#how does pete feel having to play i don’t care at pretty much every concert they do

[binary-moons]

really funny to me that what a catch donnie and i don’t care are on the same album because like

pete: here is a song i wrote about my best friend patrick, he never gives himself enough credit but i think he is very cool and i care about him a lot :]

patrick: here is a song inspired by my ANNOYING-ASS BANDMATE who i just had my 3rd argument of the day with because he’s so INDECISIVE and doesn’t know when to S H U T U P

[littlejeanniebean]

Hey lovely, I wanted to ask you about Up To No Good, a few questions! 1. Is James a big Wolfstar fan and/or does he feel a bit left out? 2. What are their thoughts about Peter now? Do they hate him, feel sorry for him, feel sad, not think about him?!?! 3. Who do you think is the creative force behind the band? 4. What gave you the idea of Remus playing bass, and why is this so incredibly perfect for him?

@blitheringmcgonagall!!!​ <3 <3 <3 I have so many ideas about all of these, let me just:

1. Circa Post-Up to No Good Tour: James looked between the boyfriends, crashed on the couch peacefully, thoroughly entangled in each other. After the disaster that was Paris Fashion Week, they threw themselves into writing their second album immediately. Or, well, James did at least. Minnie kept telling him to take time off, but every time he took even a second away from the studio, his mind immediately went to her. He looked at his bandmates and the easy love they shared - had always shared. All he ever wanted was some of that. Perhaps it was the artist in him, the hopeful romantic -

“I think you mean ‘hopeless romantic’,” Kingsley mumbled from the floor behind the drum kit.

“Did I stutter?” James muttered ruefully. He hated the twinge of jealousy that seeped into his chest every time he remembered that he didn’t have a love like Sirius and Remus’. Sure, Kingsley didn’t either, but the man was self-dating or whatever the term was. He was perfectly content to be single, unlike James, who was once again scrolling through Lily’s social media.

“A watched pot never boils,” the drummer hummed. 

James bit his lip before he could bite back, but his mind still betrayed him. Tosser. Wanker. He wrote down an idea in his notebook, green eyes, green-eyed monster, but he was far too tired to do anything more about it just then, so he shucked off his glasses and crashed on the floor.

A/N: At the end of the day, he is their biggest shipper, but he’s got so much love to give, it’s hard for him not to have someone of his own to give it to.

2. Circa Mischief Managed Tour: James stood in the empty stands early in the morning. The sun hadn’t even risen over the top of the stadium yet. Another artist was sat at the piano, fingers just barely brushing the weighted keys. His once blonde hair was dyed a few solitary streaks of green. James vaguely remembered Lily saying it was the “in” colour now. 

“Alright, Peter?” he ambled down towards the stage.

The pianist started, his pale blue eyes darting around. No one else was there. “Alright, James.”

“That was quite the show last night.”

“Y-you were there?” 

The singer nodded.

“Sorry,” Peter jumped up suddenly, “If you need the space to start rehearsals -”

“No, no, I’m here way too early...” 

“I like to stay late... adrenaline or something... I’m sorry.”

James was about to wave it off, but he took in his former bandmate’s stance and sure enough, Peter sat back down.

“I’m sorry... about the way I left things... I’m not going to pretend I regret it, though. Bands have... a short shelf-life, James... I heard your second tour isn’t performing as well as the first, but you’re a brilliant songwriter with an ear for beats. I think your talent -”

“Is mine. I decide what to do with it. Who I share it with.”

Peter nodded, “How are the boys?”

“They’re good.”

“They don’t want to see me.”

“Oh, they want to do more than see you,” by his tone, Peter could tell that “more” was not a good thing.

“Tell them I’m sorry, will you?”

“See you around, Pete.”

The blond boy nodded again and left.

A/N: I think their relationship with Peter is an evolving thing. They’ll rub elbows again and again at awards shows, concert venues, festivals. Eventually, they’ll learn to be civil and eventually, when they see how his pop-start shine begins to fade - because without his band, he kind of follows whatever trends his marketing team says are in - they’ll pity him, but by then the band’s gone on a well-deserved, mutually-agreed-up hiatus and there’s nothing to invite him back to. 

3. Literally any recording session ever post-Mischief: James: I can rhyme with purple. [writes shit]

Remus: But will it make sense, though? [arranges shit]

Sirius: Who cares? [re-arranges shit]

Kingsley: Good point, all we have to do is take our shirts off and no one will care what we’re saying. [randomizes shit]

James: But that’s cheating! [fixes shit]

Remus: It worked on Evans well enough. [slyly inserts shit]

Sirius: We should make a rap album next. [makes shit cool]

Kingsley: James and I should switch places then, because Jimbo can’t rap. [uses shit appropriately]

James: I can too! [tries to edit shit]

All: Can’t. [is done with shit and sends it up to Minnie and Elphie]

A/N: There are like 101 creative forces between all the Marauders and I haven’t even gotten into Minnie and Elphie’s editing process...

4. Circa Up to No Good Purple Socks Show Segment: “And how did you come to play the bass, Remus?” asked Albus.

“Well, my dad used to play it in a jazz band - they still get together to jam sometimes. So I’ve pretty much been playing all my life and it was never exactly a big deal? Like I didn’t particularly care for it any more than any other thing, it was just... something I did like talking or walking... but then I got into a motor accident - other guy’s fault...”

Sirius closed his eyes briefly. He’d been there. Back in high school, he’d been driving the motorbike when the drunk T-boned them. They were lucky to be alive.

“... and some nerves were damaged,” Remus continued, flexing his hand as if to assure himself that they weren’t damaged anymore, “I was really worried I’d never be able to play again. I went to physical therapy, took my meds, the works. And when I started playing again, something... something had changed for me. It was... It was different... just hearing music versus when you make it - when it comes from... from some place deep within... Like dad’s jazz... and for me, that’s when I really started to play, you know?”

“Beautiful,” the host breathed, taking his time to come out of the story before moving on.

A/N: I just kinda see Remus as... earthy? And I see bass sounds the same way, so it fit :)

You can read Up to No Good / Mischief Managed on my Ao3 :)

Ask me about my fics?

[violethowler]

My thoughts on Kingdom Hearts III

My initial reaction to the ending of Kingdom Hearts III was equal parts confusion, devastation, and just being overwhelmed by the sheer volume of how much time was spent on the final battle. I had a lot of conflicting opinions about how some things were handled, but unlike when that happened with the final season of Voltron, I feel a lot better about everything after a good night's sleep, because I was up late at night finishing the game. I'll get into the spoilers under the cut.

