#i don’t actually know what social class Bernard’s in | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

im-sleepdeprived · 7 months ago

Note

Can you write something about co-workers to friends to lovers?

fix you up

pairing: peter parker x reader

a/n: i won’t lie to y’all idk how i feel abt this one. its cute dgmw but i hope you guys like it !!! ive had this request for an EMBARRASSINGLY long time, anon if you’re upset, i totally understand

warnings: mentions of injuries, burns, rude customers, bandaging some wounds n stuff, fluff and pining !!! (disclaimer: I’ve never been a barista so forgive me if this is a lil off)

masterlist, requests are open !!

Working in a rustic-vintage-corner-campus-cafe was definitely not how you saw your college years going. Your teen self would’ve killed to work at a place like this but when you grew up, you realized just how different the workload is between a high school student and a uni one such as yourself.

You weren’t complaining of course. The pay was adequate, your manager was a simple old lady who never had much to say other than making sure all the equipment was clean, you got along with your coworkers pretty well for the most part and the customers were tolerable.

But every once in a while, you’d get an entitled shithead who seemed to make it their life’s mission to ruin someone else’s day. And the problem with working a social job such as you did, is that you were an easy target.

It started off as a fairly simple day, you clocked in and put on your apron ready to start your shift for the day. You preferred late morning shifts, leaving afternoons for classes (and the rouge 8am lecture every now and then) and nights for going out or studying.

“Oh, Y/N! Thank god you're here,” Your co-worker, Vanessa, exclaimed.

Vanessa was a few years older than you. She actually wasn’t a student, she’d given college a try and it wasn’t her thing. Apparently, all it did was “try to undermine unstoppable greatness.” She was chatty, but you actually liked that about her. She could keep up a conversation with a statue. When you first started off here she’d been the one to show you the ropes and ever since then, you’d had a specific bond with her that you couldn’t really put a name to.

You gave her a small smile, “Yeah well, I do prefer to show up when promised. Especially when my paycheck depends on it,” you let out a small laugh.

“Yes! See, that's what I love about you,” she made a disgusted face, “Unlike Peter. Honestly, I don't understand how he hasn’t been fired yet! He shows up at least half an hour late to every shift yet Miss Hannigan still keeps him around.”

“Oh,” you stuttered, raising your hands a little in defense, “I didn't mean it as a jab at Peter, I swear.”

She tossed a curled blonde lock of hair over her shoulders while waving her other hand in dismissal, “Honey, don’t worry about it. I know you would never, you’re far too sweet for that. But I wouldn’t blame you if you did, you know, having to work more than half your shift alone? I swear if Bernard did that to me,” she made a big show of gesturing to herself, "I would not deal with it.”

While what she was saying wasn’t necessarily wrong, it didn’t feel right talking about Peter like that. Sure, he was late most of the time, leaving you to do most of the work while you waited for him to show up (somehow when he started working you two got the same shift together and it’s just been that way ever since) and while you, also, normally wouldn’t put up with this, there was something different about Peter. You never felt like he was taking advantage of you, and purposefully made you pick up extra slack. It was quite the opposite actually, he always apologized profusely and never slacked when he was on the clock. He always seemed so rushed and out of breath, you were pretty sure the poor boy just needed to learn how to manage time better. Plus, he always took it upon himself to unpack the orders because of all the heavy lifting required (you couldn’t tell just by looking at him, with all the sweaters he wore, but man was he ripped.)

“He’s actually really sweet.” You’re not sure why exactly you’re so keen on defending Peter. You two barely spoke, outside of work of course, and you don’t know much about him. But something inside you didn’t like anyone assuming anything bad about him.

“Yea, well, he’d be a ton sweeter if he clocked in on time,” she laughed as she untied her apron, getting ready to leave. You faked a laugh as well, not wanting the conversation to progress any further.

“Alrighty, well,” she heaved a breath, “I'm off, have a good rest of your day Y/N.”

You smiled once again and sent a wave her way before settling down in front of the register. It was slow today, not many people in the shop. A fellow student you only recognized from work sat in a corner booth with their headphones locked in and was working on what seemed to be some kind of essay.

There was an older woman, however, looking incredibly irritated at the table closest to you. You’d never seen her before but that wasn’t too strange. It was a near-campus cafe, after all, lots of people passing through. She looked to be typing on her phone until, suddenly, she shut it off and made direct eye contact with you.

If looks could kill, you would’ve dropped dead behind the counter, which wouldn’t be all that ideal considering you couldn’t remember the last time anyone mopped that side of the store.

She stood up and walked towards you and you already dreaded the conversation to come.

“I have an order,” she spit out, as if she were disgusted to even be talking to you at the moment.

No greeting or anything, wow. Someone wasn’t raised right.

Nonetheless, you put on your well-rehearsed customer service smile and gave in. “Sure, I’d be happy to help with that. Can you just give me the order?”

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “I shouldn’t have to, I called in and placed it and it should be ready by now. I'm going to be late!”

You froze for a moment, not quite sure what to do, “I’m so sorry for the inconvenience ma’am, but I just got here and I haven’t heard anything,” you glance at the little whiteboard kept on the counter for these exact situations only to find it empty, “and I don’t see anything here about a phone-placed order. Are you sure you have the right store?”

Her face was so red and steam was practically blowing out of her ears, “Of course, I have the right store! Do you think I'm stupid or something?”

“No! Of course not, I'm so sorry,” you start to blabber off, not wanting to make her any angrier than she already was, “I’ll get things ready for you right away ma’am.”

You turned around and tried to make yourself not freak out as badly as you wanted to. It was so humiliating getting yelled at like this in public! And yeah, maybe if you had such a problem with unpleasant interactions like this, you shouldn't have taken a social job such as this one, but honestly, you thought people would have enough manners not to act up like this. Apparently not.

It slipped your mind for a moment because of how scrambled you got when the lady flipped her lid, but Vanessa has been known to do this, forget to write down orders and leave you to fend for yourself (quite literally since your coworker was never really around) and you’re pretty sure that’s what happened here. Other customers were usually more understanding than this woman bordering on Kathy-Bates-movie-character-insanity over a drink order.

You reached into your back pocket, deciding you’d try to send her a hurried text about any phone calls she might remember. That just seemed to anger your customer more.

“Excuse me?! I'm sitting here waiting for my order and you're too busy chatting away on your phone?”

You lose yourself for a moment and you can’t feel your face anymore.

“I am so sorry ma’am,” you repeat, which seems to be your mantra since you started working today, “I was just checking to see if-,”

“I don't care what you were checking, or what you need to see! Give me what I paid for,” her hand started smacking against the counter loud enough for the only other person in the store to look up, broken from their reverie. They merely shot you an apologetic look before getting back to their work, leaving you to fend for yourself.

“You have terrible customer service, honestly. I come here every Tuesday with my book club, but never again. If I don’t get exactly what I asked for in the next five minutes, I'm calling your boss and not leaving until I'm sure you’re fired.”

You shake your head, “There’s no need to do that ma’am, I'll get everything ready for you.”

You turned around once again, this time, heading towards the cappuccino machine. You’re not sure why you said that considering you have no clue what ‘everything’ is that has to get ready.

In all honesty, there’s a low chance that a suburban-white-soccer-mom type would have any real effect on your employment. Miss Hannigan would surely not fire you just because some order forgot to be written down and some customer got pissed. Right?

But you really didn’t want to find out.

So, you started up the machine and turned to grab a cup. Today, apparently, was just doomed from the start. As you turned to grab one of the cups placed on the shelf over the machine, your hand hit the button that turned on the steam wand. Which was aimed directly at your other hand.

You bit down the yelp that threatened to escape and jumped back, the back of your hand now searing with pain. Instinctively, your other hand came to cup your injured one, which only made it worse. You fought back tears as you moved to turn the steam back off.

Inhaling deeply, you took a moment to try to get your mind working again. “Hello?!” Of course. You turned your head and gave her the fakest smile you’ve ever mustered in your whole life. “One minute ma’am.”

You could hear her going off about how she doesn’t have a minute to spare, but you ignored her, trying to think of what the hell you could give her to just get her out of your face. You’d have to guess her order since I wasn’t actually taken. You’d started playing a game with yourself since you worked here, guessing people's drink orders, and you’d say you’ve gotten pretty good.

You peeked a look back at her. You’d had customers around her age come in before and order, for the most part, the same thing. A plain cappuccino. Seemed like a safe bet.

Swallowing down the pain as best you could, you approached the machine again. This time, taking out the portafilter. It must’ve not been put in correctly because it clattered to the ground, coffee grinds falling around the floor.

You wanted to cry. Your hand hurt like hell, there was a new mess to deal with, and that lady hadn’t stopped complaining since you stepped in.

Frozen, you began to panic a little, breaths coming out sporadically. You’d leave the sweeping for later, but you had to clean the filter so you could use it because it was the only one. And the slightest brush of air made your hand burn even more. You had no clue how to go about this. Maybe if you-

Like an angel, Peter rushed in through the side door. Tying his apron around his waist, he looked towards you. Your hand flew up to your mouth at his perfect timing and you saw his expression grow more concerned.

He rushed towards you. “What happened?” And for a second, you forget everything that was stressing you out just a few moments before. He grabbed your hand so gently, you forgot every ounce of pain.

“I cannot believe this!” She wasn’t giving up and you shut your eyes in frustration, turning to reply to her again. But before you can open your mouth, Peter steps in. “Hold on, can’t you clearly see she’s hurt?”

She scoffed and crossed her arms, “That’s her fault. If she knew how to do her job, it wouldn’t have happened.”

You could feel the anger rolling off him in waves. His expression hardened and his mouth opened to shoot something back at her, but this time, you cut him off. You placed your non-injured hand on his shoulder and gave him a look.

He stared at you for a few seconds before finally giving in, blowing out some air in a frustrated huff. “Go wait for me inside,” he told you, nodding his head toward the employees-only backroom.

“What?” You asked confused. You didn’t wanna leave him alone.

“You’re not working right now, there’s no way I’m letting you. I’ll deal with her. Go, I’ll be right there,” he said, shoving you away gently.

Once you heard that he’d be following you, you were more willing. You walked through the door and took a seat at the table usually used for meal breaks. The ‘break room’ was a small room positioned in the back of the store. You can’t remember what this place used to be (a diner maybe?) but this specific room was used as an office, but Miss Hannigan claimed she had no use for an office so it was used for employee breaks.

Every ounce of you was grateful for Peter’s Superman moment back there. He came in today earlier than usual and he’d totally saved your ass. You were going to make sure to tell him.

You weren’t waiting long before the door opened again and Peter walked in, holding a backpack you hadn’t seen on him before. In his other hand, he held a drink. He placed the drink on the table before he grabbed one of the chairs, bringing it close to yours, and you turned your body to face him.

He picked up your hand again, just as gently as before. “Alright,” he let out a breath of relief, “it’s not as bad as I thought, but, it’s still gonna take a while to heal. Wait,” he leaned over, unzipping his bag and taking supplies out while you just stared at him.

“I thought you majored in biochemistry.” You blurted out. Your face heated up a little when he looked at you curiously.

“I- I saw your textbooks once when you left your bag open. And I’ve seen you around campus, near the science-y buildings…and stuff.” You shrugged and he chuckled.

“I do,” he nodded, “any medical stuff is self-taught. I get into a lot of…accidents.”

“Oh.” You nodded at him. What kind of accidents would he get into? You’d never seen him hurt, but what did you know.

“I take it you don’t major in anything science-y,” he said, grinning at you.

You shook your head, “No, I don’t. But I have a chemistry class I have to take for credit. Which makes no sense because chemistry has nothing to do with what I want to learn.”

He laughed and set his bag back down, everything he needed was now laid out on the table. “Okay,” he picked up a white tube with red lettering on it. “This is gonna help with pain and scarring. I’m going to spread some of this, then wrap it up for you.” You looked at the table and saw he’d also taken out some white gauze. What kind of ‘accidents’ did he get into?

You nodded, at a complete loss for words. You had no idea Peter knew so much about injuries and you were so thankful he was helping you out. You didn’t hate each other, but you weren’t close either.

He applied a small amount to the back of your hand, asking you constantly if you were okay as he rubbed it on softly. Honestly, even if it did hurt, you wouldn’t have the heart to tell him.

He finished up with the cream and moved onto the gauze, expertly wrapping it up to lightly cover your wound. When he was finished with that, he carefully tied it off, making sure not to tie it too tight.

“There,” he leaned back and smiled at you, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. “All fixed up.”

“Thank you, Peter, really.” You reluctantly pulled your hand back into your lap, missing the warmth of his fingers wrapped around it.

“You don’t need to thank me Y/N, it’s the least I could do. I’m just glad I got here earlier than usual.”

You nodded and looked down. “Well thanks anyway, you saved my ass back there. Seriously, I have no idea what’s wrong with me today but I kept fucking everything up.”

“Hey,” he said softly, making you look up and meet his gaze. “You didn’t fuck anything up. Okay? You made a few mistakes, but that's not your fault. She shouldn’t have been treating you like that, especially when you’d hurt yourself.” He looked away and scoffed as he remembered the terrible customer that had ruined your morning. You would’ve felt extremely touched by his care if it weren’t for his next words.

“All that for a plain fucking cappuccino.” He mumbled.

“A plain cappuccino? Really?” You asked excitedly, forgetting about everything, and grinning at him wildly.

“Um, yeah…why?” He asked you, confusion was written all over his face, but he couldn’t help his own smile slightly growing when he noticed your enthusiasm.

“Nothing,” you shook your head quickly, smile never fading, “I just…well, I play this game with myself where I guess people's drink orders. And I think I’m getting pretty good because that’s exactly what I was going to make her before you walked in.”

He laughed out loud and you joined in. “What’s my order?” He asked.

You paused for a moment. “A caramel macchiato with extra caramel.”

He looked at you for a bit, “Close,” he admitted. “It used to be.”

“So are you gonna tell me what it is now?”

Shaking his head, he leaned over the table and dragged the drink he’d brought in earlier in front of you. “Here,” he changed the subject, “I made you this.”

You’d completely forgotten about it, and when you took a closer look, you realized it was your coffee order.

Your mouth fell open, “How’d you know?”

He just shrugged, smiling slightly. He knew it was your favorite, but the confirmation was still nice. “I've seen you make it for yourself. Educated guess.”

“Oh my god,” you said, voice soft. It was a simple thing really, you had one most days at the end of your shift. But the fact that he’d noticed… It just meant a lot. “Thank you so much, Peter.”

He just waved you off, his smile growing when he noticed your reaction to the drink. He couldn’t believe he got a chance to speak to you. Truly speak to you. He was always too awkward or embarrassed or trying to avoid embarrassment. But now, while he didn’t like the circumstances that led you both here, he was actually talking to you. And it was nice.

“So,” he started, not wanting this to end just yet, “you said you’ve got a chemistry class?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, picking up your drink and taking a sip. “The one with Professor Hall. I actually have a class after this shift. I totally suck though, and he hates me. I just don’t get it, and he doesn’t explain it well!”

Peter nodded, completely understanding what you meant. It was a tough subject to begin with, and he knew not everyone was as into science as he was, add onto that a teacher who doesn’t really teach, it’s a recipe for disaster.

“I actually had that class. Last year. I can help you, sometimes. If you’d like me to, that is!” He rushed out. Great, he thought, now I’m getting awkward.

You looked up at him, eyes wide. “Really? Do you mean that?”

“Of course. I think I’ve still got my notes too, if you want ‘em.” He shrugged nonchalantly as if he wasn’t saving your ass again.

“Oh my god Peter,” you placed your non-injured hand on his knee, not noticing the way his body stiffened and he gulped. “That would help so much. There’s a huge exam coming up, and it's a huge part of my grade so I have to pass. I started cramming earlier but—”

“I’ll help,” he reassured you, “I enjoy science anyway, so it’ll be fun for me.”

“Thank you,” you repeated. Staring at him so close, you realized you’d never noticed how handsome he was. Sure there were times you thought he was cute, from afar, but now…you could see the different shades of brown in his eyes, the way one of his eyebrows was slightly curlier than the other, unwilling to sit straight. You couldn’t help but stare-

“Oh my god,” you repeated, except this time, you had remembered something. “If we’re both in here, who’s outside?”

“What? Oh, um,” he scratched the back of his neck, still reeling from having you so close to him. “Freddy’s out there?”

“Freddy?” You asked confused.

He nodded. “The guy writing on his laptop, he’s friends with my roommate, throws the craziest parties. He’s chill, I told him to keep an eye out if someone else walks in. But it’s been slow, so I think we’re good.”

“Oh, okay.” You said, standing up. “We should probably still go though.”

He stood up beside you, frowning. “I don’t think you should work with your hand hurt. I don’t want you accidentally making it worse.”

Your heart warmed at his concern. “That's really sweet Peter, but I’ll be fine. I don’t know what happened before, I never do stuff like that, even accidentally.”

He still didn’t look convinced. “Why don’t you just go home? I can take it for today.”

You shook your head quickly, “I’m not leaving. I have a class later and it would just be a waste of time going back and forth anyway.”

You walked towards the door, opened it, and exited before he had a chance to argue anymore. You stepped behind the counter while Peter rushed out behind you. You watched Freddy give him a thumbs up and Peter nodded at him before he followed right after you.

“Are you sure you should go to class today? I can walk you home so you can take the day off,” he offered, and he looked so genuine you almost accepted.

“Peter,” you laughed and he decided no matter what your response was, it wouldn’t matter because hearing you say his name like that was enough. “I’ll be fine, I didn’t break both my legs, it's just a small burn.”

He stared at you for a bit as you smiled at him, trying to get him to ease up. “Fine,” he gave in reluctantly. “But no going towards the cappuccino machine,” he waved a finger at you, “or the ovens. Or anything hot!”

“Fine,” you shot back, grinning wide and he couldn’t help but return it.

The rest of the morning had gone by easily and you thought maybe you didn’t have totally shit luck. Peter was way more fun than you ever thought he’d be and you wondered why you didn’t start talking to each other sooner.

It used to be silently working together but after those few moments in the break room, you guys were laughing your whole shift. He meant what he said, and he kept you away from anything that produced heat (which you told him was an insane boundary to set in a cafe) so you had extra time to make quips here and there.

You started playing your order-guessing game with him, teaching him certain traits that gave someone away:

“Side part, beanie, and a crossbody? Oh, he’s getting a tall, dark, americano for sure.”

“She’s getting tea. No coffee, just tea. Maybe with a little lemon wedge.”

And he started to get the hang of it.

“She looks like she drinks matchas right?” He said to you when a girl around your age walked in. He’d been right and you both laughed about it afterwards.

When your work shift ended, you were actually upset.

“I’ve got a class to get to,” you told him, lifting your bag onto your shoulder. You’d both cleaned up and gotten yourselves ready, now standing in front of the door. Something in you didn’t want to leave just yet, enjoying your time together far too much to end it so soon.

“Yeah…” he trailed off, you waited for him to continue but he hesitated.

