, Monica! Oh but wait - WHO IS THE DREAMER?! With every answered question comes a new question. 

Luckily, Diane is on the case and ready to drop some KNOWLEDGE AND GLAMOUR on everyone. Like her wig, Diane is an enigma. Unlike her wig (which is still not identified as a wig or not within the narrative - SIGH), Diane is full of super useful information. Dougie and Janey E you say? Oh she just so happens to be Diane’s estranged half-sister! OBVS! Not since Game of Thrones have we had such a convenient familial lineage. Just don’t eff it up, Las Vegas FBI! 

In other law abiding news, Lucy and her gravity defying hair are still the best and she and Andy once took a trip to Bora Bora! UGH seriously guys - bring back Wally Brando. Oh, and the worst sheriff (and second worst character), CHAD, was finally read for filth and locked up for being the worst - just in time for the good sheriffs to take a ROAD TRIP! 

Like most hikes in Twin Peaks, this one involved beautiful scenics, paternal nostalgia, putting dirt in your pockets (OR ELSE), discovering a naked woman with no eyes, and teleporting via creepy vortex into a B&W steampunk nightmarescape and hanging with a giant. I can’t wait for the TripAdvisor review!

Andy was the lucky recipient of the teleport trip and seriously: can this dude PLEASE STAR IN A BIOPIC OF STAN LAUREL? Just saying. Anyway, he met up with our favorite jolly (non-green) giant who sadly didn’t start singing the most appropriate Dolly Parton song for the moment: “Me and Little Andy” but instead revealed his name is not ??? but really THE FIREMAN. Seems legit. Andy also got some cool recaps of past episodes via a steampunk skylight and returned back to earth to keep that eyeless lady safe. 

Speaking of Dolly Parton songs, why was “I Will Always Love You” not playing during this scene??

Lots of missed opportunities, song-wise, but luckily Lucy had some PJs on hand for the eyeless lady from that time the dog got loose. Seriously, I would love to see an entire TV series about Lucy and Andy’s throwaway lines. Showtime: make this happen.

Despite Lucy’s PJ makeover, eyeless lady still has to be locked up with Chad (UGH) and some drunken guy bleeding from his mouth who may or may not be that dude Billy who Sherilynn Fenn and every rando at the roadhouse is always talking about.

Speaking of random characters, David Lynch decided that he still needs to be introducing new ones so meet British Jimmy, who has a magical glove not unlike basically all Marvel superheroes, a destiny only met in Twin Peaks, and a penchant for revealing his entire backstory when it’s his coworker’s birthday. Welcome to Twin Peaks, rando!

We end with our favorite alcoholic, Sarah Palmer, who just wants to have a goddamned Bloody Mary in peace (DON’T WE ALL) without being verbally assaulted by the new worst character in Twin Peaks: a-hole in the TRUCK YOU shirt. Well truck YOU, bro: Sarah Palmer has a soot monster vortex inside her and will quite literally pull your throat off. Sayonara! This is why it’s safer to drink at home watching violent TV. Lesson learned.

EPISODE 15

Hello from officially the longest blog post on this blog (and maybe in the history of the internet?) Are you guys still there? Are we all still watching? We are officially in the final stretch and things continue to come together....sort of. We begin with Nadine, gold shovel in hand, as she finally digs herself out of her marriage which apparently was still intact after all these years! She finally lets Big Ed go. 

Which means Ed and Norma are finally getting hitched! Halleluj! You totally cried about this, admit it. (Sure we cried about Ed’s haircut too but no matter).

Meanwhile, Bad Dale Cooper and his evil, horrible wig are still up to no good. Also his leathery skin is getting worse and worse by the episode. He rolls up to the gas station of ghostmares and tries to get a meet and greet with Phillip Jeffries (aka David Bowie - RIP!)

The gatekeeper is this broad who is definitely giving Beulla (see: Episode 1) a run for her money in the category of AGELESS GLAMOUR. 

BD Cooper also runs into our least favorite Twin Peaks resident/his possible son, Richard Horne and tells him to get in the car: road trip! Oh and speaking of residents of Twin Peaks we don’t like, Becky’s husband probably killed hisself?

Speaking of death, Dougie maybe just killed hisself? I mean, it’s a modern miracle that he hasn’t already but seriously: get out the way, bitch! Bring back Good Dale Cooper! If he didn’t kill hisself, I guess we all need to prepare for Dougie’s sequel: Electric Dougieloo

Finally, one of our very FAVORITE Twin Peaks residents, Margaret, aka The Log Lady, bid us adieu (as did Catherine Coulson, the woman who played her.) SOB!