So, for starters, let me put my reactions on a scale of negative to positive:

Major disappointments that should absolutely be done better in the next saga:

After Kairi was hyped up for so long that she'd have a more important part to play in the story, her role in the final battle was a letdown. I can swallow her not being as amazing a fighter as the others because she's never been in combat before and she's been effectively thrown into the deep end on her first day, but I at least expected her to resist when Xemas grabbed her, instead of passively standing there like a helpless damsel in distress. The only in-universe explanation would be if after stress and panic of the previous fights, she froze up when Xemnas made a more for her. But after seven years of being built up as a Keyblade Wielder, and her relationship with Sora, she could have done so much more. I sincerely hope that Testuya Nomura learns from this and lets her shine in the next saga.

With trailers and interviews hyping up how big the worlds were this time around, having Twilight Town and 100 Acre wood be just one small area each was seriously disappointing. I was really looking forward to seeing more of the 100 Acre Wood. They could have fleshed out the whole "Sora disappearing from the cover mystery" for at least a little bit, maybe let us run around the other characters' houses instead of just Rabbit's. And for Twilight Town, I would have liked to have been able to see how the other districts looked.

Going straight to the endgame after San Fransokyo. I know that the creators decided to focus on quality over quantity when it came to the worlds in this game, but I was hoping for just one surprise Disney world that could give fans one last breather after rescuing Aqua and Ven. If not a Disney world, then I would have at least liked to have been able to explore more of Land of Departure or visit Radiant Garden outside of cut-scenes. I love RG's look from BBS and I would have loved to walk around and see the world restored to its former glory.

Vanitas was frustratingly underused in this game. For all the hype surrounding his return, I expected more from him. Especially because the Kingdom Hearts concerts kept including his theme music with the "heroes and heroines" meddley, tantalizing us with the possibility of him getting a redemption arc. And instead, he just dies all over again, only this time, he's calmly accepting his own demise instead of freaking out like after his final fight in BBS. As someone who loves the idea of him getting redeemed, that was a big disappointment. The only thing I'm hoping for is if he somehow comes back in the next saga, because it was kind of unclear whether he's really dead, if there's a way for him to come back, or if he's just faking it like Xigbar was.

Things I wish had been handled differently but I can ultimately live with and hope are handled better in the next saga:

The lack of focus on or explanation of the X era mysteries we've been pondering for years disappointed me on first playthrough, but now that I've had time to think about it, I realized that X/Unchained X/Back Cover/Union X/Whatever-They-Change-The-Name-To-Next isn't truly a part of the Xehanort Saga, but rather, the connective tissue that sets the stage for what comes after Xehanort. It was supposed to set just enough things up that we'd know who the Foretellers were and what Xigbar being Luxu meant. But because it was released before KH3, the fandom built up our expectations that the mysteries of what happened would ultimately be answered in III, so when they alluded to Marluxia and Larxene's past as Dandelions without following up on it, I was kind of disappointed. But now I realize that it was meant to open the door to them playing larger roles in the Lost Masters Saga.

Maleficent and Pete just lurking in the background despite trailers and previous games hyping up her interest in Luxu's box and the Book of Prophecy. This is something else that was clearly being set up for the sequel, but I wish Maleficent had at least had more to do. A boss fight with Pete followed by a conversation to establish that she's waiting for the dust to settle between the Guardians of Light and Seekers of Darkness before she makes her move would have been nice.

The sudden introduction of this mystery girl. At first, I thought when they kept mentioning this girl, they were talking about Kairi, and that we'd be starting to learn more about her past in Radiant Garden. I soon realized that the implications of Kairi's life pre-Destiny Islands were a red herring, but the more they kept bringing this girl up, the more I was expecting there to be some kind of explanation for who she was in the game itself. I can understand in retrospect why Isa and Ansem SoD would suddenly bring her back now, because both knew they were going to die (Isa at least had the promise of recompletion) and wanted closure on burning questions they hadn't thought about in years. Considering that the epilogue and secret reports imply she's amnesiac Ava, I think this is another case of planting seeds for future installments in a way that I wish had been done better.

After years of Aqua being celebrated as a badass Keyblade Master, her not really getting to do anything in this game is upsetting. Sure, things make sense from an in-universe perspective: she sent her Keyblade to Destiny Islands as a beacon for Sora, Riku, and/or Mickey to find her, which weakened her already worn down defenses when Xehanort’s heartless came for DiZ. With how much warping Terranort does, I figured he’d attacked Ven at speeds so close to superhuman that Aqua didn’t have time to react. And in Land of Departure, Nomura wanted to have Ven’s awakening be a dramatic moment where he swoops in to protect someone he cares about. But having Aqua kick Vanitas’ ass only for her to get taken down by a single Firaga spell feels like a poor way to achieve the desired result.

While having some Disney worlds follow the plots to their respective movies was expected, Sora, Donald, and Goofy's presence their felt a little insubstantial. I mean, I'm not saying they should have just copied the movie shot for shot with SDG there in the background, but it felt like they missed out on large chunks of the movies. It was forgivable in Kingdom of Corona because they were there for the important parts and Marluxia basically told them what they missed re: Rapunzel. With Arendelle it felt weird that they were really only involved with Elsa running away, the Marshmallow fight, and the ending. The rest was pretty much spent with Larxene coming up with elaborate ways to keep them away from the plot of the movie. With Pirates it was just ridiculous. They were really only there for the escape from Davy Jones locker and then just ran around with fake!Jack doing their own thing until it was time for the final fight of the movie. It's hard to not know the plots of Tangled and Frozen due to pop culture at this point, but if you're playing this game with no knowledge of the pirates of the Caribbean movies, you're going to be very confused on what's happening in the maelstrom fight.

Minor quibbles:

An explanation for what happened to Demyx would have been nice, but then, that could just be another mystery to be addressed later.

The whole "rewind time and replay everything before Sora's near-death until things change at the last moment" thing didn't really make a whole lot of sense, but it wasn't too big of a deal, and Xigbar's "we don't need you to make a second blunder" implies that he had something to do with it, which can hopefully be explained properly at a later date.

