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jgthirlwell · 4 years

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2020 Year In Review

This year once again I invited some friends and colleagues to reflect on 2020

JG Thirlwell

Composer

Foetus Xordox Manorexia Steroid Maximus Venture Bros Archer

www.foetus.org

2020 was a troubling and disturbing year. I created a lot of music and experienced a lot of nights waking at 5am in a panic. I deeply missed the sacred experience of being able to see live music. In its absence of that I listened to a lot of music. It was difficult to whittle down this list but here are a lot of albums I enjoyed in 2020, in no particular order.

Le Grand Sbam Furvent (Dur Et Doux) John Elmquist’s HardArt Group I Own an Ion (900 Nurses) Roly Porter Kistvaen (Subtext) Liturgy Origin Of The Alimonies (YLYLCYN) Clark Kiri Variations (Throttle) Dai Kaht Dai Kaht I & II (Soleil Zeuhl) Chromb Le livre des merveilles (Dur Et Doux) Horse Lords The Common Task (Northern Spy) Ecker & Meultzer Carbon (Subtext) Insane Warrior Tendrils (RJ’s Electrical Connections) Jeff Parker Suite For Max Brown (International Anthem) Jacob Kirkegaard Opus Mors (Topos) Tristan Perich Drift Multiply (Nonesuch) Bec Plexus Sticklip (New Amsterdam) Vak Budo (Soleil Zeuhl) Merlin Nova BOO! (Bandcamp) The The Muscle OST (Cineola) Zombi 2020 (Relapse) Regis Hidden In This Is The Light That You Miss (Downwards) Rival Consoles Articulation (Erased Tapes) Sarah Davachi Cantus, Descant (L.A.T.E.) Sufjan Stevens The Ascension (Asthmatic Kitty) Idles Ultra Mono (Partisan) Daedelus The Bittereindeers (Brainfeeder) Boris No (Bandcamp) Aksak Maboul Figures / Un peu de l’ame des bandits / Onze Danses Pour Cobattre La Migraine (Crammed) Noveller Arrow (Ba Da Bing) Felicia Atkinson Everything Evaporate (Shelter Press) Ital Tek Dream Boundary (Planet Mu) Author and Punisher Beastland (Relapse) Sparks A Steady Drip Drip Drip (BMG) Corima Amatarasu (Soleil Zeuhl) Code Orange Underneath (Roadrunner) Deerhoof Future Teenage Cave Artists /Silly Symphonies / To Be Surrounded../ Love Lore(Joyful Noise) Sote Moscels (Opal Tapes) Run The Jewels RTJ4 (Jewel Runners) Oranssi Pazuzu Mestarin Kynsi (Nuclear Blast) Master Boot Record Floppy Disk Overdrive (Metal Blade) Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith The Mosaic Of Transformation (Ghostly International) / Ears (Western Vinyl) Michael Gordon Acquanetta (Cantelope) Neom Arkana Temporis (Soleil Zeuhl) Rian Treanor Ataxia / File Under UK Metaplasm (Planet Mu) Helm Saturnalia (Alter) Ivvvo doG (Halcyon Veil) Robert Normandeau Figures (Empreintes Digitales) Ben Vida Reducing The Tempo To Zero (Shelter Press) Beatrice Dillon Workaround (Pan) Dan Deacon Mystic Familiar (Domino) Sea Oleena Weaving A Basket (Higher Plain Music) Elysian Fields Transience Of Life (Ojet) Rhapsody Symphony Of Enchanted Lands II - The Dark Secret (Magic Circle) Duma Duma (Nyege Nyege) Ulla Strauss Tumbling Towards a Wall / Seed (Bandcamp)

Honorable mentions Carl Stone Stolen Car (Unseen Worlds) Nazar Guerilla (Hyperdub) Iwo Zaluski with the Children of Park Lane Primary School, Wembley The Remarkable Earth Making Machine (Trunk) Nahash Flowers Of The Revolution (SVBKVLT) Cindy Lee Whats Tonight To Eternity (Bandcamp) Insect Ark The Vanishing (Profound Lore) 33EMYBW Arthropods (SVBKVLT) Declan McKenna Zeroes (Tomplicated) Layma Azur Zeii (Bandcamp)

FILM TV Succession ZeroZeroZero Escape at Dannemora 1917 Small Axe : Five films by Steve McQueen Pirhanas Monos The Hater Better Call Saul

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Drew Daniel

Matmos, The Soft Pink Truth

an alphabet of 2020 recordings

Arca “KiCk i” BFTT “Intrusive / Obtrusive” clipping. “Visions of Bodies Being Burned” Duma “Duma” Eilbacher, Max “Metabolist Meter (Foster, Cottin, Caetani and a Fly)” Forbidden Colors “La Yeguada” GILA “Energy Demonstration” HiedraH Club de Baile “Bichote-K Bailable Vol. 2” Ian Power “Maintenance Hums” Jeff Carey “Index[off]” Kassel Jaeger “Meith” Laurie Anderson “Songs From the Bardo” Mukqs “Water Levels” Negativland “The World Will Decide” O’Rourke, Jim “Shutting Down Here” Perlesvaus “These Things Below with Those Above” Quicksails “Blue Rise” Rian Treanor “File Under UK Metaplasm” Slikback “///” Terminal Nation “Holocene Extinction” Ulcerate “Stare Into Death and Be Still” Various Artists “HAUS of ALTR” William Tyler “New Vanitas” Xyla “Ways” Y A S H A “Summations” :zoviet-france: “Châsse 2ᵉ”

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Sarah Lipstate (Noveller)

With all live performances canceled, this was truly the year of demo videos and home studio recording for me. These are 10 pieces of gear that came out in 2020 that helped keep me feeling creative and inspired during lockdown. In no particular order:

EHX Oceans 12 Dual Stereo Reverb - The Oceans 12 ticks all the boxes for what I’m looking for in a great soundscaping reverb. I used the Shimmer and Reverse algorithms in conjunction a lot when I was composing music for a film score.

Chase Bliss Audio Blooper - While I don’t actually own a Blooper, I had the pleasure of borrowing one from Mike of Baranik Guitars after NAMM this year. He made an incredible Blooper-inspired guitar and I was completely charmed by them both. Chase Bliss always delivers pedals that push me creatively and the Blooper truly hits the mark.

Cooper FX Arcades - I love everything Cooper FX has released to-date so the opportunity to access those sounds in one pedal via plug-in cartridges is just awesome.

SolidGoldFX NU-33 - I was asked to do a demo of this pedal for its release and ended up being really charmed by this box’s approach to lo-fi nostalgia. I’ve used it a lot for film scoring and highly recommend adding it to your collection.

Demedash Effects T-120 DLX V2 - I LOVE a good tape echo and the T-120 Deluxe V2 ranks up there with the best I’ve tried. This pedal made its way to me this Christmas and I look forward to making some beautiful sounds with it in the new year.

Hologram Electronics Microcosm - The Microcosm is one of those pedals where you should fully read the manual before diving in but once you put in that initial effort you’ve got a massively powerful tool on your hands. It does glitch like no other. Definitely worth the homework

Azzam Bells MP019 - I discovered this unique instrument through a post on Reverb’s IG page and immediately looked it up and ordered one. These experimental percussion instruments are hand-made in Italy and they’re as beautiful visually as they are sonically. I used it for bowed cymbal and daxophone sounds on a film score and it was absolutely haunting.

Echopark Dual Harmonic Boost 2 - I love the control you have over dialing in the perfect amount of grit with these dual boost circuits. I use it a lot as a textural tool when I’m laying down drones or bringing in big distorted swells. It’s one of the most versatile overdrives in my collection and I love that.

Fender Parallel Universe Series Volume II Maverick Dorado - I was smitten with the Maverick Dorado when I first saw it at NAMM. It has a lot of the specs that I look for in a guitar and the body shape with the Mystic Pine finish just blew me away. I hope that I get to use it live soon.

Polyeffects Beebo - The Beebo is one of those pedals that I genuinely feel is smarter than I am. It’s like an entire computer in one small touchscreen box. I can’t claim to have mastered using it yet but the sounds that I have managed to get out of it so far have been brilliant. I’m looking forward to spending more time with this box in 2021

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HELM 2020 REVIEW

Let's get the bad stuff out the way first, 2020 was undoubtedly an awful year. I'm still not sure how to really respond to seeing a global pandemic bring the capital to its knees and everything I love and hold dear to a grinding halt. Our government fucked it's response, putting profit before people and killing tens of thousands. The Labour Party descended into farce with the newly elected leader Sir Keith revealing himself as a bland centrist with no opposition or ideas. On a personal level it sucked not being able to travel or see my friends in different parts of the world - or even the same country - who I am starting to miss a lot. However, I was fortunate enough to get through the year with my sanity intact. Music, art and culture once again being my main positive. I think I listened to more music than I have in any year ever. I read more books than I have done since I was a teenager probably. I also re-discovered the joys of walking long distances and am extremely thankful for living near a lot of incredible green spaces: Epping Forest, Walthamstow Wetlands, Walthamstow Marshes, Wanstead Park, Wanstead Flats...

Music. My favourite albums of the year.

Oranssi Pazuzu - Mestarin kynsi Wetware - Flail Raspberry Bulbs - Before The Age Of Mirrors Necrot - Mortal Rope Sect - The Great Flood Private World - Aleph Oneohtrix Point Never - Magic Oneohtrix Point Never Pyrrhon - Abcess Time CS+Kreme - Snoopy Speaker Music - Black Nationalist Sonic Weaponry Drew McDowall - Agalma Regis - Hidden In This Is The Light That You Miss Nazar - Guerilla Zoviet France - Russian Heterodoxical Songs (and all the ZF reissues!!) Triple Negative - God Bless the Death Drive Permission - Organised People Suffer Actress - Karma & Desire Acolytes - Stress II The Gerogerigegege - >(decrescendo) Chubby & The Gang - Speed Kills Flora Yin-Wong - Holy Palm Eiko Ishibashi - Hyakki Yagyo The The - See Without Being Seen Prurient - Casablanca Flamethrower Henning Christiansen - L’essere Umano Errabando La Voce Errabando Subdued - Over The Hills And Far Away Rian Treanor - File Under UK Metaplasm Komare - The Sense Of Hearing Shredded Nerve - Acts Of Betrayal Jesu - Terminus Autechre - SIGN Hey Colossus - Dances / Curses Sparkle Division - To Feel Embraced Mark Harwood - A Perfect Punctual Paradise Under My Own Name Still House Plants - Fast Edit The Bug & Dis Fig - In Blue Kommand - Terrorscape Haus Arafna - Asche Khthoniik Cerviiks - Æequiizoiikum Worm - Gloomlord Kraus - A Golden Brain Faceless Burial - Speciation

A shout-out to Jon Abby's AMPLIFY series on Bandcamp / Facebook, which I contributed a new piece of music to.

A shout out to the labels where most of the music I listened to seemed to come from:

The Trilogy Tapes Iron Bonehead Penultimate Press Dais La Vida Es Un Mus

Gigs. Despite live music being destroyed in 2020 I still saw a few unforgettable performances at the beginning of the year.

Graham Lambkin @ The ICA, London Puce Mary / JFK @ The Glove That Fits, London Demilich @ Finnfest, The Garage, London Container / PC World / National Unrest @ Venue MOT, London S.H.I.T / Asid / Chubby & The Gang @ Static Shock Festival, ExFed, London

Books I enjoyed. Most not published this year, but all read in 2020.

Joe Kennedy - Authentocrats David Balzer - Curationism Tom Mills - BBC: The Myth Of A Public Service Simon Morris - Consumer Guide: Special Edition Luke Turner - Out Of The Woods Various - Bad News For Labour Mike Wendling - Alt-Right Baited Area issues 1 & 2.

Film. Three good films I saw this year which I hadn't before.

Suspiria (Remake) Midsommar Cannibal Holocaust

Podcasts. I listened to a lot of these whilst walking.

We Don't Talk About The Weather Novara Media Tysky Sour & Novara FM Grounded with Louis Theroux System of Systems Red Scare loveline episodes Suite 212 NOISEXTRA Social Discipline CONTAIN

TV.

Didn't watch a huge amount and what I did was mostly trash. For some reason I rewatched both series' of This Life, a British drama from the late 90's about a group of young professionals house sharing and navigating their careers. Very cringey and has aged terribly, but it was perversely fascinating to revisit something from that time in the age of the pandemic. Following on from this I binge watched the entire series of Industry which was entertaining enough. A programme about a bunch of horny bankers with what felt like a confused ideology behind it. It seemed stuck between trying to criticise and glorify the culture around the industry, but also protect the industry itself from outside criticism by portraying anyone who may oppose as an insufferable wanker. Currently halfway through Succession which is OK. The Murdoch documentaries on the BBC were excellent and a rare respite from their descent into client journalism.

Thanks to anyone who listened to my music this year also. Best wishes to you all for 2021.

Luke Younger

http://hhelmm.com | http://alter.bandcamp.com

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Elliott Sharp

composer

1. My Nr. 1 lesson: patience. Whether it's bouncing through 30 seconds of severe turbulence at 39000 feet or slogging through 30 minutes of a interminable piece of concert music, one attribute I've tried to develop is the ability to see past the discrete and awaited ending, the exact framing of the immediate process, but put it into the context of a larger time frame. I've found that this year more than all others has demanded it. Breathing helps...

2. Books: revisiting old favorites from the realm of Thomas Pynchon and Philip K. Dick (both especially relevant), digging into John Lomax's portrait of Jelly Roll Morton, the works of Colson Whitehead, random things off of the shelf…

3. Composing: with touring off the table, I focused on that which needed to be written, some requested and commissioned, some spontaneously springing forth. Composing requires that one open the windows wide to the world, which at this moment brought in grief, terror, uncertainty, anxiety, visions of plague and pestilence and incipient fascism. Okay, now shut the window and get to work! How to process, translate, transform? The work can be a comfortable and obsessive cocoon once one learns to handle the radioactive materials and put them into the creativity reactor.

4. Beans! We have long been a fan in our house of the wide world of legumes but this year brought two stars to the front: the black bean and the red lentil. The black bean commands the lofty peaks but the seemingly infinite variations of dal surround it. Ginger, garlic, turmeric, smoked paprika, cayenne, onions, and olive oil form the basis then imagination builds.

5. Online teaching substituted for my canceled conduction of workshops in the Pyrenees Mountains of France. Between the participants and myself, we built a temporary but very congenial space online to share concepts and music. In addition, private lessons brought conversation and music with new friends in Germany, Italy, California, Australia, Illinois, Denmark, Pennsylvania, Spain, Florida, Brazil.

6. What started out as "stress baking" (before I even had heard of the term) soon became a frequent practice that yielded very edible results. The twins preferred the sweeter forays into banana bread and chocolate cake. I tried to find a balance between tried-and-true techniques and experiments in texture and taste with yeasted pumpernickels, multi-grains, and seed breads.

7. While not the same as performing 'live ', online gigs proved that it was possible to generate a surprising amount of adrenaline even without the pheromonal handshaking of a room filled with receptive ears. As a corollary, online recording collaborations with friends worldwide proved to be inspiring and a suitable substrate for sonic experimentation, exploration of new instruments, tunings, effects programming, structures. In these realms, shout-outs to Helene Breschand, Mike Cooper, Henry Kaiser, Tracie Morris, Mikel Banks, Dougie Bowne, Payton McDonald, Billy Martin, Colin Stetson, Jim O'Rourke, Scott Amendola, Roberto Zorzi, Jason Hoopes, Eric Mingus, Melanie Dyer, Dave Hofstra, Don McKenzie, Sergio Sorrentino, Veniero Rizzardi, Taylor Ho Bynum, Scott Fields, Bachir Attar, Karl Bruckmaier, Robbie Lee, Matthew Evan Taylor, Matteo Liberatore, Al Kaatz, David Barratt, Jessica Hallock, Kolin Zeinikov, Robbie Lee, Jeremy Nesse, James Ilgenfritz, Sergio Armaroli, Steve Piccolo, Sandy Ewen, David Weinstein, Jim Whittemore, Chris Vine, Werner Puntigam, William Schimmel.

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Daniel O’Sullivan

(Grumbling Fur, Guapo, Miasma & the Carousel of Headless Horses, Ulver, Sunn O))), Æthenor, Laniakea, Miracle, Mothlite, and This Is Not This Heat.)

Music Richard Youngs - Ein Klein Nein Alabaster DePlume - Instrumentals Hildegard von Bingen - O Nobilissima Viriditas Francisco de Penalosa - Missa Ave Maria Peregrina Carlo Gesualdo - Responsoria 1611 Dirty Projectors - Five EPs Sonic Boom - All Things Being Equal Brother Peter Broderick - Blackberry Richard Horowitz - Eros Of Arabia Duncan Trussell Family Hour Cocteau Twins in the bath

Books/comics Alexander Tucker - Entity Reunion II Derek Jarman - Chroma Stephen Harrod Buhner - Plant Intelligence and the Imaginal Realm The Penguin Book Of Irish Poetry - edited by Patrick Crotty The Gospel Of Ramakrishna - translated by Swami Nikhilananda Lucretius - De Rerum Natura Plotinus - Enneads Ram Dass - Grist For The Mill Lisa Brown - Phantom Twin

Other Fasting / meditation / macrodosing Walks in freshly coppiced woodland (for the smell mainly). Plants / Foraging / Growing Traditional ferments Douglas Sirk movies Mandolorian Writing songs on the piano Rediscovery of Kenneth Graham via my kids

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Karl O’Connor (Regis)

01.Wolfgang Press - Unremembered, Remembered 02. Klara Lewis - Ingrid Live at Fylkingen 03. Jesu - Terminus 04. Dave Ball - Leeds Poly Demos 1979 05. Edwin Pouncey - Rated Sav X (the Savage Pencil Skratchbook) 06. The Bug - In Blue 07. New Order - Power,Corruption and Lies ( Writing Sessions ) 08. JG Thirlwell and Simon Steensland - Oscillospira 09. FM Einheit and Andreas Ammer - Hammerschlag 10. Thurston Moore - By The Fire 11. Body Stuff - Body Stuff 3 12. Ann M Hogan - Honeysuckle Burials 13. Rob Halford - Confess (Autobiography)

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Caleb Braaten (Sacred Bones Records)

Shirley Collins Hearts Ease Dehd Flowers Of Devotion Duma Duma Bob Dylan Rough and Rowdy Ways Green-House Six Songs for Invisible Gardens John Jeffery Passage Drew McDowall Agalma Sweeping Promises Hunger For a Way Out Colter Wall Western Swing & Waltzes and Other Punchy Songs Woods Strange to Explain

My Favorite 90’s Nostalgia Movie Rewatches

Colors Ghost Dog Menace II Society The Player Rounders Safe Starship Troopers Trees Lounge Vampires Waiting For Guffman

Most Culturally Bankrupt Year : 1997

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Charlie Looker

(composer, Psalm Zero, Extra Life, Seaven Teares)

Ten Things That Didn’t Happen in 2020

1. I didn’t write a ton of new music. Don’t get me wrong, I wrote some. I always do. But mostly I focused on my new YouTube channel, essays, and on getting old recordings released. I haven’t even been working a day-job so I thought I was going to write my next Ring Cycle, but I really didn’t find Covid inspiring.

2. Trump wasn’t re-elected. Cool.

3. I didn’t lose anyone to Covid. I am, of course, profoundly grateful for this. But I feel pretty embarrassed remembering group-texting ten friends in March, “We are all going to see a loved one die. Every single one of us. Don’t kid yourselves”. I can get hysterical, and that was somewhat irresponsible of me.

4. No revolution happened. I don’t mean to be smug or cynical, or to belittle anyone’s participation in the protests. But, as far as I can tell, nothing happened in 2020 that promises to reduce police brutality or human suffering of any kind. We’ll see. That burning Minneapolis police station was exciting to watch at the time, if only on an aesthetic level.

5. I have a stack of unread books I bought this year, just staring at me, with nary a crease among them. These include:

Adorno and Horkheimer, The Dialectic of Enlightenment (looks amazing, but I haven’t touched it) Marx, Grundrisse (it’s 1000 pages for fuck’s sake. Amazon also accidentally sent me two copies, and its double presence in the stack is just comical) Reza Negarestani, Intelligence and Spirit (the first 15 pages blew my mind, then my mind blew it off)

6. I didn’t settle into living in LA. I moved here six months before Covid and I was just starting to cultivate some friendships and play shows. This was quashed and I still feel like I still live in New York. I still barely know the layout of the city here.

7. No brand-new buzzy musical artists burst onto the scene, that I can recall. No new hyped micro-genre of the moment. There was just no way for there to be a hot new trend. I’d say that was refreshing, but it wasn’t.

8. Tyson’s return was not awesome. Two minute rounds, ended in a draw. I’ve been getting way into boxing this past year. This fight was a bummer. I’m looking forward to Mayweather vs Logan Paul (LOL) because we know it’s comedy ahead of time.

9. For three weeks in July, I didn’t do a single thing other than watch street fight compilations on YouTube and Worldstar. That’s just grim.

10. There were no school shootings in March. Apparently, this was the first March with no school shootings since 2002. Not a single 7th grader got a hand job in March either. I cannot begin to imagine what it’s like to be a kid now.

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Chuck Bettis

https://chuckbettis.com

Other People's Music released this year:

Coil "Musick to Play in the Dark" (Dais)

Duma "s/t" (Nyege Nyege Tapes) Twig Harper "External Boundless Prison/ in 4 parts EP" (self-release) I.P.Y. (Ikue Mori, Phew, YoshimiO) "I.P.Y." (Tzadik) Kill Alters "A2B2 Live Stream 11/13/2020" (self-release) Krallice "Mass Cathexis" (self-release) Lust$ickPuppy "Cosmic Brownie" (self-release) Doug McKechnie "San Francisco Moog: 1968-72" (VG+ Records) Merlin Nova "Boo!" (self-release) Omrb "Milandthriust, The Graths of Mersh" (self-release) Akio Suzuki & Aki Onda "gi n ga" (self-release) Yoth Iria "Under His Sway" (Repulsive Echo) Wetware "Flail" (Dais)

My own music released this year:

collaborations

Chatter Blip "Microcosmopolitan" (Contour Editions) Matmos "The Consuming Flame: Open Exercises in Group Form" (Thrill Jockey) Reverse Bullets "Dreampop Dsyphoria" (self-release) Snake Union "live at Roulette" (self-release) Snake Union w/ Hisham Bharoocha, Bonnie Jones, Heejin Jang, Matthew Regula "Three Arrows" (Rat Route) Thomas Dimuzio "Balance" (Gench Music) YoshimiO & Chuck Bettis "Live at the Stone" (Living Myth)

solo Chuck Bettis "Arc of Enlghtenment" (Living Myth) Chuck Bettis "Motion Parallax" (Living Myth)

compilation Various Artist "Polished Turds Vol.1" (Granpa)

Music Books read this year

"Intermediary Spaces" by Eliane Radigue/Julia Eckhardt (Umland) "Ennio Morricone In His Own Words" by Ennio Morricone/Alessandro De Rosa (Oxford University Press) "Free Jazz In Japan: A Personal History" by Soejima Teruto (Public Bath Press) "Rumors of Noizu: Hijokaidan and the Road to 2nd Damascus" by Kato David Hopkins (Public Bath Press)

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Maya Hardinge

(musician / artist)

list of things i liked this year

first ever solo road trip through new mexico and Texas right before lockdown experiencing manhattan with no cars on the road . having a car to escape in to nature. (which i craved so much) walks and bike rides with friends… FRIENDS! The web site ‘workaway’ that helped me feel that there were options for escape. playing games weekly on zoom during lock down teaching yoga weekly on zoom. Witnessing and being part of the BLM protests. witnessing and being part of the demise of T sitting on my couch at 6am drinking a cup of tea, appreciating my apt. making time to meditate. halloween without tourists .

some music I’ve bought and/or enjoyed this year Elvis Perkins-Black Coat Daughter Patricia Kokett -Soi soi Henning Christiansen - OP201 Bryce Hackford- Safe Svitlana Nianio and Oleksander - Snayesh yak? rozkazhy Brannten schnure - Sommer im Pfirsichhain Killing Joke - Nighttime David Shea - Tower of mirrors Shakey - Shakey Woodford halse tapes Coil - Musick to play in the dark

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BJ Nilsen

sound artist / composer

Work 2020

Despite Covid 19 lots of things actually did happen.

In Feburary I visited the only active nuclear plant in The Nederlands as part of my "Expanded Field Recording” project together with SML. In March revisited the Acousmonium at the Elevate Festival in Graz with an additional trip deep inside the Schlossberg recording old mining trains. In March and April I did two daily recording projects “Pending and Auditory Scenes” - both of Amsterdam during lockdown. In May did my first Zoom field recording workshop with the CAMP project. In June & July two research trips in Waldviertel, Austria with Franz Pomassl. In August recorded bells and organs in 10 different churches around Amsterdam for Jacob Lekkerkerker. In September recorded Kali Malone at the Orgelpark in Amsterdam. Performed at Heart of Noise Festival in Innsbruck and A4 in Bratislava. Also went ice-skating for first time in 20? Years. In November and December I travelled to Jeju island to record field recordings for a project by Femke Herregraven for the Gwangju Biennale, commissioned for 2021. Did lots of gardening, released two tapes “Call it Philips, Eindoven” and “Zomer 2020” with Sigtryggur Berg Sigmarsson. NOW! Looking forward to 2021.

http://bjnilsen.info https://soundcloud.com/bjnilsen/sets/auditory-scenes-amsterdam

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Vicki Bennett

(People Like Us)

Negativland - True False https://negativland.com/products/truefalse-cd (this came out last year but is so THIS year) Bob Dylan - Rough and Rowdy Ways https://www.bobdylan.com/albums/rough-and-rowdy-ways/ The Soft Pink Truth - We from Shall We Go On Sinning So That Grace May Increase https://thesoftpinktruth.bandcamp.com/album/shall-we-go-on-sinning-so-that-grace-may-increase Carl Stone - Stolen Car https://unseenworlds.bandcamp.com/album/stolen-car Porest - Sedimental Gurney https://porest.bandcamp.com/album/sedimental-gurney Matmos - The Consuming Flame: Open Exercises in Group Form https://matmos.bandcamp.com/album/the-consuming-flame-open-exercises-in-group-form Domenique Dumont - Miniatures De Auto Rhythm https://antinoterecordings.bandcamp.com/album/atn044-domenique-dumont-miniatures-de-auto-rhythm The The - See Without Being Seen https://www.thethe.com/product/see-without-being-seen-cd/ Ciggy de la Noche - Hold Tight HMRC https://soundcloud.com/ciggydelanoche/hold-tight-hmrc Neil Cicierega - Mouth Dreams http://www.neilcic.com/mouthdreams/

and my details: http://peoplelikeus.org/ https://peoplelikeus-vickibennett.bandcamp.com/ pic: http://peoplelikeus.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/12/Welcome-Abroad-promo3-2-scaled.jpg

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DJ Food

Music - Type 303 - Sticky Disco / Analogue Acidbath 7" (45 Live) The British Space Group - The Ley of the Land CD (Wyrd Britain) Squarepusher - Be Up A Hello LP / Warp 10 NTS mix (Warp) dgoHn - Undesignated Proximate (Modern Love) LF58 - Alterazione LP (Astral Industries) Robert Fripp - Music For Quiet Moments series (DGM) Run The Jewels - RTJ4 (BMG) Simf Onyx - Magenta Skyline / The Unresolved 7" (Delights) Luke Vibert - Modern Rave LP (Hypercolour) JG Thirlwell & Simon Steensland - Oscillospira (Ipecac) Aural Design - Looking & Seeing 7" / DL (Russian Library) Luke Vibert - Rave Hop (Hypercolour) Clipping. with Christopher Fleeger - Double Live (Sub Pop) APAT - Terry Riley's 'In C' performed on Modular Synthesizer (YouTube) Field Lines Cartographer - The Spectral Isle LP (Castles In Space) Jane Weaver - The Revolution of Super Visions single (Fire Records) King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard - K.G. LP (Flightless) Humanoid - Hed-Set - forthcoming on (De:tuned)

Film / TV - Inside No.9 (BBC) What We Do In The Shadows Season 2 (Netflix) Tales From The Loop (Amazon) Keith Haring - Street Art Boy (BBC) John Was Trying To Contact Aliens (Netflix) The Social Dilemma (Netflix) The Mandalorian (Season 2) (Disney+) Long Hot Summers - The Style Council documentary (Sky Arts) Zappa (Alex Winter)

Books / Comics / Magazines Confessions of a Bookseller - Shaun Bythell (Profile books) The Often Wrong - Farel Dalrymple (Image Comics) Edwin Pouncey - Rated SavX (Strange Attractor Press) Jeffrey Lewis - Fuff (all issues - really late to the party on this one) Rian Hughes - XX - A Novel, Graphic (Picador) Cosey Fanni Tutti - Art, Sex, Music (Faber) Caza - Kris Kool (Passenger Press) Dan Lish - Egostrip Vol.1 Electronic Sound magazine Decorum - Jonathan Hickman & Mike Huddleston (Image) John Higgs - Stranger Than We Can Imagine Simon Halfon - Cover To Cover (Nemperor)

Very few exhibitions or shows this year for obvious reasons

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itsmyregularcat · 4 years

Text

Influenced by @white-cat-of-doom, and his Cats dream cast (please check it out), I have made my own.

This is going to be a tough one to figure out, but here is my Cats dream team, as of today.

I wish to see more productions to be better informed in my choices, so I need to get on some bootlegs I guess! (Some choices are actually going to be based off of assumptions of how the actors portray them).

I already know a bunch of my choices are going to be from the Broadway Revival (because I really like that production), and almost all are going to be from newer productions because I am way more familiar with them.

In alphabetical order:

Admetus / Macavity: Thomas Inge (Asia Tour 2017/2020 and UK International Tour 2018/9)

I quite like the Macavity redesign for Vienna 2019 and Asia 2020, so he gets the nod just for this. Otherwise, he is an established Admetus and seems to have fun with it.

Alonzo / Rumpus Cat: Fletcher Dobinson (Asia Tour 2020)

I have never seen him perform as Alonzo, but he has this energy about him I cannot really describe. From short videos I have seen, he seems to have a 'snarky' side, and just has a hell of a time flirting about with everyone during curtain calls. He has the moves.

Bill Bailey / Tumblebrutus: Kolton Krouse (Broadway Revival 2016 / Cats 2019)

They can fly with the best of them. Their flip in with the ball during the end of the Old Gumbie Cat is a cool addition. No strong feelings for this character though.

Bombalurina: Rosemarie Ford (Cats 1998)

If anyone exemplifies what it means to be Bombalurina, I think Rosemarie wins. The duality of caring attitude and scornful nature, combined with her moves and her voice all make her a top pick. Also, slightly older Bombas I feel are better?

Honourable mentions: Christine Cornish Smith (Broadway Revival 2016) for sure, Suzie Melloy (Asia 2017/2020), and Tanya Valenzuela (Mexico 2018).

Carbucketty / Pouncival: Joel Morris (South Africa 2008 / UK Tour 2013 / Palladium 2014 / International Tour 2016)

He does a relatively good job being juvenile, but not annoying in his role. Him screwing around during Tugger's song, Moments Of Happiness, and Skimbleshanks is actually endearing to a point. No strong feelings for this character though.

Cassandra: Mariah Reives (US Tour 6)

Another pick I have never seen during performances, but she looks like a good Cassandra. She is really pretty and appropriately tall, so ¯\_( ツ)_/¯. Bonus points for her lighting up during Misto's song.

Honourable mentions: Jessica Buckby (2013 UK Tour), Danielle Cato (International Tour 2019), and Emily Pynenberg (2016 Broadway Revival)

Coricopat: Corey John Snide (2016 Broadway Revival)

He pairs up very well with my top Tantomile pick, and cannot realistically be separated. This legend was also a dance captain, involved with Cats 2019, and did a split track cover of Coricopat and Jennyanydots during his run.