We feel ya, Lucy. (Insert sobbing emojis)

EPISODE 16

We’ve come to the last 3 episodes and everything is coming together. The father-son road trip of the century comes to the only possible ending: with Richard Horne being sent up to a rock to be electrocuted. Sayonara, you terrible person! Oh, and yes: Bad Coop was your dad. See ya!

Bad Coop alerts Diane and her still mysterious wig, and suddenly Diane has an acid flashback to all the bad bad stuff that Bad Coop did to her. She recounts the upsetting tale to Gordon and Co and also reveals one more thing: BITCH IS A TULPA! 

And with a bullet to the head, she returns to the Black Lodge to bring it some extra retro fabulousness. Byeeeeeee!

Meanwhile, Dougie Jones (UGH) is in a coma after electrocuting himself. And then, just like that....FINALLY AGENT COOPER WAKES HISSELF UP!

SERIOUSLY. 

Also, thanks for the finger sandwiches, Mitchum Bros! Oh and sayonara to Oscar nominees Tim Roth and Jennifer Jason Leigh (and her excellent collection of mini Cheetos bags) during the neighborhood watch shootout of the millennium. 

Coop tells the Mitchum Bros to fire up the private jet (seriously thank goodness for these dudes)...he’s headed back to Twin Peaks! Yayys! He also says byeeeee to Janey E and our favorite mini cult leader, Sonny Jim Jones. 

Back in Twin Peaks, Audrey and her terrible husband FINALLY made it to the roadhouse where they promptly order martinis (not what I’d order at a roadhouse, but you do you, you fabulous weirdos). The crowd at the roadhouse soon realizes that they are in the presence of dance royalty and promptly and correctly clear the dancefloor so Ms. Horne can DO HER THANG. She does and it’s as dreamy as we remembered it...

Until that dream turns into a DAMN NIGHTMARE and Audrey wakes up in....a mental hospital? An alternate dimension? A remake of The Valley of the Dolls in which she plays Neely O’Hara in rehab (omg someone please make this happen)?! WHO KNOWS?!?!?! WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAAAAAT.

EPISODE 17

It’s come to this: Bad Cooper has made his way to Twin Peaks and Andy is SUPER EXCITED to see him but everyone else has their doubts, especially when the real Coop gives a call from the road. 

Meanwhile, terrible terrible Chad somehow manages to escape and tries to shoot Andy, but not if British Jimmy has anything to do with it! He punches through his cell and right into Chad’s face. Side note: why didn’t he just punch through his cell to get out in the first place? Oh well.

Upstairs, Bad Coop tries to shoot Sheriff Truman but not if Lucy has anything to do with it, and gurlfriend shoots him and saves the day (#TeamBeigeChair4Ever). Then Coop and Gordon and Co both have perfectly timed entrances just as Bob the Blob emerges from Bad Coop. The rest of the scene has Coop’s superimposed face on it (sure?) as British Jimmy fulfills his destiny of punching Bob out of existence. Also: British Jimmy is totally gonna have his own Netflix Marvel spin-off show, right? Also Jim Belushi is all of us during this scene. 

And Andy brings the eyeless lady to Coop in time for her to morph into...

DIANE IN A RED WIG! Sure, why not, right? I guess we know she is the real Diane because of her wig makeover?? Or the fact that she immediately makes out with Coop? WHO KNOWS?! I’m not even sure if we are supposed to believe that this terrible wig is real hair so why am I even typing this?! WHATEVER WE’VE MADE IT THIS FAR LET’S JUST KEEP GOING.

Anyway, Coop, Diane and Gordon go to visit David Bowie in teapot form (yes I just that sentence) and Coop is teleported back to 1989 where we get some sweet B&W flashbacks of Fire Walk With Me scenes showing Laura Palmer about to get herself murdered. But this time, Coop is there to save her! What what what?! Yes, this show is maybe about to rewrite history? Oh no nevermind - Laura was totally kidnapped away by...the forest? Seems legit. 

EPISODE 18

YOU GUYS WE MADE IT TO THE FINAL EPISODE! I still have no idea what the hell is going on with the wigs or otherwise but whatever. We get some more flashbacks to the original series, except no one finds Laura’s body. Curious. Then we see Bad Coop in the Black Lodge turning into a golden nugget (SASHAY AWAY TERRIBLE TERRIBLE WIG) and then morphing into a Dougie tulpa - congrats Janey E and Sonny Jim Jones?