Little moments that weren’t necessarily big for the story, but I enjoyed anyway for personal reasons:

At first, I was crushed by Even’s return to the Organization because I loved the fanfic Why The Sun Sets Red where he becomes a surrogate parent figure to Xion, and wanted that relationship to be a reality in canon. Then when he saved Ansem, Hayner, Pence, and Olette from Fake Ansem, my head was saying “this is probably a trap”, but my heart screamed #ShittyScienceDadConfirmed. And I was so relieved when my heart turned out to be right. I will probably end up writing a post-III fanfic of Even bonding with his Science Daughter at some point.

I generally stay away from shipping in the KH fandom, but after years of having SoKai as my first OTP, I came to start shipping SoRiKai, and as upset as I am about Sora’s fate (I can’t really complain about that too badly since Nomura already promised that Sora would still be the main character in post-KH3 installments so having this kind of ending should have been expected, if not for 3 than for a future title), I at least take comfort in the fact that there’s enough wiggle room for SoRiKai headcanons set after Sora’s inevitable return.   

Everything else that I absolutely loved:

The visuals were absolutely freaking gorgeous. On every single world, they went out of their way to make the graphics as beautiful as possible.  The 2D fire effects on Olympus, the different shaders used each world to make Sora, Donald, and Goofy fit with the aesthetic...

The Skein of Severance. While I wish we'd gotten to explore more of the Keyblade Graveyard during the final battle, or that the maze was a little more elaborate, I loved having to fight multiple members of the new Organization simultaneously, and oh dear god the aftermath of every fight: Xion's return, Terra regaining control of his body, Saix's death.... I was sobbing after every boss fight.

Despite how complicated the lore has become, the story itself was actually pretty straightforward. It was pretty refreshing and reminded me of KH1 and BBS, where the heroes have a clear overarching goal and a reason for why they're traveling to other worlds.

As much as I wish that Unchained X had been held until after KH3, there's a stroke of genius to the epilogue: Because of Xehanort's whole "balance between dark and light" obsession and Riku's whole "dark is not necessarily evil" character arc, I've seen a consistent idea within the fandom that the main villain of the next saga after Xehanort should be one of those who fit into the "Light is not good" trope. And by implicitly setting up the "Lost Masters" for that role in the epilogue, they've both ensured a masterful conflict between the Keyblade Wielders of the past and the ones of the present, and ensured that the next saga will be as heartbreaking as possible by ensure that the fandom is already attached to these characters.

Honestly, despite the issues I've had with the game above, I absolutely enjoyed Kingdom Hearts 3. It was worth the wait in my opinion, and I can't wait to see what the future holds. My only hope, given the epilogue and secret ending, that we get an announcement of Kingdom Hearts IV within a year or so. Doesn't need to release next year, but it definitely needs to be announced for development.

[missizzy]

A Single Warm Place (The Punisher)

They’re spending Christmas Eve together mostly because neither has anyone else to spend it with. Even Curtis went off to Maryland to see his family a couple days ago, after relaying to Frank invites from Karen for tonight and from the Liebermans to join them for a movie and Chinese food tomorrow. He turned down the latter, but, well, the four of them have each other. He’s pretty sure Karen has been invited nowhere this entire week, and one would have to be as blind as that idiot who broke her heart to not see how lonely she’s been left. And he’s gotten the strong impression she’s gotten isolated at the Bulletin, and that it’s entirely his fault. This is the least he can do for her.

She got a pair of pre-cooked turkey legs she can easily warm up, and they taste a little funny, but Frank doesn’t care. At first they keep the conversation safe. He tells her about getting a new construction job, she tells him about the two holiday fluff pieces she’s recently been obliged to write. “I mind it less than I thought I would,” she notes. There’s tension in the air; it’s hard for Frank to not think about how much he shouldn’t be here.

The alcohol helps. Frank thinks Karen might have had a little bit of it in her even when he arrived, and he knows he did. When they’ve both downed another beer, she gets loose enough to start talking about what awful things that she’s most mad about right now. Karen’s got so much rage in her, and so much of it on behalf of other people. Most of her rants he hears out without comment, letting his own beer relax him a little.

“It never ends, you know,” she finally says. “And lately, well, maybe this is just me being…but this entire year’s been the worst ever, and yet I’m afraid of the next one being worse still.”

“Maybe,” Frank says. He thinks of Wilson Fisk, one of the two men that will, he knows, eventually drag him right back to war; it’s only a question of which and when. Also of the suspicions he has about Karen, the questions he hopes he’ll never have to ask, but probably eventually will.

And he’s drunk enough beer now he finds himself saying, “I don’t think I can even comprehend a year anymore anyway. Part of me isn’t still isn’t expecting to live long enough for it to matter…soon my family will have been dead for a year and a half. I’ll likely outlive them for that long, and then longer…”

“Can we go on like this forever?” Karen wonders, and her eyes look way too shiny. “I know I’m lucky, you know, I’m not…I just feel like I’m in some ridiculous limbo anyway, waiting for everything to stop hurting.”

“Maybe I’m the lucky one,” Frank notes. “I know in my case it’s not going to, so it’s one less thing to worry about.”

“Oh, Frank,” she sighs. “You know, I invited you here hoping to make you feel better.”

“You know that’s not why I came here, though.”

“I know.” There’s a laugh in there, but it’s hard and bitter. “But Curtis isn’t going to be happy with me anyway.”

“How much are the two of you in contact?” Frank asks, feeling just a little bit of alarm.

Karen did laugh out loud at that one. “Email every other week. You’re not going to stop people from caring about you, Frank. And just knowing you haven’t taken a turn for the worse again makes me feel much better.” She knows he won’t protest that, damn her.

Well, except that he asks, “What if you guys got hacked?”

“We refer to you as Pete, and he really only just gives me the most general details, enough to put my mind at ease, you know. So before you start making any assumptions, no, this does not excuse you from telling me how you are whenever we see each other.”

Her jesting tone doesn’t fully mask the seriousness of her words. Frank could come up with a similar response, one which would deflect without completely running away. But he doesn’t want to play those games with Karen. So he just says, “I don’t think how I am’s gonna change much,” because that’s the easiest answer.

When her head bends down, and he sees she’s struggling for control of herself, he tries, “I’m glad to be here. I honestly am.”

“Good,” Karen takes a swig of her beer, holds it for too long.

Their plates are pretty much clean by this point, and Frank gets up with a, “I’ll do the dishes.” It’s fleeing, and they both know it, but she allows it, just nodding.