Demeter: Zizi Strallen (London Revival / Palladium 2014)

Real talk, I love her as Tantomile in Cats 2019, and her singing voice is beautiful and distinct. Her as Demeter is a good bet, and she gives off a happy vibe during less serious points of the show. That happiness she puts in 2019 Tanto is what she did with 2014 Demeter.

Honourable mention: Lisette Pagler (Gothenburg 2006 / Stockholm 2009). The OG grey Demeter. She is absolutely beautiful, and her non-rep portrayal design is neat. She is also an actual singer in Sweden, so her voice is top notch. I really like her as Demeter. Also, Ella Nonini (International Tour / Asia 2020).

Electra: Leah Sue Morland (Cats 1998) or Lili Froehlich (2016 Broadway Revival)

I cannot reasonably pick one over the other, I have disproportionately strong feelings for both. Lili made me fall in love with Electra as a character (and I mean, look who my icon is!), and Leah cemented it before and after me seeing the Broadway Revival. They both make a modest ensemble cat seem so much more important. One of my favourite Cats across any production.

Etcetera: Jo Bingham (Cats 1998)

Boundless energy and happiness rolled into one bouncy cat. No one had a better time during Cats 1998, and for a cat that does not appear in many production afterwards, Jo just said f*ck it and did whatever seemingly came to mind to forge a legacy. Biting Coricopat’s ass remains a landmark moment in cinema. One of my favourite cats in the film without a doubt.

George: Frank Thompson (Cats 1998)

He is sort of always there, enjoying himself. If I would cut a cast member, George would be it. Sorry George.

Gus / Bustopher Jones / Growltiger: Rory Campbell (UK Tour / Zurich / London)

Dignified Busto. A good Gus that does not play off too much about being old and decrepit. If done properly, Growltiger (for the sake of Griddlebone) should make a return to more productions. Remove the total racism and the open misogyny inherent to many portrayals of Growltiger, and make it strictly about the lovers.

Grizabella: Jennifer Hudson (for real) (Cats 2019)

I know this one will ruffle feathers, but her sad sap performance is quite unrivaled in Cats. She brought the gloom and the dejection of being casted out to life. Her singing Memory is powerful as all hell, and filled with emotion. She wins the screaming match.

Jellylorum / Griddlebone: Freya Rowley (Cats 2019)

At this point you are probably thinking, ‘my lord, what the hell is this person on about?’. Freya does not sing in the movie, and is just a background cat, but my god is she the best cat there! During her time with actual stage productions, she was a principle Tantomile, and covered Demeter, Jelly, Jenny, and Cassandra as swing. I know she can sing (even though I have never heard it), and I want to hear / see her as the most novel Griddlebone around. Big orange energy - get with it.

Honourable mention: Sarah Jean Ford (2016 Broadway Revival)

Jemima: Veerle Casteleyn (Cats 1998 / London / Dutch Tour)

The most vanilla choice, but she was the face of Jemima / Sillabub and the Cats ‘franchise’ when the 98 film first came out, and rocketed her character to great importance and notoriety. They used her for promo shots after the movie came out realizing how popular her character had become. Veerle is the innocence of youth personified. By the way, I am taking her without the overdub.

Honourable mention: Arianna Rosario (2016 Broadway Revival / US Tour 6) and Dawn Williams (UK Tour 2013)

Jennyanydots: Eloise Kropp (2016 Broadway Revival)

A younger Jenny still as wild as any other. Her greater involvement during the show is also cool to see. The changes they made to the Broadway Revival may irk some, but the Gumbie Cat scene with the choreography change is my favourite I have seen so far. Eloise does a really good job, and has a chaotic energy that draws me to her.

Mistoffelees: Laurie Davidson (Cats 2019)

On my pursuit of pissing off the purists, here is another controversial choice. He provides a character development that I think would work out well on stage. Imagine it for a second, with Tugger or Munk hyping him up. No Mistoria though.

Honourable mention: Joseph Poulton (UK Tour 2013 / Palladium 2014)

Munkustrap: Jack Rebaldi (London / Madrid / Paris / Dusseldorf / German Tours)

The man is a serious Munk, who is versatile with his portrayals. He gets so into playing the character, and seems to be having a great time doing it. Plus, how the hell can someone do Munk in English, Spanish, French, and German in the course of three years? Madness.

Honourable mentions: Robbie Fairchild (Cats 2019) and friend-shaped Michael Gruber (Broadway / Cats 1998)

Mungojerrie: Drew Varley (Australia 1993 / London / Cats 1998)

One half of the chaotic duo present in Cats 1998, with an oustanding level of dumbassery and foolishness that encompasses Jerrie. He encapsulates that attitude very well, and pairs perfectly with my top Rumpleteazer.

Honourable mention: Dante Hernandez (Mexico 2013 / 2018)

Old Deuteronomy: Nicholas Pound (London / UK Tours / Palladium 2014 / International Tour)

A bit of a different choice, considering most people would likely pick Ken Page (and for good reason). Mr. Pound has a great voice, and welcoming vibe. Behind the scenes, he is a chaotic Old D. Plus, his name is Dick Pound.

Rum Tum Tugger: John Partridge (UK Tour / London / Cats 1998 / Berlin / Dusseldorf)

Velvety smooth voice, swagger coming out the hip thrust, and a playfulness suitable for the rockstar cat. No contest with this choice. He also does not play of RTT as being childish or over the top (*cough 2016 Broadway Revival / US Tour 6*), which is appreciated. Sorry Tyler Hanes, your vlogs were delightful, but your Tugger was a bit too much.

Rumpleteazer: Jo Gibb (London / Cats 1998)

Jo Gibb is the reason I became super obsessed with Cats, and probably why my favourite character is Rumple. Having initially seen the 2019 movie before the 1998 film, seeing her smiling face and adorable portrayal made me sort of fall in love with her. She is a perfectly mischievous Rumple, and I feel is the benchmark for most others. Her engagements with other characters is awesome, and she is just the ideal actor. Also, Cockney accent Rumple is best Rumple I do not make the rules.

Honourable mentions: Every other Teazer. All of them. There is no bad one. They all have my heart.

Skimbleshanks: Steven McCrae (Cats 2019)

Big daddy Skimble, with the red pants and the moustache. Tap dancing and ballet powerhouse. WOO WOO. Enough said.

Tantomile: Emily Tate (2016 Broadway Revival)

Given all Tantos do not really have an opportunity to set themselves apart because they are more of an ensemble Cat, I liked Emily from the beginning I saw her, and I think she is really cute. Her, paired with CJS, make a pretty ideal Cori and Tanto. Maybe I am swayed by the amount of lifts and spins they do together during the show? They have a beautiful synchronization and grace with their movements.

Weaponize your Tantomiles, helicopter her above your Coricopats and take over. Kill Macavity. Become the Everlasting Cat.

Honourable mention: Kaye Brown (London / UK Tour / Cats 1998), Melody Rose (US Tour 6), Helen Gulston (RCCL Cruise). Realistically, all Tantos are good. I like Tantomile.

Victoria: Georgina Pazcogiun (2016 Broadway Revival)

A prominent soloist with the New York ballet, renowned for her distinctive style, and you can appreciate that if you watched a 2016 bootleg show. She has also pushed out against ballet norms by being "The Rogue Ballerina" as a means of embracing the qualities that make her unique as a dancer, such as her 'bigger' (in terms of ballet) body type. Her unique style as Victoria makes her my choice. Plus, she be sneaky.

Honourable mentions: Hannah Kenna Thomas (UK Tour 2013 / Palladium 2014 / International Tour / Vienna Revival), Tyler Lotzof (Asia Tour 2020), Alicia Beck (UK Tour 2013), Phyllida Crowley Smith (London / Cats 1998). Realistically, all Vics are good.

Any way, there is my shitshow of a production.

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anotherdayinchuckletown · 5 years

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They’re Funny That Way, Chapter 1

Hey, guys! How’s it going? I’ve been writing for about ten years now, but this is only the second ever fic I’ve shared anywhere, so I’m super nervous!!!

This is basically my take on a Harley Quinn origin story tailored to the universe of Joker (2019). It’s going to be Harley like we’ve never seen her before, with lots of Arthur, lots of Sophie, lots of original characters, and lots of twists and turns.

I’m SO beyond excited to finally share this with you guys, and I hope you all enjoy! Please like, comment, reblog if you do so that I know if you guys love reading this as much as I am enjoying writing it! This fic is also posted to my AO3 account (https://archiveofourown.org/users/marie_deneuve), so you can also read it there if you’d like!

Without further ado, heeeere we go!!

Chapter 1

The apartment building at Eleven-Forty Anderson Avenue is an eyesore situated in the midst of a likewise ugly city called Gotham. A pimple on a face only a mother could love. A pariah among pariahs.

Management has long since stopped caring about its maintenance, leaving it a patchwork of leaking ceilings, cracking foundations, and broken windows haphazardly boarded shut. Even the most seasoned resident of Gotham City would quicken his pace when passing the telltale archways which separate the apartments from the rest of the city.

Sophie Dumond is currently doing her best to avoid saying any of that out loud.

“It’s really not that bad,” she lies. “Definitely a far cry from where you’re living now, but once you get used to it, it’s not the worst.” Although she is on the phone, she looks down at her shoes anyway, so as not to look her guilt in the face. A crack in the tile beneath her feet stares back accusingly.

“Really? My brother told me his appliances never work, and the maintenance crew is impossible to reach,” the voice on the other line replies skeptically. It belongs to another young woman by the name of Emma Boulanger – Emma Scott, actually, ever since her marriage – who has been Sophie’s best friend since the two of them met in elementary school. She is also the godmother of Sophie’s five-year-old daughter, which was an unpopular decision she had been made to justify more times than she would have liked (honestly, though, her sister could call her if she ever became less of a pretentious bitch).

This phone call marks the first time Sophie has heard from her in one month, two weeks, and six days. Not that she’s been counting or anything.

It’s just strange not to talk to her, as she’s always the first to know of any big changes in her friend’s life. Emma is certainly the first to know about changes in Sophie’s life as well. She’s there when they both open up their letters of acceptance into Gotham University, whooping and cheering and dreaming of finally, finally leaving this shithole, getting glamorous jobs in the big city. She’s there when Sophie is curled up on her bathroom floor, crying and clutching a positive pregnancy test, wanting the best for the child growing inside of her, yet fearing she would never be able to provide it.

That’s why it’s so odd when Emma’s twin brother is the one to mention in the hallway one day that his sister has filed for divorce. And furthermore, that she’s returning to Gotham to live with him until she gets back on her feet.

“Like I said, Emma, it’s not perfect,” she relents. “But hey, at least it’ll be nice to hang out again. It’s been way too long.”

“Yeah, it really has! I moved, what, almost two years ago?” Emma’s voice brightens marginally, and Sophie can nearly see the lopsided grin spreading across her face, so familiar is she with every tic, every tell, every minuscule inflection to her words. “Metropolis is boring as hell, by the way. I almost miss Gotham - call me crazy.”

Sophie huffs, knowing full well that Emma is playing it cool - trying not to let on how much she dreads moving back to a city she called a living, breathing prison for so many years. Best to keep things lighthearted then. Empathize with her, acknowledge her feelings, but never, never pity her. “You’re definitely crazy, Em,” she shoots back, raising an eyebrow. “What exactly does it for you, the enormous rats or the graffiti dicks?”

An almost imperceptible chuckle filters through the receiver. “Well, no one ever really escapes Gotham, do they? I figure I might as well develop a little Stockholm Syndrome.”

Sophie doesn’t immediately respond to the bleak sentiment. It’s simply a joke, of course, and as a matter of fact, very on-brand. But there’s enough truth to it to cause a momentary lapse in the lightness of their conversation.

Sophie has found gradually that Emma was right growing up. Gotham truly seems less like a place and more like an entity. It has a certain way of taking, taking, taking from a person, and when that person has nothing left to give, taking just a little bit more. The citizens meander like restless spirits, doomed to wander to and from their low-wage jobs for eternity. The air is heavier out there, tugging their faces down into sour expressions, aging them prematurely. A reflection of their surroundings.

Sophie often wonders if she looks the way they do.

If Emma notices the shift – which she certainly does, she always does – she politely ignores it. “I guess beggars can’t be choosers… It was nice of Eddie to let me stay with him on such short notice.” Fondly, she adds, “He may be a bit of a shithead, but he’s a good brother.”

Before Sophie can stop herself, she laughs aloud. “No comment. We do live on the same floor, you know.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Do you two ever hang out?”

“Not particularly.” Sophie doesn’t dislike Eddie – quite the opposite, in fact. She always chalks up her lack of chemistry with him to simply having nothing in common. He and Emma share nothing but a birthday, a head of golden hair, and a pair of striking ice-blue eyes.

Rapid footsteps make their way into the foyer, breaking Sophie out of her reverie. “Mommy, look what I drew!”

Muttering a quick “hang on a second” into the receiver, she turns toward the source of the sound, and a sheet of paper is practically shoved in her face from below. She is met with a mish-mosh of various shapes and colors, one large brown figure taking precedence in the middle of the page.

She smiles warmly. “Wow, that’s very good, Gigi! What’s that a picture of?”

The artist beams with pride. “It’s the roach you killed in the bathroom yesterday!”

Son of a bitch.

“Can we put it on the fridge, Mommy?”

Blinking owlishly, Sophie scrambles for a response. They really don’t teach her this shit in those parenting books she sometimes finds at Gotham Central Library.

She settles on, “Honey, you already have so many nice ones up there, I just can’t decide which ones to keep! Let’s put this one away for now, and I’ll think about it, okay?” She offers her free hand to take the drawing so that she can accidentally misplace it later.

It does the trick. “Okay!” her daughter chirps, proudly handing over her portrait. Encourage, then swiftly change the subject – a motherly sort of manipulation that works in everyone’s favor.

“Holy shit, I haven’t even asked about Gigi yet!” Emma exclaims. “God, she must be getting so big! She starts Kindergarten this year, right?”

“Yeah, in the fall. And she comes all the way up to my waist now, isn’t that insane?” Unmistakable pride colors Sophie’s response.

“That’s so awesome! Did she miss me at all?” comes over the receiver as Gigi simultaneously begins an onslaught of “who’s that, Mommy, who’s that?”

“Miss you? Are you kidding? Listen to this.” Sophie crouches next to her daughter, holding the phone away from her ear, but nearby so that Emma can hear. “Gigi, your Aunt Emma’s on the phone. She’s coming to live here again soon, isn’t that great?”

The resounding shriek is a good indicator that she agrees. And that Sophie is going to have to bring the neighbors another gift basket so they don’t complain about her to the landlord.

“Can I talk to Aunt Emma, Mommy? Can I, can I, please, please, please?” Tiny, impatient hands grapple for the phone as laughter pours in from the other line.

“Come on, if I let you talk to her now, we’ll be stuck here forever.” A quick glance at the clock reveals that it’s nearing eight o'clock. “Besides, aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for bed soon?”

Gigi wrinkles her nose in distaste, and Sophie cuts her off before the complaints can begin. “No arguments, Gigi. Go start your bath – I’ll be there in just a minute.”

She receives a defiant huff; nevertheless, Gigi stomps her way to the bathroom, and Sophie waits for the sound of running water before she returns to the previous conversation.

“So anyway, Eddie tells me you’re holed up in a hotel room until the weekend. I’m guessing that Daniel didn’t take the…the breakup news very well?” she asks, somewhat cautiously. Talking about Emma’s husband – now ex-husband – is a mixed bag, even back when they were dating.

“You could say that,” Emma responds sheepishly. “It wasn’t pretty, let’s leave it at that. I thought it would be best for me to get out of the house right away, give him some time to himself.”

It makes Sophie nervous that she is skirting the question, but then again, Emma’s in a vulnerable position at the moment. And she’s rarely one to talk at length about her own emotions in the first place – she’s much more of a listener.

Sophie would like to ask what she means by “it wasn’t pretty”, but decides against prying. She would also like to ask why she ever married that jackass in the first place, since their relationship had been obviously strained from day one. It was always as if the two of them were tightrope walking over a volcano – bubbling quietly, boiling and threatening to swallow them both whole. The smallest change in the wind, the most harmless comment about Daniel not picking his towel up off the floor could send them tumbling into the inferno. She supposes one of them finally fell.

Something about that man has always creeped her out, but she gave up voicing her discontent with him after about the thirtieth time Emma brushed her off. She won’t say “I told you so”, since she wouldn’t want to belittle whatever pain Emma is going through. Still, she can’t help but feel a little relief – that doesn’t make her a terrible friend, right?

All of this can wait, though. It can wait until they’re seeing each other face-to-face again. Until Sophie isn’t on a strict time limit. She needs to wrap up the current conversation quickly because if she doesn’t, she could possibly be dealing with a flooded bathroom shortly. Five-year-olds do not generally care about the cost of repairing water damage if it seeps into the downstairs neighbor’s ceiling.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay, with…you know…everything.”

“Of course!” Emma reassures her. “I’m perfectly fine. Like I said, I’m looking forward to being home. Honestly.”

Sophie is not convinced, and frankly, it sounds like Emma is not either. She wonders if her friend has been checking in on the worsening condition of their hometown from Metropolis. The homeless population is growing by the day, and the working class is becoming more and more restless due to low wages and poor working conditions in the inner city. Rumor has it that sanitation workers are chief among the dissatisfied, and a garbage strike is all but guaranteed by winter.

So much she wants to say. So much she can’t say. “That’s good. I’m happy for you.”

_______________________________________________________________

Emma remembers around this time last year taking a trip to Paris, France. She saw the premiere of a musical there called Les Misérables – it was based off of her favorite book by Victor Hugo, so naturally, she begged and begged to go.

And what a payoff! The show was spectacular, from the costumes to the stage design to the music. Oh, the music! Despite being there with her then-husband, she had the most fun she’d had in years, letting the melancholy chords turn her as light as the air and the lyrics carry her far, far away in the wind.

Even more than the music, she was captivated by the plot. She could practically feel the plight of the poverty-stricken citizens. One of the opening scenes depicted the starving masses singing of their grief over the way they were snubbed by the wealthy, left to rot in the streets.

That is the scene Emma finds herself stepping into today. Only this time, she is not a passive observer, watching the events unfold without being affected. From today on, she is one of the characters.

From the moment she arrives in downtown Gotham City by taxi, the tension claws at her with icy hands. It digs into her ribcage with each glare aimed her way, even in the mild September breeze. She knows she sticks out like a preacher at a Pride parade in her obviously expensive skirt and heels. It’s not like she had time to go digging around her closet for something more appropriate that night she left her house.

Handsomely tipping her driver, she climbs out of the car and rushes underneath a set of archways and inside the apartment building where she’ll be living for the foreseeable future. She doesn’t look very closely at it from the outside, so desperate is she to get off the street and away from whatever the hell that smell is.

Emma uses the opportunity to finally look around a bit, taking her surroundings in with narrowed eyes. The lobby is dimly-lit, with no color to it whatsoever. The walls are painted a chipped-up brownish yellow, which could have been white many years ago. It reeks of mold, to the point where the smell outside might be the lesser of the two evils.

Leaning carefully against the nearest wall, she mutters, “Not that bad, my ass.” From her purse, she retrieves her recently-purchased copy of a new novel titled Jumanji, and she waits.

And waits.

…

Emma’s eyes snap open - she hadn’t consciously closed them to begin with. She realizes with embarrassment that she almost fell asleep standing up. God, she’s more exhausted than she thought. How long has she been standing down here anyway?

“I’ll be home from work around four; I just need a little time to tidy up before you head over,” Eddie had said on the phone the night before. “I’ll meet you in the lobby and walk you up at six, okay?”

“That works,” Emma had replied. “As long as you’re actually there at six.”

“Hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve never exactly had a reputation for being punctual.”

“Jesus, Em. You think I’m gonna leave you hanging out down there alone?”

“We’ll see.”

Shutting her book, Emma checks her watch.

Six forty-five. That fucking flake forgot.

She groans, pushing herself languidly off the wall and scanning the room for assistance. No one at the front desk - in fact, there hasn’t been anyone there since she arrived, making her wonder briefly if she’s even in the right building.

Her eyes next land on the myriad of mailboxes against the opposite wall, closed off from the rest of the lobby by rusted wrought-iron bars, most likely to protect the postman. She walks through the open gate tentatively, and upon closer inspection, each mailbox has a sticker labeling the residents by apartment number. Bingo!

It doesn’t take long to find what she’s looking for. On the eighth floor, perfectly spelled out for her, she sees both S. Dumond in 8B and E. Boulanger in 8H. Why not visit the one who didn’t leave her stranded for an hour first? She could always call Eddie on Sophie’s phone anyway - the asshole probably smoked a joint as soon as he got home and passed out on the couch watching Magnum, P.I.

She heads for the elevator and presses the call button. As it whines slowly and almost menacingly down the shaft, she hears someone softly trudging along behind her, the very first sign of another life in here. As she enters the elevator, she politely holds the door open, and makes room for the clown getting on after her.

No, not a silly person. An actual clown. Painted face, red nose, neon green hair and all.

Of all the weird people she might expect to see in a place like this… Not even two hours in Gotham, and the evening is already shaping up to be quite the roller coaster.

Emma can’t help but stare as the doors shut and the clown punches the button for, coincidentally, the eighth floor. She settles into the far corner as she discreetly analyzes him. His posture, his defeated gait, the pitiful expression underneath his painted-on smile… His aura permeates the entire space, seemingly enough to weigh them both down, causing the elevator to drag slowly up the shaft like molasses, screeching all the way.

This is without a doubt the saddest clown Emma has ever seen. And she’s seen Pagliacci.

Around the third floor, there’s one long, particularly loud screech. Emma’s heart leaps to her throat as their ascent suddenly comes to a complete halt, and the lights in the tiny elevator space flicker on and off once. Is a three-story drop enough to kill a person her size? She prays that this isn’t how it ends - in this dingy elevator, terrified, with no one but a fucking clown. A clown who hasn’t moved an inch this entire time.

Thankfully, after a few seconds that seem to drag on for a lifetime, they start to slowly crawl up the shaft once more. Emma breathes an audible sigh of relief, and the clown seems to finally notice her, tossing a quick look of sympathy in her general direction.

Once she’s certain she can speak without her voice quivering, she does so. “Does…that happen often?”

Her voice really gets his attention. He whips his head around so fast she almost worries his little hat will come flying off like a frisbee. He blinks at her once, then twice, as if processing the fact that she is addressing him. For a split second, it looks like he’s going to say something.

Then, remembering himself, he simply shrugs bashfully. Emma lets out a breath she doesn’t realize she’s been holding.

She notices the decorative red flower adorning his lapel, one of those prop flowers that’s actually a tiny water gun. Smiling in a way that she hopes is charming instead of ill-at-ease, she points to it. “I, uh…I like your flower. It’s very pretty.”

The clown tilts his head curiously. After a beat, he wordlessly reaches up and into his bright plaid coat, holding said flower slightly out toward her. Offering for her to come closer, to lean in and smell it.

Emboldened, she grins, shaking her head at him. “No way, mister. I know how that trick ends.” She’s kidding around with him, but she really can’t afford to get her clothes wet right now; she only has the ones on her back, after all.

Still, his lips at last curl upward, a real smile that reaches the lights of his eyes. And it’s then that Emma can see the color in them, an enchanting seafoam green that inexplicably draws her in, pulling her away from the corner and toward his side. He watches her carefully and intensely with an expression she can’t quite read. When he turns to face the doors once more, it’s not without keeping her settled in his periphery.

Most people would probably be a bit nervous being…examined so thoroughly. However, Emma finds his mannerisms endearing in an odd way. She’s never cared much for clowns before, but this one doesn’t seem so bad.

They ride in comfortable silence for another few moments. When they reach their destination, Emma is the first to exit.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m definitely taking the stairs from now on,” she says.

The clown nods in response as he exits behind her, giant red and blue shoes flopping comically over the threshold.

The hallway is a bit noisy, voices of the residents drifting through the paper-thin walls like a mist, creating a fine haze over everything. The walls are just a touch too close together, making Emma claustrophobic and urging her to get to 8B as quickly as possible.

Not wanting to come off as rude, she introduces herself. “I’m new to the building, by the way - my name’s Emma. It’s a pleasure.” She extends a hand to shake.

The clown does return the gesture, but not before staring her hand down for an abnormally long period of time. And his grip through the rough material of his gloves is so soft and careful, it’s as if it’s barely there.

She’d honestly like to chat with this fascinating new neighbor of hers a bit longer, but instead, she pulls her hand away, settling for a polite nod and a cheerful “good night”.

She does not look back to see that the clown’s unwavering gaze follows her all the way down the hall.

#joker 2019 #Joker (2019)#joker #arthur fleck #sophie dumond #harley quinn #my fic #joaquin phoenix joker

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itzsci · 4 years

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The day started off like the day before, standing freezing cold in a line full of buzzing teenagers all waiting to get their assignments for the day. Only one girl, a seventeen year old named Amelia, seemed to appear nonchalant about this, having been cursed to do this over and over again. Annoyed about how everyone was acting, she rolled her eyes unable to comprehend why people didn’t see the seriousness of all of this. Surely they didn’t think it was like a holiday or something? Right?!

“God, I wish I was eighteen already.” She muttered underneath her breath. Her birthday was assumed to be only a couple of days away and if she did her assignment correctly this time she’d be allowed to turn eighteen and be free of her obligations. Then, she could get away this hell hole. It was a long time coming for Amelia and she just couldn’t wait!

Finally her number, 87006, was announced earning a few glares being thrown in her direction. Amelia, unbothered by this, quickly took her black sunglasses off before tucking them into her trouser pocket. Then, taking her sweet time to get there, Amelia sauntered through the crowd pushing people to the side if they got in her way. When she finally made it, she waved back to the crowd before getting shoved inside by one of the impatient guards whom stood at the door.

To be honest, she should have expected that.

Stumbling slightly, Amelia found herself finally inside and with a loud slam, the door behind her shut plunging Amelia into complete darkness. A sudden click was heard and Amelia realised she was locked inside.

It had begun.

Quickly Amelia went through the steps she always did, making sure to be presentable and perfect for the Leader. She quickly tucked in her favourite red shirt, smoothing down the wrinkles that may have formed when she was pushed in. Next, she looked round for some light source she could use but when she saw none she instead let her blood like eyes to reflect off the walls in a effort to cheat. This didn’t always work, as the Leaders usually like to keep the building dirty to make it harder for the students to navigate through, but apparently luck was on her side today. Trying to ignore the whispers and pleading that could be heard if you cared enough to, Amelia carefully made her way to where she needed to be, letting her eyes and feet be her guide.

It didn’t take too long for her to reach her her destination and she was glad for that. She didn’t like this next part and hoped to get out of the building as quickly as she could. Knowing what was going to happen next, she winced as she automatically knocked on the door politely and waited until she was called. She was so used to knocking and just entering rooms anyway and she once more cursed out how timid she was, a very long time ago. Once she heard the gruff voice of ‘come in’ she quickly entered into the equally dark room.

“Ah, Amelia. You’re here.” a gruff voice spoke in front of her. The door slammed behind her, making her jump.

“Y-yes sir-

“Very good.” The voice approved, interrupting Amelia from saying more.

“Now. Let’s get straight to it, we need you to do the same job you always do and have done for the past seventeen years however this time we want it to be done correctly. We have decided to give you a little leeway though to make it easier due to your continuous incompetence.”

Amelia winced at that.

"So, choose five people and send them straight back here before the day resets. You have twenty four hours and if you don’t manage to get five, even if you are one off, it won’t count. This is your last chance though. Fail this and you’ll wish you’d have never been born.”

Amelia flinched, knowing full well what the consequences would be if she did. This was her last chance. She needed to get it right, no matter what.

“So let’s see if you can actually do your job right today.”

“Yes sir, thank you sir.” Amelia said, silently thankful the stammer stayed out of her voice on that one.

"Now go! Your twenty four hours begin now.”

There was a flash and Amelia was gone.

x x x x x x x x

Amelia hated Earth. Hated the people, the places, everything. But hopefully, if she did this right, it’d be the last time she would be here and that made her cheer up slightly.

She was six hours into her assignment with three people already written down in her little black book; a couple and an lonely, elderly woman.

She found it funny, how they seemed to leap at the chance to get away. The couple had explained it slightly, informing her this was the best time to recruit people. It made Amelia sound like a sales person and she had quickly took them before they annoyed her too much. The elderly woman whom claimed she was very lonely without her parents and friends, all but jumped at the chance to go for it without Amelia having to explain anything which was just perfect for her. She loved easy jobs.

Now, with only eighteen hours left and darkness quickly descending on what seemed like an empty town somewhere (she didn’t care enough to find out exactly where), Amelia was on the prowl to recruit quickly. For some reason, she couldn’t find many people around, though on Earth Time it didn’t seem to be that late in the evening. She would have thought more people would be out, enjoying themselves but it was strangely quiet. This worried her slightly.

Realising she needed a break, Amelia stopped at an alleyway to gather her thoughts. Before she could settle down though, in the corner of her eye, she noticed a boy who seemed all alone and crumpled behind some bins. She couldn’t see his face but his blonde hair seemed messy and had clumps of mud in it and his clothes seemed torn. He wasn’t even wearing any shoes!

This was perfect for Amelia.

Feigning concern, she slowly approached the boy in the hope she wouldn’t scare him off. When she was close enough she asked. “Are you ok?” But he didn’t reply.

“Boy, are you ok? Can you hear me?” Amelia repeated.

Nothing.

Amelia let out a slight huff at the non response she was getting. This was just plain rude! She thought humans were nicer than this but the fact that he hadn’t even acknowledged her when she was trying to reach out - even though Humans were no concern of hers and was a miracle she was even doing this in the first place - was insulting and she would not stand for it.

“Um. Hello?” She tried again, pleasantness having evaporated now she knew how rude he was being. She just needed a name! Any name!

“You’re not going to get him to speak.” A new voice spoke up, to the left of where Amelia stood.

“I can and I will.”

“No, seriously. You won’t. I can give you his name though. That’s all you creatures care about really.”

Amelia paused at that. Humans were not meant to know what they were because it would sway their decision to agree with her. Usually, humans were easily manipulated to do their bidding anyway but if one of them found out who or what she was, what was to stop them from spreading the news to other people? She needed to a plan quick. Her soul depended on it.

“Creatures, really? Is that what you call human nowadays.” Amelia joked, turning round to see a man stood there. He wore a clean suit as if he had just come from a meeting though he had no briefcase with him. Perhaps a father?

“Don’t play that game with me, I know what you are . I’m here for the same reason-“ Amelia couldn’t help let out a growl at that. This was her find! “But I can let you have this one.”

Amelia scoffed at that. “Let me have this one. I found him.”

“Please. I was here before you even knew of this place.It’s not my fault you are not doing your job correctly. But I detest. Do you want him or not?”

Amelia wasn’t sure what to do. If this guy was giving the boy up so easily there must be some trouble with him the man wasn’t specifying. She also didn’t want his pity by just handing her one just because. But she needed him. With this boy, she would only need one more person and she was home free. No more meetings, no more assignments, no more Earth. She would be able to turn eighteen and go her own way. Something she had always wanted, something anyone would want really. So why was it hard to could she suck up her pride and just do it?

Eventually, after noticing the man kept yawning and glancing at his wrist, Amelia decided to do it. Just this once.

“Fine. What’s his name.”

The man grinned, like he just won a bet. “Daniel. Ten years old, came with a broken family. Won’t need to be persuaded so just write his name in your little book.”

Amelia nodded, getting out her book and writing his name with the tip of her finger letting the ink bled onto the page, a deep red. Great. One more to go. As she did this, the boy slowly faded out of existence, the man watching with a sort of wicked grin placed on his face. Amelia grinned as well.

“Great. One more to go. Thanks-“ Amelia said. That was all she could get out before she was interrupted by a shove making her stumble onto the floor.

“One lesson your Mother should have taught you - never trust your own kind” The man declared, his voice now changed to a much deeper tone and eyes as white as the moon.

Before she could respond, the man picked her up and threw her a good few feet making her land in a heap on the cold, hard pavement. Her head was starting to pound and stars were starting to form but she ignored this for now. She didn’t even notice black book that had fallen out of her pocket.