“What is it?” You crossed your arms and smiled slightly, shifting your weight onto your other foot. He brought a hand up to scratch the back of his neck, “I just…well, I was just wondering—if it's okay with you of course!” He rushed out, quickly bringing his hands up. “That I could walk you to class?”

You laughed, “I’d love that Pete, thank you.” You turned to open the door to let you both out but he quickly moved forward, holding it open for you and motioning for you to move forward.

Looking back at him, you smiled and noticed his cheeks were a little red. How had you never noticed how adorable he was?

The walk back to campus wasn’t long but you learned a lot. He told you where he went to high school, his friends he still kept in touch with, his Aunt May, some funny moments from parties he’d been forced to attend by his roommate, and you laughed together.

You told him about the book you were currently reading, your life back home and your family, and why you chose to go to this college. He went along with your jokes, which made it all the more better for you. “I mean if you think about it,” you'd said, “it is so much easier to romanticize your life when your school campus is as pretty as this one, and that’s real motivation!”

The conversation flowed naturally between you two and it felt like you’d been friends for ages. He dropped you off outside of your class building with the promise of picking you up afterward so you two could study together.

“So I’ll be back here in an hour right,” he asked.

“Right,” you smiled at him. “And thanks again Pete, for everything.” You held up your bandaged hand, shaking it a little before setting it back down.

He shook his head quickly, “Don’t thank me for that. Really.”

You stared at him with a warm expression. “Bye Peter,” you waved as you turned to walk into your class.

“Bye Y/N,” he returned. He watched you walk through the doors, shooting him one last smile before you disappeared from view, before blowing out a breath of air.

He’d finally gotten a chance to talk to the girl he’d been crushing on for months, and he got to walk her to class! And they were meeting up afterward. After working so close to you and never having the guts to initiate a conversation, he’d settled for just admiring you from afar. But after today, there was nothing that could keep him away.

You were not having a good day.

You’d just found out that your chemistry exam was being bumped up to two days from now. Even with the early studying you’d done before, there was no way you could catch up with everything that fast. You were so overwhelmed you had completely forgotten Peter was waiting for you outside.

You walked out, your bottom lip stuck between your teeth, and you practically jumped out of your skin when someone placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, don’t worry,” he said, his voice soft yet full of concern. Peter. “It's just me. What happened?”

The second he saw you walk out, he could tell something was off. He could literally sense the anxiety rolling off of you in waves. He had waited for you to look up and stop when you saw him, but you were just about to walk past him before he stopped you. Now, you were looking at him with distress coating every feature on your face. Your brows were pinched, your lip red from biting it, and your eyes wide and distant like you couldn’t even see him and he was standing right in front of you. Something had gone wrong and he wanted nothing more than to fix it.

“What is it? What’s wrong? He asked frantically.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, hands flying up to the sides of your head and gripping your hair. You weren’t looking at him anymore, “Oh my god.”

“Ok Y/N,” he said nervously, “you’re starting to scare me.”

“Two days Peter!” You looked at him wildly. “Two days! I can’t go over everything in two days, is he fucking insane? I didn’t even know he could do something like that, I mean, can he do something like that? I feel like that shouldn’t be allowed it should—”

You cut yourself off and started pacing back and forth in front of him. “Oh my god, I’m gonna bomb this. And if I fail, it’ll bring my whole grade down! I can’t afford that I—”

“Hey,” he repeated, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder again. “I said I’m gonna help you, and I meant it. So we’re gonna get through this together, even if we have to stay up all night.”

You stared at him, trying to wonder what you’d done in your life to deserve such an angel.

You shook your head quickly, “I really appreciate that Peter, but I’m serious. There’s no way I can learn everything I need to know that fast.”

You tried to smile at him but it didn’t reach your eyes.

He grinned, his expression the total opposite of yours. “Well, you’ve clearly never studied with me, so don’t sound too sure yet.”

Another thing you’d come to realize was just how smart Peter was.

You really should’ve known when he told you he’d taken that advanced chemistry class a year ago. And passed.

Looking through his notes, you could see his attention to detail. He really wasn’t a slacker in the classroom because everything was clearly laid out here.

You’d spent that night going over everything and you’d actually started to feel hopeful about it. Peter was a way better teacher than Professor Hall, and it didn’t hurt that he was so cute. He was understanding with everything and was willing to go over any part for as long as it took for you to fully grasp it.

At the end of the night, he’d undone the wrappings around your hand, reapplied the cream for you, and wrapped it up again.

“It’s doing okay,” he reassured you. “Like I said, it’s gonna take a while, but if it starts hurting or anything, take some medicine. Then find me.”

You were sure you’d just melted into his hands at that moment.

The next day, you couldn’t wait to get through everything and see him again, even if you were going to be talking about chemistry.

You weren’t scheduled to work at the cafe today, so you’d only get to meet up after both of your classes.

Lectures were a blur, nothing really catching your attention and you spent most of the time with your phone tucked in your hand texting back and forth with Peter, barely concealing your laughter when he sent you memes.

It was like that all day, until, finally, you made your way over to his small apartment he shared with one of his friends.

its very quaint 🤌

(totally NOT what we say to make ourselves feel better about this shoebox)

He’d told you over text, making you laugh out loud as you made your way over there.

dw🫡 I was one of those kids who used to live in their play tents and hid in random corners and spaces

im totally ready for this

ok but be warned, we do not have a pet!!! they are not allowed per our lease!!! ignore the cat when you come in!!! tell no one!!!

what cat ??

good girl ;)

Your face flushed as you made your way up the steps to his door. You knocked three times and barely had to wait a second before Peter stood before you, holding the door open.

“Hi,” he said, smiling at you.

“Hi,” you grinned back. You heard a small ‘meow’ come from behind him and he quickly held up a finger to his lips. You covered your mouth, stifling a laugh as you nodded at him.

“Come on in,” he said, stepping out of the way to lead you through the door. You stepped in and kicked off your shoes before looking around. It was plain, but that was to be expected really.

There was a large poster hanging next to their TV, however, that caught your eye. “Big fan?” You asked him, shoving your thumb in the direction of the Star Wars poster.

He shrugged nonchalantly, “Kind of.”

“Oh. Well, I was just asking because I love those movies. My little brother used to watch them and I got really into it.”

“Oh. I mean—I don’t know what I was saying before I love them too.” He rushed out, making you giggle.

He stayed staring at you for a bit, his eyes rounding out and his mouth gaping a little bit.

You gave him a small smile, “Okay, well we should-” You let out a small yelp, hands flying to your mouth as you jumped back.

The living room was small. The only things occupying it were the TV mounted to the wall, and in front of it, was a sofa. And on the sofa, was an unconscious body that you hadn’t noticed until it let out a low groan. You really weren’t sure how you missed it, there wasn’t much else to look at, but they had just been so still.

Heart beating erratically, you turned towards Peter again, who was looking at you with all the amusement in the world written all over his face. “Was he always there,” you whispered, eyes wide.

He opened his arms, “Well, angel, I really don’t know. Did you see anyone come in?”

“Oh shut up,” you grumbled. “He looks familiar…is that..”

“Freddy.” He finished for you. Right. The dude from the cafe.

“He crashes here sometimes.” He added.

You nodded. “Alright.”

“Shall we?” He opened a door beside him and looked at you.

“Right. Yeah, of course.” You walked past him and into his room. You stopped after you entered, taking a moment to look around. His room was simple, with just his bed, a desk and chair, and a dresser perched next to another door you assumed was his closet.

What really caught your attention, however, were the photos scattered all over the walls. The room was practically engulfed in Peter Parker’s memories, and you really liked it. Without thinking, you approached one wall, walking through them and taking each one in.

There were some with large groups of people, those looked like school trips. Most of the photos were of the same two people, and based on what he’d told you, you assumed those were his friends. Ned and MJ.

A lot of the photos contained an older woman, who looked stunning. That had to be his Aunt May. You were shocked by how many photos he had with the Tony Stark. He’d told you he had an internship at Stark Industries, but really, you sorta thought he just went on coffee runs all day.

And then, you saw a couple shots of Spider-Man. It wasn’t unusual, you knew a lot of people snapped photos of the masked hero when they spotted him around the city. What was unusual, was the quality of the photos. You didn’t know if you’d ever seen such clear photos of him, even on the news, as he was always swinging and in motion. In these, Peter seemed to have caught him at just the right time. You wondered how long it took him to capture the photos.

“Big fan?” You smirked over at him from your spot by one of the Spider-Man photos as you repeated your words from earlier.

Peter leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, content with watching go over the details of his life. He felt a little naked, like he was bared out in front of you. But…it felt good too. He liked knowing you were learning new things about him, and curious to know more. It filled him with an anxious sort of giddiness.

“You first,” he said slyly.

Laughing, you said, “Well, I don’t see how anyone can hate on the guy. He literally runs around saving lives”

He laughed as he approached you, standing by your side. You’d be surprised. “True I guess.”

“We should get to studying,” you said, breezing past him, your hand brushing his bicep as you did. He sucked in a breath, his entire body feeling electrocuted after that one touch. He wondered how you seemed so normal, laying out your books and papers on the floor beside his bed.

This was gonna be a long night.

He cleared his throat and moved to sit across from you, hoping he didn’t look as flushed as he felt.

After a few moments of him watching you get settled, you heard him start laughing. Looking up you asked, “What’s so funny?”

That only made him laugh harder. “Just thinking about how scared you got before. Did you really not see him?”

You felt your face go hot. “I didn’t! I had no clue he was there, and next thing I know he’s making lawn mower nosies!”

Peter was red in the face now. “The way you flew back,” he said between fits of laughter, “I thought you’d give yourself whiplash.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled at him, picking up one of your pens and throwing it at him. It bounced off without him even flinching.

You looked down, avoiding his gaze by busying yourself with your papers.

“Okay I’m ready to be serious now,” he said. The laughter was gone but amusement twinkled in his voice.

“Great! Welcome back Pete, now hand me that pen, I’m gonna need it.”

Two hours later, you were both sprawled across the floor tossing Chess-Its at one another.

“Come on!” You threw your arms up in defeat when you threw another cracker at him just for him to catch it again.

Peter chuckled, “Sorry angel, I’ve just got killer reflexes.”

“Alright whatever,” You rolled your eyes. “Come on, throw some at me.”

You opened your mouth, ready to finally win one round of this nonsense…just for a Cheez-It to hit your cheek and fall to the ground with the rest of your tries.

Peter laughed while you sat up, reached to grab the box of crackers, and poured some into your hand before putting it back down.

“Okay, I’m done. I actually want to eat them now.” You said, munching on a cracker and sitting against the side of his bed.

“Oh come on, don’t be a quitter Y/N/N,” he grinned, leaning over and pinching your cheek.

You swatted his hand away with your empty one. “M’not.”

He smiled at you before sitting up. “Hit me,” he said, opening his mouth and pointing at it.

You grabbed a Cheez-It from the palm of your hand and made a big show of trying to get your aim right. Squinting one eye, you stared at him, moving your hand back and forth before tossing it slightly more to the right. On purpose.

That didn’t stop him from leaning over and catching it in his mouth.

“I don’t like this game,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Don’t act like I don’t know what you did,” he said back, munching on his Cheez-it.

“Sue me,” you told him, brushing him off with a wave of your hand.

He laughed before he settled down. “How’s your hand feeling by the way.” His voice was considerably softer now, making you smile softly at him.

“It’s doing great, thank you again, Peter. I would’ve been totally fucked if it weren’t for you,” you told him honestly.

He shook his head, “Don’t thank me at all Y/N. Hate seeing you hurt,” he mumbled, less to you and more to himself and he stayed staring at your wrapped-up hand.

“Well don’t worry about that, it doesn’t hurt at all.”

“Yeah?” He looked at you suddenly, like he needed to know you meant it.

“Yeah,” you nodded at him.

“That’s good,” he breathed out and your heart squeezed at how much he seemed to care.

“What's your plan? Y’know, for after school?” You didn’t want to leave just yet, even with your studying done. And you wanted to know more about him. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t taken a certain liking to him lately.

“Well after I get my degree, I’m going move up a little further in Stark Industries. I’m still undecided on grad school, I think I’ve got everything I need and I’m probably just gonna start saving up to pay off student loans instead of adding on them.”

You nodded at him, “So the Stark internship is going well? No offense, I sort of thought you were their coffee mule.” You grinned at him before popping a Cheez-It in your mouth.

He scoffed, “No, I’m not. I mean, it did take a while to get them to take me seriously, but I got there!”

You laughed, “Well, very proud of you Pete. That’s super impressive.”

He grinned at you, his face heating up at your words. He wondered if you knew how much it affected him every time you called him Pete. Probably not, but he never wanted you to stop.

You two stayed like that for another hour or so, time passing by without you noticing at all. You talked about your futures, where you say yourselves after school, and after that. Your admiration for him only grew as you got to know him more. You could talk to him all night and never get bored honestly, you-

Shit.

A random notification lit up your phone, which lay beside you on the floor, making you take notice of the time.

You sat up quickly, spitting out curses as you started gathering your belongings and shoving them into your bag.

Peter sat up as well, helping you get your things together but in a calmer manner than yourself.

“Relax Y/N,” he said in a soothing voice.

“Pete I can’t do it.” You turned to him suddenly, dropping everything in your hands.

“Do what, angel?”

“The exam is tomorrow. I’m not ready! I’m gonna fail, and that one grade, that one stupid grade, is gonna hold me back and ruin everything-”

“Sweetheart look at me,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder. His grip was warm and reassuring. “You are not going to fail. And I know this because I’ve spent the last few hours studying with you, and I saw how smart you are, and how quick you caught on. You’re gonna walk in there tomorrow and ace that test, I know you are!

“And if for some reason you don’t,” he continued, “you gave it your best. You tried your hardest and you learned something, which is all that matters in the end. So breathe, stop stressing, and let me walk you home.”

“All that talk as an excuse to ask to take me home?” You snorted, “Peter you shouldn’t have.” Despite your jokes, you took his advice and took a deep breath. He was right, you’d studied your hardest, both with and without his help. All you could do was take the exam and hope for the best now.

He laughed and stood up, holding out a hand once he saw you all packed and ready. “Caught me. So is that a yes?”

You took his hand and pulled yourself up but didn’t let go right away. “If I fail, do we have to stop hanging out? Y’know, with you being a science prodigy and all.”

He laughed again and placed both his hands on your shoulder, staring straight into your eyes. “Never.”

“Ok, well, just making sure. I wouldn’t wanna give you a bad rep in the science community or something-”

You were suddenly cut off from your babbling when he pressed his lips to yours. You froze for a second, unsure what to do, but it didn’t take long for you to catch up and kiss him back.

He pulled away after a few moments, “Done with the jokes?” His voice was soft and teasing.

“Uh huh,” you mumbled, eyes still closed. “But I think you might need to do that again, just to be sure.”

He chuckled murmuring something that sounded like ‘too cute’ but you couldn’t be bothered to hear when you felt his lips on yours again, this time, expecting them.

You threw your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and canting your head slightly for better access. He groaned, one arm wrapping around your middle, the other settling on your waist.

You might have pictured kissing him before, just maybe. But none of your daydreaming could’ve prepared you for the real thing. The way his bottom lip covered your top one, the soft breaths exchanged between the two of you, the way he pressed himself further into you when you tugged his hair a little harder. This definitely beat all of your daydreams.

You could’ve stayed that way forever, and you probably would’ve if Peter hadn’t taken one for the team and pulled away first.

Or tried to, at least.

“We should-” kiss.

“You-” kiss.

“I need to walk,” kiss, “-you home angel.” He murmured against your lips.

“Okay,” you whispered back but you didn’t move to pull away, and he didn’t push you. The two of you stayed stuck, foreheads pressed together, eyes closed, taking in the atmosphere of each other.

“I should probably go now,” you said softly. Peter hummed in agreement, leaning in to peck your lips gently.

“It’s getting late,” but your voice is more of a sigh. You don’t know what he’s laced his lips with but each kiss makes you weak in the knees and woozier than the last one.

“God, d’yknow I’ve had the biggest crush on you.” He said, completely disregarding your previous statement.

That stops you. “What?” You asked him in disbelief. Peter had a crush on you? No way, you would’ve known.

“Yeah,” he chuckled lightly, “don’t act so shocked. I was always a stuttering mess at work whenever you so much as looked at me.”

True. But you’d just thought he was a bit more on the shy side.

“I’d seen you around campus before and I thought you were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen, and I still do, but I thought I had no shot in hell with you. And when I got the job at the cafe and saw I’d be working with you? I almost lost my fucking mind sweetheart.” You both laughed a little and you couldn’t help the way your cheeks flamed up because of his words. Did he have any clue what he was doing to you right now?

“So I just sorta kept my distance, y’know? Admired you from afar ‘cause I was too scared you’d reject me. Sadly, it only took you nearly burning your hand off,” he gave you a look and you burst into giggles, him doing you and slightly pinching your waist, “for me to get over myself and actually keep up a conversation with you. But now I’ve got you in my room, kissing me.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, “lucky you.” You joked as leaned in to press another kiss to his lips.

“Lucky me indeed,” he murmured before pulling you in even deeper. He dipped you, making you squeal into the kiss. Then he pulled you up, unable to keep the kiss going any longer with how hard he was grinning.

“Oh my god,” you said, laughing breathlessly.

“A lot more where that came from,” he smirked at you.

“You know,” you moved to pick up your bag, “for someone who was so scared to talk to me for so long, you sure found the confidence now.”

“What can I say? You make it easy. Once I started I couldn’t stop.” You smiled at him as he gently placed a hand on your arm leading you to the door. The living room was empty now, no one to be found on the couch or otherwise and you wondered where their cat had wandered off to.

You bent over to put on your shoes, Peter doing the same. He stepped forward and opened the door for you, letting you step out before following you and locking the door.

As soon as he was done with that, you reached over and grabbed his hand. “Hey Petey?” You said lightly. Oh, he was going to melt. From now on, he only wanted you to call him that.

“Hm?”

“I’m glad you finally decided to talk to me.”

He leaned down and kissed the top of your head. “Yeah? Me too angel.”

The next morning, you awoke in the brightest mood, considering you had a chemistry exam later that day. All you could think about was Peter. You were going to see him later at the cafe and you couldn’t wait.

You leaned over in bed to pick up your phone. Speak of the devil.

GOOD MORNINGGGGG❤️

hope you slept well angel, can’t wait to see you today. and you’re gonna totally ace that exam!🥰

seriously you’re going to kick chemistry’s butt

A huge smile bloomed on your face, almost hurting from how wide it was. Usually, you'd stay in bed for a while, scrolling through Instagram or just going through messages or something. Not today, you couldn’t wait to get to work. Maybe Peter was a good influence on you.

After getting ready for the day, you made your way to the cafe with a little bounce in your steps. The bell jingled above you as you opened the door and for the first time since you’d started working together, Peter was here before you.

“Hey,” he smiled, holding up your usual drink order and waving it at you.

“Hi Pete,” you approached his, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. As you pulled away, you could see how quickly his cheeks pinked, making you grin.

“No ‘Petey’?”