Except that when he’s standing at the sink, scrubbing away at the plates, the memory comes to him vividly of one evening two years ago. Dishes for four back then, and he was in a proper kitchen, but it’s still alike enough to bring up a new surge of grief. Closing in on a year and a half, and he’s still getting those. There’s always something else to remember, something he still wants back so badly, even if he didn’t want it when he did have it. Something he’ll never have again.

Karen sees it; of course she does. “You…” she started. “You did this that often...”

“No,” Frank says, “just…” She’s come over to stand by him, too close to where Maria was standing at the time. He focuses his gaze hard on the forks.

“I could,” she starts awkwardly. “Should I…”

“It was the last time I did this in a setting like this,” he says, letting it spill, because it’s filling him so much, and he’s drunk enough, and she’s looking at him in that way. “Remember what I told you, about Frankie painting the marine on the wall?” When she nods, he says, “Maria wasn’t too happy with the way I handled that one. Kept her smile on around the kids, but the minute they’d gone to bed she wasn’t talking to me, and oh, could she burn, when she used the silence treatment. But I’d just come home and was tired and irritated, so I got kind of mad at her too. We said we were sorry when we went to bed, but I don’t know how much we really meant it.

And then the next day it poured. Rain all day. So we couldn’t do our picnic by the carousel that day, and even though Maria insisted we’d just do it a day late, the kids were both unhappy.” He has to pause for a moment there, but it’s not the first time he’s demanded of the universe why they couldn’t have been rained out of their last picnic instead. “And me, I’m afraid I wasn’t much better than them about it. I just…I wasn’t good that day.” It’s harder to explain to Karen than it was to Curtis, or the other veterans, how he got when he first came home. Though from the way she’s nodding, he thinks she’s done enough research to realize what he’s talking about.

“And God bless her, even though she was still angry at me, Maria still shielded me from the brunt of their wrath. Took it all on herself and had a miserable day. I wasn’t a complete idiot; by dinnertime I was aware she’d been through enough. I stayed a little angry, maybe, up until the moment I walked into the kitchen and saw her just standing over the sink, like it was too much…so I said I’d take over and washed everything while she just leaned against the counter and watched. I wasn’t sure she’d stopped being mad completely, but she was just so tired, the way she was struggling to support her weight on her arms just screamed it.” Her face and posture are his clearest memories from the kitchen, ones that brings feelings of pain and tenderness still, and in fact more of both than they did even at the time.

Everything’s clean; he’s putting the last of the things on the dishrack. “So when I was done, the two of us just sort of looked at each other, and I asked her, ‘Am I forgiven?’ And she half-smiled and said, ‘Probably, if you cuddle with me for the rest of the evening.’” Even now he chuckles; Karen smiles. “Well, when my old lady gave me that obvious a tip, I usually took it. We sat down on the couch and turned on the TV, where they were showing this cooking contest, it was some ridiculous shit. And eventually Lisa dragged Frankie out and they both apologized to their mother, though she had to prod him into it…”

He has to stop talking, then, at that memory. The kids didn’t stay with their parents long, but there was a few minutes of the four of them sitting together, watching someone prepare some way too fancy food dish, with Frankie twice demanding who’d want to eat that. Maria finally looked better then, and when they were once again alone, she kissed him softly, and they cuddled more in earnest. There was a feeling of utter peace and contentment that also joined them on the sofa that night, one Frank’s not sure he ever got again after that.

“I’m sorry,” Karen says, her voice too thin. “I shouldn’t have…”

“No, don’t be.” Because much as remembering hurts, it also feels good, in some strange way, like pulling out a piece of shrapnel.

He sees then she’s shivering, and she’s shed a couple of tears. It’s instinct, then, to pull her into his arms, which causes her to finally break down the way she’s probably been needing to the entire evening.

It promptly hits him with another memory, of Maria when her mother died, and oh God, does it hurt. But Frank doesn’t want to let go. He shouldn’t even be the one doing this, he thinks. Not when he’s someone who can neither take all Karen has to offer, nor give her all she deserves. But if she needs to be held tonight, and there’s no one else to do it, damned if he isn’t going to give her that.

When she doesn’t stop quickly, he even goes all the way with it, steering them onto her couch and turning the TV on. He’s in no mood to watch sappy Christmas specials, but he finds a Christmas-themed concert playing on PBS, which is fairly harmless. Karen’s quieted a little, so the main sound in the room is the music. Neither of them look at the screen, though; she keeps her head down, pressed into his chest.

He, meanwhile, glares at the photo she has by the TV, of the two assholes who’ve abandoned her, and when one of them’s even still alive. He’s gotten the impression Nelson isn’t in town much right now, that he’s deliberately taking cases that take him upstate and away from his own grief. Running out on the huge-ass family Frank knows he has around here too. But Karen’s never brought either man up, and he won’t if she won’t. Especially with the suspicion he has about Murdock that’s stronger than ever, another thing he never wants to ask her about.

Eventually she’s done crying, murmuring, “Your shirt’s soaked. And now you have to walk home in the cold.”

Home. Not an appropriate word to use for his latest apartment. Or any of the one’s he’s slept in since burning what’ll probably be the last home he ever has. He doesn’t want to go anywhere right now.

“Can I borrow your couch?” he asks. He scolds himself for a moment later, because he shouldn’t impose on her like that. But he’d much rather sleep here, where he won’t be alone, and hell, where he knows that no matter what danger Karen’s attracted to herself lately, he’ll make sure no one will be able to come in and hurt her tonight. Besides, it means she won’t spend all of tomorrow alone either, even if he’ll probably leave right after breakfast.

But she replies, “You’re welcome to sleep on it whenever you don’t want to be alone, at least until further notice.”

He thinks he might, at least a few times. With all the dangerous shit Karen has a habit of getting mixed up in, it would probably be a favor to her anyway.

[jordan102791]

Pixie Love Note part 3

Wulf stretched out across the cold other half of the bed and groaned. It had been a long, while pleasurable night, but he knew he had to get up and get a shower. Then he needed to get dressed and toss the rest of his stuff in a bag before meeting the guys to eat and getting back on the bus. He rolled out of the crisp white sheets tangled around his hips and headed for the bathroom to get started.

*****

Tossing the last things into his bag, there was a rapping at his door. He could guess fair certainty who it would possibly be. Jogging to open the door, he found Gage, Pete and Tyler waiting in the doorway. Charlie undoubtedly had spent the night with Maggie and was getting the two of them loaded back on the bus before going to eat and hitting the road. They talk about rockstars like they're all slags, but Wulf had never seen anyone as in love as he'd seen Mags and Charlie. If he was really being honest with himself, he found himself watching them in wonder sometimes. He wondered what it would be like to love someone so much it hurt to breathe when they weren't with you.