“Bu-but you let me claim him.” she wheezed. “You gave me his name.”

“And now I’m gonna take my prize. That’s what you do, no? Be polite. Someone offers you a favour, you give them one in return. I gave you a name and now, all your names in your little book belong to me.” He responded, marching his way to her.

Seeing this, Amelia tried to gather all her strength to stand up, managing to only get on her knees before he got there. Then, as he drew his arm back she hit him square in the stomach making him double over.

“No.” was all she managed before attempted to hit him again; hopefully near the face area. Unfortunately for her, he managed to block her weak attempt, covering her fist with his own. He laughed pityingly. “That’s all you have, really? You don’t even know who I am do you.” He taunted. “But I know who you are.”

Amelia shook her head. “O-of course I know you.” She wheezed out, unable to breath properly. “Dad.”

That made him laugh more.

“You don’t get to call me that any longer. Now, to you, it’s just Trevor.”

Wait. Did he just give her his name?

Unsure if he had made a mistake, Amelia waited a beat to see if he realised. When he didn’t and began fighting her even more Amelia focused all she could on the name Trevor. She needed to remember his name.

And write it in her book.

“Come on, fight.” Amelia thought to herself, hoping to encourage some strength. Surely, someone could hear them.

“Praying to the Gods?” Trevor taunted. “They won’t help you now.”

#writing #My writing #writeblr #writer #freewrite #books #write #writers of tumblr #fantasywriters #hell #perhaps #writers on tumblr #writersoftumblr #finally back!#warning; this is a long one

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officialleehadan · 5 years

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Hotel of Memories

Hello darlings! This one is for Christine, who requested Local Librarian with her second Subscriber Drive prompt! Happy reading darling, and thank you!

+++

The flight, it turned out, was only four hours, and they ate on the flight.

But in the end, their final destination was Athens.

“Why here?” Laure asked when they were off the jet and in the car that was waiting for them on the tarmac. The car smelled expensive, and Laure really did wonder exactly how rich Victor really was to afford all of this.

She also wondered exactly how old he was, as she realized that she didn’t actually know. Victory always got weird about his age whenever she tried to ask.

“We’re visiting a friend of mine,” he told her with a casual shrug. “He’s a historical nut, and he knows Others better than I do. I called ahead to make sure he was in Greece. He keeps a residence in Scotland too, and that one is substantially less accessible than this one.”

“Meaning..?”

“Meaning we would need to charter a helicopter to get there. He likes his privacy, and his Scottish holding is hard to get at without a talented pilot, a talented sorcerer, or both. Or a very long hike through mountains full of things that are under orders to eat intruders.”

Laure was suddenly very glad that Victor’s friend was in Athens at the moment. She was not outdoorsy in any way, hated hiking, and was generally reluctant to walk farther than she absolutely had to.

“But he’s here? Is he the one who cares about fashion?”

She was wearing a fortune in expensive designer clothing, from the glittering heels on her feet, to the patterned crocodile-skin bag over her shoulder. She was also a little afraid to breathe on it, let alone put anything into the purse, which cost as much as the down payment on a nice house.

“He’s a bit of a drama queen. Honestly though, I’m more concerned about his Coven. They handle themselves for the most part, since he likes to travel, but they’re a stuffy lot sometimes.”

That was clear as anything Victor ever told her about vampire, which admittedly, wasn’t much. Laure knew that each coven had an Elder who ran the coven. Victor was, apparently, not a part of any coven, preferring to wander about as he pleased.

They pulled up to a grand hotel that looked like it must have been there for millennia before someone repurposed it. Into its current use. Soaring columns supported the steepled roof, and Laure was reminded of nothing so much as the great temples to ancient gods.

“Lord Victor,” the doorman said when they walked up the door, and scrambled to open it for them. He was very pale, and his uniform was absolutely crisp. “I’ll message the front desk to let them know you’re here.”

“Do that. Is your elder in?” Victor said casually, and kept his hand on Laure’s lower back to steady her. The white marble stairs were slick even though they bore textured strips, and her heels were unreasonable on any surface. “I called, but we made better time than I thought we would.”

“In the private lounge. Shall I have him notified you’re here?”

“Nah, I’ll surprise him. He thinks it’s funny.”

The doorman looked dubious, but before they could enter, they were through the doors and heading for the front desk.

“Is everyone here a vampire?” Laure whispered to Victor as they walked. Two bellhops appeared out of a side door with a cart and their luggage on it. “The doorman knew you.”

“Of course he did,” Victor shrugged. “I’ve been friends with his Elder for centuries, for all that we’re not from the same part of the world. “Most of the staff is human, but anyone in a position of importance is a vampire.to anyone casually walking in, this is a regular hotel.”

There was nothing at all regular about the gold-plated-everything hotel. The clientele was clearly the rich and powerful. They would have to be, to afford a hotel like this one.

“If you say so,” she told him, and tried to keep her eyes to herself. Staring was rude in any country. “Who is this mysterious friend of yours, anyway?”

“All in good time,” Victor told her, and smiled at the two ladies at the front desk. “You’re new. Did Daniel tell you I was on the way in?”

“He did,” one of the ladies said politely and proffered an envelope of keycards to him. Victor tucked it into his jacket. “Your usual room will be ready by the time you get there. Would you like a meal sent up?”

“No, I ate before I left,» Teucer assured her. “My lovely guest will need food fit for a human. Please also leave the luxury menu on the table. Are you still going to Taliesin for potions?

“Of course sir,” she said in that cheerful customer-service way. “We would never compromise our quality.”

“Delightful,” Teucer beamed and took Laure’s arm again. “Come with me. And don’t worry, my usual suit has a second bedroom.”

“You’re obscenely rich,” Laure muttered, too overwhelmed to even try to process everything around her. “Are we going to the rooms now?

“Nope,” Victor told her as they stepped into an elevator. It wasn’t one of the public ones, and opened instantly when he pressed a thumb to the featureless golden panel beside the door. They stepped in, and Laure wondered where they were going. The elevator didn’t have any buttons. “We’re going up to the lounge first.”

“To surprise your friend?”

“Exactly. You trust me?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Not especially. We made it this far, right?”

They had, and Victor probably was her best chance of getting answers. That part was for more interesting than the opulence of the hotel. Laure never had much taste for luxury, and now she was neck—deep with only a temperamental vampire to keep her head above water.

“I suppose,” she admitted. The elevator door opened ant she blinked. She hadn’t even felt it move. “Where-“

“Welcome to the private lounge,” Victor told her, and Laure looked around curiously. Towering bookshelves circled the room, broken only by an elegant wet bar, manned by a pair of servers. More servers drifted through the room with trays in hand. When she looked closer, Laure realized that each one was assigned to a single client. There would be no waiting, and no competition in this lounge. “Regular guests don’t get up here. You have to be a vampire, with a vampire, or invited specifically.”

“But you can just walk in?”

“When one has been friends for the better part of six thousand years,” a new voice drew Laure’s attention from the obviously-antique books around the walls. A man stood before them. His suit was soft daytime grey, broken by a deep teal tie with a matching pocket square. His hair was blonde, and his accent was undefinably Greek, but with a lit that suggested unimaginable antiquity. He was handsome, and his eyes were ancient. “One receives certain privileges. Victor, welcome to Athens.”

“Good to see you, Teucer,” Victor said, and came in for a hug as Laure stared between them, trying to process six thousand years. “I have a puzzle for you.”

+++

HGE - Local Librarian:

Laure is an overworked doctorate student. Her best friend is living history, and thinks of her museum as his own personal vault.

Gift of a Rose

Curse-Bound Leather

Bloody Stress

Flip the Page (Subscriber Only!)

Luxury Flight (Subscriber Only!)

+++

MORE STORIES!

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youllallriseintheink · 4 years

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Asylum story, chapter 2

Hey, anyone remember this? Well, I was asked to write a second chapter for the story where Joey rats Sammy out for being gay and drops him off at an asylum. I’m not sure why I decided to do it, but the story could be worse. I might give it a proper ending if there’s enough interest. TW for homophobia, a slur, and me doing 0 research for historical accuracy.

Anyhow. Expect the first chapter of the Showdown Bandit completion fic to go up by the end of the week. I have been working on bit projects for far too long.

Sammy was knocked back to reality by a knock at the car window. It was two workers from the asylum. Joey lowered the window a crack. "One of my old gentleman callers. I was wondering if you could help him out," he explained.

"Ah, okay," one of the workers replied, as though Joey's request was simple and routine. They opened the passenger-side door. Sammy tried not to freeze- he knew he had to think fast.

"He's lying," Sammy insisted, as the two men grabbed his arms. Sammy did not go willingly, and so the two men were forced to drag him. "I'm not gay. I'm not. Let me go!" he begged as they got further from the car. The car started and drove away.

"Now, listen. We can do this the hard way or the easy way," one of the workers said to him. "I hope you'll make this easy on yourself."

Sammy was fuming, but he also realized that there was no sense in resisting anymore, so he straightened up and complied as they walked him to the building.

"There we go. Now, I know you don't expect this to be pleasant, but the more you comply with us, the more pleasant we can make it."

The inside of the building was reminiscent of a hospital setting. The two men escorted him past a secretary and then into a hallway, where they passed several closed doors before they found one with a sign that read, "empty."

"This is where you'll be staying the night. Activities won't start until tomorrow. Goodnight."

Sammy entered the cell. It had two beds, a sink, and a toilet in it. It was clean, primarily painted blue, and so looked so mundane that Sammy nearly crawled into one of the beds before he saw a figure curled up at the end of it, reading a book titled, “The Basics of Psychoanalysis.”

The man, brown-haired and looking to be in his mid-twenties, looked up at him. “Oh, hey. Didn’t hear you come in, roomie. My name’s Daniel. Yours?”

“...Sammy.”

“Nice to meet you, Sammy. Are you new here? You look new. Can I give you some advice on how to make it here?”

A shiver went through Sammy at those ominous words. “Sure...”

“You need to learn how to play their game. Your intake interview is going to be first thing tomorrow. You need to convince them that you’re gay for psychodynamic reasons- basically, because of your childhood experiences. If they think that, they’ll try to use therapy to fix you. If they think it’s biological, they’ll put you on medication. You don’t want to go on medication. That stuff speeds your heart up.”

“...And that’s bad because...?” Sammy questioned. He got the feeling that this person wasn’t telling him everything.

Daniel shivered. “There are certain things here that they do to everyone. They kind of throw the whole kitchen sink at the issue because they don't know what causes it. Two methods they use on everyone are prayer, and aversion therapy. I have a book on that. But it’s more important that you read up on psychodynamics. You should start on page 36- that’s when they start talking about homosexuality.” Daniel broke eye contact, looking forward as though haunted. “Aversion therapy is just applied behaviourism- pretty simple school of thought. Don't bother researching it- even if you did, there's no avoiding the electric shocks. And if your heart and brain are already off-kilter from the meds, well... deaths have happened. Disabilities have happened. It doesn’t happen to everyone, but I’d definitely stay off the meds.”

After Sammy thanked Daniel for the information, they both took to their books. Afterward, they talked about their lives a bit. Daniel had suggested going to the lounge and playing some chess, but Sammy wasn't up for it. Daniel left, and Sammy was asleep by the time he got back.

In the morning, Sammy received his daily schedule alongside his breakfast and a warning that if he failed to show up for any of the listed activities, he would be severely punished. First was his intake interview. It took place in what seemed to be a typical therapist’s office. Sammy sat down in the armchair and waited for the therapist to come. She was a professionally dressed but disarmingly small woman- hardly any bigger than Susie. “Hello, Mr...”

“Lawrence.”

“Lawrence. My name is Ms. Acker. I understand that you’re not here willingly.”

“No,” Sammy admitted. His plan was to keep giving her as little information as possible until it was time to tell his fake story- one he'd designed the night before based on what he'd read about psychodynamic theory. Until then, anything he said could be used against him.

“Well, sorry to hear that. Who brought you here?”

“My ex-lover.”

“Care to tell me your feelings about him?”

Sammy's gums curled back from his teeth. “That backstabbing, self-hating fucking snake thought he could choose my Goddamn life for me! I-" Sammy stopped. The woman was writing daintily on a clipboard. Right- don't give anything away.

“Interesting. Well, given the circumstances, it makes sense that you'd be angry. Though, I do think that you will eventually see that it's for the best. Can you tell me about your feelings towards him before he put you here?”

From the well-highlighted pages of Daniel’s book, Sammy had learned that, according to psychodynamic theory, homosexuality in men was thought to be caused by a lack of, or lack of attention from, the paternal figures in the man’s life during their late childhood and adolescence. It was thought that homosexuality was a way of attempting to get that missing paternal link from a romantic partner.

"He was like a father to me. He was eleven years older than me and treated me like a son. My favourite part of being with him when he let me stay overnight after we'd made love. I could fall asleep in his arms, and it was like it was healing something in me." Of course, nothing could be further from the truth. It was actually painful to make himself sound so weak in the face of Joey Drew. But, Ms. Acker was once again writing. That was a good sign.

"Is he the one who introduced you to homosexuality?"

"Yes."

Ms. Acker nodded. Sammy imagined this was like solving a puzzle to her. Sammy just needed to hand her a few more pieces and she'd be satisfied.

"Okay. Last question, Sammy: how was your relationship with your father? You said that receiving affection from your lover made you feel like you were healing. For a lot of homosexuals, that's what they're trying to heal."

Sammy looked down. "Do I have to talk about it?" Hopefully she'd just take that. Sammy loved his father and really didn't feel like dragging him through the mud. For good measure, he buried his hands in his face and shook a little. Hopefully it looked convincing.

"Oh... not yet. I think I know all I need to for now. Given your circumstances, it's reasonable that you'd want to be loved by a man, and so when your lover offered you love in exchange for sex... well, you found it hard to resist. Am I safe to assume that?"

Sammy nodded.

"Okay. Well, Sammy, I want you to understand that no matter who says what in this institute- and I know some of it won't be nice- you're not at fault for being gay. But it's an addictive and self-perpetuating coping mechanism that isn't going to help you in the long run. Now, what's going to happen is that you're going to get some appointments with one of our male psychologists so that he can help you to properly heal from your father's actions. And in the meantime, the other staff will help to rewire the associations you have with homosexual sex. Alright? You can go, now. Looks like you'll have about twenty minutes of free time before your next session."

"Thank you," Sammy said, letting only a minimal amount of bitterness slip into his voice. He got up to leave. While having his homosexuality treated like a disease was awfully frustrating, all that had been awfully... mundane.

Sammy arrived to the room of his next appointment- the feared, "behaviourist rewiring"- on time, only to find a crowd of perhaps eight other men already there. Shivers went up Sammy's spine as he saw the looks of dread on their faces. The door opened, and two large men in uniforms stepped out and herded everyone inside. Inside, there were a dozen boards with wired straps, each facing a wall. Extremely grim, several of the men took their place laying on the boards, leaving only two left standing: Sammy, who was frozen stiff, and a short little creature who had gone into panic and was trying to claw his way through the door. The two workers took a man by the arms and forced him onto a board as he kicked. "I can't get shocked!" he yelled. "I have a heart condition!"

One of the men gave him a punch to the ribs. "That's for resisting. God, I can't wait to turn this fruit into a vegetable."

Then, the men turned their attention to Sammy. "You feeling lucky, punk?" one of them said. Sammy got on the board, feeling like a coward for not doing anything for the other man. He made up for it by spitting in the worker's face as he did up Sammy's straps. The worker struck him in the face in retaliation, but it had been worth it.

"I see we have a new face in here today. So, to explain what's about to happen, we're going to project some homosexual pornography and pictures of half-dressed men onto the wall. The straps are designed to gage your arousal in a way similar to a lie detector. If you are aroused, you will be shocked. This way, your brain will be rewired to have an aversion to homosexual activity, so you will no longer wish to engage in it or to look at men sexually. In the meantime, my partner and I will be making our rounds. Anyone who closes their eyes to avoid this exercise will be shocked at the highest voltage. Alright- let's begin."

The films started. Sammy tried to block out their images, thinking of the strongest non-sexual stimuli he could think of. Being back at his old apartment with his banjo and a hot drink as the snow fell outside. The fur of his cat between his fingers. His anger at Joey. His frustration with the world. His desire to be home. None of it worked. The shocks coursed from his wrists and ankles into his core. He could feel his organs- heart, brain, lungs, everything- shaking with electricity.

Sammy wasn't sure how long the exercise lasted- he just knew that it had been a long time, and afterward he felt exhausted. The man who'd complained of a heart condition didn't leave with the rest- he was unconscious. Hopefully just unconscious, anyhow. Sammy felt defeated. Tricking a therapist was easy- how was he supposed to trick a machine that could read his bodily cues? He supposed that he'd just have to hope that the treatments actually worked somehow so that he could get the hell out of this place. Or, he thought, looking out a window at the barbed-wire fence, he could try to dig his way out.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #my fanfiction #sammy lawrence

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mamabearlarusso · 5 years

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Rest and Regroup 2 (P)

After Drew escorted me home, he gave the property a careful once over and walked me to the front door. He said something about not wanting anything happening to me until he secured that raise, but he had that signature 'put me at ease' smile and twinkle in his eye.

The whole staff has never once brought up Daniel's absence--after I made my one and only announcement. They've helped pick up slack when they could and stuck with the company through all the different adjustments--even when they should have probably jumped ship. Though Drew, one of the few employees that has been around the longest--for almost ten years in fact--has seen me when all the others have gone home...when I'm less Ms. Larusso: The Boss and more Amanda: Single Mother, working those late nights after the kids are in bed...just trying to keep things on an even keel. Through all my up and downs, through all my neuroses and mood changes...he's been one of the few constants that I've come to depend on. So, when he insisted on waiting outside until I set the alarm, I took the comfort...knowing it was one thing I didn't have to worry about.

Once inside, I found Sam sound asleep on the couch. As sweet a visual as it was, knowing that she had waited up for me, it just seemed to drive home how much I've screwed up lately. Watching the movie the other night, almost felt like she was only keeping things as normal as possible for Anthony. Dealing with all of the changes in moods and circumstances--in the house, as well as out--has been as easy going as navigating a minefield. One day, she's helping me with dinner and I think things are turning around the corner. The next, she's giving me the cold shoulder and I flashback to the blow up in the kitchen. I hate that she's felt so stuck in the middle of everything...I hate even more that I've had any part in causing her pain.

I cover her up, not wanting to wake her. (Don't want to risk knowing what she would say if she was awake, huh? Can't I just keep a nice moment without you yammering?) I kick off my shoes and curl up on the other end of the couch, trying not to think about what all happened tonight. But since when have I ever been able to keep what I wanted? I had nightmares for the rest of the night...reminding me just how tangled up I've been, caught in the whirlwind they call Johnny.

In one nightmare, all the kids were grown up at different times in their lives. Anthony was in jail for hacking...Samantha was way too comfortably drunk in some sleazy bar...and Robby was in a coma after an overdose. They were all staring at me asking me 'where were you?'

In another, Daniel was still around, but he had full control over the company, the kids lived with him at the house and...oh, look, there was Johnny in the backyard barbeque-ing with Daniel and the kids having the time of their lives.

Daniel made another appearance in the last one, too. He kept pointing out certain clues, that it was all going downhill...telling me it was all my fault...for not seeing it sooner...for not listening to everyone's warnings. Telling me that it was inevitable...that it would never have worked out with Johnny, for the same reason that it would have never truly worked out with him in the end. For the same reason that any of my relationships have ended. Everyone has taken from me what they wanted...what they needed...and then left, to go on about their lives. It doesn't matter that I've worked hard not to be the careless screw up, that I used to be. It doesn't matter that I've grown to be responsible and respectable and someone that people can count on...someone that they can turn to when they need help. I'm just not worth the long run.

The whole time, Nightmare Daniel was wearing a Good Humor Man uniform and handing out ice cream to anyone and everyone walking by. He even started cackling, when I asked for a cone and he was all out. I woke up nearly screaming, calling him a choice name or two...which in turn, was just enough to wake up Samantha.

Her scrunched face told me that she didn't exactly hear what I said, so much as she was upset that I woke her up. Either she forgot why she was out on the couch or she was just too tired to care anymore, because she was half asleep again as she made her way back upstairs. Needless to say, I wasn't going to be getting sleep any time soon. The sun would be up in less than an hour, might as well start the coffee.

The next couple days, I tried to forget everything, tried a clean sweep and fresh start...starting with a certain picture sitting on my bedside table--in a brand new frame. It hurt to look at it, remembering all the hope I had when I put it there, that seemed so ridiculous now...it didn't feel right to trash or destroy it, either...it wasn't even mine to begin with. So, I put it in the garage. I contemplated deleting Johnny from my contacts, but bits and parts of the fight kept running in my mind every time I tried. Paired with my nightmares, I started to wonder if Johnny was right all along. Was I just transferring my hurt over Daniel and need for love and comfort to him? Was that fight so painful, because I never got to have one with Daniel? Was that fight really about Johnny at all or have I been putting undue pressure on him...making him jump through crazy hoops, that he's just not ready for...to be all I ever wanted and needed my whole life...because all my other relationships have ended so horribly? Is this all my fault?

I've really have lost myself lately. Then again, does anyone really expect to fall down the rabbit hole?

Trying a different tactic, last night--I couldn't sleep (I can't imagine why)--I got on my laptop. Maybe I'd find that Ali had posted one of those wonderful recipes again and I could try a little late night culinary experimenting. Maybe I'd finally figure out all those games Anthony used to send me notifications for. ANYTHING to keep my mind busy enough and trick it into a sound sleep.

NOPE.

There wasn't all that much activity on Robby's page, since everything blew up. Among several memes--that were to be expected, but difficult to get through--there was one short, little interaction that looked promising for the Lawrence boys' reconciliation, yet was blown out of the water by the only new conversation. (God, why do I do this to myself?) No matter how I felt about Johnny, I hurt for both of them and felt guilty all over again.

But still, there wasn't any sign of what the underlying problem was--this go-a-round. I had to do something, the inaction was eating me and it wasn't like I was anywhere near sleep anyway. So, I was stupid enough to get stuck scrolling through the old conversations. (Seriously thinking you should look up 'masochist' in the dictionary. Yeah, well...I paid for it didn't I?) I ended up crying myself to sleep again.

Today around lunch time, I checked again. Nothing...so, I continued scrolling. (I know, I have a problem. And it's kinda a little creepy, too, don't you think? My point exactly, I haven't really been thinking clearly at all.) I was lucky when a random post popped up and it so happened, that it was one I had missed. (There must be a lot from when I was swamped at work. Oh, yeah, not that you were distancing yourself from the pain at all, either. Hey, two birds...one stone.) Anyway, the post seemed to be a more happier one, than the ones of late. Robby was actually teasing Johnny, and...it was hilarious! It really caught me off guard. Apparently, Pete had snapped a photo of Johnny grinning like a loon in his sleep. You can imagine all the jokes around that one.

The joviality didn't last long, though, as it was followed with the usual suspects: regret and longing, which then turned the corner and slid right back into home plate with the crazy cornucopia of crapiness, I'd been been feeling for the last couple days.

I have no idea how I'm going to get out of this one.

#cobra kai rp #drew morgan #johnny #daniel #adulting is hard #relationships are hard #heart and mind need to start communicating better...before I go nuts #i really i wish i could get this whole 'strong woman' thing pinned down...before the next crap storm screws me up again

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bbclesmis · 5 years

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MASTERPIECE: LES MISERABLES: Actor and executive producer David Oyelowo on the new PBS series – Exclusive Interview

The actor talks playing the obsessed Javert

The new six-part drama LES MISERABLES on PBS MASTERPIECE, currently airing Sunday nights (it will repeat at an earlier hour in June), after premiering earlier this year in the U.K. on BBC1. David Oyelowo (pronounced “oh-YELLOW-oh”) plays the fanatical Inspector Javert. Oyelowo is also an executive producer on this non-musical adaptation of Victor Hugo’s massive 1862 novel set in France as revolution is brewing. Reformed convict Jean Valjean (Dominic West), a genuinely good man, devotes his life to helping others, but Javert is determined to track him down.

Oyelowo is also an executive producer on this LES MISERABLES, although it is not in conjunction with his Yoruba Saxon Productions company. Oyelowo, originally from Oxford, England, was a regular on the British espionage thriller MI-5. His film credits on both sides of the Atlantic include SHOOT THE MESSENGER, AS YOU LIKE IT, THE LAST KING OF SCOTLAND, RISE OF THE PLANET OF THE APES, LINCOLN, JACK REACHER, LEE DANIELS’ THE BUTLER, NIGHTINGALE (for which he received both Emmy and Golden Globe Outstanding Lead Actor nominations, and was co-produced by Yoruba Saxon), SELMA, QUEEN OF KATWE, THE CLOVERFIELD PARADOX and A WRINKLE IN TIME. Oyelowo has also starred in the features CAPTIVE, FIVE NIGHTS IN MAINE, and A UNITED KINGDOM, all of which Yoruba Saxon was involved in producing.

Series adapter Andrew Davies says at a press session for LES MISERABLES that he had initially thought that it might be interesting to have a black Jean Valjean and a white Javert, but Oyelowo says he was only approached to play Javert. “We have seen the reverse of that dynamic numerous times. And the truth of the matter is, contrary to some popular belief, not every black man living in Europe in the early 1800s was some kind of slave or subservient in some way. Napoleon had black generals in his army, again, little-known fact. I am always looking for ways to shake things up for myself. And so what was actually of more interest to me was, I had had the opportunity to play a number of virtuous, good men in my career, and I was fascinated by this character who is so obsessed in his pursuit of another human being, down to what he deems to be his own moral compass, in a sense. He is not, in his own mind, a villain. In fact, he is the hero of his own story. In relation to Jean Valjean, I’m the righteous one. I’m the one doing God’s work. I’m the one who is the law keeper, the law abider. And that was a very fascinating thing for me to get to play, knowing, as David the actor and the fan of the book, that’s not necessarily how everyone else would perceive it. But how do you stick to that for six episodes? And that’s the opportunity that Andrew afforded, in that you have so much more context around that over the six episodes than you could ever have with the musical, as it were.”

It hadn’t occurred to Oyelowo before that he’d like to play Javert or that he’d ever be approached to do the role, he says. “But the thing that really struck me about him was his Old Testament quality, in relation to Jean Valjean’s New Testament quality. Javert thinks he is judgment. He is the law. He is what he deems to be righteous. And I think, on the other hand, Jean Valjean is hope. He is faith. He is the pursuit of redemption. He is love. And those two things not necessarily should be at odds, but they are in the context of this piece. It’s really interesting to find out that Victor Hugo based both Javert and Jean Valjean on the same person. This man, who he based his characters on, embodies these qualities, and that was the clue for me. And Javert sees himself in Jean Valjean, and it’s the part of himself he hates. Javert was born in prison to criminal parents, and that is part of his identity. So when he sees this man, who is the embodiment of that side of him he hates, he feels the need to destroy him. And that’s what he is going to do until that window through which he sees Jean Valjean turns into a mirror, and he realizes that the person he hates is himself, which is the reason he ends up destroying himself. So in many ways, those were the things that really drew me to this story.”

And then, in response to a question, Davies declares firmly that he hates the very popular musical version of LES MISERABLES.

“Noooo!” Oyelowo cries, and proceeds to expressively mime someone in slow motion trying and failing to prevent a terrible accident.

Later, Oyelowo discusses this and much more about the new LES MISERABLES.

ASSIGNMENT X: You’ve done press sessions for the new LES MISERABLES before. Had you ever before heard Andrew Davies say that he hates the musical LES MIZ?

DAVID OYELOWO: I’ve read it. I haven’t been there while he’s said it live.

AX: I’m wondering how they’re going to transcribe your reaction to that …

OYELOWO: I’m wondering, too. That was my inside voice coming out. [laughs] The truth of the matter is, there are many people who love the musical. And we want people who love the musical to watch the miniseries, because they’re going to get so much more context for these characters they love, and this story they love. Can I just say that I love the musical, for the record. But then there’s the other side – there are people who have read the book and love the book and don’t like musicals and haven’t seen any sort of tele-visual or cinematic rendition of it, and they also hopefully will get to see made flesh and blood those characters in this story that they love.

AX: You’re known for a lot of film work and a lot of stage work. You’re not so much known for television, though you’ve done some episodics here and there. Is this a form that you’d like to do more of, or is this a one-off, or how do you view it?

OYELOWO: No, it’s just the way things have gone. I just look for great material, and this was certainly that. The writing was indisputable, the story is indisputable, the iconic nature of the story is indisputable. So it’s less for me as to whether it’s TV or film, it’s more, am I going to be challenged by it, is it something that I feel could be good, to be perfectly frank. Probably a long-running series isn’t something I’m in a hurry to do yet, if I’m totally honest. But now, with cable and ten-episode arcs a year, there are all sorts of great ways to do television that doesn’t take you away from film and theatre, which is something that’s very important to me as well.

AX: Is part of what’s appealing to you about playing Javert, not just that he’s like this Old Testament burning bush fury, but that he’s got these issues of projecting his persona onto another man, and the self-hatred, and the unawareness of the self-hatred?

OYELOWO: Yes, exactly right. I think that’s the thing that makes a character truly interesting, is when you watch them in real time finding things out about themselves, and about the world around them, especially when those things are at odds with their own beliefs. Because I think that, again, is what it is to be a human being.

AX: Have you seen any of the previous non-musical film versions of LES MISERABLES?

OYELOWO: No, I didn’t, and to be perfectly honest, one of the things that appealed to me so much about LES MIZ, when you think about this 1,500-page novel, to boil that down to two hours of a film, it just seems inconceivable to me, in a satisfying way. I think with a musical, by virtue of that form, you know that you’re kind of seeing something in more primary colors. It’s more of a riff on the story, as opposed to the meat, but that was the thing I felt reading these six episodes, is that, my goodness. It’s actually extraordinary, talking to Andrew, because you’re still going, “I still don’t know how you did it. I’m talking to you right now, and I don’t know how you took this tome and distilled it down to these six episodes.” That to me is the satisfying thing, that it’s more than just what a film can afford you as well.

AX: Had you worked on an Andrew Davies script before?

OYELOWO: No. It’s the first time I’ve seen a lot of him, obviously.

AX: You have a production company, and you are an executive producer on LES MISERABLES, but your production company is not involved …

OYELOWO: I have a production company, Yoruba Saxon, but I’m on this as a freelance EP. One of the main things I did was bring [LES MISERABLES] to PBS, was to make that happen, because I was very keen to make sure that the North American roll-out was robust, and was going to be one whereby people who may not otherwise see this story will get to see it.

AX: Did you have a preexisting business association with MASTERPIECE executive producer Rebecca Eaton?

OYELOWO: Yes. Because we’d worked on SMALL ISLAND together, and we’d become friends doing that. And the truth of the matter is, [the producers of LES MISERABLES] considered a lot of companies, and we wanted to make sure we went with the company who was going to have it be one of their flagship shows, a place where they were going to get the word out. There are so many channels now, there are so many outlets doing great work, and to peak your head above the crowd is something that requires passion, belief, money, and intention, and this was the place that felt like our show was going to get the best treatment.

AX: What else are you working on right now?

OYELOWO: I’m about to direct a film called THE WATER MAN. We start that in May. That’s a story about a young boy who’s looking for this mythic figure who he believes can save his mother from cancer. That’s going to be my directorial debut, so I’m very excited about that. That’s [being produced by] Yoruba Saxon.

AX: And what would you most like people to know about LES MISERABLES?

OYELOWO: Well, that the story they already know, but maybe don’t have the full context of, I believe we bring that context, and the musical that people love, they are going to see more depth than maybe they knew was there. And for those who know nothing about LES MIZ, it’s a timeless story that really looks at one man’s journey towards redemption and hope through real adversity, and I think that’s a pretty universal story. [And another] man’s descent from what he deems to be the moral compass into a reflection of himself as actually being amoral in relation to this very moral man.