“Didn’t know you had a preference,” you said, grabbing his hand and pulling it towards you as you took a sip from the drink and then moved to get dressed for your shift.

“Yeah,” he scratched the back of his neck, wishing he could feel your hand on his for just a little longer, “neither did I.”

You laughed lightly as you tied your apron, the sound hitting him like the greatest melody in the world.

“Okay then,” you walked towards him, stopping right in front of him, “let’s start over. Hi Petey.”

“Hi angel,” he gave you a dopey grin and you returned it.

“Great, now that we’ve got that figured out.” You patted his chest lightly before taking the drink from his hands and moving away.

“Hey wait! Where’s my kiss?” He pouted at you and he looked so adorable, you just wanted to pinch his cheeks and kiss him till he begged you to stop.

“We’re at work, we’ve gotta be professional.” You said matter-of-factly.

He rolled his eyes, leaned against the counter, and crossed his arms. “Professional my ass, no one is even in here-,”

Before he could even close his mouth, the bell jingled, and in stepped a boy about your age. The boy moved to one of the chairs, not moving to order just yet, giving you the chance to smirk at Peter, who just rolled his eyes again.

“What do you he’s gonna order,” he asked you.

“Hmm…a cookie, probably.” You moved lean against the counter across from him and took a sip of your drink as you smiled.

“Hey wait, you never told me what your drink order is.”

“Hmm…” he hummed in consideration before he moved towards you, grabbing your hand with the drink and bringing it up to his lips to steal a sip, maintaining eye contact the whole time.

“I’ve got to say,” he said in a low voice, “this one has really grown on me.”

You couldn’t look away, all you could do was stare. And stare, and stare, and stare…

A stranger’s voice, and then, “Hey, can I get one of those double chocolate chip cookies?”

You were just on cloud nine today.

You had taken your exam and for the first time ever in that class, you had felt confident in your work.

And to top it all off, after you’d handed in your paper and packed your things to leave, Professor Hall had given you a ‘well done’ nod. You! He’d never noticed you positively before. You were going to need to drown Peter in thank-you kisses for his help.

Speaking of Peter, you couldn’t wait to see him. He told you he’d be waiting for you after your class but when you stepped outside, there was no sign of him. You decided to sit on the building steps and wait. He was probably just running a little late, no biggie.

Big biggie. After 40 minutes of waiting for him, during which you’d sent him a little text and he hadn’t responded, you decided to head over to his place.

The walk was short and your little buzz had worn off after not getting to share it with Peter. After all, you kind of owed him most of the credit. You arrived at his apartment door, and when you knocked, it wasn't Peter who answered.

It's Freddy.

You throw on a smile. “Hi Freddy, is Peter home?”

He returned your smile as he said, “‘Sup Y/N.” He held out his fist and you stared at it for a while before you got the hint and bumped it with your own. “Pete’s not home right now, but you can totally come in and wait for him.”

You found it funny that someone who didn’t live there was inviting you in to stay, but you accepted anyway. You also had no clue how he knew your name.

You knew little about Freddy, but you knew he was sort of a campus celebrity. Every raging party there was, everyone knew Freddy was behind it.

“So,” you said as you walked in, “what year are you in Freddy?”

“Ah nah, I’m done with that shit. I took the bar,” he said casually, waving a hand and moving to sit on the couch. He kicked his feet up on the large Amazon box being used as a coffee table and picked up the open beer sitting atop it.

You stood in your place, clutching your bag. He was in grad school?

“Oh that’s awesome dude, did you not pass or something.”

“Uh uh,” he shook his head, taking a swig of beer, “got a 350.”

Your eyes widened. What. You didn’t know much about law school but you knew getting a score like that on the bar was not an easy thing.

“Wait when’d you take it?” You asked confused. The bar exam wasn’t scheduled for a few months from now.

“Last year.”

“Do you like…work at a firm or something?” It was insane to you that the party animal of this school had already graduated, and with an amazing score nonetheless.

He shook his head, “Workin' on my music right now, and if that doesn’t work out,” he gave you a wicked grin, “well I’ve always got my law degree.”

You nodded, stunned. “That’s sick dude. Good luck,” you told him, waving as you moved to wait in Peter’s room.

“Keep the door cracked kids,” he shouted towards you and you huffed a laugh as you entered the room and closed the door (leaving it open just an inch) before you sat at the foot of his bed.

You looked around for a second, taking it all in. It’s amazing how he managed to take this small space and make it so him.

After a few moments, you took out your phone to shoot him another text.

But before you could finish typing it out, the window beside you started opening and you watched as the Spider-Man fell onto the bed, not noticing you gaping right next to him.

You stayed silent, unsure of what to do or say until he moved to take his mask off. That got you moving and talking.

“Holy fuck!” You basically shout, moving away, hands flying to your mouth.

He seemed to be just as shocked as you were because he scrambled up from his lying position. And staring back at you was Peter Parker.

“What are you doing here?” He asked you, eyes wide. It wasn’t till then that you noticed the paleness of his features, his face lacking that usually healthy glow it held, the waver in his voice, and the hand clutching his bloody side.

“Holy fuck,” you repeated, voice lower, and for a whole different reason this time. “Shit Peter, you’re hurt.” You moved closer to him, temporarily forgetting everything else as your hand reached to gently remove his so you could take in the extent of his injuries.

“It’s nothing,” he said but made no move to shove you away or stop you. You moved his hand and winced at the sight that greeted you, “Looks like a whole lot more than nothing babe.”

“I’ve had worse.”

You look up at him, frowning slightly, “Not exactly reassuring Petey.”

“I feel all better now,” he said, shooting you a charming grin as soon as he heard the nickname leave your mouth. “Add a kiss in the mix, and I’ll be good as new.”

You huffed a laugh, shoving his knee slightly, “Shut up Peter. I’m serious. I’m sure you’ve got some experience with stuff like this,” you wave a hand towards his suit and injury for emphasis and he gives you a quick nod.

“Over there,” he pointed toward his dresser, “top shelf, under the blue sweater.”

You rushed over there, opening the drawer and spotting the sweater he mentioned. “I’m totally stealing that from you someday, this is your heads up,” you told him as you grabbed the large box and completely closed the door before you moved back to his side.

“You can have anything of mine, Angel. I’m sure you’d look better in it anyway.” His words made you blush, but you tried to ignore them so you could focus on the task at hand.

Peter, however, found that he really liked watching your cheeks pink up. And he wanted more.

“Lean against the headboard, now.” You said, trying to be serious again.

“God, at least buy me dinner first sweetheart.” He gave you the dorkiest smirk you’d ever seen. You just glared at him. “On the other hand,” he said as he moved backward to lean against his headboard, “I don’t need dinner, I’m all yours baby girl.”

This got you to laugh, “Peter, be serious! You’re bleeding out!” You moved to his side, “take this off by the way.” You gestured to his suit.

He hit the middle emblem of a spider and you watched as it loosened up and fell off his shoulders. You had started pulling it the rest of the way down, gulping when you realized he wasn’t wearing anything else, when he mumbled, “Not a terrible way to go.”

You refused to look up and meet his eyes but he knew he got you. Thank god he was wearing underwear, you realized, and you threw the suit to the side after you’d completely shredded him of it. He was definitely going to need a new one.

Now completely facing the damage, your stomach churned, and you were hit with the hard truth. “I…I don’t know what to do,” you whispered to him. You wanted to help him, more than anything. This man who’s been risking his life, probably since he was a teenager you realized, as you did the math silently in your head, was hurt and right in front of you, needing your help. And you needed to help him, but you didn’t know the first thing about how to approach a situation like this. You were surprised you could stare at the wound for so long.

“Don’t worry, I can do it,” he said gently, his bloody hand reaching for the huge first aid kit.

“No!” You rushed out, grabbing his hand to stop him, “No way am I letting you do that! Just…just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.

Feeling more confident, you grabbed the kit and opened it. Shock coursed you as you realized just how much he went through and your confidence fell right back down where it sprouted from. The bag was full of all the medical tools and supplies you could think of, most of them completely foreign to you, and you realized how privileged you must be to not recognize any of these things. You can’t imagine the ‘worse’ he talked about having earlier. This must be those accidents he was talking about.

“I don’t usually have to use them,” his voice was soft, almost like he was reassuring you, “usually just water and a towel does the trick. Maybe a little numbing cream. And these,” he looked down at his wounds, “some bandages, sure, but I won’t need stitches or anything.”

You let out a breath of relief, you weren’t sure you could’ve handled that. You didn’t trust yourself.

“Okay,” you said, grabbing some wipes. You were going to do this. Based on what he’d told you, he was always stitching himself back up, just to hit the streets again the next day. This time, though, was different. This time you were here to help him, and you weren’t going chicken out of this. Even a little help was better than nothing at all.

You started slowly, cleaning around his wounds so you could bandage them properly. “You sure you’re okay with this?” He asked you gently. “I totally understand if you need me to do it, angel, it’s a lot if you’re not used to it.”

“No,” you shook your head, your voice steady, “No way. It’s my turn to fix you up.” You told him, looking up to meet his eyes and smiling at him.

He returned it and you went back to work.

“So….Spider-Man, huh?” You peeked up quickly in question.

“Yeah,” he took a deep breath, “it’s a long story. Basically, I was bit by some spider, that shit was powerful,” you laughed a little, making him smile. “And I got some. Of its powers I mean.”

“So you get bit by a spider, that spider gives you powers, and you decide to become a New York vigilante?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” he nodded, and you laughed again.

“You’re a hell of a guy Peter Parker.” You said, shaking your head slightly.

“Thank you, I try,” he smirked at you and you laughed again.

“Okay,” you said, pulling away from his side. He almost whined in protest. Honestly, he wasn’t feeling any pain, not since you’d started worrying about him, and insisting you help him. Peter wasn’t used to that, he was always alone when it came to this part of the job. He’d never minded that before, just one of the things he had to deal with as a superhero, but now that someone else was taking care of him…it felt nice. Really nice. Especially when it was you.

“Peter?” You looked at him questioningly. Shit. You’d asked him something.

“Huh? I'm sorry, I didn’t hear you.” He said with wide eyes. He’d gotten too wrapped up in the feeling of being taken care of, not that anyone could blame him though, the girl he’d been crushing on forever was here, in his room, helping bandage him up! It's more than he could’ve dreamed of.

“It’s okay sweetie,” you said, waving him off assuming he was in pain or something. Really, now he had something new to obsess over. Sweetie? While he was practically naked (albeit injured, but he wasn’t thinking of that right now) in bed with you? God, he could just melt.

“I was just wondering which bandages,” you said, holding up the different ones you’d found in his bag.

“Oh,” he said lamely, “these ones.” He grabbed a few from you and opened them.

“Look,” he said, leaning over himself to see his wounds properly, “you’ve got to bring together both sides of the wound, then secure the bandage so that it’s holding it closed.” He talked as he placed the first bandage with you watching and listening with intent.

“Okay, I think I’ve got it,” you said as you took the rest of the bandages from him. You steadied yourself, straddling his thigh as you started placing the bandages down his wound. The biggest gash took about five, your elbow resting on his abdomen as you got lower…and lower.

Conveniently, you missed the quiver in his breath, too focused on the work at hand, but you didn’t miss the small gasp he let out when your forearm reached right between his thighs.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You said as you pulled away quickly, thinking you’d hurt him. “Did I pinch too hard?”

“No, no angel, you’re fine. Doing a great job actually.” He replied, trying to collect himself. He could not let himself think of that right now. There were more important things at hand.

“You sure?” You asked him, not looking convinced.

“Positive.” He replied, grabbing your arm and pulling you back in (but making sure to keep you at a healthy distance from his dick).

You added a few more bandages, most of the cuts only needing one or two, before pulling away again to rummage through his bag. “What do you use on your bruises?”

“This one,” he said, leaning over you and grabbing a tube from the kit. You turned, your lips almost brushing over each other with how close you were.

“Hi,” you whispered, all thoughts completely flying out of your head as you realized just how badly you wanted to kiss him.

“Hi angel,” he said smiling softly at you.

Seeing you debate it in your head, Peter decided it would be easier for the both of you if he did it first. Leaning in, he closed the distance and smoothly took your lips in his. You melted into the kiss right away, feeling like you’d been craving this your whole life when really, you’d just kissed his a few hours ago before you’d left work.

Your hands were on his bare chest, you could feel every muscle, every move when-

“Wait, you’re hurt!” You pulled away, leaving a pouting Peter in your wake.

“My lips work just fine angel,” he said, trying to steal another kiss while you tried to avoid him.

“But..let me finish at least,” you mumbled against his lips, barely getting a chance to pull away after he’d caught you.

“You can finish, just lemme do this first,” he responded before kissing you again.

“Hey,” you mumbled against his lips.

He hummed in response, moving to kiss your cheek, your jawline. If he kept this up you might not try to stop him.

“Did you know Freddy took the bar exam? And passed?”

That got him to pull away.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking at you confusedly, “I’m kissing you and you decide this a good time to bring up Freddy?”

“Well, y’know,” you shrugged, “figured it was as good a time as any.”

He scoffed, “Unbelievable.”

You giggled, “I win.” You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, pulling away before he could catch you and turn it into more.

“Now lay down, lemme do this,” you said waving the cream at him.

He moved grumpily and you thought grumpy Peter was the cutest thing ever. The furrow of his brows, the slight pout of his lips. You could just kiss him. And you would’ve if you hadn’t known where it would lead you.

You unscrewed the cap to the cream and started applying it gently. “So Fred’s a lawyer huh?” Peter spoke up.

“He is!” You whispered excitedly, glad he was just as shocked as you were.

“And you learned this how?” He asked, giving you a look.

You shrugged. “He let me in and I talked to him, asked him a few questions to get to know him better since I see him everywhere.”

“Wait, he’s here right now?”

“Yeah,” you said slowly, “I thought you knew?”

“No I didn’t-,” he let out a sigh, “whatever it's basically his apartment too at this point I guess.”

You laughed, “And you’re okay with that?”

He shrugged with his good side. “He buys the good beer.”

You laughed again. “He scored a 350 on the bar exam!”

Peter’s brows shot up. “Oh shit.”

“I know! The only thing I knew about him was that he blacked out in that frat house’s pool all night and the cops were called cause someone thought he was dead.”

“Yeah, he’s super lucky he was on his back. Just floated around the pool like a leaf.”

You shook your head, screwing the cap back on the tube of cream, “Crazy. But anyway, I’m done. And on the plus side,” you grinned at him, “if you ever get in legal trouble, you know someone!”

He laughed out loud, and you watched as his face scrunched up and he clutched his side in pain. Apologizing for the joke, you gave him a kiss on the cheek to make up for it.

“Enough about crazy Freddy,” he let out a sigh, “I’m gonna go put some clothes on, and then I wanna cuddle with my girl.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words and all you could do was smile as he stood up, giving you a kiss on the side of your head before he moved to pick out some clothes.

You watched him get dressed, biting your lip as you watched how his muscles rippled with each of his movements. You always knew he was strong but seeing him like that, was a completely different story.

“Like what you see?” He asked, smirking at you before he lifted his shirt, holding it up between his teeth as he tied his sweatpants.

Your mouth fell open. At being caught and also at…how absolutely hot he looked right now. If he wasn’t injured, you would be all. over. him.

“S’alright angel,” he said as he stalked towards you. He was enjoying this, a lot. “I’m sure I’d be the same if the roles were reversed.”

That did not help. Now you were thinking about being naked in front of Peter and-

He laughed, kissed the side of your head again, and laid down, pulling next to him.

“Careful Peter, you’re still hurt!” You chastised him.

He shook his head, “You made me feel a hundred times better. Thank you, angel.”

“Of course Petey.” He smiled at you as he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tight.

“So, you came to see me right? Y’know, before the whole finding out I’m Spider-Man thing. What’s up?”

“Oh I almost forgot,” you perked up, tilting your head up so you could see his face, “I think I totally aced that chemistry exam!”

“Angel! I’m so proud of you!” He started attacking you with kisses, kissing you anywhere his lips could reach.

You giggled, “Thank you sweetie, but seriously I owe you most of the credit, I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Nonsense,” he shook his head, “that was all you. I barely helped, you learned everything and then took that quiz, and aced it.”

“Well I haven’t gotten my grade back yet, I just have a really good feeling, so don’t sound too are there's a chance I didn’t do as well as I thought.”

“Nope,” he said, popping the p. “I have a sense, a spidey sense. And my spidey sense is telling me that you totally aced that thing. No questions asked.”

You laughed loudly. “Spidey sense?”

“No questions,” he repeated as he nuzzled his nose into your hair.

“Fine then,” you snuggled up further into him. “No questions.”

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spaceorphan18 · 3 years ago

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99 Perspectives on a Single Love Story #57

A/N: The Story of Kurt and Blaine told through the eyes of everyone else but them. Each chapter is a different perspective in the ongoing tale of their love story.

I started something like this a while back - and now I’m taking the idea and really running with it. Each chapter is a ficlet of a different character at a different point in Kurt and Blaine’s life - documenting their love story. This starts in Audition, and each chapter will be paired with a different episode until reaching Dreams Come True.

[Ao3]

***

The Sycophants (Diva)

“Guess what I just found out.” Patrick sets his venti extra shot, white chocolate mocha made with oat milk, with sweet cream, whipped cream, and extra caramel drizzle down on the cafe table. NYADA’s Corner Cafe is quieter than usual, leaving it a nice place for him to gossip with his BFF and on-again, off-again boyfriend, Bernard. “Looks like Turtle-Face has actually, and O.M.G. did he actually, challenge Rachel Berry, the Rachel Berry to a Midnight Madness Duel.”

“What, no?!” Bernard looks scandalized as Patrick takes his seat opposite him. “Does he really think that since he wowed a few people at Winter Showcase he can just waltz right in here and take the place over? She will eat him alive.”

“Totally eat him alive. I cannot wait to see her demolish him.”

“It’ll do his inflated ego some good.”

Patrick nods, as he takes a long sip of his drink, over to the counter where their current subject, one Kurt Hummel is chatting away with Adam Crawford as they order. Their backs are turned, no reason not to continue their little conversation.

“Looks like someone’s getting a little chummy there,” Patrick notes as they watch Adam hand over a coffee to Kurt. “And it didn’t take Kurt very long to join the Apples. They have got to be fucking. I mean, you just know Kurt Hummel probably gives head to get ahead.” He laughs at his own joke.

Bernard hand waves at him. “Oh, please, Adam is so pathetic to get people to join his little club, he probably put out just to get Kurt to join.”

“It’s terribly pathetic any way you look at it,” Patrick says, with an air of disgust. “My god, the people they let into this school. You’d think as legendary as Carmen Tibideaux is, she’d be better at picking her students. But this year’s batch of freshmen, besides the fully overqualified Rachel Berry, are just a bunch of duds.”

“Oh, exactly,” Bernard says. Then something strikes him. “Oh, I just realized -- I have some actual hot goss concerning Kurt Hummel that I’d bet you’d love to hear!”

Bernard is such a tease. “Please, do tell,” Patrick says. “You know how I love a titillating story.”