"Oy, didn't you bring a girl back last night," Tyler asked right out the gate.

"Yea, why?"

"Well where is she?" He looked up from the contents of his bag to see the other two looking around for something, while Tyler met his level gaze.

"Yea, she was kinda cute," Gage said with a suggestive eyebrow raise.

"Not my cup of tea, but she was good looking," Pete chimed in.

"How could she not be your 'cup of tea'? You'd bang anything that moves," Wulf quipped.

"I didn't say I wouldn't fuck her, I just wouldn't take her home to meet my mom."

"Like you'd take anyone to meet your mom," Gage threw in.

"True."

"Anyways, where is she? Need any help running her off," Tyler asked. All the guys, except maybe Charlie had met an overzealous fan or two that refused to leave the next morning. And it was up to the others to help get rid of them.

"Nope. She's gone." He wasn't sure why, but he felt that small pang again that said he was disappointed she left without a goodbye.

"Gone? Run her off already, or did your morning breath take care of it for you," Gage asked.

"Neither, she was gone when I woke up."

"Wait. She left? On her own," Tyler asked, his eyebrows creeping high up his forehead in surprise.

"Damn, must be losing your touch man," said Pete.

Wulf rolled his eyes and heaved a loud sigh as he hoisted his duffle over his shoulder and grabbed his jacket from the chair. "Whatever, let's go. I can't seem to find my room key though."

It's fine, you don't need to return it. As long as you have all your stuff, you should be good. Besides the maids will probably find it when they clean up later," Tyler replied.

*****

Piper slide her fingers over the smooth flat surface, before scraping gently against the plastic where the card had been punched out. Rubbing her hands across it reminded her of the strong hands that had rubbed her down the night before and on into the early hours of the morning, tipping her lips in a small smile at the memories. And they were certainly memories she wanted to hold onto for a while. She fiddled with the key card in her jacket pocket as she walked up the porch steps to her mother's house.

Her mother was a saint and without her she never could have done the rest and relaxation nights she got every once in a while to recharge her batteries. And her mother got to spend more time with Piper's two daughters at these sleep overs. The girls loved it and Piper got a much needed break from all the stresses of the world for a night. Piper opened the screen door and greeted an empty hallway before her.

"Mommy!" Piper heard a little girl's voice that could only belong to her five year old, Talia. She heard other quieter voices that she knew must belong to her mom and the eight year old Lana. She'd barely made it three steps down the hallway when Talia popped her head around the corner and took a running leap into Piper's arms. Lana and her mother followed closely behind to fill out the hug.

"So how was the concert," her mother asked.

"It was fantastic, they played some of the old songs from when we were kids and it really took me back. I wish Shauna could've come with me, but it was still great. I got to talk to Jason Wulfson backstage afterwards too. We talked music and it was pretty insightful. If I didn't feel close to the music before I certainly do now," Piper said with a fond smile on her face.

"Mama, can we go with you next time too," Lana asked.

"Sweetie, this was very grown up music, but ya know what, I promise we'll go see a concert together soon. All right?" The girl's smile was all Piper needed to ensure she'd make it happen. Maybe Shauna or her mom would join them too depending on what she could find available. She did miss getting to go do fun things with them so often, but a mother's job is never done.

*****

"So how was it," Shauna asked excitedly. She'd been just as big a fan of the Pixie Fighters growing up as Piper had. And if she hadn't had a mandatory all hands on deck incident at the office, would have probably been right by Piper's side. It was late and Piper was exhausted for not sleeping more than an hour the night before. Though she admitted to herself it had been totally worth it. But she had promised a recap for her best friend, since she couldn't make it. Piper gave a yawn and went into the details of the concert.

"And you went backstage, right?"

"Yep. Even talked to Jason Wulfson."

Piper was sure she had lost some hearing in the ear pressed to the phone when Shauna began squealing. "Oh my god! How was it? Is he still as gorgeous up close?"

"Oh yea. Definitely still hot as hell."

"I don't even like long hair, but I would totally make an exception for that boy."

"Same. In fact... I may have... Kind of... Made an exception last night."

"Does that mean what I think it means?"

"Well I can't read your mind, but I think probably." Piper pulled the phone away from her just in time to miss the brunt of another ear shattering scream.

"Oh my god! How was it? You have to give me all the details. Best friend code and such and yadda yadda." With that, Piper went through every juicy detail from the elevator to the last romp early early that morning. "Was it as magical as it sounds?"

"I don't know if magical is really the right word here, but head spinning certainly fits."

"My little girl is growing up so fast."

"Oh whatever, I'm the one with the two kids here," Piper chuckled at her friend.

"Yes, but how often do you really go out and get laid? Let alone, by my forever crush, Wulf."

"I go out sometimes. It's just hard, you know that. Guys our age are starting to try and settle down and all I'm looking for is a little bit of play every once in a while. It's just easier to be alone sometimes than deal with someone pushing for a commitment from me."

"Yea I know. Have you thought anymore about maybe doing the relationship thing again? I mean it's been three years."

"No, I... I don't want that. I'm better off alone."

"All right, but maybe one day you'll meet a great guy... or gal if you've decided to switch hit," Shauna said in a voice heavy with humor. "And it might change things. I just don't want you to ignore it because you put your blinders on."

"Yea I know, but for now at least it's not in the cards. I had love once, who am I to steal away someone else's chance."

"Sugar, you know that's not how that works at all, right? Just because someone could go off and give their love to someone else doesn't necessarily mean they would."

"Yea, I probably know that better than anyone. Anyways, I'm worn out and need to head to sleep. I just wanted to call and tell you about last night."

"As you should. Well goodnight love, and at least think about what I said. You have so much love in you. It's a shame for it to get wasted."

"Yea thanks. Goodnight hun." She barely hung up the phone before she passed out sprawled across the bed atop the sheets.

[acrylicqueen]

“Lifehouse”

My friend and I decided to elaborate on Pete Townshend’s failed rock-opera, Lifehouse and bring life to the characters and story that was briefly introduced by the minimal synopsis we were able to find online:

-----

1971 Version -

“In the world the album is set in, pollution is so bad that the populace are forced to wear Lifesuits, suits that could simulate all experiences in a way that no one would have to leave home.