This interview was conducted during PBS’s portion of the Winter 2019 Television Critics Association (TCA) press tour.

https://www.assignmentx.com/2019/masterpiece-les-miserables-actor-and-executive-producer-david-oyelowo-on-the-new-pbs-series-exclusive-interview/

#les mis bbc #bbc les mis #david oyelowo #javert #Interviews #articles #assignment x #pbs #tca2019

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coffeeandcalligraphy · 6 years

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What I’ve Been Reading #2

Hey People of Earth!

I recently started a new series on this blog (titled above), where I reflect on the last few books I’ve read. I’m doing this mostly to keep myself accountable because I’m notoriously bad at committing myself to reading. So far, reading has been far greater than it’s been in the past--I’m definitely getting into the rhythm of things. I read some amaaaazing books this time around (since approx. November), and these are them:

1. The Darkest Legacy by Alexandra Bracken

This is book four in The Darkest Minds series, and was just recently released (last summer). Whilst I’ve drifted from YA in the last few years, this series was such a huge favourite of mine when I was younger, and I thought I’d give this book a go for nostalgia’s sake. Also, I truly admire Alex as an author, and wanted to support her! Here’s the summary:

Five years after the destruction of the so-called rehabilitation camps that imprisoned her and countless other Psi kids, seventeen-year-old Suzume "Zu" Kimura has assumed the role of spokesperson for the interim government, fighting for the rights of Psi kids against a growing tide of misinformation and prejudice. But when she is accused of committing a horrifying act, she is forced to go on the run once more in order to stay alive. Determined to clear her name, Zu finds herself in an uncomfortable alliance with Roman and Priyanka, two mysterious Psi who could either help her prove her innocence or betray her before she gets the chance. But as they travel in search of safety and answers, and Zu grows closer to the people she knows she shouldn't trust, they uncover even darker things roiling beneath the veneer of the country's recovery. With her future-and the future of all Psi-on the line, Zu must use her powerful voice to fight back against forces that seek to drive the Psi into the shadows and save the friends who were once her protectors.

What drew me to it: Like I mentioned, its mother series was a mega favourite of mine in grade 8, and whilst I’ve grown out of YA, I was curious to see where the story went, five years in the future. I read about 60% of it on page, and listened to the rest on and of over the course of a few months. I started it in August, and finished it on New Year’s Eve. Not the fault of the book, that’s totally me being Very Bad at commitment. I’ve really enjoyed Alex’s novels in audiobook format, and this one was no exception (I think, if I were to read it again, I’d listen to the audiobook: it’s like listening to a television show!)

My rating: 3/5

Why: This is really due to the fact that I no longer am very interested in YA. In all truths, I got into YA early, and got out of it even earlier because apparently I am a sixty year old woman?? I started my journey with YA in grade seven, and it ended around the end of grade eight. After that, I had trouble finding YA books I could enjoy/relate to, not that the books were any less, or bad because of this, but because I was just an injustice to them (I’ve always been a strange reader). This is why I don’t really read YA anymore because I feel like I rate them unfairly because I’m not super big on the category anymore. It just (rightfully) didn’t give me what I’m most currently interested in in books (horrible people; horrible relationships; morally grey protagonists), because of course the category is different to what I read now! With that said, I think, if I’d read this book in my Peak YA Moment (grade 7-8), I’d definitely have given it a 5 star rating. It was super entertaining and funny and nostalgic, and made me miss a series so pivotal in my writing journey. If you love YA, and this series, I think this book is definitely worth the read! That was a thiccccc tangent.

2. Past Lives, Future Bodies by Kristin Chang

This is a really quick poetry collection (that I spoiler: looooved). This is the summary:

PAST LIVES, FUTURE BODIES is a knife-sharp and nimble examination of migration, motherhood, and the malignant legacies of racism. In this collection, family forms both a unit of survival and a framework for history, agency, and recovery. Chang undertakes a visceral exploration of the historical and unfolding paths of lineage and what it means to haunt body and country. These poems traverse not only the circularity of trauma but the promise of regeneration—what grows from violence and hatches from healing—as Chang embodies each of her ghosts and invites the specter to speak.

What drew me to it: @shaelinwrites rec’d it to me on my last update, and I fell in love with the premise. I’m *cheap* so was very excited to be gifted it by my Grandma for Christmas. (I actually read it on Christmas!)

My rating: 5/5

Why: Kristin Chang is literally so skilled with her use of the line break? I was shook? This is my second collection of poetry that I’ve read, following (no shade) Rupi Kaur’s The Sun and Her Flowers, which, I felt kinda made the line break feel gimmicky? So this collection definitely reinvented it for me. Her poems are so punchy, and thoughtful, and you can truly feel the experience built into the backbone of every one of them. When I panic wrote some poetry for my writing class, I used it as comfort reference and was amazed at how deliberate she is with her words. I also found so much of its commentary on race so relatable. It’s definitely a collection I’ll keep re-reading. I’d recommend this if, like me, you’re just starting out in poetry--a perfect way to acclimate yourself to a new form!

3. God of Shadows by Lorna Crozier

*Rachel vigorously trying to diversify her reading.* The summary:

The poet Lorna Crozier has always been brilliant at fusing the ordinary with the other-worldly in strange and surprising ways. Now the Governor General's Literary Award-winning author of Inventing the Hawk returns with God of Shadows, a wryly wise book that offers a polytheistic gallery of the gods we never knew existed and didn't know we needed. To read these poems is to be ready to offer your own prayers to the god of shadows, the god of quirks, and the god of vacant houses. Sing new votive hymns to the gods of horses, birds, cats, rats, and insects. And give thanks at the altars of the gods of doubt, guilt, and forgetting. What life-affirming questions have these deities come to ask? Perhaps it is simply this: How can poems be at once so profound, original and lively, and also so much fun?

What drew me to it: At this point I’m just stalking @shaelinwrites’ Goodreads because her reading taste is on pointttt. I’ve also been dying to read more poetry, and branch out into different forms of writing, so I can be a little *prepared* for school, so I thought I’d take a peek at this collection.

My rating: 5/5

Why: This collection is so beautiful! I read it super quickly, and fell in love with the concept immediately. I think Crozier explored such unique ideas with super unique language, and I live for it. This collection gave me perspective on ‘gods’ I’d never even thought about. I’d definitely recommend it if you’re looking into reading some prose poetry!

4. The Immortalists by Chloe Benjamin

I finished this book today, and now have trust issues and feel like I’m in a constant state of wanting to cry. Here’s the summary:

If you knew the date of your death, how would you live your life?

It's 1969 in New York City's Lower East Side, and word has spread of the arrival of a mystical woman, a traveling psychic who claims to be able to tell anyone the day they will die. The Gold children—four adolescents on the cusp of self-awareness—sneak out to hear their fortunes.

The prophecies inform their next five decades. Golden-boy Simon escapes to the West Coast, searching for love in '80s San Francisco; dreamy Klara becomes a Las Vegas magician, obsessed with blurring reality and fantasy; eldest son Daniel seeks security as an army doctor post-9/11; and bookish Varya throws herself into longevity research, where she tests the boundary between science and immortality.

A sweeping novel of remarkable ambition and depth, The Immortalists probes the line between destiny and choice, reality and illusion, this world and the next. It is a deeply moving testament to the power of story, the nature of belief, and the unrelenting pull of familial bonds.

What drew me to it: I actually don’t know?? I put it on hold at my library in October, and was loaned it in January (looooong waitlist). So I can’t remember why I wanted to read it, probably because 1969 was in the premise lmao. I actually completely forgot about placing a hold on it because it’d been two months, so by the time I got the email notification, I’d forgotten what it was about. Oftentimes, I’m Bad, and leave my loans for weeks, forgetting about them, but I was intrigued by seeing I’d received this loan because I couldn’t remember placing it/why I placed it. I quickly re-read the summary, and immediately started reading because it reminded me a lot of the Haunting of Hill House sibling dynamic, and I was on board!

My rating: 5/5 stars soaked in all my tears

Why: This book is SO good, I literally can’t think about it too much because I will cry, lol. I’m not one to get emotional over books, but this book touched me in a place I didn’t know existed?? Like I didn’t know I had emotions before reading this book?? Apparently I do?? It also left me feeling stunned with a whole bucket of life lessons, and similarly to getting emotional, I’m not a reader to really take away a whole new worldview after reading something, but this book was like NOPE, here’s some THOUGHTS. I think I might’ve loved it so much because the four siblings it follows remind me a lot of my siblings (tag yourself I’m Klara, @sarahkelsiwrites is Varya). I too am a sibling of four with a similar composition to the novel’s (two boys, two girls), so the actual heartbreak of realizing that one day, there ain’t always gonna be four of us struck me so hard I was not prepared?? The characters are BEAUTIFUL, and my heart aches so much after finishing this, I almost don’t know what to do with myself... If you liked the sibling dynamic in the Haunting of Hill House (me!!), you’ll probably dig this book. Benjamin’s writing is also gorgeous; straightforward, but so detailed and lush at the same time. I don’t often see books in third present, so this was a delight for me to read. Also: I’m no expert on any of the topics in this book, but to me, a Fool, this book felt so well researched? This isn’t something I ever notice in books, but it surprisingly really added to the reading experience.

TL;DR: I’m literally an emotional wreck because of this book and have a whole new perspective on life, if you too want to be an emotional wreck, defs join in on the fUN.

So that’s it for this reading update! All of these books in this update were wonderful! Making me antsy to read more for sure! I’m currently attempting to read more short story collections, so if anyone has recs, hit me up! ‘Scuse me while I go sob!

--Rachel

#readingupdates

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imnotinclinedtomaturity · 6 years

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Love Yourself (Chapter 14)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. chapter words: 17k story words: 105.3k (so far) chapter: 14/? rating: m warnings: language, alcohol, sex mentions, some bi/homophobia genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

a/n: can you believe i’m posting a 17k chapter? because i can’t. a massive thank you to @auroraphilealis for reading this mammoth of a chapter MULTIPLE TIMES for me and helping make it better.

also: before you send me an ask about using a read more, i did, they just don’t always work on mobile and there is nothing i can do about it :( take it up with tumblr lol

Dan didn’t entirely trust Isabella to not chase after him. The second Dan was out the door, he was desperate to put as much distance between himself and Isabella as possible. As much as he truly hated exercise, Dan practically sprinted away, paranoidly glancing over his shoulder every couple of feet to make sure that Isabella’s signature clack clack clack wasn’t trailing behind him.

Instead, he waited until he was five blocks away from Isabella’s building before he slowed to a fast paced walk and pulled out his phone. Dan was ready — he was ready to be fucking done with Isabella in his life, and he was ready to move fucking forward with Phil. When he opened his phone, he was determined to do just that.

Jesus, he had six missed calls from Adaline. For a moment, Dan had forgotten about Adaline’s emergency phone call. Just as he swiped away the notification, another call came through. Dan pressed the decline button — he’d call her back in just a minute.

He had something else to do first.

Riding the adrenaline high of finally, finally doing what he wanted to do, Dan opened twitter and — fuck. He’d left the app open on the picture of Isabella. Knowing that she’d fucked that model, that the mark on her neck was from another man, didn’t hurt as much as Dan had thought it would. It fucking sucked, of course.

After all, cheating was the one place where Dan drew a firm line of what was acceptable and what wasn’t. Honestly, he was more upset about the fact that he’d been cheated on, than about the fact that Isabella had been the one doing the cheating. He hated her, he hated her for a lot of reasons. He hated her for the way that she used him, for the way that she manipulated him, for the way that she cheated on him.

But above everything else, he was just glad to be done with her.

Replies were rolling in, most of them tagging both him and Isabella, and, weirdly enough, a few tagging Phil as well. Deciding his mission could wait a moment, Dan clicked on Isabella’s name, his finger hovering over the unfollow button.

If he clicked that, if he actually unfollowed Isabella, people would surely notice. People would undoubtedly piece together the scandalous picture with the fact that he’d unfollowed his bloody girlfriend and know.

Know that they’d broken up.

Dan didn’t give a fuck. He’d meant what he’d said to Isabella. He was done. The fallout of breaking up with Isabella didn’t phase him, fans could think whatever the hell they wanted to — most of it would probably be right, anyway. With a surge of defiance, Dan smashed the unfollow button.

That felt good.

But not good enough.

Fuck Isabella, fuck her being in his life and having even an inkling of control over him.

This time, he didn’t hesitate. He clicked the gear next to her name, pressing Block @IsabellaDeLaRenta before he could change his mind.

That felt really good.

At least now he wouldn’t have to see whatever bullshit she pulled and would be relatively sheltered from the inevitable drama.

But that wasn’t what he’d come on the app to do.

Dan tabbed over to his DMs. Phil’s name was right at the top of the list.

Dan could do this. He was on a roll of doing rash and brazen things tonight, he might as well fully commit. He’d been holding back from this, because it felt like a definite step across a line, a line that he wasn’t willing to cross. But now, the line was gone. He was free to do whatever the fuck he wanted.

He didn’t let himself overthink the message. It didn’t matter how it came out. It could be flirty or blunt or a little bit aggressive, it didn’t matter. So he wasn’t about to spend thirty minutes crafting it.

Daniel Howell: text me about drinks tomorrow 07712345678

Well, it probably could have stood to be a little less abrupt, but whatever. Dan’s point was made. Isabella was gone and there was no longer anything stopping him from texting Phil, from having Phil as an actual contact in his phone.

Okay, next thing.

Deciding it was time to call Adaline back, Dan switched back to the phone app, but quickly got distracted once again. The third person down on his missed calls list was Izzy D.L.R <3.

Fuck that. Dan tapped on her name, pulling up the contact page.

Should he edit the name, or just delete her entirely?

It seemed stupid to keep her number in his phone just for the sake of it potentially, someday being useful. What did Dan care? He couldn’t imagine a single situation that was worth the emotional weight of keeping her number in his phone. So instead of just deleting the heart, Dan scrolled all the way to the bottom and smashed the delete contact button, quickly accepting the annoying are you sure?

Yes. Dan was very, very sure.

Fuck, that felt heavenly. Having that last little bit of Isabella completely gone from his life — knowing that he didn’t have her number anymore, knowing that if he wanted to talk to her at all that he would have to unblock her on twitter… it all felt like this very definitive wall between them.

He liked that wall.

Okay, now Dan could focus on calling Adaline back. Dan tapped back to his call log, happy to see Isabella’s name gone, and clicked on Adaline’s name. The phone didn’t even make it through a full ring before a sharp voice answered.

“Daniel. James. Howell. I’ve been calling you nonstop for forty-five minutes,” Adaline greeted him sternly.

“I know, sorry, I couldn’t answer.”

“Wasn’t the whole point that you needed to answer so you had an escape? I was beginning to think you died.” Adaline sounded annoyed, but Dan could hear the concern laced in her voice as well.

“Chill out, Mum, I’m alive,” Dan joked, high off the fact that he was finished with Isabella. No amount of irritation from Adaline could phase him now — not while he was this happy.

“Fuck off,” Adaline grumbled, never pleased to be compared to their mother (even if she was one of the sweetest women alive). “What the hell was happening?”

“Well, see, I was out to dinner with Isabella originally. And then I ended up back at Isabella’s—” Dan just about gagged on the name, which, judging by Adaline’s giggle, didn’t escape her notice. “I didn’t want to, um, you know.” Dan coughed awkwardly.

“So you thought faking an emergency would be better than just saying no, like an adult?”

“Look, I didn’t want to dig myself into an even deeper a hole. I had these grand plans to take her to breakfast tomorrow and dump her, but I knew if I pissed her off too much tonight, she wouldn’t agree to see me before she went back off to wherever the fuck she’s planning to go tomorrow.”

And thank god that Dan had successfully broken up with her before she jetted off to Vancouver, or Switzerland, or Melbourne — or wherever the fuck she’d said. He wouldn’t have been able to bring himself to end things over the phone — or worse, text — and he couldn’t imagine suffering through that relationship for another second.

Adaline was quiet for a moment.

“What do you mean had plans? Please don’t tell me you changed your mind,” she begged.

“Er, well, sort of,” Dan stumbled, a little charigned.

“Are you fucking serious? Don’t make me get on a bus and come smack sense into you,” Adaline threatened. “God, I thought you’d finally figured out that you were dating a total bitch.”

“No!” Dan interrupted fiercely. “I mean — I did! She’s a bitch! I get it, loud and clear. Everything’s fine.” Dan did his best to console his sister. Everything was fine — it was more than fine at the moment, all things considered.

Dan stopped at a crosswalk, pushing the walk button repeatedly. He could feel his excitement, his energy, his complete exasperation with the entire situation itching beneath his skin. “I broke up with her tonight,” he continued. “That’s why I didn’t answer.”

“Wait, on Valentine’s Day?” Adaline screeched, utterly scandalized. “What the fuck, bro?”

Dan took a breath, ready to defend his actions, but Adaline cut him off.

“Look, I wanted you to break up with her as much as anyone else, obvi, but I thought you were determined to be the good guy or whatever. Which, you know, would mean waiting until it’s not the day of love?!”

“It’s a long story, and I don’t want to get into the details. But if you go on twitter, you’ll get the gist of it.”

“Okayyy, should I go look now or…?” Adaline trailed off. Dan could hear the faint do do do doooo of her computer starting up in the background.

He didn’t particularly want to deal with Adaline’s reaction to everything on twitter at this moment in time though.

“Later’s fine.” Dan rubbed his hand down his face. “I actually have a different favor to ask you.”

“Someone’s needy tonight.”

“Shut up, you act like I do nothing for you.” Dan pulled his coat tighter around his body — jesus it was cold tonight.

“Fair enough, what’s up?” Adaline asked more nonchalantly than Dan had anticipated, given the drama of the evening.

“Do you have any plans this weekend?” Dan asked tentatively as he stalled at another street corner, looking back and forth for cars before he carried onward, carried himself towards home, towards the comfort of his own bed.

“Um, I might have a date tomorrow night, but I don’t know.” Adaline sounded just uncertain enough of her plans for Dan to interject his own life into them.

“How attached are you to going on it?” he asked bluntly.

“Not. Why?”

Thank fuck, Dan thought. “Well, you know Phil, the one from —”

“Twitter and the coffee shop, yeah, I know Phil.”

“Oh. Right.” Dan felt himself blushing and was glad that it was dark and no one was around. Of course Addie knew about Phil, Dan talked about him constantly. “Well, I like him,” Dan blurted out. He held his breath, waiting for Adaline’s reaction. It wasn’t normal for him to have actual feelings for someone new so soon after a breakup. Having grown up in the same house as Dan, Adaline probably knew that better than anyone.

But her response didn’t come.

“I mean, like him like him,” he added when Adaline still didn’t say anything.

“No shit,” Addie shot back. “ Are you going to say anything new or…?”

“You knew?” Dan asked in surprise as he pulled open the door to his building. The warm air of the lobby felt heavenly against his cheeks, and Dan almost felt guilty for the wave of frigid cold he must have let in.

Almost. But right now, he was feeling too high off all of his decisions to feel too bad about anything.

“Dan, I’ve watched you date how many people? I’m not an idiot,” Adaline said, interrupting Dan’s thoughts. Dan jottled a little, trying to think back to what Adaline was talking about, and blushed when he realized.

“Oh,” he muttered dumbly. He gave a short two-fingered wave to the doorman as he power walked to the lift, eager to be in the comfortable safety of his own flat.

Dan was silent the entire lift ride, trying to process what it could mean if Adaline realized that Dan properly liked Phil. If Adaline knew all the way from Wokingham, had Phil caught on, too?

Although, Adaline had watched him cycle through relationship after relationship, fuckbuddy after fuckbuddy. She wasn’t that young while Dan was living at home, and he’d never been particularly subtle about it. Somewhere along the way, Adaline had developed a knack for picking up on when Dan was interested in, well, fucking someone.

Maybe there was hope that Dan’s interest wasn’t quite that obvious to Phil.

“So what about Phil, this boy you like like?” Adaline prompted teasingly when Dan was silent too long for her liking. Even though Dan had brought the subject up, he had no idea where to begin talking when it came to the topic of Phil.

Or, at least, he had no idea how to talk about it without just gushing.

“Hang on,” Dan murmured when the lift doors opened. He sat his phone down on the table so he had both hands free to shrug out of his coat, letting it fall somewhere in the foyer. There were more important things to deal with right now that being tidy.

Dan picked his phone back up, finally having decided what he needed to say first. “Well, objectively,” Dan explained, with just a hint of annoyance at his own conclusion shining through, “I know I need a bit of a break from dating before I just go for it with Phil.”

“I’m sorry, did I hear that right?”

“Before I date Phil, I know I should take a break from dating,” Dan repeated a little bit louder, in case the connection was weak.

“That’s what I thought you said.” Adaline sounded stunned.

“Yeah…”Dan tugged roughly at his tie on his way to the bedroom, trying to get out of this damn suit, this damn night as quickly as possible. “You’re being weird.”

“I’m being weird? You’re the one that’s being weird. I can’t believe that Dan Howell is going to take a break from dating?”

“Fuck off, it’s not that big of a deal,” he grumbled, his free hand trying to undo his belt.

“It’s a huge deal.” Adaline corrected. “I literally can’t remember a time when you weren’t at least sleeping with someone.”

So maybe she was right. Maybe Dan had never gone a full week after a breakup without sleeping with someone new. And maybe Dan had always made an effort to have someone in his life, whether it was a relationship or a… fuckbuddy.

Dan sighed, not able to be really annoyed since Adaline was technically right. “I know, okay. But that’s the thing. I don’t want Phil to be just sex and I’m afraid that if I try to date him right now I’ll fuck it up.” Adaline made a sympathetic sound. “It matters, okay? I want to do this right.”

“Okay, so how is all of this rolling around to needing a favor?” Dan could tell by the amusement in her tone he was already probably going to win.

“I kind of asked him to get drinks tomorrow. And it’s not, like, a date, I’m sure. I asked him before Izzy and I broke up. But now that I’m not with Isabella anymore, I’m not sure I trust drunk, horny me to not drag him back to my place and fuck him.” He put Adaline on speaker and set the phone on his dresser.

“Y-you’re fucking rid-ic-iculous,” Adaline managed to say through loud laughter. Her laughter was contagious, and Dan found himself unable to control his own giggles as he realized just how bloody absurd it was that he was asking his little sister — who he used to babysit all the time — to essentially babysit him.

“You’re not wrong.” Dan agreed, once he’d gotten his own laughter under control. “But — ugh this is so childish. I want a chaperone to make sure I don’t do anything dumb.”

“Get Louise to go with you.”

“I don’t actually trust her to stop me. I think she’s rooting too much for me and Phil that drunk-Louise would probably actually try to whore me out to him.” Dan glanced down at his hands as they unbuttoned his shirt and, for a split second, he imagined they were softer, paler hands.

Fuck. No he really couldn’t be trusted to be drinking around Phil alone.

“So you want me to trek all the way into the city, just to have drinks with you and your crush in order to stop you from doing anything stupid,” Adaline deadpanned, not bothering to hide just how ludicrous she thought Dan was being.

“Not just to have drinks. You can stay over, obviously, and we’ll do something on Saturday.”

“Hmmm, tempting.” Adaline considered it for a moment. “Wait, a second.” She sounded suspicious.

“What?” Dan asked warily.

“Last time I checked, you’d sworn that you weren’t going to introduce us to anyone that wasn’t serious.”

“One, I said I wasn’t bringing anyone who wasn’t serious home and I’m not bringing Phil home, and two, we aren’t dating — yet,” Dan retorted, throwing himself onto his bed with a content sigh. It felt so good to be back home, especially knowing that tomorrow, he’d wake up and not have to pretend to care about Isabella anymore.

“I see how it is, you’re playing the technicality card.” Adaline’s smug teasing was beginning to make Dan worried that she wouldn’t actually agree.

“Look, will you do it or not?” Dan snapped impatiently.

“A chance to watch you drunkenly embarrass yourself in front of someone you like? Obviously I’m coming.”

“I resent that,” Dan muttered, but Adaline kept talking over him.

“But you get to figure out what we’re telling Mum and Dad. And Phil, for that matter, because I assume you don’t want to tell him that you made your little sister travel an hour just to come babysit you.”

“You’re the best Adaline. I’ll take care of everything. I’ll book you a ticket and forward you the confirmation when I hang up.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow you fucking idiot.”

You’re a fucking idiot, Dan thought back at her bitterly, because Adaline had already hung up.

*****************************

It was half past ten, and while Phil didn’t usually sleep until closer to three, he was already getting ready for bed. He figured if he was going to feel somewhat sorry and pathetic for himself, he might as well do it while wrapped up in his green and blue check duvet.

He’d never been the type to really buy into Valentine’s Day — normally he didn’t care if he was single or not on the holiday. But this year, the date had felt a little like a slap in the face.

Dan’s visit to Beans and Grind, had been lovely — for the most part. No matter what day it was, Phil would always savor any time he got with Dan, but he had been particularly grateful to get a few hours of Dan’s undivided attention today.

It was just that, well, it had left him wanting more.

To be fair, Phil knew that there was no amount of time that he could have with Dan that wouldn’t leave Phil wanting more. Looking back, Phil couldn’t identify when he’d gone from simply enjoying spending time with Dan to craving it and dreading its end.

Phil, could, however pick out the exact moment that he’d realized that his feelings for Dan were so much stronger than a normal crush.

It had been a cold day filled with snow flurries and gusts of wind. Phil honestly hadn’t expected Dan to come into the coffee shop — if Phil hadn’t have had to work, he certainly wouldn’t have left his flat. But just an hour into Phil’s shift, when the snow flurries had been at their heaviest, Dan had waltzed in, wearing a fluffy hat and an oversized coat. He’d brought his laptop with him, but he’d never got around to opening it. Instead, he’d ordered a hot chocolate, demanding that Phil drink one with him. It had taken a few sips of the hot beverage before Dan had finally felt warm enough to shed his massive coat, and when he had —

When Dan had taken off his coat, Phil had seen what Dan was wearing.

Phil’s jumper.

Out of all of the that clothes Dan owned, for some unfathomable reason, Dan had chosen to wear Phil’s pugs not drugs jumper — a jumper that was so unbelievably different from Dan’s normal aesthetic that Phil had originally worried Dan wouldn’t even wear it as an alternative to his own soaked shirt.

And yet there Dan was, wearing it for no apparent reason other than because he’d wanted to.

Dan had curled up on his chair, somehow, and gotten lost in conversation with Phil. He’d looked impossibly young and cuddly and comfortable, and Phil had known right then that not only did he want to see this version of Dan again, he wanted to see every version of Dan.

God, Phil was so fucked.

Valentine’s Day just sucked this year. The things that he had done — work, see Dan — hadn’t sucked, sure. But the whole day left a rotten taste in his mouth. Left him bitter about the fact that he’d gone and fallen for someone who wasn’t available.

Trying to minimize the agony of the day, Phil had completely avoided the internet all day, other than his brief DMs with Dan that morning. He just hadn’t been in the mood to deal with the constant love love love that was sure to be everywhere, and figured it was safest to hold off until tomorrow.

But at quarter to midnight, when his laptop had died and Phil was too lazy to go across the room to find the television remote, he gave into the temptation. How bad could it be?

The first thing he noticed when he opened up twitter was that he had a new DM from Dan that he’d somehow missed — he must have cleared the notification on accident. The second thing he noticed was that he had approximately a thousand mentions. Which wasn’t a crazy amount for him — not by a long shot. But usually, any significant amount of mentions was preceded by something from him, and he had been completely silent today.

Maybe some of his followers were just wishing him a Happy Valentine’s Day? In the past, his followers had started hashtags on his birthday or a holiday — maybe they had done that again?

The temptation of knowing what the hell was going on somehow overrided Phil’s perpetual desire to talk to Dan. Hesitantly, Phil clicked on his notifications, and scrolled through his mentions.

@AmazingKendra: @danielhowell i get that @IsabellaDeLaRenta is pretty but have you seen @AmazingPhil

@DanIsTheMan64: @danielhowell tbh your smile looked more genuine in that picture with @AmazingPhil last week

@DieDanellaDie: @danielhowell fuck #danella. i’m fucking disgusted with @IsabellaDeLaRenta and you can do better. i only ship #phan now @AmazingPhil

There had to be some kind of context to these tweets. Phil kept scanning, trying to find someone who included something more helpful in their messages. Finally, he found one that tagged someone other than him, Dan, or Isabella.

@iHowellForDan: @danielhowell did you see the @Tatler picture? Just move on already (preferably to @AmazingPhil)

Phil knew about Tatler. They were a gossip website that he’d been featured on one too many times to have any respect for, but he was desperate to figure out what the hell was going on.

Well, that seemed as good of a place to start as any.

Phil’s stomach was clenched in a tight knot as he clicked on @Tatler. He had no idea what to expect.

Fuck they tweeted a lot. How many people ran this account? It couldn’t possibly be just one. The gossip website was far too massive for its own good. Each tweet felt like a shot in the dark in the hopes that something would land them some hits.

It look a moment of scrolling to find anything that might be relevant and then — shit. That was it. That explained at least some part of what was going on.

There was a very risque picture of Isabella on a beach in some random dude’s arms. According to the magazine, the picture was taken just two days ago.

The nerves in Phil’s stomach turned to guilt. He’d been hoping, praying for Dan and Isabella to break up. But he’d never wanted it to be because of something as serious or cruel as Isabella cheating on Dan, and, well, that’s exactly what this picture looked like.

Wait, shit.

Dan.

Was Dan okay?

Phil couldn’t even begin to imagine how Dan might be feeling right now, if that picture had any truth to it, if Dan had seen it.

Phil abandoned his quest to figure out what the hell was going on in favor of opening the DM from Dan. If Dan was upset and had messaged Phil about everything that was happening — whatever that may be — Phil wanted to be there for him.

The message wasn’t Dan freaking out, though. In fact, it didn’t seem to have any connection to what was happening on twitter at all.

Daniel Howell: text me about drinks tomorrow 020 2436 8532

It was short and simple, but it made Phil’s heart soar. Actual Dan Howell’s phone number was sitting in Phil’s twitter inbox. He hadn’t even had to ask for it.

Part of Phil wanted to continue stalking twitter, to read through all of the available tweets to figure out what the hell was going on. But if Phil had learned anything through being in the public eye, it was that more often than not, whatever the public was assuming to be true on twitter was either wildly off base, or a gross oversimplification of things.

Besides, he’d rather hear about whatever was happening in Dan’s life from Dan himself. And now, Phil had a much more efficient way to get a hold of him.

Maybe it would come across as eager, perhaps even too desperate, since the message had only came in an hour and a half ago, but Phil didn’t care. He copy and pasted the number into a new text message, only to stare blankly at the screen.

What the fuck was he supposed to say?

Did he mention the shitshow that was happening on twitter? Did he ask about how Dan’s Valentine’s Day was? Should he ask if there was any truth to the picture of Isabella?

Phil opted to ignore all of the questions he had — at least for now — and send something more casual, allowing Dan to take charge of the conversation and say… whatever he wanted Phil to know.

Phil: This already seems like a more efficient method of communication than twitter -Phil

Even though Phil knew Dan was a night owl, he didn’t expect Dan to text back instantly. It was, of course, still Valentine’s Day, and just because Dan had a moment free on his phone earlier, didn’t mean he still did. Plus, even if Dan was home, he probably wasn’t attached to his phone like Phil was.

Boy, was Phil wrong.

It took less than a minute for Dan to reply. And reply. And reply.

Dan: hey there stranger

Dan: i agree. it’s too easy to miss messages on twitter

Dan: now i can just shout at you. much easier.

Phil chuckled. And to think that he had been worried about coming across as too eager. Meanwhile, Dan was sitting somewhere triple texting Phil.

Not that Phil was complaining.

No, Phil was sat in bed at midnight, staring down at his phone, smiling like a complete idiot because of a boy. How was it that Dan was able to make Phil this flustered, this happy from halfway across town?

He felt like a lovesick teenager — and was half tempted to call up his best friend to help him draft a text message like he was fifteen again.

That was ridiculous, Phil realized. He was twenty-goddamn-seven years old. He could message back a cute boy on his own for fucks sake.

He wasn’t sure what to say though. He started typing, trying to figure out the best response.