“So,” Bernard says, “I was doing a little digging on the social meeds, whatever don’t judge me for this I happened to be congratulating Rachel Berry on her flying remarks for one of her vocal technique classes, and I ended up going down a rabbit hole of Kurt Hummel’s instagram. Mostly, it’s pictures of his tacky and, frankly, quite ridiculous fashion choices, but I did find out that before he was sticking it to Adam he had a very serious boyfriend.”

“I knew he was just using Adam,” Patrick rolls his eyes. “Clearly, he’s trying to better his prospects for whatever limited career he’s trying to achieve.”

“Clearly,” Bernard easily agrees. “But there’s more. I recognized the boyfriend’s name. Blaine Anderson.”

Patrick gives him a confused look. “Am I supposed to know who that is?”

“Not yet,” Bernard says, excitedly. “But you probably will in about a year. Remember when I had to go talk with Carmen Tibideaux about a class conflict? Well, while I was in her office, she got called away. And on her desk were applicants for next year. And one of them was from a Blaine Anderson. That’s, like, god to be the same person. I mean, what are the chances?”

Patrick’s eyes light up with delight. “Nooooooo.”

“Yeeeeesss, honey, we are gonna have ourselves some kind of love triangle drama next year, and my god is it gonna get good,” Bernard snaps his fingers. “I mean, that’s assuming Adam doesn’t graduate, and sticks around another year cause he so sadly has no other prospects than his lame show choir.”

“I am totally looking this guy up,” Patrick says, whipping out his phone in record time. It doesn’t take much of a Google search to find Blaine Anderson from nowhere Ohio. “What the hell is a Warbler?” he asks, as he pushes play on a video - setting the phone in the center of the table so they can both watch.

What they see is astounding - a group of prep school boys dancing around in blazers. Patrick can only guess that the guy singing lead is Blaine Anderson. Oh this became delicious.

“Are they jumping on furniture?” Bernard asks, in awe as they watch.

“Oh they most definitely are,” Patrick says. “And look at that face as he sings. Good luck getting gigs with that face! Anyway, Kurt Hummel has a type - and clearly it’s male divas who have to be the center of their own show choirs.”

“No wonder the relationship didn’t work out,” Bernard snipes. “Probably couldn’t agree as to who would be the bottom.”

“Oh, c'mon, Turtle-Face is clearly the bottom,” Patrick says, with a cackle. “Oh, I cannot wait for next year. I’ll have my popcorn bucket ready for what’s going to be a soapier ride than any daytime television show.”

The two of them throw their heads back in maniacal laughter.

#99 perspectives #s.o. writes things #klaine #klaine fic #these guys are the worst

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historic-old-guard-lover · 4 years ago

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Historically Booker’s native language would be Occitan and not French . He would also probably deeply resent standard / Parisian French since the government did their damnest to erase regional languages and still do it today .

Agreed! There was another post about this, but since I got an ask (I love you, anon) I’ll elaborate. Buckle up for a primer on the evolution of the French language with a brief aside for troubadours, traveling musician-poets you wish were still a career option. No, being a rock star is not quite the same.

In the early medieval period (as early as ~900CE), the country we now call France had a language divide between the northern and southern regions. In the north, they spoke langues d'oïl which is what eventually became modern standard French. In the south, they spoke Occitan or lenga d'òc and a modern form of this language is known as Provençal. Looking at the regional sub-dialects, the more northern Occitan begins to sound like a langue d’oil and the more southern dialects begin to sound like Spanish.

As I touched upon in a previous post, this is because they all share similar roots as a romance language. Even though modern standard French is a langue d’oil, occitan managed to sneak a few things into the language. If you’ve learned French as a second language, you’ll know that when you respond yes (oui) to a negative question (you don’t like cheese? / tu n’aimes pas le fromage?) that you use a different yes (si). This is a skeleton of Occitan!

The why of the invention of “standard French” is, as most “standard” things are, a detour into nationalism. In 1635, Cardinal Richelieu (under Louis XIII) founded the Académie Française (French Academy) which was tasked with standardizing the French language so that it could be exported to the rest of Europe and used to gain further prestige of the role of French philosophers during the Enlightenment. During the French Revolution, it was disregarded, but Napoleon Bonaparte restored it as part of the Institut de France (Institute of France) in 1803. To this day, the Académie is tasked with publishing the French dictionary and inventing new words for things such as “e-mails” so that the French needn’t stoop to using English loan-words.

Another part of this was the Toubon Law (August 1994) which required French (the standard French from the Académie) to be used in all official documents and advertising. It required all advertising to use French and even set a certain percentage of music on the radio that must be French. This law was literally the government going “let’s make the French french again.” If a school doesn’t instruct in French (modern, standard French of course), then they can’t receive government funds. The only exception is Breton-language schools (Breton is as north as it gets and is a langue d’oil so it still helps crush Occitan).

Since the previous paragraph probably made you mad as heck, let me give you some irony to laugh at: some French people refer to this as the loi Allgood (“law” Allgood). To explain this joke, it helps to know that Toubon is the last name of the Minister of Culture at the time the law was passed. If you break down his last name, it sounds like “tout bon” in French which translates to “all good.” People took this law saying make everything French, goddammit and replied, sure thing Minister All-Good. I love it.

Now, for the troubadours! I learned standard modern French in high school, but at university I came across Occitan because of those romantic poets. I’ll put this aside below the break so you can continue on with your day if for some reason you’re not interested in medieval French rock star-poets...

Let me begin by quoting the Wikipedia definition:

A troubadour was a composer and performer of Old Occitan lyric poetry during the High Middle Ages (1100–1350). Since the word troubadour is etymologically masculine, a female troubadour is usually called a trobairitz.

Right away you may notice a few things: 1) they wrote and sang in Occitan; 2) it was an equal-opportunity field (though it was rare for a woman to be one). The first Troubadours were mostly noblemen, but later ones could come from any social class. Yes, you read that correctly: egalitarian travelling poets! If that doesn’t sell you on these performers, I don’t know what will. The troubadours spread their tradition throughout Europe and the only thing that could stop them was the Black Plague.

As you’d expect, they mostly sang about love. A lot of their poems were about courtly love and chivalry, but they could also get bawdy. The especially good performers would be sought after by courts like famous painters. Troubadours are essentially the apex bards: romantic, witty, charming, talented, and able to make serious bank.

To finish this, I will leave you with one of the bawdiest troubadour poems I know of, Farai un vers, pos mi somelh (The Ladies with the Cat) by Guillem de Peiteus. It’s essentially the story of a dude who has sex with these women who pick up a knight on a pilgrimage (though it plays with reality and this guy’s fantasies). I’ll include it in the original Occitan, and then a translation by Robert Kehew (I believe), verse-by-verse. Forgive me for my commentary in between, but I just want you to understand how freaking clever this poem is!

Farei un vers, pos mi somelh Em vauc e m’estauc al solelh. Domnas i a de mal conselh, E sai dir cals: Cellas c’amor de cavalier Tornon a mals.

While sound asleep I’ll walk along In sunshine, making up my song. Some ladies get the rules all wrong; I’ll tell you who: The ones that turn a knight’s love down And scorn it, too.

The singer is establishing himself as a troubadour. The protagonist is dreaming, so we should be careful about what is real and imagined. He’s also invoking the trope of the philandering knight constantly falling in love and breaking his heart.

Domna fai gran pechat mortal Qe no ama cavalier leal; Mas si es monge o clergal, Non a raizo: Per dreg la deuri’hom cremar Ab un tezo.

Grave mortal sins such ladies make Who won’t make love for a knight’s sake; And they’re far worse, the ones who’ll take A monk or priest-- They ought to get burned at the stake At the very least.

The Middle Ages were not at all chaste; yes, monks and priests were having sex. This isn’t as sexist as it may come across on a first reading however. He’s not saying women shouldn’t have sex (he’s actually saying that it’s a sin not to being having sex), he’s just upset that women who are clearly willing to have sex are turning *him* down. He’s not going to get any awards for feminist of the year, but he’s not the worst. I’m sure this would rouse cheers from a tavern.

En Alvernhe, part Lemozi, M’en aniey totz sols a tapi: Trobei la moller d’en Guari E d’en Bernart; Saluderon mi simplamentz Per sant Launart.

Down in Auvergne, past Limousin, Out wandering on the sly I ran Into the wives of Sir Guarin And Sir Bernard; They spoke a poper welcome then By St. Leonard.

These are recognizable locations along a pilgrimage route. There’s a good chance that these names are replaceable (Bernard can be replaced with any last name that rhymes with a saint) and this song could be used to goad the audience. And no, he hasn’t had sex with these ladies yet. They’re just saying hello (for now).

La unam diz en son latin: “E Dieus vos salf, don pelerin; Mout mi semblatz de bel aizin, Mon escient; Mas trop vezem anar pel mon De folla gent.”

One said in her dialect, “Sir Pilgrim, may the Lord protect Men so sweet-manned, so correct, With such fine ways; This whole world’s full of lunatics And rogues, these days.”

I think most would agree that this is happening in the knight’s sex-dream because she’s just sweet talking him. The awesome part is that the “dialect” reflects the singer actually adopting a Northern French language (they’re mutually intelligible). Guillem didn’t have to go that hardcore, but he did.

Ar auzires qu’ai respondut; Anc no li diz bat ni but, Ni fer ni fust no ai mentaugut, Mas sol aitan: “Barbariol, babariol, Babarian.”

For my reply--I’ll swear to you I didn’t tell them Bah or Boo, I answered nothing false of true; I just said, then, “Babario, babariew, Babarian.”

This guy just mocks their accents as a reply. Wildin’.

So diz n’Agnes a n’Ermessen: “Trobat avem que anam queren. Sor, per amor Deu, l’alberguem, Qe ben es mutz, E ja per lui nostre conselh Non er saubutz.”

So Agnes said to Ermaline, “Let’s take him home, quick; don’t waste time. He’s just the thing we’d hoped to find: Mute as a stone. No matter what we’ve got in mind, It won’t get known.”

In this stanza we see two repeats and a new thing. First, the names are easy to replace (Agnes doesn’t even have to rhyme with anything) so that this can be done to call out a specific woman’s name. Second, the language skills are being flaunted again as this Occitan-speaker is just casually showcasing that he can sing about sex in other languages too, thankyouverymuch. Lastly, this is WOMEN voicing their desire, not men. The man is silent, they think he’s incapable of speech. This is two women in a poem/song getting to steer the story how they please. Stepping back, this is a guy’s sex-dream so you could argue he’s just got a kink for dominant women, but regardless that’s a pretty cool way to turn masculinity on its head.

La unam pres sotz son mantel Menet m’en sa cambra, al fornel. Sapchatz qu’a mi fo bon a bel, El focs fo bos, Et eu calfei me volentiers Als gros carbos.

Under her cloak, one let me hide; We slipped up to her room’s fireside. By now I thought one could abide To play this role-- Right willingly I warmed myself At their live coals.

Yes, this dude is saying he’s more than happy to let the women take charge. Don’t kink-shame him.

A manjar mi deron capos, E sapchatz agui mais de dos, E noi ac cog ni cogastros, Mas sol nos tres, El pans fo blancs el vins fo bos El pebr’ espes.

They served fat capons for our fare-- I didn’t stop at just one pair; We had no cook or cook’s boy there, But just us three. The bread was white, the pepper hot, The wine flowed free.

A capon is a castrated rooster, fattened for eating. He’s being fattened (and emasculated by letting them take control) before the women get down to their fun with him.

“Sor, aquest hom es enginhos, E laissa lo parlar per nos: Nos aportem nostre gat ros De mantenent, Qel fara parlar az estros, Si de renz ment.”

N’Agnes anet per l’enujos, E fo granz et ac loncz guinhos: E eu, can lo vi entre nos, Aig n’espavent, Q’a pauc non perdei la valor E l’ardiment.

“Wait, sister, this could be a fake; He might play dumb just for our sake. See if our big red cat’s awake And fetch him, quick. Right here’s one silence we should break If it’s a trick.”

So Agnes brought that wicked beast, Mustachioed, huge, and full of yeast; To see him sitting at our feast-- Seemed less than good; I very nearly lost my nerve And hardihood.

So yes, he’s joking about almost loosing his boner and there’s that language play again. The big part of the ending, however, is the imagery of the red cat. Cats are typically associated with women, and the color red tempts the mind into thinking of it as female passion or some kind of prowling sexuality (with undertones of evil). The subtext here is that they’re going to test him by letting this cat scratch him up to see if he’ll cry out. If he can keep his mouth shut and allow the womens’ passions, he can stay. If he can’t, he’s out. Ultimately, I’m going to say that this poem is subtly for women’s empowerment. Go scratch up your knights, ladies.

#the old guard #historic #reference #sebastien le livre #booker #french #nationalism #language standardization #occitan #troubadours #i wish i was as cool as troubadours #so underappreciated #asks #lovely anon

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horseyfuture · 4 years ago

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Lockdown 2021

Welcome, you sickening metallic pervert. I don’t know why I even tolerate you, my dues to the club have long since been settled and yet still you show up with your corrugated spleen and your laminated nipples. What? Oh, it’s you. With your simple fleshy appendages and some kind of yellow blancmange for a CPU. I suppose you will suffice. Bend yourself over the table there and we’ll get on with the show. Liquid soap’s on the side, next to the antique bum-hammer.

---

Aries: You find yourself repeatedly followed by crows. This is in no way related to the quite normal phenomenon in which a murder of crows will adopt a human who feeds them, bringing them trinkets and even offering them protection from aggressors. No, these crows find you sexy. Leaping about in your lounge, wearing your goth tops and flapping your arms to the rhythms of online parties, the crows all agree that you are “SKRARK!” or, in Crow, “one fine piece of floppy human tail”. Well done! Crows have good taste and make excellent lovers.

Taurus: Every time you open that damn Taurus mouth of yours, you sound like a broken record. I mean, literally, you sound like a piece of badly scratched vinyl. That’s been up the wrong bit of a rhino. And is being played using a bent nail. Through the speakers of a brown ‘65 Ford Allegro. In Ipswitch. In the rain. On a Wednesday. In November. That’s a lot of detail to pack into an accent every time you decide to prattle on about crisps. People find it offputting.

Gemini: On a whim, you buy yourself a File-o-fax, you know, from the 80s. You must have seen one in a kitschy American TV show or something. While excessively bored on a Sunday afternoon, you begin to fill in some of the entries from your mobile phone. As soon as you finish writing the first one, Adam, he calls! What a crazy coincidence! You move onto the next, Beth - then SHE calls! That’s just insane! As you move onto the next name, you think “My god, what if I bought a MAGICAL File-o-fax? What adventures could I HAVE?” - You look down at the table in awe, when suddenly it all becomes clear: next to the Magic File-o-fax is the Magic Empty Bottle of Gin. Ah.

Cancer: Singing a song about beans, YEAH! Singing a song about toast! Singing a song about beans on toast, ‘cos that food you like the most, WOO! Singing a song about waffles? NO! Can’t be arsed making them! Beans on toast takes like two tiny minutes and waffles take about fucking ten! (FUCK THAT!) Singing a song into the beans can! While the beans turn in the microwave, ALRIGHT! Naming individual beans (YEAH!) pretend they’re all going to a beans rave! (WHISTLE POSSE!) Shovelling the beans into your mouth WOO! Toasting bread is for twats! (LO-SERS!) Pouring cold beans onto your face and half of them fall onto the cat! (SEND HELP!)

Leo: After a successful hour’s staring at the stippled ceiling, you reward yourself with a brisk walk to the door. After three proud steps, diligently recorded by your fitness band (which you’re fairly certain is now emitting a dull weeping sound), you jubilantly punch the air and have a nice relaxing pass out on the floor. After another few hours, you surf another boost of energy and nearly make it to the fridge. Sadly, though this goal is destined to elude you as you trip over a recently-delivered Amazon envelope. A handful of attempts in, you succeed at opening the envelope (only stopping twice to catch breath) and discover it to contain one flimsy plastic finger measurer and a £60 voucher for a wine subscription. You remember the partner you once had, in the distant before times, so vibrant and loud. In recognition of having had what you’re certain is “a feeling”, you fling the ring-measurer away, order the wine and settle into a nice, relaxing cry.

Virgo: There are a number of St Bernards around your neighbourhood and you’ve started to find them more than a little intimidating. What began as friendly barks as you passed in the street has developed into the odd growl and now barking as the owners pull their wretched beasts back from you, swearing in anguish as their hounds’ slavering jaws snap at your heels. After a few weeks of this, Monthly Bath Weekend inevitably comes round and the problem seems to just go away.

Libra: Some people have been baking recently. They - of course - are twats. Others have chosen to use this time to improve existing music skills, or even pick up a new instrument in their abundance of free time. Shit-eating scum, each and every one of them. You are not going to be affected by this self-improvement bullshit and have decided to strike out on your own, tangibly making yourself less pleasant, skilled and attractive with each passing day. Monday is fudge-eating class. Tuesday, “how long can I sit on the loo?” marathons (5 hours PB). Wednesday is Yelling ‘BASTARDS’ at the Sky Day, while Thursday (being the new Friday) you party on down with a life-size model of Prince made from your own toenails. Friday you slam your face into cupboards, repeating the word “APES” in a dull monotone. At the weekend, it’s time to rest! Phew! Just a few hours drilling holes in the ceiling, a slip, a tumble, a fall, a crunching sound and a view from the underside of a very poorly constructed step-ladder until it all goes beautifully dark.

Scorpio: Fuck this, you’re buying beach balls. Yep. Why not? You do, in fact, buy beach balls. Why didn’t you think of this before? They’re bright. They’re entertaining. They’re CHEAP. You can order them in large quantities, it turns out. “Ooh, I hope you’re not having a party!” says the delivery man, with a wink “HAHAHAH, NO. Actually I’m just INFLATING THEM AND POPPING THEM” you cackle toward his suddenly retreating face. It takes a while to inflate all 400, but the high you get from blowing them up is quite intense! Now you have a house full of beach balls! Haha! You can’t bring yourself to pop them in the end. Some of them are lost to accidents (fried beach ball, anyone?) and others you draw on with crude faces of past enemies, then open the door and punt them down the street with a hearty “FUCK YOU, BEATRICE!” (or Ken, as appropriate. You had few enemies. It’s cheap therapy). The last few hundred last you happily into the next month, though the doctor is mildly unimpressed when you attempt to get them vaccinated.

Sagittarius: Your attempts at making LEGO sex toys go badly to begin with. But, weirdly, you do eventually get better at it. You’re particularly proud of the one where you use the gearbox from the racing car for, well, you know. The winking pneumatic sex-donkey (8,014 bricks) is, in most people’s opinion, your pièce de résistance. You can’t wait for the highstreet to open up again, so you can go and show off your repertoire down the local toyshop.