Back in the forest, Coop still can’t find Laura but he does find Diane and her terrible red wig. Close enough? Anyway, they take a roadtrip to some random electrical wires where they shapeshift into a different dimension where they go to a hotel and have the most uncomfortable consensual/not consensual sex scene this side of Straw Dogs.

In the morning, Diane is gone and Coop and the hotel seem different. Coop must go out in search of some coffee at the local diner, where he also has to beat up some cowboy scum because sure - we have time for that.

Anyway, he finally finds what he’s been looking for: LAURA PALMER! Oh except she isn’t Laura Palmer; her name is Carrie Page and she’s never heard of Laura Palmer but she DID just murder some dude so sure: road trip!

They make it back to Twin Peaks in near utter silence (nope, nothing to talk about...) and Coop gets Carrie/Laura back to her mom’s house!

Everything seems to be going great until they knock on the door...

And this beautiful goddess in thirsty thirsty blowdryed locks answers the door. No, she’s not Sarah Palmer - she’s some bitch named Alice Tremont who doesn’t understand anything Coop is saying (you and me both!) WHAT?!

This is the right house, right? Oh wait - what year is it?

WHO KNOWS?! But Laura/Carrie have a good primal scream about it and: that’s it! Seriously, the whole show is over, leaving us with  about as satisfying an ending as The Sopranos or the Gilmore Girls revival. 

In the end, we have no clue what happened but all that matters is: the (few) wigs involved were terrible so let’s all just primal scream about it. And if you are still reading this, kudos to you for reading the longest blog post about wigs probably EVER! 

VERDICT: DOESN’T WURQ

[netunleashed-blog]

Musical differences – meet the people whose romantic relationships were torn apart by pop