I know, twitter was a pain — delete.

How was tonight? — delete.

So you want to —

Phil’s third attempt to write a message was interrupted by another text from Dan.

Dan: you still up for drinks tomorrow?

That message wasn’t hard to respond to, at least. A smile snuck its way onto Phil’s face. He felt more like a teenager getting asked to a school dance than he cared to admit.

I am if you am

That made it sound like Phil was being dragged out to drinks with Dan — which was definitely not the case.

Delete.

Absolutely

That sounded a bit too eager, right?

Delete.

Phil tried again, and ended up settling on something that probably still counted as too eager in most people’s books, but, well, a lot of Phil’s actions so far could probably be considered as too eager.

Phil: Of course! What time are you free?

Dan: anytime after 7 works for me

Dan: one small thing though

Oh god, Phil’s heart dropped into his stomach.

A million possibilities rushed through Phil’s head. Had Isabella put her foot down about Dan spending time with Phil? Had Dan realized how flirty their relationship was and gotten uncomfortable? Was Dan going to want to bring Isabella along for drinks?

This was it, Dan was going to find some way to force a line between them. He was going to invite Isabella or remind Phil that he was a man in a committed relationship or tell Phil that he was one hundred percent straight.

Phil took a deep breath and forced himself to respond as naturally as he could.

Phil: What’s up?

The three typing dots seemed to flash in time with Phil’s far-too-fast heart. Dot, dot, dot, thump, thump, thump. What the fuck was Dan typing? Why was it taking so long? What did—

Dan: i just found out today that my sister is coming into london tomorrow. do you mind if she tags along?

His sister. It was just his sister.

Phil let out the breath he was holding, relief coursing through his body. Dan wasn’t trying to build some wall between them, Phil wasn’t being pushed away. Dan just wanted to bring his sister to drinks with them.

A sister that it took Isabella almost a year to meet, a self-satisfied piece of Phil’s mind added without his consent.

Phil: Sounds great! Where do you want to meet?

Dan: do you know harolds? it’s like a block over from b&g

Phil: Yeah! Emmalee and I have gone there a few times. Sounds good! Meet there at 7?

Dan: great xx

****************************

The next day went by far, far slower than Phil wanted it to. He was anxious to get through his meetings with the BBC and his manager, Marianne, so that he could finally get to the part of the day where he got to see Dan.

Dan, who a whole mass of people on twitter were speculating might be single now. Dan, who had given Phil his number right after a risque picture of his girlfriend had leaked. Dan, this boy that Phil was more than a little enamoured with and who might, just might, like Phil back.

And Phil wasn’t just getting to see Dan, he was getting to have drinks with Dan.

But the day seemed to absolutely drag on.

The day’s meetings at the BBC had been longer and more frustrating than normal. Overall, Phil was incredibly lucky. He was one of the first internet creators that the BBC had taken a risk on, and the success of his weekly radio show had not only opened the doors for dozens of other internet creators to work with the BBC, but had also allowed him to be granted a frankly ridiculous amount of creative freedom.

However, his shows producers had recently been pushing for Phil to do a special one-time show with a guest co-host — preferably someone with a strong musical background. They’d said it was to broaden the audience that listens to BBC Radio shows and, for some absurd reason, they’d thought Phil’s show would be the best place to start. They were really pleased with the younger demographic Phil’s show had reached, but were hoping to introduce new listeners — who were supposedly more interested in music than the internet — to his show.

Phil understood their point; the radio station was first and foremost about music, and his show (as well as several that had started after the success of Phil’s) focused much more heavily on other things. It made sense that they would want to have a special episode (or maybe even two, as they had hinted at) with someone who knew more about music than Phil did, someone that appealed to a different demographic. It would attract new listeners to the show who were interested in the special host — listeners who would potentially turn into more devoted listeners of BBC Radio.

The producers weren’t particularly picky about who Phil invited onto his show— in fact, they had thrown several big, exciting names at Phil. They seemed fairly confident that they could secure a one-time appearance from anyone performing in the Live Lounge in the upcoming weeks. The producers had also offered to reach out to people from other parts of the music industry, if Phil preferred. As he walked back to his apartment, his mind was still reeling at some of the names they had suggested.

And it was great. Phil knew he should be ecstatic about this kind of opportunity, flattered that the BBC had thought that his measly little radio show was the right place to start gaining a new demographic. But the fact of the matter was, Phil was too fucking awkward to have a co-host he barely knew — especially a famous one. When it came to interacting with people, Phil was a mess. At least when he did collabs, he was able to edit out all of his awkward social interactions. But live? Live, he would be forced to endure his viewers mocking his social ineptitude for weeks.

He just wasn’t very good at interacting with people he didn’t know, and he didn’t need the whole world to see that.

So Phil had tried his best to fight them, to lay out why that might be a horrific idea. At the end of the meeting, though, they had made him promise to think about it, and if he came up with anyone he would collaborate with — anyone at all — to email his producers as soon as possible, and they would try to set it up.

Unlikely, Phil scoffed. He was fairly certain that there was no way he was going to feel comfortable hosting some bigshot that he barely knew on his show.

Because of all of the conflict, Phil’s meetings took longer than he anticipated. By the time he got home, he barely had time to change and have a quick bite to eat before he had to head out the door to meet Dan.

************************

Phil, who always did his best to be on time, showed up to Harold’s at 6:58, knowing that there was absolutely no chance that Dan was there yet. If Phil had learned one thing while getting to know Dan, it was that Dan was basically incapable of being on time.

Surely, it had to annoy a lot of people in his life, but Phil found it to kind of be an endearing quality. The more he got to know Dan, the more he realized that Dan was always late because he had a tendency to get wholeheartedly wrapped up in whatever he was doing, which usually caused him to misjudge how long he needed to get ready, or how much time he needed to allot for travel. That was just how Dan was, Phil had discovered — an unbelievably passionate person.

So when Phil walked into Harold’s two minutes early, only to be greeted with, “Hey, Phil! Over here!” he understandably had a moment of panic. For a moment, Phil was convinced that a fan just happened to be in the same bar where Phil was about to have drinks with Dan Howell.

But then his eyes found the person shouting at him, landing on none other than Dan himself, who was seated with his back to the door. He was peeking out over the edge of a tall booth he was tucked into — a small, four-person booth in the back corner.The bar, with its dim lighting and slightly dodgy atmosphere, already lent itself to anonymity, but the far back booth, with the flickering light and high walls, practically screamed leave us alone.

It was exactly the booth Phil would have picked out, and not just because he was hoping to avoid the scrutiny of his viewers for the evening.

Fuck, Phil shouldn’t be thinking about that. He had no actual evidence that Dan was single — twitter was notorious for getting facts wrong. And even if Dan turned out to be single now, this wasn’t a date. When Dan had originally asked Phil to get drinks, he was literally on his way to a Valentine’s Day date with this girlfriend. Plus, Dan’s sister was getting drinks with them. If that didn’t scream this isn’t a date, Phil wasn’t sure what did.

But still, Phil felt a spark of happiness that he couldn’t quite squash when he thought about the fact that Dan had selected the most intimate booth in the bar.

Phil made his way over to Dan’s side, dodging around all of the empty tables. “You’re here,” he said in lieu of a proper greeting when he got to the booth.

“Yeah, you spoon. Of course I’m here.” Dan had a smirk on his face, but his eyes reflected genuine happiness. Whatever Tatler was insinuating about Isabella must not be true, not if Dan currently looked this happy. Phil tried not to feel too disappointed. Above everything else, Dan had become one of Phil’s best friends, and Phil shouldn’t be rooting for his heart to get broken.

“I just meant, you’re early,” Phil teased.

At the end of the booth, Dan’s coat was hanging on a hook — it was the one that Dan claimed made him look like a wraith, but Phil would argue just made him look kissable.

Phil pulled off his much brighter coat and hung it over top of Dan’s.

Assuming the second drink sat next to Dan belonged to Adaline, Phil started to move around to the other side of the table, prepared to sit across from Dan, but Dan caught him off guard when he grabbed onto Phil’s sleeve and pulled him into the booth next to him. The full, fruity looking drink was pushed towards him.

Dan nodded his head and raised his own drink in a quick cheers motion.

Phil wrapped his hands around the cold drink, pulling it in front of him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that before.” He tipped his drink towards Dan, mimicking the cheers, but way less smoothly. Unlike Dan, Phil nearly sloshed a bit of the drink out. Smooth.

Dan sent him an unimpressed look, but Phil could see the humor dancing in his eyes. “I’m capable of being early, Philip.”

“Really?” Phil cocked an eyebrow. “Because I’ve never seen it.”

“Shut up,” Dan swatted his arm, twisting around a bit in the booth so he could look at Phil properly. Dan’s leg came up to rest on the booth between them, his ankle tucking under his opposite knee so that his shin was pressing against Phil’s thigh. “You don’t know everything about me.”

“No, but I’d like to.”

Phil’s face flamed up, heat burning his cheeks when he realized what he’d just said. Shit, something about being around Dan made Phil confess all of his desires — even the ones he probably shouldn’t tell Dan about. The only salvation was the fact that Dan’s cheeks turned equally red, and his gaze suddenly dropped to his knee, which nudged Phil’s hip softly.

Phil thought he heard Dan mumble same under his breath, but he wasn’t sure. He was never sure of anything when it came to Dan.

Except for the minor detail that Phil was very, very sure he was head over heels for this boy.

“So,” Phil cleared his throat, trying to restore some sense of normality to their conversation. “I thought you said Adeline was joining us?”

“She is. Um,” Dan’s eyes flitted to his phone, which was resting face up on the table. “Her train was delayed, actually. That’s part of why I’m early. I realized she was going to be late like fifteen minutes ago and I figured you were probably on your way, so I just told her to drop her bag off at my place and come down and meet us.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t have minded waiting if you wanted to pick her up,” Phil insisted.

“No!” Dan almost shouted, before widening his eyes bashfully at Phil. “I — she’s a big girl. She’s capable of getting a cab from the train station to my flat and walking one block. It’s fine.”

Phil took another sip of his drink. “Okay, then. I’m excited to meet her, but I’m not heartbroken to get a little bit of time alone with you.”

Dan’s eyes widened, and for a moment Phil was worried that he’d said the wrong thing, that he’d finally found the imaginary line between them and leaped over it. But his worries were assuaged when Dan let out a tiny whine before collapsing forward, his forehead falling onto Phil’s shoulder. Trying his best not to disturb Dan, to not make him feel like he needed to move, Phil twisted his head a bit so he could look at Dan. From what Phil could see of his face, Dan was smiling bashfully, his dimples and red patch on full display.

This time, Phil was confident that he heard Dan mumble me either — he could feel the vibrations of Dan’s voice against his arm. Phil could get used to having Dan’s head on his shoulder, maybe even tucked in more securely, his breath wafting over Phil’s neck instead of his arm. Dan rested there for a moment, before leaning back up. The red spot on his cheek had subsided some, but the dimples were still prominent. Phil was glad for that, he hadn’t seen those dimples nearly enough lately.

“So, um,” Phil fumbled, still not quite composed after having Dan so close. “How late is Adaline?”

Dan sat up a hair straighter, as if the reminder of his sister had pulled him out of something. The way his leg was pushed against Phil’s, and how close his drink was to Phil’s, still left Dan very much in Phil’s personal space, though.

“She’ll be here within the half hour, she wasn’t delayed that much.” Dan took a long drink out of his glass, and the topic of his sister seemed to melt away. “So,” Dan poked Phil in the ribcage, “Tell me about your day.”

Shrugging, Phil took another sip of the fruity concoction. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he liked it a lot. Dan normally drank bitter things — who the heck drinks a triple espresso with only one sugar? — but Phil prefered his drinks sweet. He was glad that Dan hadn’t ordered him whatever dark liquid was in his own short, round glass.

“It wasn’t particularly exciting, I worked most of it.” Phil couldn’t keep the frustrated edge out of his voice. He wasn’t quite over how much he’d clashed with the show’s producers today — it was rare, so Phil didn’t feel particularly equipped to deal with creative differences.

Dan looked unconvinced, his lips pursed and his eyes narrowed. “Your work is exciting though,” he pouted. “What did you do?”

“Not Fridays,” Phil grimaced. “I always have loads of meetings,” he explained. “I have my weekly radio show planning meetings with the BBC today, which was…” Phil rolled his eyes and took sip of the drink as he searched for the right word. “Stressful.”

Dan’s glass — and the fingers wrapped tightly around it — pushed against Phil’s arm as Dan’s other arm slid across the table, his head coming to rest in the palm of his hand, his eyes staring widely up at Phil. “Why’s that?”

“Just, you know,” Phil waved vaguely, “Pressure from the bosses about things.”

Dan groaned, straightening up a bit so that he could take a sip of his drink. “I know what you mean. What are they giving you pressure about?” His eyes narrowed, a smile threatening to break out on his mock-angry face. “Do I need to go kick someone’s ass?”

“No, no,” Phil laughed, blushing a bit at Dan’s overprotective attitude, even if he was joking. Phil busied himself with another drink while he figured out what he wanted to say to Dan. “It’s just, you know, publicity type stuff?” His voice ended like it was a question, and Phil lowkey hated himself for that. He had no reason to feel weird talking to Dan about fame-related things, which usually made him feel insufferably pretentious. But if there was anyone in Phil’s life who would truly get it, it was Dan.

Dan stared back at him with raised eyebrows — not disbelieving, just curious — prompting Phil to continue. “I have the radio show, right?”

“Yes, which I finally got the chance to listen to and it’s wonderful,” Dan interjected with a playful smile. “I think your voice was made for radio, it’s hot. Although, the fact that you livestream your face doesn’t hurt either.”

What in the fucking —

Phil took a large gulp of his drink, unsure of what the hell Dan was getting at. Sure, Dan was flirty sometimes, but he seemed far more forward than usual today. Phil glanced at Dan’s drink, which was nearly empty. Was it possible that Dan was tipsy already? Tipsy Dan had been flitier than usual, after all. But Phil didn’t remember Dan being a light-weight. Surely three quarters of a drink wouldn’t push Dan to the point it had taken three drinks to get him to last time, right?

Maybe Dan had drank something else sometime before Phil had arrived?

“I — uh, thanks,” Phil stuttered, very flustered, completely incapable of saying anything more intelligent.

“So what about it?” Dan prompted, knocking the knuckles of his fingers against Phil’s when Phil didn’t carry on with his story.

“We’re having a bit of a… creative difference,” Phil offered in way of explanation. He didn’t want to bore Dan with the details of his story. Dan looked interested now, but Phil wasn’t sure if Dan genuinely wanted to know every intricacy of Phil’s life (like the way Phil wanted to know the intricacies of Dan’s).

Dan shook his head, bringing the amber liquid to his lips for another swallow. “That’s the fucking worst. What happened?”

Apparently, Phil had underestimated Dan’s interest. The question didn’t sound insincere. It sounded like Dan actually wanted to know about Phil’s problem, that Dan actually wanted to support Phil.

“They’re pushing for me to do a special show with a guest host — preferably someone who knows more about music than me — so that they can, quote, draw in a new listener demographic or something.”

Eyebrows furrowed, Dan cocked his head. “So you’re against this idea…?”

“A little,” Phil confirmed with a shrug and another drink. “I don’t want to see disingenuine — and maybe more importantly, I don’t want to make an ass of out myself on live air by being awkward because I barely know my co-host.”

Dan hummed as he drank the last swallow of his drink. “Would you feel differently if it was someone you knew?” he contemplated.

“I guess,” Phil shrugged. “It would at least feel less fake, and I’d probably feel less uncomfortable.”

Dan waved his hand in a gesture that seemed to say so what? “What’s the hold up, then?”

“I’m a vloggy youtuber, it’s not like I really have any work connections I can try to force into collabing on me with this.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Dan looked at Phil blankly, a slightly annoyed tint to his eye.

“What?” Phil asked, confused, after a few beats.

In explanation, Dan circled his hand around his face wildly, looking at Phil like he was an idiot.

“You’re going to have to be more explicit, Daniel.”

Dan rolled his eyes. “Gee, if only one of your non-work friends just happened to be in the music industry,” he said, resting his chin primly in the palm of his hand.

It took Phil a second, but he finally caught on. “Oh — oohhh! Would you — like — do you think you’d want to —”

Dan stared back with raised eyebrows and an expecting expression. “Yeah, dumbshit,” he said, finally. “I mean, I highly doubt that radio is my undiscovered talent, but I’d try it for you.”

“You’d — for me —?” Phil stuttered ineloquently.

“Of course, you spoon. I’d love first row tickets to AmazingPhil, even if that means embarrassing myself on live radio.”

“I’d feel bad,” Phil waffled. “It’s a huge professional favor, and I’d want to give something back. I’m absolutely rubbish at all things music, though, so it’s not like I could repay you at all.”

“Trust me, Phil, you do plenty for me. Both personally and professionally. If anything, I owe you a favor.”

Phil blinked blankly at Dan. What the fuck does that mean? Phil wracked his brain, trying to think of a single time where anything he had done had even remotely helped Dan professionally.

Phil was so concentrated on trying to figure out what Dan was implying that he almost forgot to respond.

“Um, if you’re serious,” Phil spun his glass awkwardly in his hands, “I’ll speak to them. They seemed pretty open about who I had on the show.”

With the hand that wasn’t cupped around his short glass, Dan reached up and ruffled Phil’s hair. “Of course I’m serious, anything to help you silly goose. Talk to them, and let me know what they say.”

“Thanks, Dan!” Phil smiled back, suddenly far more excited about the prospect of a guest-host than he had been that morning. “So how was your day?” Phil asked.

“Uneventful,” Dan shrugged. “I slept in, which felt great, and then I was surprisingly social for a bit, before managing to work some this afternoon.

The conversation that Phil had overheard between Dan and Louise had made it sound like Dan had big breakfast plans — plans that were big enough to require some sort of debriefing with Louise. But if Dan slept in before socializing, did that mean breakfast — whatever that was supposed to be — didn’t happen?

“I feel like I’m actually making progress on this album.” Dan continued, obvious to Phil’s confusion. He was smiling, though,, and Phil could see the passion building as he started talking about his music. “When Louise set a deadline of half the album before Germany, I thought she was insane. But at this rate, I think I’ll be okay.”

Phil managed to control his surprise at Dan’s lack of mentioning anything more exciting, but only just. Was work only thing Dan had done today — or was that all that he was willing to share with Phil? Phil wasn’t sure if Dan’s dramatic sounding breakfast plans potentially falling through was a good thing or not.

Phil sighed, trying to shake off his confused thoughts, and turned to his drink again, quickly finishing it. When he’d regained his composure, he turned back to Dan, “So you actually went outside and socialized today?”

“Meh, nothing big,” Dan said indifferently — he certainly didn’t make it sound like whatever social activity he’d done was noteworthy enough to mention. “I knew we were meeting for drinks and Adaline was coming, so I wanted to make sure I had plenty of time to hole up in my house and work.”

There was no way Phil could continue pushing about Dan’s morning — not after Dan had turned the subject to work a second time. At least not without it being painfully obvious that Phil was fishing for details. He took Dan’s lead and switched topics to Dan’s music, genuinely curious about how his work was going.

“Were you writing again today?” Phil asked, trying to show that he was just as interested in Dan’s work as Dan was in his.

“Yeah, the song I was working on the other night, you know, the one from skype? I think it’s coming together. Up until today I just had snippets of lyrics but I’m pretty sure I made it into something coherent, something that flows and actually matches the melody.”

“That’s awesome, Dan!” Phil beamed, proud of Dan’s accomplishment. “How are you feeling about the album so far?”

“Amazing, actually.” Dan’s fingers tapped excitedly against his empty glass. “It’s not what I set out to do, but I’m somehow actually writing a concept album.”

“Wow! What’s the concept?” Phil blurted out before he realized that Dan might not want to — or might not be able to answer that. “Or is that top secret?” he added, giving Dan an easy way out of the question.

“It not top secret, per say,” Dan started before his attention suddenly snapped away from Phil, turning towards his phone. Confused, Phil’s eyebrows shot up, his gaze following Dan’s.

Adaline: did I miss you and loverboy at home bc i’m here and i don’t see you

If Adaline was here, and she knew she was meeting Dan and Phil — which presumably she did — loverboy had to refer to Phil… right? The rational part of Phil’s brain tried, really tried, to keep his hopes in check, to not think too wishfully, but the part of Phil that was completely infatuated with Dan was positively screaming.

With a message like that staring Phil in the face, it was almost impossible not to get his hopes up.

Quickly, Phil averted his gaze. He may not know what that message meant, but he did know that he was definitely not meant to see it. Fortunately for him, Dan was too preoccupied by the text and popping his head over the back of their booth, peeking back towards the door, to realize that Phil had seen it.

Phil ducked around their booth as well, looking towards the entrance and trying to who Dan was looking for. A younger girl was standing near the entrance, her eyes scanning through the crowd.

Dan’s knee nudged insistently against Phil a few times. “Budge over and let me out, will you?” Dan asked.

Phil nodded numbly, not fully processing anything that was happening, his attention still focused on loverboy. Eyes and mind glazed over, Phil slid out of the booth, letting Dan slip out behind him. Phil watched as Dan strode over to the door and enthusiastically enveloped the young brunette in his arms. When Dan leaned out of the embrace, he didn’t pull all the way back, instead wrapping his arm around her shoulders and guiding her over to the table.

“I missed you, you know,” Phil heard Dan say as they came within earshot.

“It’s been like a month, Dan,” the girl responded, elbowing Dan in the ribs.

Dan shrugged, not looking embarrassed at being called out on his feelings. It was cute, seeing Dan so happy to see his sister. It reminded Phil of how he felt when he saw his brother after a long separation. Phil knew that Dan hadn’t been as close with Adaline as Phil had been with Martyn while they were growing up, but he also knew that Dan was determined to build a better relationship with his sister now that she was older. It looked like he was doing a good job.

Dan led her to the other side of the booth before hovering at the table’s end between them.

“Yeah, well,” Dan sighed, rocking back and forth on his feet, “It’s been a long month.”

“So it would seem.” Dan’s sister, Adaline’s, eyes flickered between their empty glasses, and Phil wondered if she was thinking about the fact that they had both already been on the same side of the table when she arrived. Lord knows it was on Phil’s mind.

With a look of intent, Adaline’s attention switched to Phil, her eyes quickly flickering back to Dan with raised eyebrows.

“Oh, right, sorry. I’m being rude,” Dan apologized, nervously arranging the mop of curls on his head. “Phil, meet my sister, Adaline. Addie, this is my — um, Phil.”

The tips of Dan’s ears turned red, a matching spot coloring his cheek. A wide, cheeky smirk took over Adaline’s face. It was a smirk he’d seen before; Dan had flashed him that same expression countless times.

My what? Phil wondered, his cheeks flushing to match Dan’s. Surely Dan wouldn’t have cut himself off from saying friend. So what had he been about to say?

“Good to meet you, Phil,” Adaline was saying. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

The red spot on Dan’s cheek deepened, and Phil could feel his own cheeks heating up to match it. “I — yeah. I’ve heard a lot about you, too.”

“Awww, are you bragging about me, big brother?” Adaline teased.

“Fuck off, I can’t help talking about people I care about, okay?” Dan took a small step back from the table.

Shit, the both of them really needed to stop saying things that made Phil’s heart skip. At this point, he wasn’t sure if there was blood left anywhere in his body other than his face.

“So,” Dan broke the silence in what he probably hoped was a smooth interruption (it wasn’t). “Who wants what to drink?”

Phil pointed to his glass. “I liked whatever this was.”

“Okay, another Dark ‘n Stormy.” Dan snapped his fingers, making a lame finger gun at Phil. “Sis?”

“Whatever you’re having?” She suggested tentatively, her order coming out more like a question than a request.

“Right—” Another awkward finger gun. “I’ll be back in a moment, lads. Behave.”

Phil felt an internal moment of panic at being left completely alone with Dan’s sister after such a brief introduction. Apparently, his wariness wasn’t unfounded.

“So you’re Phil?” Adaline questioned the moment Dan was out of earshot, an impish look on her face.

“Y-yes?” Phil stuttered back insecurely, spinning his empty glass in his hand for lack of something better to do. Everything Phil knew about Dan was telling him not to trust the mischievous expression Adaline was fixing him with.

“Dan somehow forgot to mention that his lovely new friend Phil from the coffee shop was AmazingPhil.” A wide smirk took over Adaline’s face — a smirk Phil had seen before, on Dan.

Phil wasn’t sure just how worried he should be about the fact that Dan’s sister apparently knew who he was. Phil had told Dan countless things he had no desire for his viewers to know, and he had no idea how much of that information Dan had shared with his sister. Phil wholeheartedly trusted Dan, and recognized that if Adaline came from the same family, she was probably trustworthy too. But the fact remained that he didn’t know her. “I —”

He had no idea what to say.

“It’s fine, I saw through twitter beforehand, so it’s not like it’s a surprise. Don’t worry, I’m not a crazy fan or anything.” Adaline was much more nonchalant than Dan had been when he’d found out about Phil’s channel. Did that mean Adaline didn’t care, or had she just been exposed enough that it just wasn’t shocking anymore?

“Oh… have you, like, watched my videos?” Phil fished, trying to get a read on how potentially dangerous this situation might be.

“A few. I found your channel through PJ’s a few months ago and happened to see a few. Imagine my surprise when I found out you were the guy that was suddenly tweeting at my brother.”

“Er — yeah. Dan about had a heart attack when he found out,” Phil chuckled.

“I know,” Adaline laughed mercilessly at her brother. “He called me up in a fit the next day.”

“What a nerd,” Phil said with a roll of his eyes and a soft chuckle. He was pretty sure that his fondness for Dan was seeping into his voice, but he was well past the point in their friendship where he had any hopes of controlling it.

Luckily, Dan saved Phil from the embarrassment of Adaline potentially calling him out on his soft spot for Dan by Dan coming back, precariously balancing three drinks in his hands. He sat the fruity drink in front of Phil, pushed something clear and bubbly towards Adaline, and slid a half-full cup of amber liquid back towards his original seat.

“Let me in, Philly,” Dan smiled, tapping much more rapidly at Phil’s shoulder than was necessary.

“I’m moving, I’m moving!” Phil insisted. “You impatient little brat,” he added under his breath.

Unfortunately, his jab seemed to be heard by everyone at the table. Dan smacked him playfully upside the head.

“Oh look, he knows you already,” Adaline teased.

“Fuck off, Addie,” Dan said as he slid across the bench, stopping halfway to the wall so that he was still very much in Phil’s space when Phil sat back down. Absolutely nothing Dan and Phil did seemed to escape Adaline’s notice; her gaze was concentrated on the space — or rather, lack thereof — between them. Phil shifted nervously under Adaline’s scrutiny. He wasn’t sure what to make of how closely she was watching them.

“I thought I asked for the same thing as you?” Adaline questioned, letting her attention drift from the minute distance between them to just Dan.

“Yeah, but I’m drinking Jameson neat and I figured one of us needed to keep their head on straight,” Dan answered with a pointed look.

“Fine, fine,” she grumbled back, taking a sip of whatever Dan had passed her.

“Don’t worry, loser,” Dan quipped. “It still has alcohol in it. Plus, I figured you might like that better, seeing as you’re like Phil here and don’t care for bitter drinks.”

“Right, I’m sure giving me a weaker drink was a totally selfless, caring choice.” Adaline looked skeptically at Dan, who anxiously passed his glass back and forth between his hands.

Phil took pity on Dan and decided to change the topic, taking the focus off him for a moment. “So, what are you doing in London?” he turned with a smile to Adaline.

“Err…” Adaline mumbled shiftily, her eyes darting to Dan.

“We’re doing a uni tour tomorrow,” Dan supplied. Really smoothly.

“That’s awesome! Which uni?” Phil knew that Adaline was important to Dan and he wanted to show that he was interested, that he could get along with Dan’s family.

“Imperial,” Dan said at the same time that Adaline answered, “Middlesex.”

“Um…” Phil uncertainly looked between the two of them. Had one of them gotten confused? Did they suck at communicating? What the hell was happening here?

“We’re touring two!” Dan said abruptly, looking a bit like a deer caught in headlights. “Middlesex in the morning and Imperial in the afternoon!”

Adaline nodded along quickly. “Yeah, yeah. I’m, um, trying to decide which I like more!” Something about the way Adaline said it sounded fake, like she’d decided that on the spot. But why?

Regardless, Phil decided it was probably best to drop that conversation, since it seemed to have sparked a weird vibe between the siblings. “I’m going to run to the loo,” Phil said, hoping that the tension would dissipate before he got back, and that maybe, just maybe, he could have a moment to think rationally without Dan touching him and causing Phil’s thoughts to scramble.

Dan tugged on Phil’s sleeve, catching his attention. “Will you get me a water while you’re up, Philly?”

“No problem. Adaline?”

“No thanks, I’m good.”

“Be right back,” Phil grinned before he turned away.

He only got a few feet from the table before he froze, realizing that he had no idea where the loo was here. He glanced around, searching the walls for a sign.

“Adaline!” Phil hear Dan hiss. “Since when are you interested in bloody Middlesex?”

“I’m not!” she whispered back. “I panicked and said the first school that came to mind!”

Phil spotted the bathroom sign and slinked away, hoping to not draw any attention to how close he still was to the table.

So he’d been right — there had been some weirdness when they were talking about why Adaline was in London.

But if it wasn’t for touring a uni, what was she here for?

**************************

By the fourth drink, Phil could feel the rum loosening his tongue — something he should probably be concerned about, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about. In his tipsy state, he turned to Dan and finally asked a question that had been plaguing him since yesterday.

“So, how was breakfast this morning?” Phil drawled, looking curiously at Dan.

Okay, it wasn’t the exact question he’d wanted to ask, but it would hopefully still get him the answer he was seeking.

It wasn’t until Dan’s eyes narrowed suspiciously that Phil remembered that he wasn’t supposed to know about breakfast. All Dan had said was that he’d “socialized” this morning.

“I didn’t realize I’d told you I had breakfast plans,” Dan said in a tone that made it clear he definitely knew he hadn’t told Phil about his plans.

Well, fuck.

“I — um, so.” Out of the corner of his eye, Phil could see Adaline’s eyes bouncing back and forth, back and forth between him and Dan. Phil scrambled for a moment, trying to find something he could say to cover his arse. But his tipsy mind couldn’t land on a good excuse before his tipsy tongue took over. “Look, cards on the table. I might have overheard you and Louise talking yesterday.”

Phil wasn’t sure what he was expecting from Dan — maybe him to be angry that Phil had been eavesdropping, maybe a chiding remark. He definitely wasn’t expecting Dan’s eyes to widen all the way and a look of panic to cross his face. But that’s what he got.

“The whole conversation?” Dan looked well worried about something.

Oh, you know, just the part where Louise was demanding to meet some guy in your life and you wouldn’t let her into the coffee shop. And the small part where you both were freaking out about whatever the hell your breakfast plans are. But no, no...

“No, why?” Phil said instead. If the look on Dan’s face was anything to go by, Phil should definitely not confess to how much he’d overheard. Which was… interesting, given the content of it.

A wave of tension appeared to wash out of Dan’s body, his shoulders untensing and his fingers unclenching from his glass. “N-no reason.”

Phil didn’t believe that for a moment. He’d let it slide though, for now at least.

“Breakfast didn’t happen though,” Dan said cryptically, not elaborating oh why breakfast didn’t happen or what breakfast was supposed to have been.

Adaline, for her part, was starting at Dan just as studiously as Phil was, which led Phil to believe that not only was breakfast something Adaline knew about, but he was right in his suspicions that it was supposed to have been something.

Phil knew he probably shouldn’t, but he decided to push his luck. “Oh, why not?” He hoped he sounded nonchalant, and not like he had an underlying motive for trying to figure out more information.

Dan breathed out a long sigh and knocked back half of his drink.

For a moment, Phil was worried that Dan wasn’t going to answer — or worse, that Dan was going to tell Phil to fuck off and that Phil shouldn’t be pestering him with questions about something he’d overheard.