Capricorn: It’s tough getting through lockdown without the internet. In your case, though, it is entirely self-inflicted. You made a promise to yourself to cut down on the doomscrolling and it was successful! Prodigiously so! You end up cutting out the news sites - who needs them? - then the social sites - nothing but trash! - then eventually you just pull the wires out of your router and fling it in the bin with some bits of leftover chicken. Time passes, politicians come and go, vaccines are invented, distributed, mostly successful (with only a small amount of people instantly turning into tiny, angry lizards) and eventually the world passes through the danger period and back into something like normality! You, of course, miss this entirely and get on with your new hobby of writing subversive poetry on the walls in dollops of mouldy Marmite. Weirdly, you ARE happier.

Aquarius: Lockdown doesn’t seem to be getting to you too badly this month (whichever month it turns out to be). You did get to a bit of a peak when you were popping a Toblerone up your bum while playing kazoos just to get yourself ready for the next bloody Zoom meeting of the day, you now you’re limiting it to one bar per day and only using the two kazoos, you feel like you’ve hit your stride, found your flow, really made the most of every work-from-home hour the Lord sends. Ah, yes, the Lord truly has kept you to the virtuous path. Without your faith, you would never have got through the dark days. Sat there on his throne of Bourbons, wearing his Chocolate Finger crown. Slowly rotating on the lazy Susan you bought so you could efficiently respect His Majesty from any angle with a deft flick of the wrist (and a few Bourbons in the eyes if you get too excited). The mighty Lord. You assume his name was Lord. There were only a few letters you could read on the collar when you found him by the bins. Ah, yes. The bins. The biscuits. The Lord. The rapture. Amen.

Pisces: After popping to the door to bring in a food delivery, you notice the day looks quite pleasant for a change, pop a mask on and go for a nice walk. On the way back, you notice a ladder leant up against a tree, with a strange golden light shimmering from high in the branches. Climbing the ladder, you hear the sound of a party, people calling your name in joy, whistles and whoops, clapping and laughter. You tumble into the golden light and down a kind of shoot as a fanfare plays. The dazzling light fades, the noise abates gently and you are sat on your sofa. On the TV are the words “LEVEL 4: YODELLING GEESE”. The geese filling your living room immediately begin to yodel with anger.

---

By the sainted elbows of Bobby Tavistocke, we got there in the end. I may have been a little over-brutal with my use of the bum-hammer there, for which I apologise. Anyway, you have extracted your price once more and I have little left to give. Pick up your clothes and get out of my living room.

As usual, you may of course take a fairy cake. We’ve got the nice ones this week.

DEPART!

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tiesandtea · 4 years ago

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Suede fell out of bed into Britpop and Britpop controversy about Blur and bisexuality and who was doing what to who in what direction, but between episodes of public drama was glammy rock ‘n’ roll in the most classic English tradition. After years off duty, Suede is substantially re-united (without Bernard) and active and playing their first stateside gig at Coachella.

An interview with Brett Anderson by Chris Ziegler. L.A. Record, 15 April 2011.

How did Suede and Metallica ever get together for all-night rock sessions? Brett Anderson: Our press agent sorta said, ‘Hey, Kirk Hammett is a big fan— should we get you together?’ So we went out to San Francisco to Kirk’s place and spent a lot of time being a bit naughty and playing songs in his basement. He had a studio—a little bit of a jamming room. I remember running through ‘Metal Mickey,’ we did a bit of T. Rex—we were off our faces, anyway. He’s a nice chap!

Kirk said he was struck by how normal you were and how you didn’t spank your buttocks once. I should have spanked my buttocks. He was probably very disappointed. ‘This can’t be the real Brett Anderson. He’s not spanking his buttocks.’

What Crass lyric is so close to the front of your mind at all times that you can sing it to me right this second? ‘Do they owe us a living? Of course they fucking do!’ I love Crass. Feeding of the 5,000 was one of my favorite records growing up. I love that record. I love all the artwork. Talking about bands that draw you into a world—Crass really created their world, and it was a really confrontational, intelligent, political world. I really responded to it as a young teenager.

What part of the Crass ethos do you hold most dear? I don’t live on a commune in Essex. But it opened my eyes—if it’s done right—how powerful political music can be. I never wrote overtly political music, but I did write music that dealt with not like party politics, but themes of poverty and alienation and I used that in songs—that was possibly inspired by Crass.

How was Suede a political band? Dealing with the politics of life. Setting our songs in a real social context. I never wanted to be a writer who waved flags for a political party, but listening to the songs you can tell I was brought up as a member of the working-class, and you can tell the songs have a very strong left-wing bias.

You said you felt there hasn’t been a definitive genre of music invented in the U.K. in the last decade, and that you feel music is meant more to placate than provoke now. Why? I do very much feel that’s the state of things. I can’t see that the last decade has created its own genre, which is a terrible shame for that generation. Not to say there hasn’t been great music. There’s amazing music! I love discovering new bands and there’s a great wave of new bands. But the biggest cultural development of the last like ten years was computer technology. It wasn’t anything to do with art and music, and that’s a shame. Even in the 90s, we had dance music—definitely a 90s genre. Maybe people have become too knowing. There’s too much of a structured sense of what’s cool and what isn’t, and that comes from magazines constantly publishing lists which contain the same five Beatles albums and this kind of thing. There’s this constant pressure to comply with this very sort of rigid set of accepted rock albums. So bands are too afraid to go outside those reference points. I sense this real fear in the music industry. A lot of it is because the industry has become a lot more corporate. People won’t take risks anymore. In the early 90s—that’s the only time I can talk about because that’s when I started—magazines were putting unusual bands on the cover. Magazines put Suede on covers before anyone had ever heard of us. Commercially, that was very ill-advised—but at least it suggested they had a sense of purpose. Now I get the sense people only back who they think are gonna win, regardless of if they actually think it’s any good or not. They will back who they think are the winners, and they will write good reviews for the bands they think are gonna sell lots of records whether they like them or not, and I think that’s a fucking terrible way to be. People are too afraid of not being cool? Or getting it wrong? No one’s willing to get it wrong. No one’s willing to stick their neck out and become a hated figure. No one’s got that kind of confidence. Everyone’s too willing to comply. It’s a terrible thing. But things go in cycles, don’t they? Maybe it’ll move into another period where people are taking chances.

When is the last time you suffered Stendhal syndrome? At the Musee d’Orsay in Paris. I was looking at the Toulouse-Lautrecs, which were absolutely amazing. I’ve never been a huge fan of Toulouse-Lautrec before, but seeing the paintings in the flesh—as it were—is just so amazingly powerful. They’re so beautifully observed. I’m not sure if I actually experienced Stendhal syndrome, but I’ve read about it and it’s an extreme reaction to beauty—that’s the closest I can imagine it to be.

What’s it actually feel like? Like drinking too much coffee. Slightly restless euphoria. Or maybe I’m getting it confused with actually drinking too much coffee. I’m a huge fan of art . I spend a lot of time in galleries and that’s my favorite period of art as well—the post-Impressionists. Paul Gauguin and those artists. I love all the medieval painters as well. People like Bruegel and Cranach and Holbein. There’s something incredibly primitive about it—Bruegel’s ‘Return of the Hunters’ is so atmospheric. What I really like about Holbein is he’s such an amazing draftsman and a great observer of human features. He could completely capture a person. You’re looking at someone who lived 500 years ago but it could be someone passing you on the street. They’re so real. I love that about Holbein’s paintings.

Did you want to try and observe things that carefully in Suede songs? It’s difficult in the framework of pop music. It isn’t a very subtle medium. It doesn’t have as much as fiction or fine art. You’re in a very rigid structure—melody and rhyme and rhythm and those things are constricting you. I don’t think pop writers can ever take it to that depth of observation. But what pop writers can do is engage at an emotional level that other artists can’t do. The pop song, when done right, is incredibly powerful. That’s partly to do with the simplicity as well. Truth in music is incredibly important, but artifice can be incred- ibly important as well—that’s something I’ve done quite consciously. Lots of the songs I’ve written for Suede have been deliberately superficial but perversely enough there’s a kind of truth in that. A sketch is powerful because you fill in the missing pieces. You fill in the framework yourself. If it’s too full, there’s no space for you to interpret it.

Francis Bacon said, ‘The job of the artist is to deepen the mystery.’ Absolutely. One of the most important quotes ever about creativity. Something I’ve learned through mistakes over the years is it shouldn’t be too clear what you’re doing. Sometimes the sketch is so powerful because of the room for interpretation. As soon as you know what something is about, it somehow kills the mystery. And mystery is so important in music. That allows the song to have life beyond what it was intended for. When a writer’s writing, they have a very specific thing in mind, but they don’t know about the life of the listener. The listener applies his life to the music and there’s a new interpretation. That’s why a good song has so much power. It reaches into people’s lives. But to do that, there needs to be a sense of mystery. I’ve always tried to do that with detail. There’s this whole thing with great songwriters saying songs should be universal, but I actually think songs should be opposite—strangely specific and set in a place to make them real. I mean, still allow space for interpretation.

You said once that Suede writes about the used condom, not the beautiful bed. That kind of detail? That’s not my favorite quote I ever said—but it keeps coming back. It must resonate with people’s vision of what the band is about. It’s quite a crass way of saying it, but I suppose it’s got some sort of truth. I always wanted to document the sort of grubby side of life. I didn’t want to talk in rock cliché. ‘Baby, I love you!’ clichés. I wanted to sing about the world I saw around me, and the world I saw around me was the used condom. It was the dusty street, the flickering TV. It was that use of detail and the fact I was born in the U.K. that made me write about the U.K. in detail, and it became distorted into the cliché of what became Britpop later—but it was never this nationalistic, jingoistic intention. It was just a desire to write about the world I saw around me.

Did you have to feel like you were living a Suede song to write a Suede song? I don’t feel I deliberately changed my lifestyle. But I didn’t rein myself in. I felt justified in writing what I was writing—the right thing to do for my artistic vision was live the lifestyle I was singing about, but it’s kind of a chicken-and-egg thing. I was living that, obviously. But you can’t live that lifestyle forever and wanna remain alive. Things have to change. I championed—well, I documented it, and then you realize that what you’re documenting is quite harmful.

Did you think you were going to end up on a prison ship like Dan Treacy? Well, toward the end of the 90s, things started getting quite dark. Life was definitely changing. I thought, ‘Well, maybe we need to veer away from something.’ I always feel I’m slightly on dodgy ground when people talk about this whole concept of the artist as a damaged character—it’s such a powerful cliché that people really wanna believe in, and I think there’s so much great art made through clarity and sobriety. The damaged artist casts a huge shadow people sometimes can’t see beyond. Me personally, as an artist now I feel much more in control of my art. Much more driven. Certainly more than I did ten years ago. But people need to believe in that sort of figure.

Jason Pierce said he started Spacemen 3 because of people like Roky Erickson and Alex Chilton—that he felt he could do what they did because they were flawed and not professional and perfect. It’s the ultimate DIY ethic, isn’t it? The ultimate punk thing? Saying it doesn’t matter how incapable or damaged or all these pejorative adjectives you wanna apply—not you can still create art, but it almost makes your art more interesting or valid or gives it an edge you wouldn’t have if you weren’t damaged? Someone like Ian Dury—the ‘cripple as artist.’ It gives the audience a fascination, I think.

You said you were making music to find community in a fucked-up world. Did you ever find that community? It’s always a search for some sort of community, isn’t it? There’s a line from one of the old songs, ‘New Generation.’ ‘We take the pills to find each other.’ A search for human … ownership or whatever. I don’t know. It’s strange to say because I’ve always conducted my career and Suede’s career almost as outsiders. I’ve never felt accepted by the music industry. I still don’t. I’ve never felt part of any sort of gang, and I never really wanted to be part of any gang. The only gang I’m part of is this weird disparate group of non-members—the ‘others’—and I’m quite happy in that role as well. I don’t jealously look at other people’s lives and wish I could be like that. I don’t have that search for community I used to have— maybe I realized the reality of things.

Does that mean it’s not out there? That it was never there? Can bands create these communities anymore? That’s the definition of a decent band. They create a community. When I answered your question, it was in a personal sense. Whether I’ve found a community. But hopefully Suede as a band created a community. That was one of our real intentions—I loved bands like the Smiths who had this world you went into, with the sleeves and the reference points. You very much immersed yourself. I wanted Suede to have that sense as well. Almost a strong Suede way of being. The Suede army, as someone once said.

If you didn’t find community, what did you find? It made my life. It gave me all those things we were talking about earlier. It gave me everything. Gave me purpose in life. I wouldn’t ever advise anyone to do what I did! I’ve been incredibly lucky in my career. 99 percent of people who go into music won’t be as lucky. It is a lot to do with luck! The fact I’ve met Bernard Butler—little things! I might never have met him, and we never would have written those songs and Suede would have been a very different band. I never just say, ‘This is what you should do!’ I was just confident and stupid enough to do what I did, and it just sort of worked! But some of the decisions I made—they were pretty rash!

Is it necessary to commit totally to being creative to be good at being creative? To jump in with no safety net? Absolutely. You’ve gotta let yourself out there. I didn’t even have an instrument to fall back on! ‘I believe I got enough of a voice to say something interesting, and I’m gonna do it.’ Confidence verging on stupidity that happened to pay off!

Does pop music defend the brave and stupid? I think so. You have to push it as far as it’ll go. Part of the reason the public loves pop music so much is the drama of the story. You have people who have no idea about the drama and just wanna listen to Phil Collins records and that’s fine, but there’s a whole other group of people that love the back story—how it’s made and why people fall out and fall in love. It’s almost treating the world of music like you’re watching a soap opera and people love that.

Why do people fall in love? Probably some sort of chemical function. I don’t wanna be unromantic about it but it fulfills a necessary function for the human race.

#brett anderson #suede

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rgr-pop · 5 years ago

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Re: canvassing for Bernie. I guess mostly advice on being effective. I went canvassing in Va before Super Tuesday and felt pretty ineffective, we used the minivan app which just showed us dem voters which makes sense right before the election but I’m wondering if I should widen the net going forward? Idk I’d be canvassing in md and wv thanks in advance you truly are the only smart person on this site

i actually did not have the best experience today, but some of my friends did. my friend the one from flint who went on msnbc to tell chris hayes he didn't vote for hillary because he's from flint, he had a really good day and he felt really good about everything. he gave me some good points, which i will share with you in a second. the reason you didn't feel effective in VA is because everyone in VA is a CIA asset and you shouldn't internalize that. i'm thrilled that you get to talk to people in WV and I think policy and talking points are really going to be on your side, and the people are going to be cool as hell (even if they are not-already bernard voters).

i think bernard kinda fucked over michigan in a few ways this year (no beef but it's true), but i am lucky because my city has some extremely experienced campaign people, and i have never really had to experience doing canvassing for any kind of campaign that wasn't run by them, so i was kind of confused about how little direction you were given. they keep asking me to do higher-up stuff like drawing up the voter lists and strategizing and hosting canvasses, but i keep being like, put me on the doors dude that's where i belong. (my palestinian libra dirtbag is exactly the same, he did like three turfs today lol.) i can probably ask my campaign people for tips if you feel like you don't have any guidance.

since we're so close to election day, we'd normally be only targeting likely/confirmed voters to get out the vote, but because things are so crazy, we're also hitting up voters identified as undecided or previously soft-opponent or i think even independent and we're actually still trying to change minds. this is not super usual but it's crisis time! so, to answer your question, i would say i think you should widen the net, especially in WV. the dem voter problem isn't a huge issue where i am because people in lansing flint and detroit are literally just always democrats no matter what, but in other states i think it's more nuanced.

most of the following advice pertains to actually talking to people, but it should cover the range of voters you may encounter. i think i feel the least effective when i "fail" to engage people in a conversation, so i recommend talking to them in more open-ended ways. i share some of our script down below, but in general i like to ask people questions to draw them in, rather than telling people what we're about. get them to talk about themselves, and they will remember bernie sanders as the candidate that listened. i swear to god that works.

today they gave me a sheet (i gave it to a new girl so i can't remember exactly, but) that focused on swinging those voters. it's still "don't shittalk opponent" territory but it's a list of ways to explicitly contrast sanders and biden on the policies, and it made me realize that we're extremely lucky to be put in this position because those contrasts are stark, and they are convincing to poor people in particular.

what's interesting is that i'm no longer leaning into medicare for all to do my arguing, and i think that's gonna make me more effective. obviously bernie is stronger (literally: strongest) on this issue, but the messaging around biden's work on the ACA and his recent dodging about the issue doesn't help us convince anybody. healthcare is the most important thing on the table but it remains inscrutable: i would say dig into it with voters only if they bring it up as an issue that matters to them, or if they're healthcare workers (non-doctor probably), or if you are going to talk about an experience of your own. when you do talk about healthcare, especially in WV, remember bernie's position on medical debt. this is one of his clearest contrasts with biden. make sure you're familiar with biden's history with bankruptcy and debt, because i'd be willing to bet that that's something that's gonna resonate with WV and MD voters.

the trade deals and NAFTA are, simply, the most important thing to talk about at this point, and imo (based on the critical states, michigan most of all) that's what's going to win us this election, if we talk to people about it. hillary clinton lost the election because she did NAFTA--simple as that. biden, too, did NAFTA, but the thing about him--as i'm sure you're noticing--is that people seem to forget absolutely everything about him, and no one knows that he did NAFTA. joe biden is behind loads of policy that was outright bad for industrial workers and ruined lives. it is simply enough to argue "bernie sanders did not do NAFTA" but you'll want to look into his trade deal positions and history, contrast these with both biden and trump. if you're worried about the xenophobic underbelly of this problem, frame it as exactly what it is: a position that resists giving corporations free reign to do whatever they want, to abandon communities, and stomp all over workers.

look over some of bernie's positions on unions and labor in general. neither of the states you are going to are strongly right-to-work states right now, but where i live that's a really important thing. both biden and bernie, interestingly, have proposed a ban on right-to-work laws (it rules that we are in a place where this was mainstream for candidates, but it remains to be seen who will actually pursue this! the literal birthplace of the UAW went right-to-work while biden was VP soooo.) bernie also wants to end at-will employment and has a slate of proposal to strengthen unions. you should tell this to almost everyone. biden claims to support many similar plans, but he has not historically been especially strong in these areas, and his plans are generally less encompassing.

you should be prepared to confront concerns that bernie's strong environmental positions will hurt workers in WV. talk to people about a "just transition" and really emphasize the point that industry, and coal companies in particular, have been empowered to come and go as they please without any consequences. bernard's plans in general are job creators, and the idea is to bring sustainable--as in, sticking--jobs to appalachia and the rust belt, as well as universal healthcare for people made sick by their jobs. universal healthcare is an engine for jobs.

the war in iraq, support for veterans, and social security are extremely huge issues for poor people, probably specifically in WV.