The suits are plugged into a huge mainframe called the Grid, similar to today's internet, but which also contains tubes for sleeping gas, food, and entertainment; supposedly, someone could live out tens of thousands of lifetimes in a very short period within the Grid. The Grid is controlled by a man named Jumbo.

The story begins when a farming family in Scotland (Sally and Ray) hear of a huge rock concert called Lifehouse occurring in London, a sort of post-apocalyptic Woodstock. Their daughter, Mary, runs away to join the concert. They don't wear Lifesuits because they are supposedly out of the pollution's range and they farm the crops that the government buys to feed the Lifesuiters. Bobby is the creator of Lifehouse. He is a hacker who broadcasts pirate radio signals advertising his concert, where the participants personal data are taken from them and converted into music, quite literally "finding your song". At the climax of the album, the authorities have surrounded the Lifehouse; then the perfect note rings forth through the combination of everybody's songs, they storm the place to find everybody has disappeared through a sort of musical Nirvana, and the people observing the concert through their Lifesuits have vanished as well.”

1978 Version:

“Set two hundred years after the events in the Who's Next version, this tells the story of another attempt at a Lifehouse concert. The concert holders are helped by "muso", a cult hat worships music, and are hated by Plusbond, the group that runs the Grid and the Lifesuits.”

-----

Nathan Jumbo -

Jumbo is the man who controls The Grid; the leader of Plusbond and inventor of the Lifesuits. He has light brown hair, slightly greying around the roots and sideburns. He's caucasian, in his late 40s, and very tall with broad shoulders. He refuses to wear anything but blue, pinstripe suits with the Plusbond logo sewn into the chest with gold thread. He wears glasses with tinted pink lenses and lines and wrinkles cover his face, which in itself is enunciated with dark brown, piercing eyes.

Jumbo has a hobby of getting involved in a lot of publicity stunts so he looks good in the public's eye. He carries himself in a respectable manner and always has a large, white smile on his face. Most see him as a kind man who wants to use his products to better mankind. Appearing approachable and friendly is what matters most to him.

The moment he is out of sight, however, his abnormally large, pristine, smile is gone. Truthfully, he is not completely what he seems to be. Known by his employees as being hot-tempered and condescending most of the time, Jumbo is undoubtably intimidating. 

Bobby O’Riley -

(Bobby looks exactly like Robert Plant and no one can convince me otherwise.)

Bobby has long, wavy, golden hair, so soft it might as well be clouds. He’s in his early 30s, tall, and thin. On his face he sports several, small beauty marks and a mustache and beard.

After being freed from the clutches of the Plusbond, he greatly prefers wearing heeled boots with boot cut jeans, a belt, and no shirt. (Or at the very least a loose-fitting one.)

Bobby had been alive before the Plusbond came along and ruined the cities with its pollution. He knew what the real world was like and yearned to feel Mother Nature’s touch again. No matter how much time he spent hooked up to the Grid, being fed endless amounts of artificial information, he never forgot what it was like to FEEL. Nothing Plusbond could provide them would ever be as rewarding as what the world used to be. He was determined to feel that rush again, no matter the risk. He is a dreamer, and loves anything and everything natural. Nature is where he feels most at home.  

Sally -

Sally is heavy-set, always wearing patterned dresses and aprons. She has golden hair, shorter than Bobby’s and slightly wavy. Her face is plump, with the rosiest cheeks one could imagine. (It's impossible to see her not wearing oven mitts.)

She’s in her early 30s. She has no children (Mary does not exist in our version of the story) but could easily be mistaken for a mother because of her kind face and deeply caring nature. Sally is a very sweet woman. Her voice is tender and she attempts to do everything out of a place of love. She tries to find the good in all people and when she makes a friend, normally they’re a friend for life.  She loves reading, playing the violin, tending to the farm animals, and going on long walks in the foothills to calm her nerves. 

Ray -

Ray stands at a pretty average height, and is lean and strong - his arms are quite toned from all of the farm work he does. His skin is darker, tanned from being outside much of his waking hours. He's got short, dark brown hair, and is clean shaven for the most part. Brown, kind eyes and a friendly smile make his face glow, and a light dusting of freckles pepper his cheeks. He, too, is in his early 30s.

Normally Ray wears overalls, boots, and flannel/plaid shirts with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Similarly to his spouse Sally, Ray is kindhearted and soft spoken, more gruff than her on the outside, but his heart is undoubtably pure.

He has a passion for music (he has taught himself how to play the guitar) and loves animals, hiking, taking naps in the afternoon, and birdwatching. He owns a horse named Doc and a lab named Dusty, both of which are some of his closest pals.   

Sally and Ray’s Farm -

Sally and Ray own a couple acres of land far beyond the polluted city limits. Out there in the fields, everything was as normal as it had ever been, untouched by Plusbond and its greed. On said stretch of land stands a pleasant, country style home. Sally and Ray’s yard is HUGE and they're nestled close to a large range of foothills. Everything else around the property is either forest or grassland. They have a couple farm buildings where they raise cattle, pigs, and chickens, as well as farm their “dead potatoes.”

Everything around the farm has a kind of unreal glow/haze to it, like the kind you would see while looking at old photos from the 70s.

Little, shiny flecks of something always float in the air. Everything is quiet and calm. The grass in their yard is vibrantly colored and little wildflowers are scattered around the property. At the edge of the area stands a fence, handmade by both Sally and Ray, worn by weather and age, but still holding on.

“The Incident” -

Bobby had been part of the Plusbond’s new artificial society. He unwillingly involved himself in this society and wore a lifesuit just like every other person was required to do. However, unlike them, he was able to realize that Plusbond was restricting his life.

Bobby planned to finally break free during one of Plusbond’s life events, (run by Jumbo, of course.) He’d speak out over the big-wigs microphones and make himself heard before he tore the cords out of his lifesuit and threw its helmet to the ground. He’d tell the crowd that Plusbond was dictating the way they lived in order to capitalize on them and keep them in an easily-controllable position, and they had been manipulated by the company for far too long. 

When Bobby successfully completed the first part of his plan, Jumbo had initially attempted to keep calm as he silently ordered the authorities to contain him for acting out in such a public manner. Bobby was ready for them, though. He knew they would try and silence him, and he was prepared to run. When they surrounded him, he slipped out of the rest of his tattered lifesuit and bolted, running as fast as his legs would carry him, straight towards the forest that surrounded the farthest edge of the city. 