Dan pleasantly surprised Phil, though, when he confessed the truth. “Well, the whole point of breakfast was to dump Isabella.” His voice was quiet, his words slightly slurred, and his eyes concentrated on his glass, but the meaning of what Dan had said rang loud and clear.

Breaking up with Isabella. As in, Dan making himself single and available. But —

Shit. Dan hadn’t gone to breakfast. Phil latched onto that fact, trying to make his brain wrap around what that meant — that Dan probably hadn’t gone through with his plans to break up with her.

Why? Why was the world being so cruel to Phil?

“Did you change your mind, then?” Phil asked, aiming to maintain his casual demeanor, but there was a wobble to his voice that was surely betraying his true feelings: panic and disappointment.

“What?” Dan’s head snapped up from his glass, looking at Phil in alarm. “No!” he corrected hastily. “I ended up breaking up with her last night.”

Oh.

Oh my god.

A million emotions rushed through Phil, and he wasn’t sure which one he should be paying the most attention to. He was relieved, so fucking relieved that Dan was single. That Isabella was out of the picture. He was worried, worried that Dan was upset or heartbroken about it — or worse, that there might have been some truth to the picture Phil saw on twitter last night.

But above it all, Phil felt a wave a clarity. If Dan had broken up with Isabella last night, that casted his actions in the last twenty four hours into a whole new light — Dan giving Phil his phone number seemingly out of the blue, Dan being much more forward tonight, Dan’s thigh currently pressing into Phil’s.

Were all of those things connected to the fact that Dan was now single?

Dan’s eyes bored into Phil’s, looking like they were trying to stare into his soul, like they were trying to communicate something.

Looking like they were confirming everything that Phil was thinking.

Against his better judgment, Phil’s heart soared. He should wait until he’d heard verbal confirmation from Dan, he should wait until Dan was single for more than a mere day.

He should wait.

But he couldn’t.

“Mum said to pass on her congratulations, by the way,” Adaline said with a smirk. The tension — the sexual tension, Phil was pretty sure — broke between Dan and Phil as they boy whipped their heads around to face Adaline. From the surprised long on Dan’s face, Phil wagered Dan had forgotten that Adaline was there just as much as Phil had.

Dan shook his head, seemingly pulling himself out of whatever thoughts he was having. “Mum is congratulating me for getting cheated on?” He sounded somehow both bitter and humored.

“So it’s true, then?” Adaline asked softly, the smile draining from her face.

Dan’s gaze fell and he fiddled with his napkin. “Yeah, it’s true.” There was no emotion left, he just sounded defeated.

“I’m sorry, bear. That sucks,” Adaline murmured, rubbing her hand against his forearm.

“It’s fine,” Dan said with a forced smile, fake positivity in his voice. His efforts to seem fine about that aspect of it were painfully transparent. “I was going to end it anyway. That just made it — you know, easier to do.”

“Still,” Phil chimed in, “That sucks. I’m sorry it had to end like that.”

“I mean, yeah, me too.” Dan took another long sip of his drink, almost draining it. “But, hey, the outcome is the same, right? And it made me feel justified in doing it on Valentine’s Day, so at least there’s that.”

“Oh god, how far did you get in your date before things went awry?” Phil asked, horrified.

“Ugh,” Dan groaned. “All the way to the end. I actually DMed you right after I left her apartment.”

“Uh!” Adaline interjected indignantly. “Excuse me, did you really DM him before calling me back, Daniel?”

The ashamed look on Dan’s face was enough of an answer. “Um, maybe. It’s not like it took long!” he defended.

“Excuse you,” Adaline crossed her arms defiantly, but in her tipsy state, she misestimated her movements and ended up smacking herself lightly in the shoulder, which seriously reduced the effectiveness of the action. “I”ll have you know that you’d given me a right scare after demanding I call you with a fake emergency and then ignoring my calls for nearly an hour.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Phil interrupted before Dan could further defend himself. “Did you really make your sister call you with a fake emergency so you could leave? Are you fourteen?”

“See!” Adaline cheered too loudly. “Phil agrees with me, you were being a baby.”

“Look,” Dan tried to explain, his hands waving around a little more wildly than normal. “You guys don’t know Izzy like I do. She doesn’t take very kindly to having her… sexual advances turned down—” Oh god, Phil thought, the alcohol had clearly loosened Dan’s tongue as well. “— and by that point I’d used up every excuse in the book.”

“Oh,” Adaline’s brows furrowed. “Was she just really not taking no for an answer last night?”

“Er, not quite,” Dan mumbled sketchily.

“Dish. What are you getting at?” Adaline demanded, banging her hands noisily on the table in earnest.

Phil was pretty sure he didn’t want to hear this. Whatever details of his sex life that Tispy Dan decided were appropriate to share were probably things that would only make Phil feel like shit. Briefly, Phil considered excusing himself to the bar to buy another round, or maybe even to go to the loo for the third time that night. Anything to avoid having to listen to Dan talk about sex with Isabella.

But Dan answered before Phil could do any of those things.

“More like over the past month. I’ve kind of been avoiding that for a while now.”

“I’m sorry, you wh-what?” Adaline choked a little on the liquid she was trying to swallow.

A month. Dan had been avoiding having sex with Isabella for a month. Out of all the things Dan could have said about his sex life, that had to be the most surprising one. He was dating a model for god’s sake, why hadn’t he to have sex with her for a month?

Nevertheless, Phil was glad. He had no claim to Dan, but knowing that he hadn’t been sleeping with Isabella for a while now… well, it was a relief.

“It’s not that big of a deal, okay.” Dan gave her a sharp look. “It just… hasn’t felt right—” His eyes flickered over to Phil, lingering for a moment, before returning to Adaline. “—for a while now. So I, you know, haven’t.”

Shit. Phil froze, staring at Dan long after Dan had returned his attention to Adaline. The way he looked at Phil, the heat that was in his eyes, made Phil feel like maybe he was the reason Dan didn’t feel right sleeping with Isabella.

“Oh my god,” Adaline gasped. “I —”

“Drop it, Addie,” Dan said tersely. “Enough about the demise of my shitty relationship.” His voiced lightened up some, turning almost teasing. “Now tell us about this date that you may or may not have had tonight that you were so easily persuaded to bail on.”

Well that certainly made it sound like whatever Adaline was in London for was because Dan had asked her to be. That explained why they were so weird about the uni tour thing, at least. It was odd that they felt the need to lie about why Adaline was there to Phil, but his alcohol hazed mind couldn’t come up with any possible explanations for it.

And clearly, Dan was too far gone to keep up pretenses about why Adaline was here.

“I just wasn’t that interested in the bloke, that’s all.”

“You not have a great Valentine’s Day either, then?” Dan asked.

“Huh?” Adaline looked perplexed for a moment before recognition dawned on her face. “Oh, no. Not that. Um, don’t judge me and go all big-brother.”

Dan raised his eyebrows expectantly. Phil had flashes of what Dan might be like in full big-brother mode, and hoped that he might get to see a glimpse of it.

“The bloke from last night was good. We’re going out Sunday. Tonight was going to be a, uh, different guy.”

“Adaline!” Dan admonished. “Are you really dating around? I thought we’d already talked about the dangers of sleeping with more than one person at a time! What if one of them has something? You need to be a bit more careful!”

Evidently Phil was getting to see big-brother Dan after all. He found it funny that they were apparently so open about sex, but yet Dan was still being protective.

“I’m being safe! Chill, bro.” Adaline chugged the rest of her drink. “Oh looky there, I’m all out of beverage. Dan?”

“You’re a piece of work,” he mumbled to Adaline, before swallowing the rest of his own drink. “I get us another round then, eh?” Dan poked Phil again, forcing him to let Dan out. Dan poked lower than he had last time, missing his ribs and hitting the soft, ticklish bit of Phil’s stomach.

On instinct, Phil spun towards Dan, catching Dan’s hand in his own, a giggle tumbling out of his lips. “Dan!”

“Oh dear, is Philly ticklish?” Dan’s other hand came around, poking Phil in the same spot, causing him to squirm. Phil’s free hand flew out, snagging Dan’s other hand. “Oh dear, he is!”

Dan wrestled with Phil a little, trying to wiggle his hands free so that he could poke Phil again. He succeeded in loosening Phil’s grasp enough that he was able to launch forward and poke Phil again, his chest crashing into Phil’s arm. Phil folded in on himself, trying to protect his sides from Dan’s attack, causing Dan’s chest to slip from Phil’s arm to his back.

“I give, I give!” Phil managed to say through his giggles.

“You’re no fun,” Dan said, the laughter in his voice contradicting his words. The hand he’d broken free from Phil’s wrapped around the front of Phil’s waist, pulling him into a hug. Dan rocked him back and forth lightly. “You’re silly, you spoon.”

Phil leaned back into Dan, feeling so warm in Dan’s arms, but was startled by an obnoxiously fake coughing attack from Adaline.

“I’m still here boys. And parched.”

Dan’s face heated up. “Sorry, sis. I’ll be right back.”

Phil started to slide out of the booth to let Dan out, but Dan’s grip on his hips tightened, holding him firmly in place. For a moment, Phil was baffled at what Dan was trying to do, unable to make sense of how the heck Dan was planning to get out of the booth if Phil didn’t move.

But then, it became very, very clear how Dan was planning to get up.

Still pressing Phil into the booth, Dan’s opposite leg swung across Phil, and, suddenly, Dan was straddling him.

Time froze.

Phil’s vision, which had previously been slightly blurred from the alcohol, focused sharply on Dan. Dan, who was properly in Phil’s lap, his head towering above Phil’s, his eyes gazing down at him. Phil stared back up, forgetting that the rest of the world still existed. Instinctively, Phil’s eyes dropped down to Dan’s lips, and he thought about it. He thought about saying fuck it, about closing the distance between them and pressing his lips to Dan’s. When Phil dragged his eyes back up Dan’s, he found that they were looking downward — like Dan was looking at Phil’s lips, like Dan was thinking about the same things.

“Fucking hell, Dan,” Adaline cried, sounding outraged. Her voice broke the trance between them, pulling Dan and Phil out of their own little world and back into the crowded, noisy bar.

“Right, sorry,” Dan murmured, far too quietly for Adaline to hear. His eyes searched Phil’s face one last time before he gave Phil’s hips a quick squeeze and climbed off his lap, abruptly heading for the bar.

Phil shifted in his seat. He had just enough inhibitions left to be embarrassed to face Adaline after that blatant display of flirting.

“So,” Adaline pounced on Phil the moment Dan was out of earshot.

“So…” Phil trailed off, unsure of why Adaline was looking so eager — and hesitant to find out.

Adaline crossed her arms, leaning forward on the table to inspect Phil. “You’re cuter than he normally goes for,” she said with a waggle of her eyebrows and a knowing smirk tugging at her lips.

Phil just about spat the ice cube he was chewing on out of his mouth. I’m what now? He tried to make his brain focus and think through all of the rum that was currently clouding his sense of rationality.

Did she mean that Phil was cuter than the girls Dan had brought home in the past? Because last time Phil checked, he hardly thought he compared to a damn supermodel. But, also, it was weird to compare the attractiveness of guys and girls, right? Did that mean — ?

Did that mean Dan had brought home guys before?

“Sorry?” Phil eventually spat out unintelligently. He was completely lost for more complex thoughts.

Adaline snickered — she knew exactly what she was doing to Phil. She clearly had information about Dan, his dating life, his history with boys that Phil didn’t know. And she was taking full advantage of her position of power.

Goddamn, her and Dan were too much alike.

“When it comes to guys, I mean. They’re normally, well, less cute. Don’t tell him I told you that though.” She winked furtively at him. “I doubt he’d take kindly to me drunkenly spilling his secrets. That’s definitely not why he invited me here.”

Phil’s jaw dropped. He wasn’t completely sure what to make of what Adaline was saying, but his heart was already skipping a beat, and his stomach was turning over. What Adaline had just said — it made it sound like Dan had definitely dated boys before.

“Oops!” Adaline covered her mouth dramatically, her voice dripping with feigned innocence. “Gee, whiz, did you not know that Dan’s bi?”

Phil’s heart had skipped a few beats before, but now it was downright pounding. The shock of what Adaline was implying — basically saying, at this point — was slowly starting to sink in.

So Dan had. Dan had definitely dated boys before — something Adaline had very intentionally just told him. That had to mean something for Phil, right? All of the things Phil had thought might be flirting, the way Dan had skirted around Isabella… That must mean something, then, right?

“I, um, no. Obviously,” Phil said when he was able to muddle through his drunken shock. He tried to organize his thoughts, tried to swallow his utter shock at having it confirmed that Dan was single, that Dan liked boys, to ask if all of that together meant that Dan liked him. “What did Dan invite you here for, then?”

Phil had to resist smacking himself in the forehead. That was an odd question to ask, given everything Phil had just learned, but okay.

To his surprise, Adaline cackled. “Actually, he wanted a babysitter.”

Phil rubbed his hands down his face, trying to get the drunk part of his brain to calm down so he could fucking process whatever the heck this was. What grown adult wanted a babysitter, and why? “Isn’t he, like, twenty three?”

Again, the wrong question to ask. Phil mentally kicked himself in the arse. Why was he completely botching this one moment he had with Drunk Adaline to learn more about Dan’s life?

“And asking to be babysat by an eighteen year old?” Adaline chucked. “Yeah.”

“Oh.” Phil’s brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of that. Adaline seemed to find the situation as funny as Phil did. “Uh, why?”

Well, it lacked sophistication, but at least he was finally asking a worthwhile question.

“Apparently he didn’t want to drunkenly drag you back to his place to fuck.”

What in the —

If Phil was shocked by everything Adaline had said so far, he was completely floored by that.

A hot rush of arousal shot through Phil at the very mention of that, and he forced himself to shake it away as best as he could. Those weren’t thoughts he should let his mind drift to while he was sitting across from Dan’s sister.

Okay, fine, Adaline had said that Dan liked guys — that was great. And she’d implied that Dan liked Phil, which, okay, fantastic. But to explicitly say that Dan wanted to fuck Phil — that was a whole new level that Phil wasn’t prepared to hear.

He did his best to swallow his shock and respond to Adaline. “I — he what?”

Adaline narrowed her eyes, evaluating Phil, the slight upward turn of her lips a pale ghost of the raucous smirk it had been a moment before. She nodded slowly. “Listen up, though.” Her voice was sharp this time.

Phil’s eyes widened at the fast change in her attitude. “What?” So far, Adaline had been nothing but chipper and easy-going, so the quick shift to reprimanding took Phil by surprise.

“That kid,” she nodded to the bar where Dan was waiting in line for the bartender, “I’m not sure who that kid is.”

Phil opened his mouth to defend Dan. Dan was so insistent on getting to know his younger sister better, and hearing her say that she didn’t know Dan made Phil want to launch into a diatribe about how hard Dan was trying. But Adaline cut Phil off before he could start.

“I know Dan, well,” Adaline rushed on to say. “And I like this new version of him,” she clarified, sensing Phil’s desire to stand up for Dan. “But I’ve never seen him like this before.”

Phil cocked his head, trying to make sense of what Adaline was saying. The Dan that was here tonight didn’t seem that different from the Dan that Phil was used to. Sure, this Dan was a bit more forward, a bit more flirty than the Dan that Phil had previously gotten to know, but that could be easily accounted for by the fact that this Dan was single. That didn’t seem to explain why Adaline found the boy at the bar nearly unrecognizable.

“What do you mean this kid?” Phil forced out, hoping to figure out what the heck Adaline meant.

“The guy who doesn’t want to sleep with someone immediately after breaking up with someone else?” Adaline pointed out incredulously. “The guy who’s saying that he doesn’t want to fuck up a relationship by moving too fast and jumping into sex before he’s ready? I’ve never heard him say those things before you.”

Phil was dumbfounded. It didn’t seem possible that Dan was doing all of these things for the first time solely because of Phil. “You mean, he’s acting different… because of me?” Phil asked stupidly.

“Yes, you idiot, because of you.” Adaline rolled her eyes, just like Dan. “Apparently he’s determined to do whatever this—” she waved her hand vaguely towards Phil, “—is right.”

“Oh,” Phil breathed, unable to keep the wide, beaming smile off of his face. Dan had just ended a rather long relationship — it was downright dickish of Phil to be happy at this moment.

And yet, his heart felt like it was racing faster than a plane about to take off, his body was tingling more than if every single limb had gone numb at once, his stomach was turning over like he was strapped into a never ending roller coaster.

“No, don’t smile yet,” Adaline reprimanded. “I’m not done talking to you.”

Phil’s eyes widened in fear, but he couldn’t make the smile completely go away.

“Like I said, this is new. I’ve never known him to not be sleeping with someone.”

Phil’s eyes flickered away briefly, more uncomfortable with the idea of Dan sleeping with someone — anyone — than he’d like to admit.

“But that being said,” Adaline continued without any respect for Phil’s feelings, “He’s Mr. Fucking Monogamy — in case you couldn’t tell by his reaction to me seeing two guys at once.” Adaline shook her head in exasperation. “I know he’s happy to be done with Isabella — as are the rest of us, frankly — but if I know him at all, I’m willing to wager that getting cheating on is probably hurting him more than he’s letting on.”

“Of course!” Phil rushed to assure her. “I can’t imagine how I’d feel if I got cheated on, even if it was in world’s worst relationship.”

“Exactly.” Adaline stared at him pointedly. “Which is why you need to need to back the fuck up here.”

Phil was startled — whatever he’d been expecting the point of Adaline’s lecture to be, that wasn’t quite it. He worried at his inner lip, drawing it between his teeth and biting harshly. Did that mean Adaline thought Phil wasn’t good enough? Was Adaline saying that any possibility of a relationship with Dan was off the table?

“What do you mean?” Phil asked worriedly, trying to conceal just how deep his anxieties were running.

“I mean that I can’t drop everything and come to London every damn time you two hang out, so I’m going to need you to be respectful of the fact that at least sober Dan wants a little bit of recovery time before—” she waved at Phil again, “—this. Do you think you can do that?”

“I, yeah, of course. I just…” Phil searched for a way to articulate everything he was thinking, “Want him to be happy,” he finished lamely.

“Then wait a bit,” Adaline implored. “Let him come to you — sober, I might add.”

Wait.

Not fuck off entirely.

Just, wait.

Phil could wait. For Dan, Phil would wait until the damn sun burnt out if that’s what it took.

“I can do that,” Phil smiled.

“You smug git,” Adaline teased. “You’re too happy about the fact that he definitely likes you to give a fuck about waiting, aren’t you?”

“Basic—” Phil was cut off by Dan’s return.

“Here we go, lads.” He set the drinks he was carrying down on the table, sliding each one to the right spot. “I forgot how busy this place gets on Friday nights.”

“Mmm,” Phil hummed as he took a sip of his fresh drink, hoping to avoid having to say anything for a moment so that he could process everything Adaline had just told him. And maybe to hide the stupidly big smile currently sat on his face.

Luckily, Dan took control of the conversation, as he was often want to do. And, like always, Dan proposed something that threw Phil for a loop.

“I want to tweet,” Dan bursted out abruptly. “Can I tweet?” He turned first to Phil, then to Adaline.

“Hey,” Adaline raised her hands in surrender, “I’m not here to police your public life.” She sent a wink at Phil that Dan was, in all probability, too drunk to notice.

“What do you want to tweet, Danny?” Phil asked. In general, Phil had no opposition to tweeting — but also, Dan could probably ask for the moon and Phil would start knitting a big enough lasso, so maybe he wasn’t the best judge.

“Ughhh,” he whined. “Please never call me Danny again. She called me that all the time, and if I ever have to hear that nickname again, I’ll fucking die.”

“Sorry,” Phil apologized. “Dear.”

Phil received a swift kick in the shin from Adaline for that, but it was well worth it when he watched Dan blush and mumble, “I like that a lot better.”

A burst of warmth rushed through Phil’s chest at the genuinely content, flattered look Dan had on his face.

Phil cleared his throat. “So, dear—” another kick to the shin — that was definitely going to bruise, not that Phil really cared that much. “What do want to tweet?”

“Us! And our drinks!” Dan exclaimed, looking more like an overjoyed child than he had any right to at this moment in time. Phil picked up Dan’s phone off the table, grabbing Dan’s hand without asking and pressing his thumb to the home button to unlock it. Once it was unlocked, he opened the camera and slid the phone across the table to Adaline.

He turned his attention back to Dan. “What are we doing in this tweet?”

In response, Dan pushed Phil’s Dark ‘N Stormy into his hand, picking up his own drink. “Hold it and look at the camera,” Dan ordered.

Obediently, Phil raised his glass to his mouth, dramatically taking a sip for the camera. Dan held his up at the same level as Phil’s, giving the camera a knowing look. The camera clicked loudly half a dozen times while Adaline took several version of the same picture so that they had some to pick from.

When Dan deemed there to be enough options, he made grabby hands for his phone, taking it back from Adaline.

“Help me decide which to tweet, Philly.” Dan pulled Phil in by his sleeve. Even though Phil could feel Adaline’s drunken watch on him, Phil let himself lean in ever-so-slightly to Dan. Not enough to warrant another kick in the shin from Adaline, but enough so he could smell Dan’s cologne better, enough so he could feel the warm heat radiating off of Dan’s body, enough so that he felt a little bit all consumed by Dan.

“I like that one,” Phil murmured near Dan’s ear when Dan swiped over one that was a good balance of silly and cute.

“Perfect,” Dan smiled, sharing it to a tweet. He gnawed at his lip for a moment before typing your fave lads are at it again, tagging Phil, and hitting tweet without taking any time to look it over.

***********************

Four hours and five (strong) drinks later, both Phil and Dan had surpassed tipsy and were properly drunk. Adaline, who’d showed up late and was a drink behind, had a bit more sense intact — but not by much.

“What do you think, lads, one last round?” Dan proposed.

Phil looked at Dan, his eyes struggling to focus clearly. “Okay,” he found himself agreeing anyway. Phil moved to push himself out of the booth.

“No, no, no, no. I think you’ve both had enough for tonight,” Adaline interrupted, catching the sleeve of Phil’s jumper and pulling him back down.

“But Adddieeeeee,” Dan whined.

“But Daaaannn,” Adaline whined back, teasing.

Dan raised his hand to the side of his head nearest Phil, only sort of successfully blocking Phil’s view of his face.

“Addie,” Dan whispered loudly, doing a piss-poor job of not letting Phil hear what he was saying. “I don’t wanna leave Phil yet, though.”

Phil’s heart melted. He didn’t particularly want to leave Dan either.

“Too bad,” Adaline mocked Dan, whispering back equally loudly and not even attempting to keep Phil from overhearing their conversation. “I didn’t drag my ass to London just for you to go home with him.”

Dan petulantly crossed his arms, huffing out an annoyed sigh, but didn’t fight her any further.

“And on that note,” Adaline giggled, “I think it’s bedtime, eh?”

“Probably for the best,” Phil agreed. As much as he adored getting to see this drunken version of Dan, as much as he definitely wanted Dan to come home with him, there was just enough left of Phil’s rational brain to know that tonight was not the night for that. Not tonight, not tomorrow night, maybe not even any night soon. Phil knew Dan needed time.

Time that Phil was willing to give him.

Adaline stood up, offering a hand to Phil. Phil gratefully accepted the help, letting her pull him to his feet. It had been a while since he’d stood up and — wow. The world rocked for a moment. Not having another round was the right decision.

Phil turned around to face Dan, who was staring helplessly up at him.

“Come on,” Phil said, grabbing Dan’s hand in his and tugging gently as Dan got up. The combined momentum sent Dan crashing into Phil, the two of them swaying precariously. In sync, their hands reached out to steady each other, Phil’s landing on Dan’s hips and Dan’s grasping Phil’s shoulders.

The rocking world faded away. All Phil could see was chocolate curls, and espresso eyes, and strawberry lips.

“Philip!” A voice behind him said sharply. Phil whirled around, knocking one of Dan’s hands from his shoulder. Adaline was stood close by, her hands on her hips and a reprimanding look on her face. “Behave!”

“Oops!” Phil ripped his hands from Dan’s hips, stepping backwards, his embarrassment practically radiating off of him.

“And to think, I’m the teenager,” Adaline mumbled.

“Sorry…” Phil apologized half-heartedly. His eyes drifted away from Dan, from Addie, and to the far corner of their booth, where the three of them had hung up their coats.

“Coats!” Phil exclaimed, smiling brightly at his own helpfulness.

Phil handed Adaline her coat before slipping his own on. He plucked Dan’s off the hook, spinning Dan around by the hips so his back was to Phil. Taking much more time and care than necessary, Phil helped Dan into his coat, slowly sliding each arm into the hole and slipping the jacket up his shoulders. When the jacket was on, Phil twisted Dan back to face him, and took Dan’s zipper between his hands.

The alcohol made Phil’s fingers clumsy and sluggish. It took three tries for Phil to successfully thread the zipper into the pull, his eyes focusing on Dan’s once it latched. Unwilling to let go of Dan just yet, Phil tugged the zipper up as slowly as he could, savoring every second of being close to Dan that he got.

Everytime Phil saw Dan, he could his stomach flipping over, his heart racing, his face threatening to break into a smile for no reason other than Dan’s presence. Tonight had been no exception, and now, holding Dan in place so closely to him, every single one of Phil’s feelings was amplified. He never wanted to move away.

But nonetheless, he had to eventually. Phil closed the zipper the final few centimeters, tugging slightly at Dan’s collar, just for something to do.

When Dan was tucked securely into his coat, Phil turned around to see Adaline watching them in amusement, shaking her head at their antics.

“Let’s get out of here, lads,” she said fondly.

“Phil needs an uber!” Dan exclaimed.

Oh yeah, Phil lived a lot further away than Dan did. Phil moved to fish his phone out of his coat pocket, but Dan already had his own in his hand, calling an uber for Phil.

“Here, Philly, put your address in,” Dan ordered, passing Phil his phone with unsteady fingers. Phil took the phone from Dan, taking four attempts to correctly type his address in the destination box. Two minutes, the app warned when he hit confirm.

“Thanks,” Phil handed back Dan’s phone, turning towards the exit. Dan’s hands came to rest on Phil’s lower back, pushing softly, guiding him towards the door. Adaline trailed behind them, following them outside.

Phil stopped by the curb to wait for his car. To his surprise, Dan stopped next to him — right next to him. Just a few small centimeters away.

“It’s cold,” Dan mumbled, maybe in explanation for why he was hovering so close to Phil.

“I know,” Phil agreed, wrapping his arm around Dan under the guise of providing warmth. And he did feel warmer. Maybe not physically, but there was an internal warmth washing over Phil that he’d never felt before. Phil grinned down at Dan, who’d tucked his head into the crook of Dan’s neck, and pulled him impossibly closer.

They stood like that until Phil’s car came. Phil half expected Adaline to interfere, to tell Phil to take a fucking step back, but when Phil glanced over Dan’s shoulder at her, she was smiling fondly at them.

When Phil’s car pulled up next to them, Dan drew back, but not quite all the way.

“I had a good night, Philly,” he whispered sweetly, eyes searching Phil’s face. Dan’s tongue darted out, licking his lips. Phil’s eyes followed the movement closely.

He should step back, he should give Dan the space that Adaline insisted that he needed.

But before Phil could make himself do it, before Phil could force a bit of space between them, Dan was leaning in slowly, swaying the slightest bit. Phil was rooted in his spot, unable to even move his head.

Dan closed the distance between them, pressing a sloppy, wet kiss to Phil’s cheek. His lips lingered a moment, his hand finding Phil’s and squeezing briefly.

Phil squeezed back. It was the only way he could manage to show his appreciation for the moment. Dan pulled back, finally stepping all the way out of Phil’s embrace.

A hot blush spread over Phil’s face, and, not for the first time that night, Phil felt like a teenager with his first crush.

“Me too, Dan,” Phil smiled softly, climbing into the back of his uber, his hand coming up to touch his cheek as he felt the ghost of Dan’s lips on him.

Me too.

a/n: i can’t WAIT to hear y’alls thoughts xoxo

#ly #love yourself #phan #phanfic #phanfiction #phan au #au #coffee shop au #barista!phil #singer!dan #iminclinedtowriting

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thegeekerynj · 4 years

Text

An Occasional Attempt to Read, Discuss and Review the Wonders of Comics

By: John Rafferty, cranky old man, and Fan of All Things Comics

Riding the IND

Designed with the intent to acknowledge the Immense Contribution of the Independent Comic Press, and highlight a more unique stable of products

==========================================

Short Hops on the IND

Quick looks at books from the Independent Press, when the reviewer has too much on his plate

———————————————————————————-

Seven Secrets #2 (Boom! Studios)

Writer: Tom Taylor Artist: Danielle DiNicuolo

‘You know, being a Leader, I really expected my decisions to be undermined less.

Really? That’s cute.

Why do I keep you around?

Mainly to hold this. I suspect you have unusually weak arms.’

——————————————————————————————————————————

So, Caspar has been born, and shipped off to be trained, becoming another Secret in the Order of Secrets…

And he comes back. At 9 years old, trained in the martial arts, Smarter, more inquisitive and much more driven than any Initiate before. Training with Keepers and Holders, to become one of them.

And more importantly, to discover his roots.

Taylor’s scripting is tight and fast. He packs a great deal of story into 24 pages. More importantly, he brings Caspar’s story fully around, to the point of Sigurd’s departure.

The artwork from Danielle DeNicuolo is simply beautiful. I know… I waffled on about how pretty her pencils were last time, but Jeebus, this issue is prettier. It’s almost as if last issue was a test balloon, to see if she had the hook she wanted, and now… well, she’s fishing the pond dry!

This issue ends on a terrific cliffhanger line, one I will not repeat.

More importantly, one which can mean many things, depending where the story goes.

Suffice to say, I am determined to follow this book. I would suggest you do so also.

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶🌶.5

======================================================================

Locke & Key ‘…In Pale Battalions Go…’ #1 (IDW)

Writer: Joe Hill Artist: Gabriel Rodriguez

‘Where did Father find you? Be honest, I shall have the truth soon enough. I best not learn he hauled you out of some sordid immoral hole.

No. Worse. Canada.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Locke & Key.

The story of Key House, on Lovecraft Island, has spanned years, for Key House, itself is older than the Americas.

The Lockes have forever been the guardians of the Keys to Key House, guarding them against the Evilthat wants to use them… for the Keys are Weapons. Not weapons like guns, and rifles and knives or spears. But Weapons.

Those which have the Power to Destroy. And the Keys DO want to be used.

Joe Hill and Gabriel Rodriguez have taken it upon themselves to bring us another tale in the History of Key House. Thank Gods!

The year is 1918, and the Great War is raging in Europe. Jonathan Locke is 14 years old, and wants to fulfill his destiny, for the Lockes have been represented in every war. As the only son, this is his right, and with the Keys of Key House, there’s no telling what he can do…

Gabriel Rodriguez seems to have decided to leave everything on the battlefield with his artwork. His pages are so expressive, and capture the feel of the World War One era. If the closing splash is any indication, the actual war pieces will be fantastic.

As far as Mr. Hill, what can I say? There has not been a miss, even remotely, in his portfolio… and this latest edition of the Locke Family chronicle is no exception.

My only complaint, it relies on a conceit that the Reader knows the story already, and gives little information about the Keys in play… Now, this is a minor dig, for if the Gentle Reader perusing this truly wants to find the history of Key House, and its family of Guardians, they would merely have to purchase the prior volumes of Locke and Key, and read to their heart’s content.

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶🌶

======================================================================

A Man Among Ye #1 & 2 (Image / Top Cow)

Writer: Stephanie Phillips Artist: Craig Cermak

‘You might try using the eyes that head, Jack, unless you fancy a new breathing hole. Still I do love the smell of gunpowder in the morning…

——————————————————————————————————————————

Well, this is a pleasant surprise…

A comic about pirates. Not any pirate, not a ‘Jack Sparrow’ type of pirate.

No, this is a look at Captain John ‘Calico Jack’ Rackham, and more importantly, his first mate, Anne Bonny.

The stories of Jack Rackham, Anne Bonny and Mary Read are almost as extensive, and fantastic as those of Blackbeard, William Kidd and Bartholomew Roberts.