you will also talk to another major electorate: people who just want to beat trump. this is advice from the msnbc friend, who knows: give them all the bernie beats trump lines. only bernie beats trump. convince them that biden will have all the same problems hillary clinton had against trump. if they bring up the alleged low youth turnout on super tuesday, remind them that the south has particular voter suppression issues that impact young and college voters, and that thus far young people actually have been turning out in the north and west. and the youth turnout on super tuesday was still higher than average! remind them that a democrat without the so-called youth vote has never beat a republican in the general in this century. most importantly, remind them that because of our flawed electoral system, you could win every single person on the west coast, but you're essentially never going to win the election if you can't win macomb county, michigan. and macomb county, michigan is full of working class voters who were really hurt by the policies of joe biden and hillary clinton and, increasingly, donald trump, and they are interested in bernie sanders, and it's life or death for them. tell them you have a friend in michigan who has seen this first hand :). (hoping march tenth bears this out for us lol.)

gonna round out the hard issues section here by suggesting you read this, which i think is pretty convincing: https://newrepublic.com/article/156819/rebooting-bernie-sanders

today i talked to a guy who said, "bernie sanders, i think i heard obama likes him." and i said, yep, bernie worked really hard to pass some of obama's best policies. and that's true :)

in general, the sanders campaign relies really heavily on the "bernie story," the personal narrative. i think it probably works. it really works for me, because i can talk to people about the stuff that isn't just the green new deal and loan forgiveness--although you will definitely also end up talking to educated people who will need to be reminded that bernie sanders wants to forgive their loans and joe biden wants them to be saddled with them until the end of time. remember to talk to people about where you work and where you live. work and homes is the most important thing to absolutely everyone. tell them you have a teacher friend lol. talk to people about other people you've met. tell other people's stories.

in case you need guidance in this area, try a script that looks something like this (sorry if this is condescending and you already have seen the scripts, but i kind of modify them based on my strengths as a canvasser):

i'm so and so and i'm with the bernard sanders campaign and we're out reminding people to vote on [date].

do you plan on voting? do you know who you're voting for? can we count on you to vote for bernie? [remind people of the stakes of the election, it's gonna be a close one, talk to your friends and family.] [then get them to think about their election day plan: do you know where your polling location is? what time are you going? do you have transportation?] [try to have support info available for them if they do not have these things. if they're worrying about not being able to get off work, commiserate/be empathetic and don't blame.] [let them know how they can get involved in the campaign.]

if they say they are not voting, sometimes you can respect that (shoutout to jehovah's witness), but if they're on your list, they're probably registered, so you can ask them what kind of issues prevent them from voting. a lot of people will tell you that voting is stupid. you should agree with them (they are right). remind them that you would not normally be canvassing for a democratic candidate or any presidential candidate. you're working with tons of people who never canvassed, or maybe never even voted before. this is the first time in my entire life that i had the opportunity to vote for a candidate that addressed the issues that weigh on me on a day to day basis. a major candidate that hates the two party system and refuses to submit to democratic party nonsense. who has a plan that might actually work. a candidate that has a plan to make everybody's life better, even people who aren't out here canvassing for him. poor people. remind them that bernie sanders is the strongest candidate among non- and first-time voters! this area is a strength of mine because all of this is 100% true for me. i hate electoral politics and i hate the democratic party! if they have other reasons for not voting, see if you have any info that can help them. also remind them that this is a close race, an uphill battle, a difficult fight, and their vote is going to REALLY make a difference. but if we try, we will win.

if they say they "think" they know who they're voting for, they're probably thinking about someone else. you'd be surprised--i am so surprised--how many people have no idea, even up til they get to the polls, or they change their mind last minute. try to prepare a few sentences that are really personal but probably relatable that they can chew on. mine looks something like this: i'm from flint michigan and i've seen the way the government has started to let companies get away with absolutely anything, abandon families that have worked for them for generations, and weaken unions. i want fair wages, fair taxes and for companies to be accountable to their workers and the communities that make them run & make them rich, and that's the bernie sanders platform, and i fear joe biden's ideas are moving us in the same direction that we're already moving. my husband's family worked for GM for four generations but we can't get jobs in flint much less find a place to live. being from flint, and in my own working life, i've watched the power of unions just totally erode. i myself am in a teacher's union and just recently, for the first time in my life,i feel like we can move in a direction where workers have real power in their workplace. especially watching teachers and support staff rally behind sanders, or these huge strikes. sometimes here i also say something about schools! etc.! ! sometimes that's all you get, but sometimes people want to hear more! in either case, this will stick with them.

if they say they are undecided, ask them what kind of issues motivate them to vote, or ask them what they think about sanders. refer to all of the above, but don't argue, use bernie's positions to add to what they are saying, be a good empathetic active listener etc. but also make sure they know that you have shared experiences, agree with them. 99% of the time their issues will be better addressed by bernie, if they are working class people. sometimes they will reveal that they are nervous to vote for sanders. remind them of the size and energy of the base, and the electability arguments listed above. one of the reasons we want to canvass is to remind people--especially in conservative communities, where their neighbors may not even be voting in this primary--that it's okay and in fact very popular to vote for bernie, and we're competitive, and if we make it to the general we're gonna win. but it's not going to be easy [talk to your friends and family get involved go online etc.]

if they are leaning biden but undecided, sometimes it's fine to ask them why, ask them for a pitch. you can tell them that you agree, and that we have had a really strong contest this year, and maybe in another year biden would have been the strongest choice, but bernie's just better in all these areas, etc.

please lmk if you want more ideas! i'll try to take a picture of some of our documents tomorrow when i'm out.

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theyoungkleinwriter · 4 years ago

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Writing Blind #20: Dystopia

Now onto one of my first dives into a particular genre. When it comes to books I find that in a post-1945 world dystopian fiction has exploded into the world and since then we have seen it evolve from some old classics to more modern classics. Before we properly continue I think a definition is in order. Now dystopia has been defined as an imagined state or society in which there is great suffering or injustice, typically one that is totalitarian or post-apocalyptic. Whilst this is the general rule for dystopian fiction the difference usually lies in the degree of injustice or suffering and in some cases it isn't as obvious for instance the society displayed in the book Brave New World which is categorised as a dystopia whilst having the façade of a utopia. This is actually a fantastic element that a lot of modern dystopias have forgotten, most dystopia worlds are ruled by governments who aim to be or at least present themselves as utopias.

Dystopia fiction really began in the years following the Second World War with the publication of classic works like George Orwell’s 1984 and Animal. These are typical examples of the genres early roots which aimed to comment on fears of the time and in Orwell's case present commentary on the totalitarian regimes the world had experienced. However as time progressed the issues we faced also changed and dystopian fiction changed to reflect this through the decades, Margret Atwood’s Handmaids Tale is a great look at one such reality exploring dystopia from an oppressed female perspective which to my knowledge hadn't been developed in as much detail and came in the 1980′s. Jumping ahead in time to the new century we then see the point to where dystopian fiction has really come. Beginning with The Hunger Games in 2008 by Suzanne Collins we saw a dramatic change in the genre. It took a turn towards a blend with the young adult fiction genre. This sharp turn has led to the last decade where the YA dystopia sub-genre has easily become the most prolific as hundreds of books wanted to replicate the success of The Hunger Games. On a personal note I think this point is where the pollution of the genre has come from as whilst The Hunger Games offered genuine commentary on the glorification of violence in our society it begins the cliché in most YA Dystopian novels where the villainous government is villainous just because and there is an arbitrary class divide without any proper reason to it. Whilst The Hunger Games doesn't commit the crime to any significant degree the same cant be said for most of its imitators. Essentially I think most modern Dystopian fiction has lost a lot of its real purpose in commenting on genuine real issues and acting as a warning like much of the previous fiction.

Now I know you might be asking (probably not); why is this still relevant? My answer is simple, because dystopian fiction will never go out of style. No matter how the world changes or evolves there will always be some social issue that we disagree with and then there will always be a writer who feels they need to tell a story to help us understand and explore that issue. Sure the issues may change over the years and maybe in fifty years time we will look back on books written now in the same way we do A Clockwork Orange and 1984, not as predictions of the future but more as warnings and tales of how far we can go wrong. Plus as Brave New world shows us the horrible government in charge doesn't have to appear overtly oppressive to our eyes. Besides that the best bit about books. Society changes but the words on the page don’t. Therefore in the future what we view as dystopian now may seem completely different and people in the future may see us as completely unreasonable. In the end what we get is something that will remain relevant as long as clever readers and writers have a mind to question the society they live in.

Now before I finish I think it would be inappropriate not to tell you about traits of what exactly qualifies something as a piece of dystopian fiction. Therefore I’d like to present a short summary of identifiers that can help intelligent readers and writers puzzle out the ever expanding genre.

Oppressive regime - Come on, you can’t have a dystopia without an overarching organisation/government controlling the way people think and the way they live. Now as I have discussed before they don’t need to be overtly evil, they just need to expert a degree of control over the populace that restricts their freedom in some degree.

Class divides - Can be optional but almost all dystopia’s I have read contain some sort of hierarchy and class divide. How this divide exists depends on the book but it can vary. Let’s see some examples; genetically engineered from birth, gender, political beliefs, born into a particular social group and race.

Mysterious past conflict - Cant have a dystopia without one of these. Usually there is always some conflict or world wide catastrophe from the past that led to the world being the way it is. Now this doesn't have to be universal and it doesn't have to have been a single moment. Usually there is some strangely named war in the past (cough*purity wars*cough) that explains how this went downhill so quickly. Handmaids Tale actually subverts this as the decline is more gradual and frighteningly believable as well.

Rebellious protagonist - Again not the complete rule but most dystopian stories feature a rebellious protagonist who rebel in varying degrees of scale and success against the established system. Lets go through the list and see some familiar faces; Offred, Katniss Everdeen, Bernard Marx, Winston Smith, Beatrice Prior and Kathy H.

Parallels to the real world - Of course the reason the book exists since there should be some part of it the either comments on or parallels real world problems with the goal to show how bad it could be or to just offer a neat little warning to people.

(Optional) Depressing ending - Simply put, dystopias don't usually have a happy ending, 1984, the ambiguous ending of Handmaids Tale and even The Hunger Games don’t feature particularly happy endings. It’s got me asking why? Why can’t our poor suffering character’s find some happiness even if the villains are defeated?

Well I hope all that I have written can be of some use to you in the future. I think there’s a growing feeling that dystopian fiction has hit some sort of wall with its blend with the YA genre. However I think in the next few years we may be lucky enough to see the genre change and move in different directions again. Only this time there is a hopeful shift back to proper commentary of social issues and it features that desire to attain the perfect utopia and instead ending up in the gruelling world of a dystopia.

This had been TheYoungKlein and I’m writing blind.

#writing #writers #writing advice #writing blog #love of writing #dystopia

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authoraesthetic · 5 years ago

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Please, I can’t breathe.

Those words fill my eyes with hot, burning, shameful tears. I’m not an emotional person but George Floyd’s story, and all the stories that are so maddeningly similar, make my head pound with grief and anger and shame.

Passivity here is not an option. Turning your head away so you don’t see knees on necks, guns in faces, blind racism, is the same as allowing it to happen. Being on the side of this happening.

It’s time we KNOW their names. George Floyd, Michael Brown, Sean Reed, Steven Demarco Taylor, Ariane McCree, Terrance Franklin, Miles Hall, Yassin Mohamed, Finan H. Berhe, Trayvon Martin, and more. Unfortunately, you can find dozens of examples and names in many places, including here.

These men are human beings. Sons. Brothers. Husbands. Fathers. Family members. Friends. Loves. SOULS. And we need to hear them, see them, know them, fight for them, and create a world where just BEING isn’t a crime that may come with a death sentence.

May we hunger for justice.

Christians, remember Jesus would not take the sidelines here. These are his sons and daughters who are being judged, discriminated against, hurt, and murdered. This is HIS family. Whose side are you on?

I don’t want to hope on a pedestal because this isn’t my time to be seen and it’s not my voice that should be heard. But I can’t stay silent either. I am white but I HAVE to be an ally.

I have a mouth so I can speak out against injustice.

I have eyes so I can see my own privilege and the oppression of my fellow humans.

I have ears so I can listen to their words, their experiences, and their knowledge.

I have feet so I can do something and take action.

I have a heart so I have empathy and feel the heartache and grief that this causes them and the Lord.

And I have hands so I can point to the voices of those who know more than me.

Follow authors such as Angie Thomas, Nic Stone, Jason Reynolds, Ibram X. Kendi, and Clint Smith who use their life experiences, families, friends, and knowledge to spread awareness and share stories that are so important. Follow Zellie Imani, an activist who started the Black Liberation Collective, a group of black students organizing initiatives to shed light on problems that are often kept in darkness, setting demands from the college level to the highest level of government.

And if you’re white and ignore this, think all lives matter, then you need to use what God gave you and OPEN YOUR DAMN EYES to the violence and oppression that is filling this country.

Bernice King said, “All Lives Matter is ideal. Black Lives Matter is an organization & activism committed to ensuring that Black lives become a part of the ALL. #GeorgeFloyd’s last breath screams to us today that Black lives are not indiscriminately among the ALL. Do #BlackLivesMatter to you?”

Rachel Elizabeth Cargle wrote this in 2018 and it’s frustrating that it still applies so deeply and personally.

Dear white people,

I’m tired of hearing you say: “I’m shocked” “I can’t believe this” “I had no idea” “This can’t be real”

That is in all actuality wildly offensive that our pain is so far off of your radar that the mention of it shocks you. It’s actually hurtful to know that the news that’s been keeping me up at night hasn’t even been a topic of conversation in your world.

Instead, when I keep you informed on the blatant abuse, racism, and trauma happening to women of color and their families I need to hear:

“I’ve found an organization that helps in these types of instances and I’ve donated money,” “I’ve brought this topic up to my coworkers and family so we can talk through what’s happening,” “I’ve researched more on this and I have learned more about the history of this particular race issue we have in our country.”

Your shock isn’t enough. Your wow isn’t solidarity. Your actions are the only thing I can accept at this point. And if that is too much for me to ask of you, dear friend, feel free to let yourself out of this community because complacency is not welcome here.

With all seriousness, Rachel Elizabeth Cargle

TOOLS/ORGANIZATIONS/ACTIVISTS/BOOKS/AUTHORS/WEBSITES TO READ MORE/GIVE BACK/DONATE/VOLUNTEER/RESEARCH

Black Lives Matter – donate here

A global organization whose mission is to eradicate white supremacy and build local power to intervene in violence inflicted on Black communities by the state and vigilantes.

BAJI

An organization that “educates and engages African American and black immigrant communities to organize and advocate for racial, social, and economic justice.”

UndocuBlack Network

“A multigenerational network of currently and formerly undocumented Black people that fosters community, facilitates access resources, and contributes to transforming the realities of our people, so we are thriving and living our fullest lives.”

Black Women’s Blueprint

An anti-police brutality organization that “envisions a world where women and girls of African descent are fully EMPOWERED and where gender, race, and other disparities are ERASED.”

NAACP

An organization whose mission “is to secure the political, educational, social, and economic equality of rights in order to eliminate race-based discrimination and ensure the health and well-being of all persons.

So You Want to Talk About Race by Ijeoma Oluo – A simple book for anyone trying to understand identity, representation, and racism in modern-day America.

Stamped by Jason Reynolds and Ibram X. Kendi – A timely, crucial, and empowering exploration of racism–and antiracism–in America

Black Is the Body by Emily Bernard – A collection of essays about the black experience and a testament to the necessity of Black storytellers.

Ain’t I A Woman: Black Women and Feminism by Bell Hooks – For the reader who wants to learn more about black feminism, this is one of the most important and comprehensive works on how sexism and misogyny specifically affects women of color.

Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria? by Beverly Daniel Tatum – Through research and case studies psychologist Beverly Daniel Tatum confronts the subtle ways in which racism dictates the ways both white and non-white people navigate the world.

The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas – A YA novel about 16-year old Starr Carter who witnesses the fatal shooting of her childhood best friend Khalil at the hands of a police officer. Khalil was unarmed.

Dear Martin by Nic Stone – a YA novel about race relations in America. “Justyce McAllister is top of his class and set for the Ivy League—but none of that matters to the police officer who just put him in handcuffs.”

Long Way Down by Jason Reynolds – “An ode to Put the Damn Guns Down, this is New York Times bestseller Jason Reynolds’s fiercely stunning novel that takes place in sixty potent seconds—the time it takes a kid to decide whether or not he’s going to murder the guy who killed his brother”

Malcolm Little: The Boy Who Grew Up to Become Malcolm X by Ilyasah Shabazz – A picture book about Malcolm X

More picture books with POC protagonists.

This is STILL happening. Please, I can't breathe. Those words fill my eyes with hot, burning, shameful tears. I'm not an emotional person but George Floyd's story, and all the stories that are so maddeningly similar, make my head pound with grief and anger and shame.

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ithinkthingsaboutstuff · 5 years ago

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Little Boy Blue (11)

midvale AU part 11

Karadox- AU of the 3x06 e.p of supergirl, in which Brainy (teen Brainy) arrives in Midvale around the e.p timeline. this is part 11 Brainy’s first day at school.

The bus was full and Kara was sitting with Kenny as he ask Querl an amount of questions that would make a game-show host blush.

‘So, you just made something that makes you look normal.’

‘No Mr Lee, I made myself something that makes me look human.’

Kenny’s cheeks went red.

‘oh, sorry, your right, but like you did this with basement parts?’

‘Yes, it did take some doing but it was not impossible, obviously.’

‘Wow,’

Kara just smiled at the two of them like a proud mama hen.

‘Ok,ok, but why are you even going to school with us, you don’t need to?’

‘Need. is a relative term Mr Lee, I don’t need to get the education you are revising but there are other things that I need to educate myself in, such as the social economics of this environment.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘I mean, I need to know how people my age act and behave if I am to be able pass as human enough to function in this place.’

‘Your doing ok.’

‘Thank you. Mr Lee.’

Kenny paused.

‘You should probably stop being so formal, just first names are fine.’

‘Thank you, I’ll take that in...Kenneth.’

‘That’s, better, I guess.’

The two boy’s continued their back and forth all the way to school and Kara was just watching them with a smile and Alex sat with her friends at the back of the bus, she was trying not to look at them, and she was failing.

‘Another new kid, you seem interested Alex.’

Josie asked with a playful jamb.

‘What, no, no, no, no, no, I would, I don’t, he’s a, he’s a, he...’

‘Aww, you blushed, I mean he is kind of cute in a, new face kind of way.’

‘Yeah, new face.’

Alex moved in her seat and looked out the window for the rest of the trip. When they all went to home room to start the day, Alex pulled Kara aside.

‘Ok, he wants to be here I get that, but how are we going to explain this.’

‘Good question, but I’m sure he would have figured that out.’

Alex puts her fingers to the bridge of her nose for a second before throwing up her hand.

‘You know what forget it, I don’t care anymore I’m just going to sit in the back and watch this train wreak from over there.’

she then walked into the class room and made her way to her seat. Kara looked at Querl and he nodded to her to go in, she did. Mr Bernard was settling the class as Kara sat down. Querl stood at the front waiting to be addressed. Mr Bernard then looked over to his desk and pulled a clip board up to his face.

‘Alright class, this is our new class mate Quarrel, Quail...’

‘Querl, my name is Querl Dox’s, Samuel.’

‘Ok, Mr Dox, Welcome, but its, Mr Bernard.’