The crowd watched as the authorities chased him away and were unsettled.  Jumbo had to try to keep his temper at bay AND soothe everybody's worries/concerns about the suits at the same time. Though he appeared tranquil, secretly, he was seething with rage.      

The event was cut short and within an hour there were authorities SCOURING the city, using dogs to find Bobby scent, searching every nook and cranny they could in order to find him.

Bobby had thrown off his trail by going through a nearby body of water so the dogs were unable to find him. The more time that passed with him not found, the angrier Jumbo became. 

After weeks and weeks of being lost in the forest, Bobby finally stumbled across the farm belonging to Sally and Ray. After he passed out on their lawn from exhaustion, the couple took him in to nurse him back to health and protect him from the Plusbond. 

[awfulkisses]

So, ok, can we please all stop whining about BTS being crowded by Fans in Chile? Like seriously? It’s anoying. Let me get this clear: I, myself, am a fan of BTS. I like their music and it’s a nightly ritual of mine to watch some of their interviews every day. I would like to go to a concert of them but it’s not my main priority. However, it is for some people out there. And I get that it’s kinda exciting to know that your favourite Band is playing a concert in your country and you can’t wait to see them in person. But, as we all already know, BTS’s concert prices are really expensive. So not everybody can afford a ticket. That’s just how it is. It’s the same with every other artist around the wordl. Some can afford a ticket, some can’t. But considering that your dream is to see BTS in person, even if it’s just for a few seconds, you think of other ways to get to them. You decide to go to the airport where they’re supposed to be arriving. And then you see them, your most favourite Band in the whole world. Clearly they are tired and don’t seem too fond of you and other fans standing in front of the airport, screaming their names. But you just don’t care because the moment you saw them your brain was overwhelmed with joy, happiness and pure exitement. You can’t think straight. I totaly get that because I was also a teenage girl who was obsessed with some Boyband back in the days (does Tokio Hotel ring a bell :D) I didn’t wait for them in front of an airport or followed them to their Hotel but I was screaming when I saw them and I thought my heart would explode. Because they were my everything! I loved them to pieces, I adored them. I wanted them to know, that I exist.

Obviously I did grew out of that stage but I can kinda understand what’s happening in Chile. I’m not saying it’s ok for them to do that but I know where they are coming from. The next thing what’s bothering me is: BTS are celebrities! They should be aware and capabale of managing those kind of things because every other artist - doesn’t matter if it’s an korean or a western artist - has to deal with such fans. And I never saw so much whining about “misbehaving” Fans like I saw today.

Just for example a while ago many fans bothered Patrick Stump from Fall Out Boy with fanfictions about him and Pete Wentz. Some of the Tweets were realy vulgar and even though I don’t care about such things I couldn’t stop to feel embarassed. But guess what: Patrick shut those fans down with his tweets, he stood up and said something along the lines: “Hey, I don’t like that, please stop or I’ll block you” He stood up for HIMSELF. He was bothered and decided to speak up. Since then I didn’t really saw Peterick tweets directed to Pete or Patrick again. The point is, they stood up for themselfs, they didn’t ordered some of their staff or managers to do something about it. It’s cool that BTS had a staff member who could speak spanish. That’s pretty freaking cool and also considerate. But that doesn’t change the fact that none of the boys felt obligated to deal with it himself. I think it would have helped if one of the boys went with the staff member and tried to explain the situation themself. That’s always better then ordering your staff to deal with it. I think even a tweet about their feelings in this situation would have helped. Something that would have showed those fans, that BTS recognized them and that they’re not happy about how they achieved that. Believe it or not, a personal statement from one of the affected persons would be taken more in consideration than some pleas from a staff member.

And last but not least, BTS kinda signed up for this. Some years ago they had to decide to sign the contract with BigHit or not to. Every single one of them decided to sign. And if you do that you have to take all those “if”s in consideration. If we make it big, will I be able to cope with all this fame? If we somehow get the chance to tour around the world, will I be able to understand that fans from other countrys will react differently compared to what I am used to from korean fans? If some people are bothering us, do I have the strength to stand up for myself? They are old enough - like, Jin is even older than me - they should be able to deal with that because other people can do to. Not just celebrities, I’m talking about normal people like you and me. If something or someone is bothering us we don’t have staff members around us to manage everything. We have to fight back on our own, we have to open our mouth when there are things we don’t like. For example, I work with a lot of different people everyday. Some of them are nice, some of them not so, some of them understand when you explain something, others are just plain ignorant to everything you’re saying. But I have to deal with them. I have to keep my smile on, am not allowed to let my friendly attitude slip. Or else I get fired. I don’t have a whole bunch of ARMY standing behind me and supporting every single thing I do. I have to get through everything on my own.

BTS are privileged. Sure, they worked hard to come this far and I’m not doubting that. But I refuse to treat them any better than I would every other person doing THEIR JOB. If I would start complaining about my job everybody would look me dead in the eye and say: “Then look for another job.” They wouldn’t make twitter conversations about how mean all those people are to me and that they should stop and should treat me like a human being with feelings and so on. BTS are living off our money. Face it! They are wearing clothes I would never in my life be able to afford, they get freaking spoiled on their Birthdays - this is another thing that’s bothering me. They get all this expensive stuff from their fans and where is the thank you? Thinking back when I was staning Tokio Hotel they would get flustered when fans got them chocolates for their birthdays and were always telling us not to spend that money on them. Like, it was freaking chocolate. CHOCOLATE! Not a f***ing Gucci Sweater. - they can travel the world and get so see and learn so much. Just because we are buying their albums, their merch, their concert tickets. If all the fans would vanisch from one day to another they would be nothing. Every artist, not just in the music industry, would be NOTHING without a fanbase who supports them. BTS are on their way to becoming world stars, because so many people around the world are loving what they’re doing, so many people want to support them, want to see them shine on the big stages of the world. And they are starting to do so - which I’m honestly really excited about and also a little bit proud of - but just because we let them! Just because they have our money to life from.

Also, I just saw some videos from Chile and let me say: Those fans are behaving better than most fans I met at a Tokio Hotel concert (myself included, I was a fucking wreck for them) or even the few Fall Out Boy concerts I went to. Don’t turn a mosquito into an elephant! I bet Beyoncé, Lady Gaga, Adele and every other artist in the world has to deal with the same thing and I don’t see a lot complaining when they get followed or even stalked around.

I could write so much more but my english isn’t the best and I’m tired.