http://www.internetunleashed.co.uk/?p=36144 Musical differences – meet the people whose romantic relationships were torn apart by pop - http://www.internetunleashed.co.uk/?p=36144 You meet a new person. Everything about them is perfect. Then they pick you up in their car and they're rocking out to a Nickelback CD. What do you do? You may very well dump them, finds Nick Levine Any music lover knows that when you start dating someone, you want them to like the same kind of stuff as you do. One of my boyfriends infuriated me endlessly by insisting that my absolute favourite pop star, Madonna, was “past it” and “overrated”. I always took great pleasure in seeing him lose his shit whenever he’d had a few drinks and ‘Like A Prayer’ or ‘Hung Up’ came on in the club. Another former boyf heard an album I really love, Siobhán Donaghy’s cult classic ‘Ghosts’, and said he’d rather listen to “I dunno, Hayley Evetts”. You probably don’t know who Hayley Evetts is because she’s a singer who came fifth on Pop Idol in 2002. Hayley Evetts! I’m getting angry again now just thinking about it, and this is a conversation that happened about 10 years ago. Still, I’m not sure I’ve ever had it as bad as these music fans, who all had a relationships full-on ruined by a partner’s incompatible music taste. Read on and think yourself very, very lucky. The one in an intolerable hip hop/rock fusion band Kim, London: “Pretending to like his band’s music became a chore” “I’d been in London for about four or five months when I met this guy on a dating site. Actually, one of his profile photos showed him playing the drums, which for a young music journalist was really appealing – we had shared interests and he had good arms! So we started dating and at first it was cool going along to his gigs, but I was really into Girls Aloud and Charlotte Church at the time, so his band’s hip-hop/rock fusion didn’t really appeal to me very much. I always had to pretend to like his music and it just got to the point where I couldn’t do it any more. Forcing myself to listen to the CD he gave me and going to his shows all the time just sucked the fun out of the relationship. It ran its course for other reasons too, but the huge divide in our music taste was a major part of it breaking down. I ended things, drunk, at a bus stop in Acton.” The one who spoiled my favourite song Lars, Brighton: “He sang ‘Call The Shots’ by Girls Aloud very loudly and very out of tune as often as possible” “I used to go out with someone who sang ‘Call The Shots’ by Girls Aloud very loudly and very out of tune as often as possible. Looking back, I think that might be the main reason we split up. I still can’t listen to that song to this day. He knew how painful I found it hearing him sing that song, and as our relationship deteriorated he’d sing it right in my face to wind me up. That said, maybe this isn’t so much a ‘taste in music’ thing as it’s a ‘him being a cunt’ thing.” The one who didn’t like any kind of music. At all.  Scott, Glasgow: “He said that when he went to clubs, he just danced because he was out” “I once dated a guy who didn’t listen to music. Like, at all. I met him in a club, fancied the hell out of him and thought I wasn’t in with a chance. But I ended up going home with him – something I wasn’t used to – and it was all good, so I stuck around the next day and being a massive music fan, tried to talk about my favourite bands and singers. But he barely responded and just seemed bored. We went on a few dates and I tried to get him into the stuff I had on in the car, but he wasn’t interested at all. I just couldn’t understand why someone wouldn’t even have, like, a go-to band. He said that when he went to clubs, he just danced because he was out and had no idea what anything was. Eventually I was just like, ‘No pal, sorry, we have nothing in common!’ And that was that.” The one who didn’t respect Luther Vandross Anna, London: “I was incredulous and  angry. He had to go.” “I had a very hot boyfriend who I felt a major sexual attraction to. We dated on and off for about eight months, and even went on holiday together. But one day he said he didn’t like Luther Vandross and his posturing ‘ladies’ man’ style. I pointed out that Luther was in fact gay and suggested that my boyfriend check out his fantastic cover of ‘A House Is Not A Home’. He replied that he didn’t like Burt Bacharach, which left me incredulous and really made me angry, so obviously he had to go. I also mentioned that Teddy Pendergrass was more of a ladies’ man, at least on stage, but that just went over his head altogether.” The one who listened to Disney songs Clara, Margate: “She told me she couldn’t stand Kate Bush’s voice” “I dated a girl for a while in uni who had the worst taste in music. Actually, we were never an item or anything, but we did kind of hang out and hook up for a few months and it was always quite fun. Anyway, all she would listen to was Disney songs or the most basic pop songs – I’m not a snob or anything, I love Little Mix and Dua Lipa, but literally she would only ever put on the most generic radio shit. One day she came round to mine to watch a film and I was playing Kate Bush songs on Spotify. She literally winced as she walked into the room and heard the song, which I think was ‘Babooshka’. She explained that her mum was a big Kate Bush fan and played loads of her music when she was growing up, but personally she could never stand her voice. I was like, how could someone who grew up listening to Kate Bush not fall in love with her? By this point I’d already realised me and this girl didn’t really have very much in common, but slagging off Kate Bush was probably the final straw. We only hung out one or two more times after that.” The one who liked dadrock Callum, Staines: “He was a Rufus Wainwright stan” “When I was at uni I dated a guy who was very dashing but kept saying he “wasn’t into gay music” – by which he meant anything that was “too pop”. I tried to convert him with some success – I know he liked coming to a Robyn gig with me during her ‘With Every Heartbeat’ era. But his love of Rufus Wainwright and all manner of dad rock pretty much sealed his fate. Well, that added to his tendency to slag off Girls Aloud whenever possible. At his core he was a Rufus Wainwright stan and that became exhausting for me – by the end it just wasn’t worth the sex.” The one who didn’t become a goth Jasmin, London: “I still feel sad about what happened. I actually really like Mariah Carey” “We’d been best friends all through primary school, and had a shared love of Kylie and Sonia thanks to daily after-school discos on our Fisher Price tape decks. But when I got into the local grammar school we were separated and I went down a dark path of being a wannabe goth. We stayed BFFs for a couple of years but our shifting musical tastes just proved too much for our friendship to cope with. She got massively into Mariah Carey, but I started listening to Nirvana and Hole and any old generic grunge music. I think it really highlighted how far we’d grown apart and really, it was more than our relationship could take. I still feel sad about what happened, especially as I actually really like Mariah Carey!” The one who hated Belle & Sebastian James, London: “I still hate Belle & Sebastian to this day” “I once went back to someone’s after a date. And this was the date – you know, the date before we spent the rest of our lives at organic farmers’ markets together. As he leaned in, I said, ‘Actually, could you change the radio? I really like you and that’s Belle & Sebastian and I know it sounds weird but I really, really hate Belle & Sebastian.’ He just froze and said: ‘They’re my favourite band.’ Not unreasonably, he then threw me out. It was mad, really, but I remember thinking at the time, ‘He’s going to kiss me and we’re going to be together forever and I don’t want my memory of this magical moment to be the fucking boy with the fucking Arab strap.’ I still hate Belle & Sebastian to this day.   Source link