Josie and a few others giggled to themselves around the class. Querl looked confused and made a mental note to talk to Kenneth later. Mr Bernard waved the class back.

‘Ok. Mr Dox, why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself.’

‘I am not from around here.’

Alex all but slammed he head onto the desk.

‘Yes, ok, where are you from?’

‘I have moved around considerable amount, from east Asia, South America and rural North America, I have been home schooled and self taught my whole life and, I am currently here on a school transition program as a way to have more stable credentials for collage applications.’

Alex lifted her head and nodded a long, she thought he has done pretty well considering he pulled this out of his ass in six hours of perpetration, he had documents and everything, that were in Mr Bernard's hands. Kara could not hide her smile he really did put a lot of thought into this, and she has to say he is learning quickly. After Querl had said his peace, Mr Bernard was looking through the paper in front of him,

‘Alright, Mr Dox, take your seat and we will take the roll.’

Querl moved froward with his hands neatly folded behind his back and sat in the seat that was next to Kara and then put his hands neatly on the table. As Mr Bernard took the roll Kara lead over to him.

‘Good job.’

Querl truned his head.

‘Thank you, it was simple really, just a search here and a document forge there and one fake ID later, here we are.’

Kara adjusted her glasses.

‘I think we need to have a little talk about personal ethics later.’

Querl looked off to the side.

‘Very well, if you insist.’

As the time went on and the bell to start classes went, Kara pulled Querl to the side.

‘Hey are you going to be ok on your own.’

‘yes i will be fine, I made sure that my schedule had Alex, Kennith or yourself in it.’

‘How did you do that?’

‘I simply changed the document in the computer before they gave it to me.’

‘Ok. I need to ask, is that going to become a pattern with you or...’

‘It is very harmless, as stated i don’t need to learn your academia so this is the most beneficial root.’

‘Ok I can see that i guess, but you do need to maybe just run it by me or Alex from here on out, just in case.’

‘Yes of course.’

He paused.

‘Kara?’

‘Yes.’

‘Have I upset you?’

‘Not exactly, I just think you need to slow down, a little bit, your still learning about what is right and wrong in this time is all.’

‘I understand, and i will discuss it with you from here on out.’

Kara gave him a smile.

‘Thank you, what class do you have first?’

‘I have mathematics with Alex.’

Kara paused.

‘Ok, that room is down the hall and third door to the left.’

He nodded at her and went on his way.

‘Oh, Alex is not going to like that.’

As Alex put down her books and her took out her pens and pencils, she heard foot steps come close then stop next to her, she looked up and.

‘Are you kidding me.’

‘I am not.’

He took the seat next to her. She looked him over.

‘Don’t you have any books?’

He looked at her confused.

‘No, what for.’

‘To take notes, do your work in, didn’t they give you a text book?’

‘oh yes that, horribly outdated, and i memorised on the way to roll call.’

Alex pressed her lips together before asking.

‘Of course you did, and you don’t take notes.’

‘Yes i do.’

‘Where’s your book then?’

‘I take them in my head.’

‘Alright, you know what I’m just going to let this happen.’

Alex then looked to the front of the room waiting for class to start.

As the Class went on Querl looked around the room and got a good look at everyone and how they were behaving, some were listening, most looked bored and a few looked lost. Querl looked at the detail on the walls the posters of simple multiplication charts, assignment boards and students as his eyes trailed off some more.

‘Mr Dox is there something I can help you with.’

Mrs Brown looked at with judgemental eyes,

‘No, I am quite content.’

‘I’m sure you are, no books, no text book and not paying attention.’

He said nothing and Alex tried to look away.

‘Mr Dox’s why don’t you try and attention please.’

‘I understand you completely.’

‘Ok, why don’t tell me what you’ve learned.’

Querl then stood up and went to the white board and completed all the equations on the board. He then turned to Mrs Brown.

‘For the record Mrs Brown, I knew this long before today and your method is lacklustre at best,’

Alex buried her face in her hands.

‘And now there is actually a more efficient way to teach this, you see.’

Alex sunk into her seat as the rest of the class laughed or smirked through their teeth.Mrs Brown then took a step forward.

‘Thank you Mr Dox you made your point, now retake your seat, and Mr Dox your are going to have detention tomorrow.’

‘Ok.’

He then walked back to his seat and put his hands neatly on the desk. Alex tried to refocus on the lesson.

When it was over he had history with Kara and Alex which was nice because he got to sit next Kara and she was more respective to his looking around and investigating his surroundings. And when that class was over it was lunch and Querl had his discussion with Kennith about proper naming etiquette. Then to finished off the day the four of them had P.E. They were running laps today, Kenny was far behind the rest, Alex managed to stay in the middle of the pack and Kara was at the front and not trying and Querl was right next to her.

‘No one has ever been able to keep up with me.’

‘Not a problem for me, shall we continue.’

‘Sure.’

The two of them remained at the same pace as they ran. When the whistle blow and they all stopped. The day came to a close and everyone went to wait for the bus.

‘Kara this was by far the most stressed i have ever been’

‘Oh come on Alex it was not that bad.’

‘He tried to teach my math class.’

Kara giggled.

‘Its not funny Kara.’

‘Oh relax, Alex its not a big deal.’

Alex through up her head.

‘I was so embarrassed.’

‘Alex, he just needs time, it was his first day.’

Kenny and Querl were having a discussion near the coroner on the street.

‘I just don’t get why formality it important to one group, but not the other,’

‘Querl, dude, its just teachers and stuff you call Mr and Mrs but you call other students and stuff by the their first name.’

‘Ok, so peers are informal, authorities are formal.’

‘Yeah man, now you get it, what do you normally do?’

‘I use formalities on people until I’m asked not to or until i don’t respect them.’

‘Oh.’

As they continued, Alex moved over to Josie as the bus arrived. Off in the distance as all the kids and cars rushed across the road. A small black, wiry object made its way over the road, it moved under cars and into bushes, as it approached the school bus, but the doors closed and the bus rolled out onto the road before it could.

The black, wiry object then made its way into the building.

to be continued....

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fly-pow-bye · 5 years ago

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What’s Airing On Cartoon Network (November 2019)

The Futon Critic updated with Cartoon Network’s listings for November, featuring the return of Apple & Onion, the return of Total Dramarama, a Craig of the Creek special, and more! See it after the break!

Apple & Onion

November 2nd:

Apple's Focus - Apple helps Onion achieve his dream of competing on a baking show. Includes special guest Sue Perkins (Great British Bake Off). (9:30 AM)

Lil Noodle - Apple and Onion must remain legit enough to be in their favorite rapper's music video. Includes special guest Timothy DeLaGhetto. (9:45 AM)

Gyranoid of the Future - Apple and Onion struggle to ride Gyranoid of the Future, the craziest roller coaster at the carnival. (10:00 AM)

Fun Proof - Apple and Onion want to become this week's "Most Fun People". (10:15 AM)

November 9th:

Whale Spotting - Apple and Onion need to join an exclusive club to see a rare whale. (9:30 AM)

Heatwave - Apple and Onion try to spread cheer during a city-wide heatwave. (9:45 AM)

Apple's in Charge - Apple is put in charge of the Dollar Store for the very first time. (10:00 AM)

Burger's Trampoline - Apple and Onion must find a way to use Burger's trampoline without making him feel used. (10:15 AM)

November 16th:

Baby Boi TP - Apple needs to acquire a lifetime supply of toilet paper to finish his modern art sculpture. (9:30 AM)

Not Funny - With their 6 month friend anniversary approaching, Apple has to find a way not to lose his best friend. (9:45 AM)

November 23rd:

Onionless - Apple tries to survive a weekend alone while taking care of Onion's plant. (9:30 AM)

Party Popper - Apple and Onion's party plans are interrupted by a grumpy guest. (9:45 AM)

November 30th:

Face Your Fears - Apple and Onion must face their fears while trapped in a pet shop, so they can save French Fry from facing hers. (9:30 AM)

Apple's Short - Apple needs to be tall so that he can be in love. (9:45 AM)

Bakugan: Battle Planet

November 3rd:

Happy/One Way or Another - Happy: The AO expect a fight in Brakistan, but soon discover that old enemies Lord Brakken, Magnus, and Nillious are unnaturally happy to see them./One Way or Another: In the heat of emotions, Shun convinces Lord Brakken that his usual enemies are the best allies he has to sequester a renegade Core Cell. (7:00 AM)

November 10th:

Stormy Weather/Who Can it Be Now - Stormy Weather: On a flight to their next Core Cell mission, the AO's plane falls under attack by Pyravian, who strangely believes the team to be Bakuzon./Who Can It Be Now: The AO find themselves in a battle against the Bakuzon forces of Tiko that upends everything they thought they knew about Core Cells. (7:00 AM)

November 17th:

In My Room/An Army of Their Own - In My Room: When the AO report that they've been fighting the wrong fight, they discover that Benton has been corrupted by the villainous Tiko./An Army of Their Own: The AO are forced to turn to Philomena Dusk for help, only to realize that they have led Benton/Tiko right to the AAAnimus Campus. (7:00 AM)

November 24th:

Calling All Parents/Nowhere to Turn - Calling All Parents: When the parents of the world are turned against their children and confiscate their Bakugan, the AO must seek out the Rowdy Reds./Nowhere to Turn: While the AO attempt to gain allies and warn other children, Wynton is confronted by Armstrong Tripp, who now works for Benton Dusk. (7:00 AM)

Ben 10 (2016)

November 2nd:

My Bodyguard - When Zombozo hypnotizes Grandpa Max's entire baking class it is up to Ben and Gwen to clean up the mess, but it gets even messier when Zombozo unveils his new bodyguard: Kevin 11! (12:00 PM)

Wheels of Fortune - Team Tennyson's thrift store shopping is ruined by the latest high-speed heist of LaGrange - who is now aided by a super-fast electromagnetic racing car - and Ben must convince Kevin 11 to help stop the speed demon's globetrotting robbing spree. (12:15 PM)

November 9th:

Heat of the Moment - After Ben easily dispatches the Weatherheads, Team Tennyson travels to a ski resort for some fun in the snow but when Ben runs into the Weatherheads yet again, this time they are a force to reckon with. (12:00 PM)

Vin Diagram - When Ben sees Vin Ethanol impressed with Kevin's automotive know-how, Ben's jealousy has him convinced that he has to out-do Kevin before the older boy influences Vin to embrace his bad-guy side at a charity race. (12:15 PM)

November 16th:

A Sticky Situation - All Ben wants to do is stop Queen Bee from robbing a bank, but when Kevin shows up to try and be the hero and take all the glory himself, Ben will need to save the day twice or end up in hot honey. (12:00 PM)

What Rhymes with Omnitrix? - At a poetry slam event, Charmcaster's reading of Kevin's poetry causes magical trouble for Ben and Gwen, causing mind swaps that have everyone confused as to who's fighting who. (12:15 PM)

November 23rd:

You Remind Me of Someone - Ben and Gwen look for the infamous Bojamboo (the Bigfoot of the South) and discover that it's actually the Forgeti, at the same time as Kevin 11, but when Ben and Kevin are blasted with the Forgeti's forgetfulness mist, they reverse roles and it's up to Gwen and Max to restore them back to normal. (12:00 PM)

Adrenaland Jr. - Team Tennyson visits the safety-neutered version of Adrenaland known as "Adrenaland Jr.", only to end up facing off against a bitter Kevin 11, out to destroy everyone else's good, and safe, time. (12:15 PM)

November 30th:

Steam Fight at the OK Corral - When Kevin convinces Steam Smythe to adopt a modern approach in fighting Ben, our young hero must resort to old-fashioned thinking to save the day. (12:00 PM)

I Don't Like You - Ben and Gwen's social media battle with Kevin 11 quickly escalates into an all-out war in real life. (12:15 PM)

Craig of the Creek

November 23rd:

Craig and the Kid's Table (Half-Hour Special) - It's a Williams Family Thanksgiving, which means it's time to reunite The Kid's Table! But when Bernard accidentally destroys dessert, Craig uses the power of the Kids Table to help save his brother from certain grounding. (10:00 AM, half hour)

Teen Titans Go!

November 9th:

Teen Titans Vroom (Half-Hour Special) - In this episode of "Turbo Titans Go Force" the Titans gain the ability to transform into cars. Then, in the exciting conclusion of "Turbo Titans Go Force" the Titans must learn to work together to stop Dr. Military. (10:30 AM, half hour)

November 27th:

Beast Boy's That's What's Up - Beast Boy goes to visit the Doom Patrol. Beast Boy, Negative Girl, and Robotman discover some crabs are up to no good. Cyborg becomes inseparable from Robotman. It's time for Beast Boy to leave, but the Doom Patrol try to get him to stay. (6:00 PM)

Total Dramarama

November 2nd:

Mutt Ado About Owen - After accidentally hypnotizing Owen into being a dog, Harold thinks he must reverse the hypnosis to avoid going to jail. (9:00 AM)

Simons Are Forever - Duncan and Leshawna try to take advantage of Izzy's love for the game of Simon Says. (9:15 AM)

November 9th:

Stop! Hamster Time - Owen takes over the job of caring for the class hamster and learns that he's evil. (9:00 AM)

Driving Miss Crazy - Duncan leads Beth to believe she's broken his battery-powered bike and makes her chauffeur him around in a wagon for the day as punishment. (9:15 AM)

November 16th:

Weiner Takes All - After forgetting to book a Hot Diggity Doggity Dog mascot on National Hotdog Day, Chef tries to pass off an Australian man dressed as a kangaroo as a substitute. (9:00 AM)

Apoca-lice Now - When Chef brokers a truce with lice by selecting three kids to "host" them on their heads, Courtney instigates a kid vs. lice war. (9:15 AM)

November 23rd:

Gnome More Mister Nice Guy - When the daycare gets taken over by evil gnomes, Duncan finds himself on the wrong team. (9:00 AM)

Look Who's Clocking - When Harold's warnings not to mess with the clock go ignored, the kids are forced to save themselves when Duncan tears a hole in the fabric of time. (9:15 AM)

November 30th:

Harold Swatter and the Goblet of Flies - After finding what he believes to be a magic wand, Owen accidentally turns Harold into a housefly. (9:00 AM)

Stink. Stank. Stunk. - When a skunk comes seeking its annual revenge on Chef, Duncan sees it as an opportunity to get a vacation from daycare. (9:15 AM)

Transformers Cyberverse

November 2nd:

Spotted - As the Autobots prepare for an attack, Cheetor struggles to find his place amongst the tight-knit group. (6:30 AM)

November 9th:

Secret Science - Shockwave kidnaps Wheeljack to help the Decepticons find Starscream, but he underestimates the wily Autobot inventor. (6:30 AM)

November 16th:

Infinite Vendetta - The Autobots and Decepticons are surprised by the sudden arrival of two bots locked in a millennia long feud. (6:30 AM)

November 23rd:

I Am the Allspark - Starscream unleashes the ultimate attack on the Autobots and Decepticons. (6:30 AM)

November 30th:

Escape from Earth - The Autobots have the Allspark! Now they just have to get it off Earth. (6:30 AM)

#fpb news #craig of the creek #apple & onion #bakugan battle planet #teen titans go #transformers cyberverse #ben 10 2016 #total dramarama

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robert-c · 5 years ago

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The ‘Culture War’

I am an early ‘Baby Boomer’, born late in 1947. I grew up in that fabled “utopia” of the 1950’s and came of age in the turbulent 1960’s. I was a sophomore in high school when JFK was assassinated and graduated college in the middle of a recession that preceded our final exit from Viet Nam.

Just the same, as most people, I have fond memories of those years when I was 18 to 25. It is that magical part of one’s life where we are at last old enough to pursue whatever dreams we want, and at the same time still young enough to imagine that we will actually achieve them.

It has long been an idea of mine that many conservatives are simply trying to preserve or restore the world they lived in at that time in their lives. Some perhaps are even trying to restore the world they believe their parents or grandparents lived in at that time in their lives, because they have heard so much about it. This is completely understandable. Unless your personal life is a complete tragedy in that period, those years will likely always hold a special appeal in your memories. It is a time in our lives when we are old enough to do pretty much anything and where we still have the energy and optimism to believe that we will achieve what we want.

However, I must be honest, and admit that while those were good years for me (a white male in America) those were far from ‘perfect’ times. Imagining that period as one in which “America Was Great” is at the least dishonest, and at the worst a betrayal of the greatest principles this country stands for. I now also believe a lot of conservative sentiment is simply fear of change.

I understand, change is fearful. Everything in our evolution, our history, tells us that the common and the familiar is the safest. And yet, it was fearful to leave the trees and survive on the plains, or if you prefer, it was fearful to leave the Garden of Eden. Yet, all of what we have become, all of what we are, is due to facing the fear of something new and moving forward in spite of it.

I remember that each day our first grade class began with the pledge of allegiance to the flag. Recall with me the last lines of that pledge…“with liberty and justice for all.” Now that was and is important, because I bought (and still do) the idea that this was the place where that was true, or at least where we sought to make it true.

A lot gets made of the “generation gap” of the late ‘60’s and early ‘70’s between my generation and my parents (the “greatest generation”). The Viet Nam War usually takes the “credit” for this gap, but my take on it is that the gap began when we realized that as a nation we weren’t living up to the creed our parents told us it stood for. That felt like betrayal, compounded by the fact that so many of our parents couldn’t see that underneath the unconventional clothes and hair, the principles we were espousing were essentially the ones they had taught us.

Nevertheless, change is difficult for people to accept. It is always easier to stick with the familiar, hence the old saying “better the Devil you know”. Not that any of this should be an excuse for not making things better, let alone for tolerating injustice. The core of the problem is rather than see ourselves as merely holding onto the familiar because the unfamiliar is scary, we make that fear about something else. “These changes will undermine the fabric of our society.” “It will lead to lawlessness and disintegration of the family.” And similar exaggerated and baseless claims. Few of us are going to admit to being tolerant of wrongs, so we tell ourselves stories to justify our feelings. “Those people are all criminals, you can’t trust them.” “They are inherently lazy, just doing the minimum to get by.” “They are all perverts and deviants.”

Sadly we have entered a period where too many do not trust facts, and look only for the “evidence” that supports our preconceived ideas. I believe it was George Bernard Shaw who said “for every problem there is a simple solution, and it is wrong.” This is where we have gone astray, we lazily latch on to simple, even simplistic, solutions and explanations, and then invest them with the absolutism of moral certainty so we don’t have to doubt or question ourselves again.

This thinking pervades everything from repeating the failed experiment of prohibition with drugs, to imagining that preventing women from having abortions will somehow make them financially and emotionally capable of being good mothers (up to and after the birth), to thinking that a wall is a solution to any real immigration problems.

Underneath it all, I think, is a simple fear that the world is changing and we don’t know what the new one will look like, or what place we can make for ourselves in it. This fear then gets covered by anger, because anger feels strong and invigorating, and fear feels helpless. Of course the anger has to find a target, a scapegoat, and these are always easy to find if you are looking for them. Then we justify the anger and the scapegoating with simple, “it stands to reason” sort of “made to order logic”.