Please, can we leave this topic be and move on. This will happen again and again and again. Nobody can change anything about it. It is how it is.

But it would really suck should BTS decide to never tour the world again because of this. And it would be really petty of them to judge a country and it’s fans just because you had an encounter with 30-40 bad ones. That would be so small-minded, I can’t even...

[dearyallfrommatt]

See the man with the stage fright, just standing up there to give it all his might.

 I don’t know who needs to hear this or if it will do any good, but I don’t have access to marijuana or any hallucinogens and I don’t want to start drinking again, but if y’all ain’t going to act right, y’all need to leave me the hell alone. We got people seriously defending the CIA and worried about communism in 2020, people defending a president’s “purge list of enemies” as a good and normal thing, and an entire party facing that sort of lunacy dedicated to shooting its own dick off if their Precious doesn’t get the nomination (or if some others’ Precious they disapprove of gets it).

 No, seriously, that’s really stupid and these are stupid times. The Dumb have won, and wrestling reality back from them might just be too much for this poor, old world. I’m not sure it’s even worth it, and even people joking about Life on Earth being wiped out by an asteroid are getting tedious. Mainly because you know they don’t mean it.

 I realize this sounds contradictory, considering I’ve pounded out going on three paragraphs doing just this (and will probably write more), but I am tired of the pissing and whining. It’s not going to stop, though. Bernie Sanders gets elected and isn’t able to pull down the whole structure of capitalism in the first week, his biggest fans will be calling for his head. Trump supporters being ground into mulch to fertilize rich peoples’ rose gardens will leap at the chance, screaming “MAGA” all the way down with a smile. You know I’m right. We are months away from them defending him having sex with underage girls provided for him be Jeffery Epstein. And if Bloomberg gets the nod and then has the dime that’s hanging like the Sword of Damocles dropped on him, plenty of “reasonable centrists and liberals” will do just the same thing.

 I’m tired, depressed, grumpy, cynical and melancholy, and to be quite frank, the anti-depressants ain’t making the nut. Part of it is my window of the outside world, Twitter, is full of guys who complain that protagonists from girls’ cartoons from the ‘80s aren’t busty enough, and this is considered serious pop culture criticism instead of evidence the guy needs to be locked away from decent society. My other option is engaging with my fellow humans here in rural Northeast Mississippi, and I doubt they want to hear it either.

 I like writing, I really do, but I’m beginning to think if I ever had a shot at making anything worthwhile out of this, I let it slide away 15 years ago when I decided I was too burned out to keep doing it. I wonder if the return of that small taste of the sublime I get from cranking out a clever(?) turn of phrase is somehow proportional to the relative lack of being completely stoned every possible waking hour. I was the type of head that wouldn’t leave the house to go buy a loaf of bread without first taking a serious lung punch of the noble weed.

 That’s probably too much. I had heavy stoners telling I was smoking entire too much weed, but on a realistic level, nothing much has changed with regards to the cognitive process. I’m still spending way too much time thinking about Jungian synchronicity or the philosophical implications of the Multiple-Worlds Theory. The colors are less bright, is all, and the jokes are less funny. Not that I’ve done much gut-laughing over the past several years, full of smoke or running straight.

 People would say, “Matt, you stop smoking all that pot, you’d have more vim and zest for living.” But here I am, making a concerted effort to not sleep all day, only wanting to get up to hydrate myself and use the bathroom, spurned on by all the goddamn medication I’m taking. None of which, by the way, can I abuse for screwing my brain up, which is probably a good thing. “Matt, you want to travel,” says my therapist. No, I don’t. I just let you think that because I really don’t have a good comeback to you and I’m too tired to come up with one. I don’t want to leave my room.

 Middle age is a drag, y’all. I understand what Pete Townsend was talking about and why he feels righteously embarrassed whenever someone brings it up. I’m supposed to be either married, kids optional, or some definition of “success” which I couldn’t suss out if you held a gun to my head. Instead, I’m just hoping my heart gives out before my teeth do.

 But I like writing, I really do. This has been very cathartic even if no one ever reads it, and nobody ever reads what I write. I get these likes on WordPress and hits on Blogger, but I’m convinced it’s like when someone with a high follower count starts following boring, slightly crude old me on Twitter. It’s a never-ending source of amazement to watch people discuss coming up with fictional stories, so many they can churn out self-described “basic generic plot” genre stories to self publish books on Amazon. I can never get past adding more plot to get in the way of the story.

 So, I write out this navel-gazing nonsense no one cares about or in-depth explorations of Doug Sahm albums from the ‘80s no one cares about or, indeed, patiently crafted explanations of why and how the Democratic nomination process does it this thing that no one cares about. It’s fun for me and amuses me, so there it is. I recall watching an old Perry Mason episode that took place at a “Camp Crystal Lake,” and realizing the only person who wanted to see a Perry Mason/Friday The 13th crossover was me, and mainly because I wanted to see Paul Drake’s smug ass gutted like a catfish. But for that afternoon, anyway, I desperately wanted to see it. And that is weird, I’m not going to lie.

 Another thing I find a nonstop source of wonder is YouTube people who’ve done five-plus years of regular episodes on crappy movies or Top 5 Examples of Other People’s Ideas. A lot of it is no doubt my own self-consciousness and body image issues, but goddamn, haven’t enough people explained why Phantasm is an awesome movie? Then again, I never have been able to wrap my head around the “Let’s Play” phenomenon. It reminds me of watching amateur porn except more depressing, and frankly, I wouldn’t want to watch someone unattractive as me fuck someone who’d be willing to have sex with me, and I’ll let you fill in those blanks.

 I had at least two more paragraphs here that apparently got ate when I tried to post the Terrence McKenna video. Just a bit of entertainment and elucidation for chewing through this mess. I guess it’s time to wrap this up and get on with my night. It’s pushing the Witching Hour and even though I don’t have anything on my calendar for the next couple of weeks, pulling all nighters isn’t as much fun as it used to be. More often than not, it’s pretty goddamn painful and takes me a couple day to get over.

 But this has been cathartic, and that’s a good thing, I suppose. I mean, I’m still gloomy and irritable, but the winds aren’t howling as loud as they were beforehand. I’ve completely lost whatever thread I had tentatively wrapped together to bring this all home. I had something for this, I swear. In the end, I suppose it doesn’t matter so long as I enjoyed myself. And I did, even if no one else reads it or, frankly, if they do read it and don’t enjoy it.

 Serves you right.