What makes Anne Bonny and Mary Read so special is their being successful Female Pirates in a male dominated world. Every bit as strong, independent, and batshit crazy as all the others of their time, Bonny and Read ran the British Navy ragged throughout the Caribbean, while doing so an all-male crew, an amazing feat for the 18th Century.

Stephanie Phillips has certainly done her research, taking this story from the sinking of a British frigate by Rackham and his crew, to the British Governor of the Bahamas, and his plan to capture all the pirates, and execute them.

Cermak’s art is nicely complementary to the story, however I find it a little trope-y… The Heroes / anti-heroes are pretty, the ‘Villain’ is an ugly brute, and things are a little to clean… This is a pirate story, on the High Seas, there is nothing clean and pretty about this…

But, I digress.

With two issues in, and the British on their tail, Rackham, Bonny and Read have their hands full. Knowing a little of the history here, I am looking forward to seeing how much legend Phillips mixes in with the facts of the raids on the Barbary Coast, the Tortugas, and the shipping lanes.

It’s really nice to see a non-Super, strong Female Led Book. Here’s hoping it gets legs, and readers!

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶🌶

======================================================================

Bomb Queen - Trump Card Part 1 (Image - Shadowline)

Creator - Jimmie Robinson

‘Why the FU*%ing rush? *cough - cough* He’ll be gone like every asshole politician. They’re all the same.

Not this time. Trump changed the Constitution by repealing the 22nd Amendment. He’ll make himself President for Life if he wins this election.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Sweet Jeebus. As if Jimmie Robinson hasn’t fed the zeitgeist enough with cut-off shirts and tiny, tight skirts, now he feeds the fears of America, outlining an America with a lunatic trying to rewrite Democracy… And the need for Bomb Queen to run against him!

This is my introduction to Bomb Queen, the ninth mini-series, each of the earlier ones a titillating wonder of humor and over-sexed action. At this point in her world, the anti-hero has had her own country for Super-Villains, and is now on the run, having beset upon by the World’s Heroes.

Captured by her Clone / Sire (these things are never clear), Bomb Queen is offered a choice, as it were. Run for office against the Orange Horror, or well, you know, because heroes aren’t really heroes…

His artwork is pretty, simple, and clean. There’s a certain elegance about the characters he draws. They’re not overmuscled, although the ladies do have exceptionally large ‘lungs’, which are emphasized by uniform cutouts (a’la Power Girl)…

This book is full of hoots, giggles, belly laughs, and unfortunately, the harsh reality of the 2016 Election. There’s a two page spread which harkens back to the CNN / MSNBC / National Television Network ‘Man on the Street’ interviews, with paraphrased quotes I heard about Trump over his opponents, and over Clinton. The idea that Robinson could make it fit so easily, and fluidly… well it both makes me ill, and gives me pause to want to read much more.

As I said, Jimmie Robinson has grabbed the National Zeitgeist by the shorthairs with this storyline, not because he’s rich, and just can, but because it’s just too soon, and no one will be able to deny the ugly nature of what they are reading.

This is worth a read to see where he takes it, to see if he has the stones to finish what he started, and to see HOW THE HELL Bomb Queen WALKS IN THOSE FRICKIN BOOTS!!!

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶🌶

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Cyberpunk 2077 Trauma Team #1 (Dark Horse Comics)

Writer: Cullen Bunn Artist: Miguel Valderrama

‘Everyone’s resentful of how little money they make. Doesn’t change anything.

We get the call.

We do the job.

—————————————————————————————————————————

As I read this book, and watched the flashes of color race across my eyes, my first thoughts were ‘godsdamn, this guy makes Frank Miller look good!’

Gentle Readers, in my introduction to this book, inside the first 5 or six pages, I was making comparisons between the artist of this book, and the master of dark, splatter mayhem.

Miguel Valderrama has a very special touch to his pencils and inks, maybe he buys them from the same place, perhaps they are fashioned from the same tree and graphite quarry… whatever the reason, the cause, I want MORE!

The biggest difference is the lightness of touch, the fine lines, there are many more, much more elaborate detail than the broad strokes Master Miller uses, however, this is not a complaint. Rather , the observation is more of a wistful longing for a, well, a ‘What if Frank Miller Drew Everything The Way He Drew His Crowd Scenes?

The answer might be found in this book

Cullen Bunn’s story reads like a reality television story. This is a look into the psych eval of the lone surviving member from a Medical Evac Team. This Trauma Team has medics, and soldiers to act as guards, as the areas they are sent into aren’t exactly Beverly Hills, unless the 90210 has been overrun by the Crips and Bloods, and they are eating the shop owners.

As Nadia is running through her memories of the events, we are seeing it in real time, along with the interviewer’s requests for clarification. She appears to be a solid medic, her only concern being getting back in the field. She has a job to do…

Now, at first glance, this could be seen as pretty derivative… like Judge Dredd / Anderson as a Guard / Medic team… BUT… and this is a Big One, the comparison ends with the big helmets and firefights.

There’s none of the cynicism, or the poking fun at the Government / Branches / Cabinet Offices. Rather, there’s what feels like a genuine look at how being a survivor has effected this character, and how she is going to handle getting back out into the field.

I liked this. I have to say, I went in to this book with some preconceptions, and was happy to see them dashed. The interactions between the Team characters come across as real, there’s little stilted, unnatural dialogue… and that was a great thing to see.

The twist Bunn slams at the reader on the last page of the book, well, I want to see Issue 2, just to see how this plays out.

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶.5

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HEAVY #1 (VAULT Comics)

Writer: Max Bemis Artist: Eryk Donovan

‘I’ve got fifteen Hitlers to do away with before the end of the night!

They’re throats aren’t gonna slit themselves!

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Have you ever read ‘The Punisher’?

Seen R.I.P.D.?

Put the two together, you’ve pretty much read this book.

Hyperviolence, set to a redemption arc, while saving the Multiverse from the worst iterations of the Famous (both good and bad… Leonardo DaVinci as a bisexual foot fetishist who uses his genius to become Dictator of the World, and build weapons that are sexual torture devices???!!!???)

The redemption part?? To get to the Other Side, and redeem yourself, you have to partner with, and train the jerk who killed you and your girl, and make sure he doesn’t get killed when you are on the job!

Unless this is what you are into… HARD PASS!

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶

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We Only Find Them When They’re Dead #1 (Boom! Studios)

Writer: Al Ewing Artist: Simone De Meo

Boss, tell me if I’m out of line here, I don’t mind not knowi—

— But what IS this between you and Richter? What happened?

Oh, it’s quite simple, Jason.

She killed my PARENTS.

—————————————————————————————————————————

I was hooked on this book before I got to these lines of dialogue.

I don’t know if it was the absolutely wonderful artwork, the beauty of the layouts, the detail, the ——Oh Hell, Simone De Meo’s artwork grabbed me and held me for the three readings I gave this book. I couldn’t get over the visuals, her place ts of panels, the character sketches… Hell, some of this was downright cinematic.

There are panels, and pages, that made me think of James Gunn’s vision of Knowhere… and that is high praise from me.

Al Ewing, what is there to say. After reading his work on Judge Dredd, i sought out his work wherever I could find it.. This is tough for me, not being a big Marvel Fan, since almost everything he has written has been for the House of the Iron Mouse…

The story, is simplicity. Explorers in Space find the corpses of the Gods. Well, that is as close as they can come to what they are.

There is a market for their meat, the materials which clothe them, certain parts of their organs, both a legal and a Black Market.

Once a Godcorpse has been identified, the Sutopsy Ships descend upon it, to stake claims. these are monitored by Escort Ships, in place to enforce Government Regulations concerning what can and cannot be stripped from the Godcorpse.

Violate protocols and die.

This is the story of the Vikaam Two, her captain, Georges Malik, his crew, and his plan to find a Living God.

I can’t wait!

Eight Bells… All is well…

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶🌶🌶

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Grendel, Kentucky #1 (AWA /Upshot)

Writer: Jeff McComsey Artist: Tommy Lee Edwards

‘You believe what Pap said about Clyde?

How he died?

Do I believe a bear killed my Daddy?

No Fuckin’ Way.

——————————————————————————————————————————

1976. Junior Year of High School, my AP English class was assigned ‘Beowulf’ as an Advanced Placement Test read. In the Olde English translation.

It was an attempt by my teacher, a wonderful elf of a nun, to get her literary stunted students to stretch, comprehend, and recognize themes once they see them, in preparation for the exam and the expectations of college.

2020. As is my wont, I picked up all the First Issues of the Indy Comics at my local purveyor of Four Color Sequential Art, The Geekery.

While running up my near National Deficit weekly Comics tab, my eyes slid across the title, and the gritty cover… Hmmmmm, too much of a draw not to at least give a look, add it to the pile.

In the opening pages of this book, Clyde Wallace has dressed himself in catcher’s mask, chest protector and knee / shin guards (poor man’s body armor), and strapped on enough real and makeshift weaponry (baseball bat with spikes driven through the business end to an M-60 grenade launcher) to make Rambo, Negan and Max Rockatansky run screaming into the night.

Clyde marches into the mouth of a mine…

WHOA! By Hrothgar, King of the Danes… This is Beowulf… In Kentucky!!??!!

Set in 1971, the Beowulf character, Denny, is a veteran of the Viet Nam Police Action, his warriors, well they are an all female biker gang, led by Marnie, a woman his father raised from childhood. The King, Pap, is the Town Elder, and he knows something he isn’t talking about.

Yeah, this is already good, one issue in.

Jeff McComsey has written an offbeat take on the Beowulf epic, taking some very severe literary license with the story lines. The epic heroes and warriors, well, not so much. Relatively amoral, criminal for support, ahhhh lets face it, these guys are all anti-heroes, at best.

If this were today’s America, I’m not sure I wouldn’t be rooting for the monster.

But I digress.

The artwork by Tommy Lee Edwards is gritty, hard on the eyes, and, well appropriate to the story. His artwork HURTS at times, you can feel the violence, the intent, through the eyes. America in 1971, it was not a pretty place.

As a miniseries (1 of 4, so far), this is worth the read. Too much more, and it would feel like I was prepping for a test again… but I digress.

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶🌶

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Inkblot #1 (Image Comics)

Creators: Emma Kubert and Rusty Gladd

‘Sweet Suckleberries!

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Her Name is KUBERT. As in Joe, and Adam and Andy and Katie.

That alone earns her the right to a viewing.

The fact that this is a fun little book she co-created with Rusty Gladd, well, that’s a gallon of whipped Italian Sweet Cream on top of the cake!

Give this a shot! Buy it for your little ones, if you have any! Lie about having little ones, and buy it for yourself! You won’t be disappointed!

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶🌶.5

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Spy Island #1 (Dark Horse Comics)

Writer: Chelsea Cain Cover / Designer / Supplemental Art: Lia Miternique Artist: Elise McCall

‘Some people are afraid of the ocean. There’s a word for it: ‘Thalassophobia’. A fear of the open ocean and what lies beneath its surface.

Not me.

I think the ocean’s great*.

*except for the Kraken.

——————————————————————————————————————————

SO. That happened.

There is an area of the Atlantic Ocean, delineated by vertices at Miami, Florida, San Juan Puerto Rico, and Bermuda, which has been the source of many stories concerning the disappearance of airplanes, ships, crews of ship, and unusual activities. This area, lovingly referred to as the Devil’s Triangle, or the Bermuda Triangle, is the source of this tale.

Spy Island is located somewhere inside the Triangle, and it plays host to spies, bad actors, scientists, etc from all nations, some other worlds, and all times.

It’s the story of Nora Freud, Agent for an unnamed country, possibly the USA, possibly not. She is a spy, and so much more. She is also a woman of action, who can perform any assignment given to her.

Including assassination.

Lia Miternique and Elise McCall have put together an artistically gorgeous offering in this book. Between the inserts for the fish, maps, the advertisements and covers, this a visually wondrous.The underwater scenes in and of themselves are masterful, offering a view of the ocean one might actually see off t a Caribbean island.

The story, well it is OK. Lots of self exposition, not much action (the best stuff is in the first 4 pages), this is setting up like a spy thriller, of sorts. DUH, bimbo!!! Look at the title!

It is a first issue, and seems to be tagged for a longer run, so, I’m willing to give Ms. Cain the benefit of the doubt here. She had to have given the artists the perspective to draw from, and I am cautiously optimistic, based on Mockingbird, and her NYT Best Seller Status…

It’s worth a shot, just for the eye candy…

Out of 5🌶 🌶🌶🌶.5

#indie comics #seven secrets #locke & key #a man among ye #bomb queen #cyberpunk 2077 #heavy #we only find them when they're dead #grendel ky #inkblot #spy island #image comics #dark horse comics #boom studios #comics #comic books

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mechagalaxy · 5 years

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Sten Hugo Hiller - 627184: Mecha Combat #964 - August 3346 Point Mech Panic

(By Sten Hugo Hiller - 627184) Mountain Climbing Mecha Combat #964

Brought to you by ANN

Highlighting the August 3346 Point Mech Panic

As we have grown accustomed to, after the war the Gaming authorities held a Pointmech tournament. Well, actually it started just after the frontline had finished, but since I was a specialist in the war and it not was a Chrono, what was the hurry in jockeying for a position my troops couldnt hold?

Then round 3 happened, and quite a few of my Mechs were hors de combat. It was plenty to do when it came to repairs, both when it came to personell and machines. Then, the gates to … opened and Toshikos hordes came streaming out.

By untold heroics and sacrifices we managed to slow, contain and slowly push them back. But it was just the eye of the storm. We could see fresh hordes emerging, but for the moment they seemed content by building their strenght.

That made it possible for me to get to the arena and try out Brunos newest concept. A fire armed, freezing Humbaba.

The higher part of the mountain was awash in big names: Steve ChenRobbins, Bune Page and Leopold Hackenbush from the Death`s Brethren, Russ Painter and roward from Black Star Lycan Rangers and Darryl Proctor from Black Star Knights. Darren Jackson from M&L`s Blood Wolves, Jelloshots Succeddown of the Northwind Dragons, in addition to my many time nemesis Colin Toenjes of the Heroes.

As the balloon was about to go up, there was no time to waste, and I carved a path toward the top. The first strikes were ineffectual, but a few seconds before the scramble started the top was mine. For a couple of seconds at least.

The top was soon shrouded in cordite smoke and the stench of burned armor was only partially offset by the chill waves thet sucked in warmer air. It was a furball the likes I had not been involved in for a long time. Take the top, chug a super, look where you are and see who is on the top. Attack, and find someone else claimed the top in the two seconds between you feeding target info to the A.I. and the actual attack.

Into this swirling chaos charged my clanmate Able Hunter.

Now, I love having someone I can trust to cover my back, but in this kind of chaos, being alone and knowing anyone else around is a target, leaves no doubts when it comes to pushing the fire button. Now I had better take an extra split second to make sure no untoward blue on blue happened.

The swirl of battle intensified, and I drained my fourth super and charged the top again. A few seconds later I had been dethroned again, this time by Hackenbush. As I drew a bead on him, Able charged past and blew him off the top. I carefully removed my itchy triggerfinger from the button, and wiped quite a bit of sweat from my brow. As my hand dryed itself on my pants, Hackenbush returned and blew Able off the top again Snarling I reached for the targeting reticles, and was just about to fire when the light flashed and it was over.

A later scanning of footage taken from my gun cameras showed that those who was highest when that light flashed had been:

Div 1 288+ (34 Commanders): Daniel Scott, Leviathan (Kami)(1s) 2: Joe Kump 3: Fabio Favaro 4: Claude Poirier 5: George Warren 6: Sal Vezzosi Jr 7: Stroker Spot 8: Jaime Beltran 9: Jay Fleharty 10: David Buchanan Div 2 -287 (17 Commanders): Mk Mathews, ***R.V.*** (Notos)(1m,16s) Div 3 -200 (25 Commanders): Leopold Hackenbush, Death`s Brethren (Fext)(3s) Div 4 -155 (28 Commanders): Allan Brainstorm, M&L Blood Wolves (Boreas)(14m,11s) Div 5 -122 (31 Commanders): Peli Huijari, Smurf Platoon (Fext)(32s) Div 6 -93 (30 Commanders): Cody Mckissick, HF 110th C.C. 1st A.R. (Antithesis)(41m,16s) Div 7 -72 (40 Commanders): victorbrown, M.P.A. "Rangers" (Ignis)(35m,38s) Div 8 -53 (20 Commanders): Barbstoyland Barbstoyland, Ronins (Ignis)(44m,2s) Div 9 -38 (15 Commanders): Bryn35, MurderMechs (Dilophos)(10h,40m) Div 10 -25 (18 Commanders): Kimberly Horn, *R.V. 2.0* (Fides)(4m,10s) Div 11 -16 (17 Commanders): MechPilot, Mad Mac`s Mechs (Fides)(1d,16h)

Total Contestants: 275 Total medals claimed: 165 (of 165 possible)

Compared to the mid-war Frontline event we had a slight drop in participation, -nine fewer Commanders showed up this time. But there was still enough fighting formations on all tops to make sure all the prizes were claimed.

I am not sure how long it have been since the last time the Boreas wasnt the most-winning model in either a Selfsame or a Pointmech event. In this event it only managed to claim one Gold, while a trio of other models; Fext, Ignis and Fides all claimed two. None of the Crystal models managed to get even one Gold though.

The last half-hour saw six Golds change hands at least once, three of them the last minute. Two Commanders managed to keep the Gold for more than two hours, one of them for more than a day.

Sounds like a really freewheeling event here, at least for the top prizes. But how hard were the struggles for the lesser prizes? To find out we cast a glance at the number of medals held for more than 30 minutes in this event:

.............Silvers......Bronzes Div 1 ....0 of 4.........2 of 10 Div 2 ....0 of 4.........8 of 10 Div 3 ....0 of 4.........4 of 10 Div 4 ....3 of 4.......10 of 10 Div 5 ....0 of 4.........4 of 10 Div 6 ....4 of 4.........8 of 10 Div 7 ....2 of 4.........6 of 10 Div 8 ....2 of 4.......10 of 10 Div 9 ....4 of 4.......10 of 10 Div 10 ..3 of 4.........9 of 10 Div 11 ..4 of 4.......10 of 10

On the many of the higher tops it was in general pretty much full action. Mount Olympus, K3 and K5 all saw the majority of the medals, including all Gods and Silvers change hands at a furious pace, of those 15 medals only a trio were held for more than fourty seconds. K2 and K7 also saw lots of action. On K4, K6, K8 and K10 it was relatively quiet and on K9 and K11 no successful attacks took place. Hard to believe as it might be, the fact is, all medals on K11 was held for more than a day!!!

No single clan managed to lay claim to more than one Gold in this event, and no unaligned Commanders rose to the top this time. Neither did any of the Frontline winners manage to get a follow up win.

Upcoming event: Cruiserweight Chrono

Cruiserweight cowers a range of tonnages, but in this case the heaviest Mechs allowed to fight on the tops are 65 tons. As always a Commander can bring whatever Mechs he have and can put into the formation, but overweight Mechs will be treated as empty spaces when it comes to fighting, so using lighter Mechs is much prefered to heavier. As it is a Chrono, showing up ASAP and starting to collect points is highly recommended for those who want (good) prizes

Event ends April 28 between 1000 and 1030 New York Time

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yabookprize · 7 years

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Nicola Yoon: ‘Books breed empathy’

YA author Nicola Yoon talks to us about writing and her debut novel being turned into a film:

What inspired The Sun is Also a Star?

It was inspired by a couple of things. Firstly, the Big History Project – it’s a theory of education that says if you want to teach a subject, you can’t teach it in isolation, you have to teach it in the larger context of everything else. I had this idea that I really wanted to tell a story where you’re not just telling the story of the two people falling in love, you’re telling the story of everything surrounding them too – all the things that are pushing them together and pulling them apart. The other thing that inspired it was Carl Sagan, because I’m a huge fan and I actually got to see him lecture when I was in college. One of my favourite quotes is “in order to create something as simple as an apple pie, you have to invent the whole world”. I find that so inspirational because everything really is influencing each other. We are all connected and, even though we can’t see some of the connections sometimes, they are there. So, I had these two ideas in my head when I started writing it and those were the basic story structure inspirations.

The main characters are partly inspired by you and your husband. How much of the story is taken from real life?

I would say the spirit of the relationship in the book, but definitely not the details. I did not fall in love with [my husband] David over the course of 12 hours whilst being deported – we met in graduate in school. But we talk a lot, we’re both really philosophical people, we end up talking about big ideas all the time, we’ll stay up at night talking about God and science and art and that sort of thing, and in the book, Natasha and Daniel are like that. They fall in love with each other as much for their ideas of the world as anything else.

Were you nervous to write the book following the success of [Nicola’s first novel] Everything, Everything?

Definitely a little bit. Fortunately, I had written a good portion of The Sun is Also a Star by the time Everything, Everything came out so that was good. The thing that I had to adjust to was becoming a more public person. It wasn’t so much pressure to succeed again but you get to know what everyone thinks about your books, the positives and the negatives, and it’s sometimes hard to tune that out. It took me a little while to turn that volume down in my own head so that I could just focus on whatever I wanted to write.

A big focus in the book is immigration, which is a topical subject at the moment. Why did you decide to write about it?

It’s unfortunate that the way the book is resonating now is so negative with the discussions around immigration. When I wrote the book, immigration was in the general atmosphere but not the main headlines. I just wanted to write about immigration because it’s part of my experiences but also to take these big political ideas and humanise them a little bit. I think what gets lost in our discussions sometimes is that we’re talking about real people with real problems and real hopes and dreams. They are really not different than anyone else and I hope that I’ve been able to show that to readers, to people who are already sympathetic and people who are not quite so sympathetic. Books breed empathy and it’s hard to hate or fear what you can understand. If you live with a character for 400 pages, I think that you’ll start to understand a little bit more and maybe have a little bit more empathy.

Given the political climate at the moment, do you feel more responsibility as a writer?

I definitely feel more responsibility, but I felt lots of responsibility anyway because I write for teenagers and I think that they’re such a vulnerable group – they’re growing and changing and trying to figure out their place in the world. I do think that there are some kids out there who are feeling stressed and marginalised even further in the current political climate and I do hope that the books serve as a beacon and help them be less afraid of the world.

The main characters in your books are diverse. How important do you think it is to have diversity in books?

I think it’s really important for a few reasons. A writer’s job is to tell the truth and the truth is we live in a diverse world so to not reflect it is to ignore the world as it is. And like the immigration issue, we talk about diversity in terms of big headlines but it’s always really personal. Maddie in Everything, Everything looks the way she does because my daughter looks the way she does and I really wanted her to see herself in a book when she grew up. When I was younger, I didn’t really see that many girls that looked like me who were the main characters in books and I didn’t want my daughter to have to experience that. Everyone deserves to see themselves as the hero of the story, so diversity is really important to me and I really think it’s good for everyone. Like I said before, books breed empathy so if you can pay attention and get to know someone who’s not like you for a few hundred pages then you’re a better person for it.

How involved have you been with Everything, Everything being turned into a film?

MGM has been really great and gracious. They’ve let me give notes on the script and it was really nice to help to shape that. Partly, I got super-lucky because I ended up becoming really good friends with the director. We really just liked each other and she has the same vision for the movie that I did, so I ended up being in really good hands with her and discussing ideas with her. She has such a good way of translating some of the non-traditional aspects of the book into film, which was the thing I worried about the most. The instant messages and drawings and quirkier things in the book are hard to think about in film but she does a great job with it.

youtube

When you were writing the book, why did you choose to include those non-traditional aspects in it?

When I was writing Everything, Everything, I wrote from four to six a.m. because my daughter was four months old and I had a full-time job. At that time, very strange things occur to you because you’re half-asleep and one of the things that occurred to me was that because Maddie is trapped in her house, she would draw the world as a way to be closer to it. She can’t go outside, so she would try to draw the outside in. I love Hawaii and am sort of obsessed with it and I made her the same way and one morning it popped into my head that she would draw the Hawaiian state fish, which is called a humuhumunukunukuapua`a. I can’t draw at all so I woke my husband up and asked him to draw it for me and he got up and made coffee and drew the fish, no questions asked. It worked so well that I thought ‘I’m going to do more of this kind of thing’ so that is what started me down the path of playing with different formats.

Why did you choose to write for young adults?

It’s just one of those things where I had this story in my head and it turns out that there’s a marketing category for it. I find it a privilege to write for teenagers. I’m pretty philosophical and I think teenagers are naturally philosophical just by virtue of being teenagers. They are naturally questioning their place in the world and who they want to be and how the world works and what kind of place they want to have in it. So I think we’re a natural fit for each other because I’m always thinking about those things as well. I guess I think that the books are about young people but they’re for everybody. I definitely do feel a sense of responsibility and privilege that I’m talking to people who are still growing and changing that are the people who are going to run the world in the future. The most fun part of being on tour is when you go to festival where lots of kids are because when they are passionate, they are super-passionate and it’s wonderful.

What are you working on next?

I am writing the third book. I cannot say anything about it, except for that I’m writing it because I don’t want to get killed by my editor!

#Nicola Yoon #Everything Everything #The Sun is Also a Star #We Need Diverse Books #diversity #ya #young adult #books #ya books #young adult books

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artificialqueens · 8 years

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Baby, New York City: Chapter Four (Biadore) - Boleyn

AN: Hi lovelies! Sorry for the super long wait. Life got crazy! My classes at university picked back up and I donated bone marrow (which was an amazing experience, got to bethematch.org for more information about it!). I’m not totally happy with this chapter, but to make up for the huge delay, it is a good bit longer than my others have been! Thank you so much for waiting and I hope you enjoy!! Oh! And the sketchbook library in this story is a real place in in Williamsburg! xx Boleyn

Chapter Four: Miscommunications and Sketchbook Pages

Roy tossed and turned in his bed for hours that night, eagerly anticipating his date the next day. He had no idea what he was doing but he knew that how he felt for Danny was something meaningful for him. He had never fallen for anyone so quickly but, god, was he taken with this young man. His full lips and sparkling eyes, his easy smile and ethereal voice, his profound maturity hidden behind a mask of humor and naivety, it all ate away at Roy’s tough, no nonsense exterior and warmed the most bitter recesses of his heart. He had spent the past hour just trying to conjure every nuance of Danny’s face in his mind, wondering if he was doing the same for Roy.

He wasn’t. Danny was preoccupied with Gregg. He always brought out a lot of raw emotion in him. His mind wouldn’t stop churning and Danny knew that this was his one chance to channel that emotion into his writing.

He heaved himself out from beneath his covers and in front of his laptop screen. He slowly typed a few words, feeling as though each one had to be forcefully pulled out from the tips of his fingers. He deleted everything he had written and tried to start again. He couldn’t. He could feel the words ready, lingering just beneath the surface of his skin, dancing on the tip of his tongue, but he was somehow unable to give physicality to them. He groaned in frustration and threw his head into his hands.

This is shit. You’re shit. Fuck, what are you doing? This is never going to cut it. Why the fuck did you think you could complete a Master’s degree? You’re a dumb bitch from Azusa. You’re not fucking Hemingway or Fitzgerald. You’re not a writer. You’re barely a real student. When was the last time you actually wrote anything fucking close to good?

Danny had always struggled with confidence when it came to his writing. He never felt these same fears on stage, singing into the microphone, sharing his voice with a room full of people. But his writing was and always had been somehow more personal to him. He drew inspiration from his life and he tended to use his stories as a way of understanding himself and his emotions better. When he wrote, it was just him alone in a room with nothing but his own words looking back at him. He couldn’t hide behind the screams of a crowd or dissociate into an open sea of faces. There was no energy bouncing back at him that he could absorb power from. He was face to face with his successes and his failures.

He began to feel hollow and cold and knew a panic attack was threatening to sink its demanding claws into him. Inhaling harshly in an attempt to drag in good, clean oxygen and release the dark clasp of anxiety from around his lungs and heart, he managed to quell the harshest wave of panic and focus his vision again. He stared at the empty screen before him and knew that he would never accomplish anything like this. His nerves were an absolute mess and his emotions so wildly fighting for dominance that he could hardly grasp one feeling tangibly before it had slipped and given way to the next.

He got up and went to his nightstand, pulling out a small container of weed, a few rolling papers, a filter, and his grinder. He went back to his desk and made quick work of rolling a joint and lighting it, relishing in the warmth that spread through his body at the first pull. He needed to quiet the insecure, self-conscious part of himself in order to make the most of his torrential emotions.

It was not only the drive to make something good out of feeling shitty that was motivating Danny to sit down and write. He was also keenly aware that he had a meeting with his toughest professor in a matter of days and that it would be a fate worse than death to walk in there empty handed.

It had been a while since Danny had written anything even halfway decent and he was nervous that perhaps he never would again, but as the joint burned slowly closer to the butt, and Danny allowed the negativity to leak out into the night air with the exhaled smoke, he could feel the words within his fingertips. He grabbed an ashtray and placed it next to his laptop, deposited the still burning joint in it, and began to furiously attack the keyboard, typing out any and everything that came to mind. It mattered not that it was conveyed in coherent prose or consistent structure, it mattered only that he felt it and wrote it the moment he felt it. His mind was working quickly and his fingers struggled to keep up but he wanted to get it all out before it slipped away and was lost forever. He was unaware of the passage of time as he stared at his laptop screen, letting his emotions flow from his heart to his hands to his ever-growing Word document.

–

Roy awoke the next morning smiling. He had dreamt of Danny. He was overwhelmed with the way he felt about him. Roy didn’t do this kind of thing. He didn’t just fall for someone. It wasn’t his style. Danny wasn’t really his style either, but he had crept into his heart and filled it with warmth.

Roy threw on some clothes and grabbed his two pups, heading out to take them on a quick walk. He pulled out his phone as Sammy and Deedee investigated a particularly interesting smelling tree and typed out a message to Danny.

Roy H: Good morning. I don’t think we ever decided when or where we were going to get lunch. Did you have any place in mind?

Roy frowned after a couple minutes went by without a response, but after last night, he couldn’t blame Danny for wanting to sleep in some. He allowed his Chihuahuas to drag him down their usual path, refusing to let anything ruin his wonderful mood.

But then an hour passed by, and another. It was now nearing 11:00 and he still hadn’t heard back from Danny. Roy chewed his lip and decided to type out another message.

Roy H: Hey, just checking to see if you’re still alive?

Another hour later. No response.

Roy H: Earth to Daniel???

It was now two in the afternoon and Roy was pissed. He felt stupid for having been so excited to get lunch with Danny. What if Gregg was right yesterday? What if I’m too old for him? Maybe this was all a mistake. Maybe he thinks I’m a mistake. Oh God…

Roy paced his apartment up and down. Anger, worry, disappointment, humiliation all swam in his head and heart. He felt almost sick from the warring emotions all simultaneously fighting for dominance.

He bitterly grabbed his phone and had a message written and sent before he had even thought it through.

Roy H: If you didn’t want to see me today, you could’ve told me. You really didn’t need to be a fucking child about it and just ignore me all day. It’s comforting to know you care about me enough to at least inform me that you were ditching our plans. Thanks.

Roy looked at the screen and cringed at the words, remembering the way tats had spoken to him the night before. He felt nauseous, already regretting the entire message.

Roy H: Danny, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that last text and I shouldn’t have said what I did. I’m just really worried.

Roy H: Please respond to me. At least so I know you’re okay?

Roy finally let himself think about the thought that he had been trying to block all day. What if Gregg found out where Danny lives… Roy could feel his skin prickling as anxiety coursed through him. He looked to his two dogs that were blissfully sleeping on their beds. He envied their ignorance. He felt like he was drowning.

Roy knew that the only thing he couldn’t stomach more than Daniel not wanting to see him, was Danny hurt somewhere trying to face the world on his own.

Before he allowed himself to think it through rationally, Roy had grabbed his keys and wallet and walked out the door. Perhaps it was forward, but he needed to make sure Danny was okay. He needed to know that Danny wasn’t in danger. He turned left out of his apartment building and started retracing the path he had taken last night to get home.

He felt stupid as he arrived at Danny’s building. He didn’t even know which apartment he lived in! How the fuck am I going to make this casual? Oh hey Daniel, you didn’t reply to my texts and I know your crazy ex is in town so I thought I’d just swing by and make sure you’re only ignoring me and not like hurt or something?

He had just about given up and turned around when a slender woman jumped by him, her hair in an exaggeratedly long ponytail flowing behind her. She held three large paper grocery bags in her arms, attempting to balance them while fishing her keys out of her small, circular bag.

“Hey, need a hand?” Roy gently offered, his hands outstretched, ready to retrieve a bag or two from her grasp.

The small woman looked up at him and smiled genuinely, relief spreading across her face. “Oh my god, yes, absolutely! Thank you!” She then unceremoniously plunked two of the bags into Roy’s arms while continuing to dig through her bag. “My roommate was supposed to help me with the groceries today but he’s had some kind of, like, creative awakening, or whatever, and was too busy feeling his oats to come help me.” She flipped her ponytail with her free hand, exaggeratedly flourishing it as she finally retrieved the key.

Roy smiled, not really knowing what to add. He looked the chipper young girl up and down. She wore an acid washed denim jumper with a lace bralette beneath. She completed the look with a faux pearl choker around her slim neck, an arm full of assorted bracelets and bangles, and grey heeled combat boots. It was quite the statement, but somehow felt befitting of her large personality.

She managed to unlock the downstairs door, and swung it open. She turned around to Roy and frowned. “Do you live around here? I haven’t seen you around and it’s not exactly like people walk this street for the sights,” the lady gestured around her and Roy took in the surroundings for the first time. Guess I’ve been too focused on Danny to notice anything else. The neighborhood wasn’t anything special, but it wasn’t anything terrible either. Just a street full of smaller apartment style buildings, most of them walk-ups, with the occasional tree thrown here or there.

“No, I was here to visit a friend,” Roy decided to try to keep his answer as simple as possible when the whole scenario felt anything but.

“Oh, who? I can totally let you in if they live here.” She smiled at him.

“Isn’t it a bit dangerous to just let whoever into your building?” Roy laughed a bit incredulously. He could tell the woman before him was young but her naivety made her seem even younger.

“Okay, c’mon Campus Security RA Hall monitor. I thought that was something only people in dorms freaked about.” She reached over and took one of the bags back from Roy. “Besides, if you’re a murderer, or whatever, you’re a super helpful one who’s welcome back here every time I have to get the groceries,” she punctuated the statement by flipping her hair around her and proceeding toward the staircase inside of the apartment. Roy looked down at the bag still in his hands and, for lack of what else to do, he followed her up the stairs. “Now tell me, who is it you made your way down here to see?” she threw over her shoulder as she turned at the second floor to continue up the steps.

“Umm,” Roy didn’t see what harm could come of telling this strange woman the truth. “My friend. We had plans today and he kind of went off the grid last night and I just was starting to sort of get worried about him.” Roy shrugged his shoulders despite knowing that the lady wouldn’t see it.

“Oh no!” she clucked as she reached the third floor landing. “You’re too cute for that shit. What’s the kid’s name? I’ll let him know what Mama Gia thinks of that behavior.” She turned around to look at Roy, seriousness plastered across her face. Roy would’ve thought it comical if the whole situation weren’t so odd and out of character for him.

“Umm, Danny?” He replied as if it were a question on a test he could get wrong.

Gia gasped catching Roy by surprise and causing him to almost topple the bag he was holding. “What? What’s wrong?” Roy looked around as if he could deduce the answer from the hallway walls surrounding them.

“OH MY GOD! Bitch wasn’t lying when he said you were cute,” she smiled at him, looking him up and down as if in appraisal. Roy was completely lost. “Okay honey, I’m gonna need you to do a spin for me okay?” Roy looked at her in utter confusion. “Baby, a spin, a twirl?” She mimed the movement with her hand.

Not knowing what else to do, Roy slowly spun around, heat creeping up his cheeks, embarrassed by his lack of understanding. Once he had completed the circle and was facing the woman again, he opened his mouth to speak.

“No sweetie. You’re coming with me and I’m going to let Daniel have it, officially, and then you two are going to have a lovely afternoon. He has these fits where he gets really into his writing and it’s like he’s fucking hibernating because you don’t see him, you don’t hear him, the only way you know he’s alive is because you can smell the coffee and weed. You know? One of those artsy types.” She scrunched her nose and nodded daintily as she said the last bit and, with that, she turned around again and headed to the end of the hallway, unlocking the door to apartment 3D, and stepping over the threshold. Roy awkwardly stood outside the door, not knowing whether to step inside or run away, but Gia peeked her head into the hallway with an exasperated look and intimated to him to follow her.

He stepped into the small space. Before him was a narrow hallway that met in a T style intersection, to the left were two doors (bedrooms?) and an open door to a bathroom. To his right was a standard gangway kitchen and an open concept living room space that held a bookshelf overflowing with books and vinyl records, a dining table that was home to several of those records and a beat-up older record player, two well-loved sofas, and a pair of mismatched armchairs sat around an ornate coffee table. No two pieces of furniture went together, but as a whole, the room seemed perfectly eclectic, as though it had been staged for a cliché Urban Outfitter’s shoot and then had been left behind to be loved by the people who lived there.

“Now, sweetie, you leave that bag on the counter, have a seat anywhere, and you let me go remind Daniel that he has a handsome young man waiting for his attention and he can’t be bothered to leave his room.” She pranced down the hallway back the way they came and plowed into the first door on the right. Roy heard the muffled evidence of Gia’s lecture. He felt guilty. Clearly Danny had been purposely ignoring him and here he was, invading his home, setting his energetic roommate on him, for no other reason than his selfish need to make sure that Danny was okay. God I’m fucking pathetic.

He listened for another minute to the quiet traces of Gia’s berating before he decided he had had enough. Danny doesn’t need to suffer because I’m a soft bitch who doesn’t know when to back off.

Roy strode over to Danny’s door and paused, self consciously running two hands through his hair, making sure it was coiffed in just the right way. If I’m going to be rejected by this adorable kid, I may as well look good. He smoothed out his shirt, took a deep breath and stepped into the room.

“Hey Danny,” Roy mentally scolded himself for how coy he sounded. He raised his gaze from the ground and immediately regretted it. He lost all resolve at the sight before him. Danny looked amazing. He had a light smattering of stubble across his jaw and his hair was no longer in a carefully arranged mess but a full-on, hands had been raked through it several times, hadn’t been brushed in a minute, mess. He had thick, black, large rimmed glasses on and the trace of dark bags beneath his eyes. He wore grey jogging bottoms and a baggy Misfits muscle shirt. He looked goddamn delicious. Roy’s mouth went dry and he nearly forgot why he was there all together.

“Roy!” Danny’s face lit up as he focused on Roy. Fuck. Fuck what time is it? “Oh my god. I’m so sorry! I had to write while it was all still fresh and I’m so sorry! I’m so terrible when I get into the zone like I don’t like think about anything else. I’m so so so sorry.” I’m such a fucking asshole. Shit. I’ve fucked it up. Fuck.

Roy saw Danny’s face go from excitement to realization to regret in the space of maybe two or three seconds. Roy could almost feel the panic emanating from the frazzled man before him and he felt a swell of relief. At least he wasn’t ignoring me to ignore me. God he’s cute when he’s flustered. Roy laughed a little and allowed an easy smile to spread across his face. Danny visibly relaxed and gave a shy, guilty smile in return.

“You’re a fucking cunt, you know that?” Roy laughed as he stepped closer to Danny. “I’m pretty sure I paced a fucking hole in my floors worrying about you and turns out you’re just an adorable brooding writer.” Roy felt himself flush a little until he noticed that Gia had conveniently slipped out of the room and closed the door behind them.

“I know, but seriously. Like I’m so sorry,” Danny turned his gaze to his feet and lowered his voice. “Seeing Gregg again and everything that happened, it stirred up a lot of emotions and I just needed to capture all that while it was still fresh and in my mind and the best way for me to do that is shut myself in so yeah it was very that. Trust I wasn’t ignoring you. Like, that was the last thing I wanted to do. I really wanted to see you and spend time with you, I just-”

Roy was struggling to follow the stream of words running out of Danny’s mouth seemingly as quickly as they formed in his mind. All he could focus on was how hot Danny was like this. Disheveled. Dark. The fucking picture of the stereotypical tormented writer and Roy wanted him more than anything.

With Danny still mid sentence, Roy jumped him, pulling his face down to meet his mouth, enveloping Danny’s deliciously full lips with his own. He greedily pulled Danny closer to him until they were flush to one another. Danny eagerly opened his mouth allowing Roy to entwine his tongue with Danny’s. Roy’s fingers curled gently into the hair at the nape of Danny’s neck as their tongues scraped together deliciously. Danny’s hands traveled down Roy’s body, drawing teasingly over his tense shoulders and trailing to his full biceps.

Fuck. So good. The world beyond Roy ceased to exist as Danny became overwhelmed by the taste, the feel, the sound, the sight of Roy wrapped so fully around him. God. So hot. Danny’s entire being felt on fire. He could feel Roy everywhere. One hand scraping through his stubble, one hand pulling gently at his hair, his chest firmly pressed against his, his hips perfectly aligned with his. Danny allowed his hands to wander dangerously low on Roy’s back, one curling beneath Roy’s shirt and traveling up his defined torso. Fuck.

Danny pulled away for lack of air, keeping their foreheads pressed together to allow only a minimal amount of space between them. Danny felt drawn to this beautiful man. He couldn’t bring himself to put any amount of distance between them. He gazed into Roy’s eyes, reveling in the blown out pupils and the primal hunger he saw in them. He smirked.

“Remind me to disappear more often,” Danny panted into the air between them, diving back in for another kiss, this one slower but no less heated.

“You pull this shit on me again and I may slap you,” Roy laughed, immediately stopping when he remembered Danny’s ex. Fuck, no. God you’re such an idiot! He’s actually been in a relationship where that was a thing. God I’m such an asshole! Roy’s eyes widened in regret and he began profusely apologizing for the slip trying to assure Danny he didn’t mean any of it and that he would never hit him and god he was so sorry when Danny’s face broke into a mischievous lopsided grin.

Danny leaned in a bit closer and all but breathed into Roy, “sometimes I like being slapped,” before reclaiming his lips.

Roy felt his breathing stop. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he internalized what Danny had just said. He felt the words travel through his body, lighting up every nerve ending. The words ran down his body and settled in his groin. Roy knew that he wouldn’t be able to resist this delicious man if he didn’t stop them now.

“Danny, Danny,” he breathed greedily as he pushed him away, not yet entirely decided on the direction this encounter was going to take.

“Mmm, yes Roy?” Danny asked him dangerously, all big eyes, thick lips, and warm sighs. God, he’s fucking sexy.

“We need to stop,” Roy managed to spit out.

Danny backed away, glints of hurt and confusion in his eyes.

“No, no,” Roy never wanted Danny to feel unwanted but he desperately needed some oxygen and space to get the words properly thought out, let alone said, to him. Roy pecked Danny’s lips one last time before partially extricating himself from the delicious man he couldn’t get enough of. “I want you Danny. Believe me, I do. But, call me old fashioned, it’s just that I’d really prefer to wine, dine, and make you feel special before we get too physical.”

Danny’s hesitation dissipated into a grin far too wide for his face, but, at the same time, absolutely perfect and too good for this world. Roy couldn’t help but mirror it. “Okay, old man,” Danny teased, leaning in to press his lips delicately to Roy’s for a moment. “Then I guess I have to ask you to leave while I change…?” The question was clear to Roy. Danny was trying to figure out if he had blown his date today. Good God, no you haven’t. Roy had already lost himself in Danny. He felt young and light for a change, a far cry from the dull, weighted days he had grown accustomed to.

“I take it all back,” Roy whispered, capturing Danny’s lips again in a kiss that was certainly NOT reminiscent of the honor he was trying to uphold.

Danny felt the relief palpably reverberate through him. He didn’t blow his chance. He thanked whatever deity was looking out for his interests at that moment. He met Roy’s passion, trying to convey how grateful he was for his support and understanding. He eventually pulled away, wanting to respect Roy’s wishes to not take the physicality too far just yet. “Out.” He smirked as he ordered the beautiful man before him.

Roy composed himself enough to only mock disappointment at having to leave Danny alone, to undress, everything, and redress. Damn it. Why did you have to open your fucking mouth?! Fuck.

Danny turned around and went to grab his phone and it was at that moment that a cold panic gripped Roy’s heart as he remembered the slew of texts he had sent earlier that day. “Danny, wait!” Roy lunged toward him, doing his absolute best to not let his fear show in his eyes.

“What? Do you need another kiss before you go?” Danny teased, his eyes alight with affection.

“Umm, well yes, but can I see your phone for a sec?” Roy laughed, doing his absolute best to feign nonchalance but failing miserably.

“Okay …?” Danny had no idea what Roy would need with his phone but handed it over, making sure to wind his fingers through Roy’s as he deposited it in his palm.

Roy smiled at him in relief and went into their conversation, noting that he was saved as ‘Roy [heart eyes emoji][tongue out emoji]’ in his phone. He was about to delete the longer message, the harshest of the five he’d sent, when Danny plucked it from his fingers.

“Nope, you’re being weird so you’re going to tell me what’s going on first.” Danny had been in a relationship before where his boyfriend hadn’t trusted him and had felt the need to perpetually police his messages and calls and he wasn’t doing it again. He was never going to be made to feel like he was perpetually doing something wrong or like he wasn’t worthy of someone.

“Umm,” he started off, nervously laughing in an attempt to relieve tension. He brought a hand up to scratch the back of his head. “I may or may not have gone a little overboard with the texts today and one of them I wrote in anger and I didn’t mean what I said in there. I feel terrible about it and I shouldn’t have said what I did. It’s not who I am, I was just frustrated and worried about you. I really wish I had waited until I was calmer to text you.” Roy smiled ruefully at Danny, sincere regret in his eyes.

Danny knew he should probably hand the phone back and let Roy delete the text but he felt a desperate masochistic need to know exactly what Roy had said that had him this worked up. Is it bad? I can’t do the whole toxic relationship thing again… But it’s Roy. He’s been so nice and sweet to me. But he decked Gregg and wasn’t sorry about it. But that was Gregg and this is Roy. Roy told me he’s not like that and that he never would be. But what if he is..? He was horribly conflicted. He exhaled slowly. He knew he should probably respect Roy’s wishes but he also needed to protect himself, to know what this relationship was going to be before he got invested in it and couldn’t turn away.

He looked down at the messages and scanned them.

Roy H: Good morning. I don’t think we ever decided when or where we were going to get lunch. Did you have any place in mind?

Roy H: Hey, just checking to see if you’re still alive?

Roy H: Earth to Daniel???

Roy H: Danny, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that last text and I shouldn’t have said what I did. I’m just really worried.

Roy H: Please respond to me. At least so I know you’re okay?

Danny burned with shame. He could practically feel the fear and anxiety he had caused Roy through the messages. God I’m such an ass. The fourth text, the one he assumed Roy was desperate to erase forever was harsh, yes, but not totally out of line. He was mad. Of course he was mad. I practically stood him the fuck up the day after he saved me from being beaten by my ex and listened to me and fed me and took care of me so I didn’t have a full scale panic attack. Fuck. You’ve finally found an amazing, smart, kind, understanding man, and what’s the first thing you fucking do? Make him feel like shit because he thinks you’re not interested. Great work Dan. Really nailed that one.

Danny stood silently scrolling through the messages. Roy felt like he was on trial, awaiting the judge’s verdict. Would Danny be disgusted by his words? Would he look at them and think Roy was his ex? Not that he hadn’t been cruel in those messages and couldn’t understand the assumption that Roy was a piece of shit, but he wasn’t ready to lose Danny before they had even gotten a real start. Just say something. Please. Anything.

“Danny, please? I’m sorry and I regret it so much. Please just tell me what you’re thinking?”

Danny looked back up at Roy. He saw hope and shame and reverence in his eyes and he realized in that moment that Gregg had never been this genuinely sorry, and over something this small. He had hardly ever apologized for the big things.

He smiled sweetly at Roy. “I think I need to get changed so we can go on our date,” he gently reassured him, reaching out to twine his fingers with Roy’s. “And I’m sorry too.”

Roy exhaled in relief and smiled mischievously. “Alright princess. You need to get dressed and then we are going to spend the day doing whatever you want to do!” Roy helped to spin him around and swatted his butt. Danny threw a smile over his shoulder at Roy and wiggled his playfully.

Roy looked at Danny with admiration. God he’s amazing. He was determined to start their relationship off today showing Danny just how wonderful he was and just how committed Roy was to treating him like royalty. He backed out of the room and blew Danny a kiss before going to wait in the living room. He was ready to be the one that got to treat Danny like the angel incarnate he was.

He pottered on his phone while Danny was changing, searching up fun young people date ideas in the event that Danny didn’t have something in mind. He felt so out of touch. What the hell is Vietnamese-Mexican fusion cuisine?! Why would I take him to tour a postage stamp museum?! None of the suggestions he found were good enough for Danny. He was not going to take him on some cliché rom-com date but he didn’t want to overdo it by trying to be too hip either.

He heard a door close and looked up. “Okay gorgeous. What do you want to do?” He smiled as Danny curled his arms around him, his eyes radiating excitement.

“I don’t know man, I thought we could kinda just let this day take us wherever.” He smiled adorably.

Roy looked into Danny’s eyes and smiled. “Okay, freeform isn’t usually my style, but we can try it.” He laughed, pecked a kiss to Danny’s lips, and dragged him out the door.

Once they’d exited the building Roy looked to his date and asked, “right or left?”

Danny looked both ways down the street and declared, “right.” Roy happily snaked his fingers between Danny’s and turned down the street. They wandered through the city, deciding at every intersection whether to continue straight or to turn. Roy was surprised by how calm he felt. They had no set plan for where they were going or what they were going to do, and he was perfectly happy with that.

They turned right onto 9th Avenue and walked several blocks, window shopping and chatting. Danny pulled Roy to the left down W 19th toward the Joyce Theater, explaining that his roommate Jay was a dancer and had performed there a while back, lamenting that he hadn’t yet been in New York then. Roy smiled and watched Danny excitedly share the most trivial things about himself with him. It felt wonderful to be getting to know such special details about this man and Roy committed to memory as many of them as he could.

They then turned right again on 8th and walked a few blocks until they got to the first subway station on their journey. Roy turned to Danny. “Now what?”

Danny laughed. “First we have to choose above ground or underground?”

Roy smiled at him. “Underground.”

“Party. Now we gotta decide the blue or gray line?”

“I made the first choice. It’s your turn, chola.”

Danny swung their hands between them as he scrunched his mouth in contemplation. He gasped excitedly. “We should totally go to Williamsburg! Yeah?”

Roy’s face slowly broke into a big smile and Danny could see the wheels turning. “Okay, man, what’s with the grin?” Danny asked him suspiciously, pouting his mouth.

“Nothing, kid. But, yes we are going to Williamsburg.” Roy dragged Danny down to the subway platform, laughing when Danny bypassed paying by hopping over the turn style.

“C’mon old man. You got any moves left?” Danny teased from the platform.

Roy cocked his head and placed his hands on his hip, his brows raised in amusement and mock disappointment. “Daniel, do I look like a teenager? I’m a little beyond doing silly stunts to impress a guy.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Alright, man. I’m just saying, it would impress me and it might get you a kiss. But, whatever. Your choice.” Before Danny had time to finish shrugging his shoulders in feign nonchalance, Roy had vaulted over the turn style and was standing before him.

“I’ll take that kiss now,” Roy smugly grinned, his dimples popping. Roy was a little too pleased with himself for Danny’s liking.

“No one likes a sore loser, Roy.”

Roy cocked his eyebrow. “No one likes a tease, Danny.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re into it.” Danny leaned in to kiss Roy’s cheek, pointedly looking him up and down, then turning around and to watch for the train. Roy felt himself flush under Danny’s scrutiny.

Roy shook his head, partially in frustration and partially in adoration. Mostly adoration though. With you Danny, I’m very into the tease. He allowed himself to focus on Danny’s ass for a moment before he moved to stand beside him, wrapping his arm around Danny’s waist.

He leaned over to whisper into Danny’s ear, “don’t start something you’re not able to finish.” He gently pressed his lips to Danny’s earlobe and reveled in the hungry look it elicited from him.

Their train arrived and they boarded, standing hand in hand for the duration of the ten-minute trip across the East River to the Bedford Avenue Station. Roy laced his fingers through Danny’s and pulled him up the staircase and proceeded to lead him in a zigzag pattern.

“Roy, where the fuck are you taking me?” Danny groaned as he was turned from Union onto Frost Street.

“Calm down, princess. We’re almost there.” Roy bit his lip in excitement and Danny sighed, allowing himself to be lead further down the street. He was suddenly stopped as Roy flourished his wrists and chimed “ta-da!” spinning around to face him with a big smile on his face.

Danny looked around in confusion. “What? I don’t get it?”

“Here, bitch!” Roy pointed to a simple brick two-story building with large, glass windows exposing the first floor. It looked empty and incredibly ordinary. Not exactly the kind of place Danny was expecting such a cultured, intelligent man to get this excited about. He smiled perplexedly at Roy, still not understanding what he was looking at but not wanting to hurt Roy’s feelings either.

Roy sighed. “C’mon chola.”

He opened the door and let Danny in before him. Once they stepped inside, Danny noticed that the space was large and open, the walls lined with recessed bookshelves stuffed with books of varying colors and degrees of wear. Danny noticed that none of the books had titles on the spines. The shelves were clean, white and uniform along the lengths of the walls, strangely juxtaposed with the torn, beaten, and faded books that overwhelmed them. There were wooden tables and chairs strewn in the space between the shelves and a red park bench sat along one wall, blocking a section of shelving. Danny felt the spirit of the place flowing through him. It was exciting and eclectic and vibrant, there was obvious creativity and human exploration within these walls. Whatever this place was, he fucking vibed with it.

He looked over to Roy with an incredible grin and found that he was smiling as well. He looked so incredibly youthful. So beautiful. “What is this place?” Danny asked him quietly.

“This is the Brooklyn Art Library. These are all sketchbooks. All by different people, from different places, and then they’re stored here and you can look through them. See things people you’ll never know see. Find out how they experience the world, what they think is beautiful. I like coming here when I’m feeling stuck on a project. It’s like I get to borrow inspiration from someone worlds away that thinks in ways I don’t. That can see things, understand things that I don’t. It’s one of my favorite places.”

Danny couldn’t tear his eyes away from Roy. His eyes had wandered around, growing wistful as he explained this place to Danny. He was so beautiful. Danny felt warmth flutter through him as Roy shared how meaningful this library was to him. Roy was sharing a part of his soul with Danny, welcoming him into this sanctuary of creativity where he felt at home. Danny felt the faint tingle of emotion sting his eyes as he realized that Roy was sharing this special space with him because Roy thought he was special. If they had been anywhere even remotely private, Danny would’ve jumped Roy, shown him how grateful he was for opening himself up like this. But they were in public, so Danny contented himself with grabbing Roy’s hand, tangling their fingers together, and giving his absolutely incredible date a slow kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for bringing me here,” he grinned around the words, his jaw hurting from the pull of his smile. He couldn’t remember a time he had felt this amazingly happy.

Roy flushed with color, squirming slightly under the intensity of Danny’s praise. “I’m glad you took a chance on an old guy like me,” he laughed. Danny rolled his eyes and looked at him with affection. Roy felt his chest swell with emotion. “Whoever finds the weirdest sketch gets to choose where we have dinner.”

“Fuck yeah, I’m gonna win,” Danny declared, moving off to a shelf in a quiet back corner of the room.

Roy smiled and followed him, stopping at the other end of the shelving unit and grabbing a book. He flicked through it, occasionally stealing glances at Danny. He was furiously sifting through the books, his brows furrowed and his tongue captured between his teeth poking out from his lips. Roy suddenly found himself imagining what Danny would look like in bed, wrapped around him, allowing Roy to- Nope. Nope no. Not that. Calm down Haylock. You’re a fucking adult. Act like it. He quietly took a few deep breaths, forcing his body to calm down. He made a pointed effort to focus on the task at hand and not the gorgeous man a few paces to his left.

Danny was watching Roy. God he’s fucking hot. Danny watched as Roy’s tongue poked out to wet his lips and watched his chest rise and fall deliberately. He wondered what Roy looked like without a shirt on. How his chest and arms and stomach would feel under Danny’s touch. Holy shit man. Keep your fucking cool. He’s mature and smart, bitch. Last thing he wants is a guy who can’t keep his mind out of the fucking gutter longer than ten seconds. Danny took a moment to close his eyes and refocus. He continued flipping through the sketchbooks, purposefully keeping his eyes on the pages of the books and not on the deliciously tanned man just down the shelf from him.

Roy gave up trying not to stare at Danny, his adorable face scrunched in concentration. He looked at the book he was holding and flipped to the back page, it was blank. He looked on the table behind him and found a pencil. If he was going to spend the afternoon staring at Danny, he might as well do something productive about it.

Danny was flipping through his fifth book when he found it. There was no way Roy could top this. He triumphantly strode up to Roy and displayed his treasure, a very well-drawn sketch of an octopus body with Queen Victoria’s stern head holding a balloon animal dog with one of its arms. Roy burst out laughing. He has such an cute laugh.

Danny stared warmly at Roy, trying to commit this picture of Roy to memory, his head tilted back laughing until he was out of breath at this stupid sketch. Danny smiled. “So, I win?”

Roy managed to nod and gasp out between giggles, “yes bitch. You fucking win. That’s either the best or the worst thing I’ve ever seen.”

Danny laughed with Roy for a few moments before he snatched Roy’s sketchbook out of his hands. “What did you find?” He looked down at the page the book was opened to and felt his heart warm. “Roy, did you draw this?” On the page before him was a sketch of Danny. Danny had always been confident about his looks. He knew that his full lips, baby Jesus eyes, and delicate bone structure blended together in a unique and appealing way. He had never doubted that he oozed sex appeal. But as he looked at Roy’s sketch, for the first time he felt beautiful. Roy had delicately carved his features out with different hues of shading, contouring out his cheek and brow bones. He instinctively drew his finger over the drawing half expecting to feel the dips and grooves Roy had created on the page. He gazed in awe at the detail captured within the drawing’s eye, flecks of white broke through the myriad of tones Roy had managed to create using just pencil on paper. It was amazing.

Roy smiled bashfully at Danny. “Sorry, I couldn’t find anything so I guess I just,” he shrugged his shoulders, not knowing where the sentence was going himself. I guess I just wanted to capture the most beautiful person in the world on paper so that I can look at it forever? Yep. Perfect Roy. Keeping it reeeal casual. Great.

“It’s beautiful,” Danny whispered gently as if the drawing would leap from the page and disappear forever if startled.

“It’s easy to draw beauty when one is looking at it,” Roy whispered back, half hoping Danny wouldn’t hear him, half hoping he would.

Danny looked up at Roy, his eyes wide.He didn’t know what he had done to deserve such an amazing man in his life. He was so sweet and so kind and so good to him. It was overwhelming and far too much but absolutely right at the same time.

“Roy,” Danny breathed, not knowing how to possibly convey through words how much it all meant to him. “Thank you.” He leaned forward and softly kissed this incredible man, attempting to pour his gratitude into Roy through his lips. He pulled away and smiled.

“You’re welcome,” Roy whispered back. He had never known himself to be this type of person. This ridiculously sappy, romantic idiot that did grand gestures and expressed emotion, but Danny did something to him. He made him feel safe exposing these parts of himself, completely unafraid of ridicule or judgment for it. But he could only do this kind of this for so long. Recovering his dignity, he stepped back a pace. “So, where are we having dinner?”

Danny smiled and laughed in exasperation at this adorable man that obviously was not used to sharing so much of his heart with the world. He felt a heated wave of almost affection rush through him and started at the realization that he wanted to be the one to open Roy’s heart up, to be the one to show Roy how wonderful emotion could be. But he also knew that the poor guy had probably maxed out on romantic deeds for the day.

“What’s the least attractive food to eat you can think of?” Danny grinned at him.

Roy laughed. “Umm I don’t know. Barbecue, maybe? Or tacos?”

“Fuck yeah, I choose Mexican,” Danny decidedly informed his date, depositing the sketchbook with the incredible profile of him back on the shelf, mentally noting it to be sketchbook #705 on the far right of the third shelf of unit #21, and grabbing Roy’s hand. “Do you know any places around here?”

Roy nodded and explained that his friend owned a taqueria right by the metro station they had gotten off at. They walked back the way they had come, hand in hand, looking in shop windows and chatting about nothing in particular. Danny smiled when they stopped in front of a building that resembled a cantena. A large sign read “Cynthia’s Especiales” across the entryway.

Roy ordered for Danny and took him to the back to introduc him to the owner Cynthia. Danny smiled when Roy introduced him to her as his date.

“Roy! Mis amores, my heart is falling out my cucu. This man,” the tiny, energetic Puerto Rican jabbed a finger at Roy while looking pointedly at Danny, “he has been alone too long. He’s a good man, and if you treat him bad, amore, I will come at you like tiger. Yes?” Her accent grew thicker as her words grew more impassioned.

“Ms. Fontaine, I swear on my chola mom that I’m not just using him for his hot bod,” Danny teased, smiling into Roy’s eyes.

Roy laughed. “I mean, he has to like my personality if he’s willing to pretend I’m hot,” Roy joked, putting air quotes around the word ‘hot’.

Cynthia and Danny protested at the same time.

“Roy Haylock, you are a sexy man,” Cynthia scolded while Danny leaned over to Roy’s ear and whispered, “I happen to think you’re very attractive Roy.” Roy was ready to tackle him there and then. He sounded like pure sex breathing into his ear.

Cynthia smugly watched the two men fawn over one another. It had honestly been far too long since Roy had let someone into his life. She had never understood how he hadn’t been snapped up already, but looking at the younger man before her, the way he looked at Roy and tenderly held onto him, she thought that perhaps it had been for the best.

“Okay, amores, out! I need to work and I can’t do that with you making love eyes in my kitchen!”

Roy rolled his eyes. “Sorry. We’ll get out of your hair.”

They contentedly worked their way through dinner and took the L line back to Chelsea. Roy walked Danny back to his place, the streetlights burning brightly by the time they made it back there.

Danny pouted when they got to his door. He didn’t want to say goodbye already. He turned to Roy. “Would it be, like, extra of me to ask when I can see you again? Without ghosting out on you this time?” He chuckled in an attempt to mask his nerves.

“Danny, I don’t know if there’s anything about you that’s not extra. You’re a writer, musician, singer who has creative binges. I’m pretty sure you’re the definition of extra.” Roy laughed, kissing him on the cheek. “But I would love to see you again. I’m free Wednesday night I think? I’ll have to check my calendar.”

Danny quirked his eyebrow, “Your calendar? Okay cool guy. Let me know if you can pencil me in.” He leaned into Roy’s touch, not ready to let go of him yet.

Roy laughed. “I’ll have my people get in touch with your people.”

“Perfect.” Danny sighed and angled his head downward to kiss Roy’s lips. “Thank you for today. It was honestly, like, the greatest day I’ve had in a really long time.”

“I’m glad. I had a great time, too.” Roy couldn’t remember the last time he had been so shy about things. He tipped his head up and captured Danny’s lips in a heated kiss, releasing suddenly and backing away.

“Goodnight, Daniel.”

“Excuse me. I thought ‘no one likes a tease’?” Daniel exasperatedly threw Roy’s own words back after him, frustrated and excited and filled with affection for this amazing man who had him wrapped around his finger.

“Maybe there’s something to it after all,” Roy smirked. He waved to Danny and watched the younger man slip into his apartment building.

Roy Haylock, bitter old bitch Roy Haylock, had it bad for Danny Noriega, and he wasn’t interested in stopping anytime soon.

#boleyn #bnyc #biadore #au #bianca del rio #adore delano #gia gunn #cynthia lee fontaine #rpdr fanfiction #submission #m/m au

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