It is the same fear of change that spurred many whites who weren’t ardent racists to support the separate lunch counters, restrooms, etc. Because there was simply no real reason to see harm in this sort of mixing, incredibly vicious lies had to be created – stories of diseases, uncleanliness etc. were common. No one could produce a single piece of proof that any of it was real or common, but it was a “safe” excuse for the anger that covered a simple fear that the world will be different than we were used to seeing. Typically these fears have to present themselves as if they are the ones being victimized unfairly, while in fact it is they themselves who will be the victimizers of others.

I remember a lot of negative comments when commercials and even some TV shows began to show attractive and educated black women. But those were important steps because it showed us that the stereotypes were wrong. Until I saw Nichelle Nichols portraying Lt Uhura on Star Trek I didn’t know that there were any black women who didn’t look like “Mammie” (from Gone With the Wind) or Aunt Jemima (the 1950’s version, not her updated image). That visual alone, helped undo a lot of the underpinnings of racist stereotypes and gave us a hint of a world that was more than just equal opportunities for all. We must first be able to imagine a different future before we can achieve it. Again as George Bernard Shaw said (and was quoted by both Jack and Robert Kennedy) “I dream things that never were; and I say ‘Why not?’”

If there is to be a single culture in the US it can only be one of inclusiveness and diversity or else we aren’t different or special, and certainly more likely than not to devolve into either neighborhood against neighborhood civil war or a tyranny of conformity. I know that sounds good to those who expect to be in the majority, in control; but I ask those people to be brutally honest and ask what if they weren’t the ones in control; now which culture do you want?

An official culture of “tolerance” and diversity doesn’t mean you personally have to agree with everyone’s point of view, only that you don’t get to punish them for it. But then that’s back to why some people’s insecurities make them feel threatened when others don’t agree with them.

I don’t have a “crystal ball”, I am not sure what the future holds. I don’t know what a multicultural, diverse America looks like at the end of the 21st century. Maybe it means a dual language world, maybe it means that there are as many stores selling cards and gifts for Eid Al-Adha as for Christmas or Easter. I don’t know, and I don’t care, because as long as one group does not have the power to force its beliefs on the rest, then America is what it always promised itself to be; a place …“with liberty and justice for all.”

I do know that when America works like it should we end up incorporating the good from other cultures into our own with our own flavor. This is true of food, traditions and celebrations. It’s why people with no Hispanic ancestry at all will celebrate Cinco de Mayo and those with no Irish background will celebrate St Patty’s Day with green beer. And when we give into the fear of change and demonize the new, we bring out our darkest and worst aspects – things we eventually (but not soon enough) recognize as shameful and unworthy of the lofty ideals on which this country was founded.

America is always at her best and greatest when we respect and embrace our different segments and work together. I always thought of it as true capstone to our way of life – a real life demonstration that all kinds of people with different beliefs could get along, be free and prosperous together. It made me think of us as an example to the world of a better way to live, to organize a society and government. I even thought that our diverse ethnic and cultural segments might give us some advantage in finding ways to communicate those values to other countries who have been plagued with religious or other internal strife. Look at those movies made during and immediately after the second world war; while they didn’t go far enough in showing diversity, you can see that they were showing a group of American fighting men from different ethnic and social backgrounds, all united in defending the American way of life, and against those who would impose a single vision of what it meant to be a worthwhile person.

Writing that all out now it almost seems naïve and idealistic, especially in a world filled with cynicism and hate, but I still believe it. I still think it is the only way out. Yes, we have never consistently or completely lived up to those ideals in the past. But that is no excuse for giving up on them altogether; especially when the alternative is so bleak.

Our nation’s founders set up a system where essentially rich, property owning men would be the most likely holders of public office; for Congress, the Supreme Court and the Presidency. They thought this system would prevent demagogues from preying upon the public’s irrational fears and biases. Right motive, wrong and ultimately unsuccessful methodology.

While I think our Founders could never have anticipated the America of today, I do think they understood and anticipated that the unfounded fears of a mob could be easily exploited by some for personal gain. Whether these “leaders” actually share the fears and concerns of their followers, or merely exploit them makes little difference, the damage they can do to the rule of law, to due process, and ultimately to liberty is immense.

My plea to my fellow countrymen is simple. Before this goes too far, let’s set aside our fears, and find the whole truth (not just the facts that support our fears) and see what will truly support freedom of belief and liberty for all. Let’s not forget that we are involved in an experiment that is still in progress. No where in the history of the world has there ever been a place that more fully embraced the ideal of “liberty and justice for all” than the United States of America. I would like to see us continue to be that unique example to the world for the future.

#culture war #generation gap

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rhysnrivers · 5 years ago

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Odyssey to becoming a Published Author

(Note: with Odyssey being in the title, this is quite a long post. The link to the facebook page that leads to where my novel can be bought from can be found at the bottom of the post, as can some of the initial artwork done)

So, despite never been a ‘blogger’ per se before, I’ve decided to write this article about my journey from having dreamed about writing and having my own works published, through to actually writing my ideas up and publishing them myself, as I’m sure that there are many an indie author and authoress out there who can relate and have been through the very same journey I have.

First thing’s first. Rhys N Rivers is not my real name. It’s a pen name. There’s something in being anonymous when it comes to writing, almost like a sense of freedom. This day and age of social media means that almost everything we do is recorded somewhere on the internet, and an opinion or action from ten years ago can be drudged back up to be ridiculed by the Facebook jury and/or the Karens of the internet, in line with the fashionable opinions of the day. A pen name grants anonymity and to some degree, security. The only people who know my identity are my immediate family and a few close, trusted friends.

When people embark on a new venture; be it a new hobby, learning a new language, travelling the world, changing jobs etc, the journey actually begins long before said venture starts. Quite often, the journey always begins in the classroom, at home, in bed, in daydreams. It begins as a state of ambition. A plan that one day, will be put into action.

My authoring journey was no different. Mine actually began around the age of eleven. I was of the Harry Potter generation where I was the same age as the main characters in the early years when a new film came out each year. J.K. Rowling got me into reading beyond in school, and I - being one of the cool kids, clearly - read a lot throughout my early and mid teenage years. It was admittedly predominantly fantasy based, (Tolkien, Pratchett, Philip Pullman, Garth Nix) or Bernard Cornwall’s historical works before I branched out into people like Wilbur Smith and others. When I was around 14 or 15, Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code took the world by storm and I also ended up reading all of his works. School provided a sophisticated reading list, which included Dickens and Golding, and so growing I had read through a rich and broad variety of fiction.

Where actually writing was concerned, I think it was about the age of eleven or twelve that I realised that I wanted to write properly. I think it was actually after reading William Nicholson’s Wind Singer when I decided, and I set to task in writing coming up with a fantasy novel. I didn’t start writing the plot straight away; I actually started coming up with characters and places, even drawing out a world map. That was really fun to do. It had a sense of total control to it. What I decided was what things were. Where a kid may not feel in control of things in other parts of life (insecurities of school, friends, growing up, relationships etc), this was something totally different. The ability to create your own fictional world, in whatever genre you go for, is a form of escape and release in which you can develop your talents and ideas.

There were lots of elements to what I was planning out - which included ideas from Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, The Legend of Zelda, The Wind on Fire among others. To be honest, I’m actually glad that ‘project’ didn’t get very far. Poor Christopher Paolini, the author of the Inheritance Cycle quadrilogy of books, was slated by certain groups and reviewers for his alleged lack of originality and using of ideas from other stories. In Paolini’s defence, he was only fifteen when his first book was published, which is something that most fifteen year olds don’t achieve! But I think that had I completed mine, it might have faced the same criticisms - not necessarily from reviewers or publishers, but perhaps friends and family reading through it first.

School, in particular, provided me with a lot of enthusiasm and inspiration to write (clearly, I was one of the cool kids). My GCSE English teacher was a great bloke (probably still is) and gave great, honest and constructive feedback to the entire class’ work. Our first piece of English Literature coursework was a piece on creative writing and I elected to do a piece on the topic of an opening chapter/opening chapters to a novel. Having just read Dan Brown I did my piece in his sort of style: bloke copping it at the start, trying to prevent some conspiracy from going ahead, then the reluctant hero of the story gets dragged in to solving it. My piece didn’t revolve around religious groups or secret societies, but around a historical artefact.

Out of 54 marks, this scored 52. I was more than happy with that. I had no idea where the story was going to go but I was determined that I would one day finish the story. To this day, I still have no idea where the story is going, but I am certain that it will be the last novel of a set of three, dragging the main character, a desperately-can’t-wait-to-retire detective, through painstaking research, learning about history that he wouldn’t usually be arsed about and running away from people, of whom he’s becoming more and more of an embuggerance (word-invention credited to Terry Pratchett) to.

For some reason, I really can’t remember why, but about a year later the option was given to my English class to rewrite that piece of coursework (we were about four out of five coursework pieces done by that time). I was of course happy with my score but I saw this as an opportunity to try something new and see what ideas could again come spewing from my mind.

This time, again sticking with the opening chapter(s) option, I wrote about a start of a medieval conspiracy, beginning around the Battle of Crécy and going…err…I still have no idea where! But this piece resonated better than the previous piece, earning full marks from my English teacher, along with the comments “…should come with an 18 rated certificate.” Again, I vowed that I would complete this story one day and see it published. This one I think I will try to make into a three-book story.

The summer after completing my GCSE exams I did the normal stuff: went on holiday with family, chilled out with friends, even attended the World Scout Jamboree that year. But I also by then had a set of ideas in my head that I wanted to turn into novels, and wrote that list onto a computer, and saved it to my USB memory stick. I have no idea where I last saw that USB stick…

After I left school I joined the British Armed Forces. I’m not going to write too much about what I did, where I went etc (not because I was part of some uber-top-secret unit, but more-so that it just doesn’t contribute to this post) but my priorities changed. I read a lot less and writing properly in the near term future just was not a possibility, or something that I wanted to concentrate on at that time.

In early 2017 I was considering a career change, and during that time I joined fanstory.com, under my real name. The purpose of doing this was to put myself into an environment with other amateur writers, gain inspiration from other budding authors (and hopefully give some inspiration back), and be in a place where my works could be read among ‘peers’, giving me a good steer on things.

It was on this website where my first novel, Payment, was conceived. There was a competition going for short stories up to 7000 words long in the horror genre (“Put your readers on edge or terrorize them”) and so I thought this was a good place to test out to see what people think and to develop my writing style.

It took me a couple of weeks to put Payment together and submit it. I had never considered writing horror before but this, again, was an ample opportunity to try something new and see what I could come up with. I decided to go with a 19th Century narrative; much like Mary Shelley and Bram Stoker. I prefer to think or the horror genre as the old neo-gothic styles of writing - the old ghost stories. Horror, in recent years, both in writing and film-making, has taken more of a gore and shock factor turn. Personally, I think that will turn horror more into the thriller genre. To me, horror should be about ghosts, vampires, witches - the occult and the supernatural. And that’s that I have tried to achieve with Payment.

What surprised me the most during the writing of this were my decisions to use the first-person narrative - something I used to despise growing up, and the use of a one-word title. For some reason it used to bug me no end that it was becoming more and more common that artistic projects, be they novels, films, dance, visual art etc, would use one-worded titles. I used to think that was a cop-out. But here I am with Payment - a novel told in first-person narrative…

I have always thought that my writing style was/is closest to Terry Pratchett’s. I’ve never tried to emulate him but his style of using irony, dry humour and satire, whilst also plummeting to some very deep philosophical ideas. But I couldn’t do that whilst writing Payment. The thing is with writing horror, is that you have to be able to maintain that macabre atmosphere all the through. That actually isn’t easy. I found there always has to be a sense of the character’s isolation, a sense of doom and gloom, and a sense of something about to happen.

I didn’t win the completion that I entered. I don’t think it even made the top three. The votes are cast by the other entries’ writers and maybe a few other people. I can’t remember if you could vote for your own project but I think you could. The entries placed above mine, although I thought their storylines familiar with ideas already done, were admittedly much easier to read than my entry. A 19th century style of writing will always lose to simplicity when people have a number of works to read.

But that didn’t deter me. I’d created a fictional work and was determined to show it to the world. I didn’t go ahead with the career change at that point but decided to fully review Payment, at get it out there as a completed project.

Fanstory is a good platform, it really is. I’m not sure why, but after only a couple of months and having written a few competition entries, I came to stop writing on it. My old job was getting in the way and to be honest, I was getting impatient with writing on it. I had the mentality that I wanted to be published right now sort of thing.

A couple of years later, I did go ahead in a change of direction career-wise. This provided the opportunity to fully revise Payment and make it into a ‘novelette’, more than 7000/7500 words but fewer than 17,500. I would then prepare it for editing, get the artwork sorted and then publish it online for maybe a couple of quid.

I was actually in Tanzania at the time when I thought that Payment had been expanded enough to put out as a novelette. Once I’d finished writing, I showed it to a couple of the volunteers I was working with and they both enjoyed it. Although I was pleased about that, I still wasn’t satisfied with it. I had touched on quite a few themes in the work but I don’t feel like I had explored them all as much as I could have. Although complete, it felt very much incomplete. At the same time I wanted to expand the work into a full novel and also I didn’t - mainly because of the challenge of maintaining that horror atmosphere.

I decided that, in order to put more meat onto the bones and develop this short story/novelette into a full length novel, I needed a goal to work towards; something that has an end achievement that will make me work to expand on what I had already done. And so I set about looking for horror writing groups and/or competitions on the internet.

In not much time at all I came across the Horror Writers Association (HWA). They are a group that cater for all things horror and occult in fiction. There, you can advertise your works, read or recommend other people’s works and learn about events - namely the StokerCon.

But what attracted me to them the most was their sponsorship of the Bram Stoker Awards (“for Superior Achievement”). These are awards that are given out to authors and authoresses who have had their works judged in certain categories. The one that has caught my eye is the ‘First Novel’ category. A quick reading of the rules informed me of the minimal word limit: 40,00 words. Perfect. There’s something to work towards, with a chance at winning what is described as ‘the Oscars of horror writing’. When I returned from Africa I set about the task of bolstering a 17,000-ish novelette into a 40,000 word minimum horror novel!

I have read Edgar Allan Poe in the past, and even bits of Mary Shelley. For more inspiration in keeping that spooky, Neo-Gothic atmosphere, I read some parts of Bram Stoker and H.P. Lovecraft. Despite all of that, I initially found it difficult to write again on the same piece of work that I started almost three years previously. It was only after reading Susan Hill’s The Woman in Black, where I became inspired by her power of description to turn chapters, paragraphs and sentences that belong in quick short stories to ones suitable for a long read.

In January, this year, I had finally finished. I expanded heavily on the ideas that I was before concerned that I was rushing through and before I knew it, my word count was well over the 40,000 words I wanted to achieve! I read it all again myself, edited out any spelling or grammar mistakes that I had seen, and sent it out to beta testers (readers) for opinions and editing.

Following the last edit - of which there wasn’t relatively much to do - my debut novel stands at a word count of 53,850 words! That isn’t considered very long by today’s standards. To give a point of reference, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone is estimated to be around 77,000 words long (depending on who is doing the word count). But my novel is longer than The Woman in Black as well as other novels such as The Great Gatsby and The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, and considering it came from a short story of 7,000 words I am still happy with it.

Concurrently with writing the novel came the task of finding an artist/illustrator for the cover. That was a more difficult task than I expected.

Not only did I want to find someone who could create a suitable cover, I also wanted that someone to be able to do ‘scene art’; by which I mean a picture at the start of certain chapters. The reason for this is that I see a completed novel itself as a form of art, and scene pictures add to that completed projected. In fact, I actually wanted a sort of teamwork between the writing/art found in the Edge Chronicles books by Paul Stewart and Chris Riddell.

I combed Facebook for a very long time, joining all sorts of groups and pages for amateur artists to show off their works, hoping to find someone who I thought was suitable for my work. To my dismay, there was very little, I thought, that I could go off.

Around October time I put an advert on a freelancing work website, just for an idea of who else is out there and possibly able to take this up. I did receive a fair few responses but, again, there wasn’t really anyone whose work suited what I was after. A couple of them, one of them being an art company based in Central Asia, actually got quite nasty about it. They were expectant

It was when I was on a course in Spain that it was suggested to me to look on Reddit, as Reddit “literally has everything on it.” I had never actually been a proper Reddit user before; I’d clicked the odd link from Facebook but had never really interacted with it before.

The guy who suggested Reddit to me was right - Reddit has literally everything on it. There’s so much information to be found on so many topics it seemed unlikely that I wouldn’t find what I was looking for on it, and so I combed through a few sub-reddits dedicated to (freelance) artists and checked some of them out.

So I once again posted out an advert looking for artists and this time the response were much more positive, and enthusiastic! It really was quite uplifting to see and hear from so many people who were interested in taking up the project and I received so many messages. Everyone who commented on the post and/or messaged me with links to their portfolios, I checked out their work. I honestly don’t think there was a single person whose works of art that I wasn’t impressed by. There is so much that can be found at deviantart.com and artstation.com and so much talent to be viewed and be in awe at! Everyone who directly messaged me got a return thanking them.

One of the people I got talking to was a young lad from Sweden called Daniel Percy, whose artwork I also checked out. My preferences came down to him and another guy from Germany, and after speaking with Daniel he agreed to take on the work.

Daniel does a lot of freelance art work, predominately doing concept art work for electronics companies (I want to say video games but don’t take that as gospel), but he still found the time to do this properly, compiling several drafts of the cover and inside sketches. We collaborated quite often on what to change, ideas to put in etc.

The finished artwork is incredible! I’m showing some of the initial first-sketch ideas here along with the final book cover, along with a couple of since-altered scene pictures, just for an idea of his talent. You’ll have to buy the book to see all of the finished sketches ;)

And the final thing to think/worry/mull over until stupid o’ clock in the morning, was the publishing aspect. Luckily, ever since I’ve thought about writing (as an adult), it has become increasingly easier to get your works out there. The rise of the internet and social media age has made self publishing so much more accessible, and that is the route I have gone down.

At first, I wanted to go down the traditional printing route. I - again showing cool I was as a kid - always liked the idea of a fresh and printed book in my hands. But, there are two reasons why I haven’t done this:

The first one is environmental. Even before the climate change debate became a fashionable thing to signal your virtues about, I was uncomfortable about the idea of trees being cut down for my creation, unless I could be 100% certain that exact same area would be immediately replanted. It’s true, there are forested areas specifically for this kind of thing but the amount of bureaucracy involved, along with the middle-men, wouldn’t make it an immediate thing.

The second reason is that the majority of writers who send their works in get rejected by so many publishers. Yes, people refer to J.K. Rowling’s story of being rejected twelve times (and again later by one of the same publishers when she first wrote as Robert Galbraith) before Harry Potter became a hit, but as the option of the internet is there, it makes sense to negate that possible rejection. In the event that my works do get noticed and attract the attention of publishers, then great! But if they don’t, at least by online publishing, I’ve still achieved putting my novel out to the world.

Finally, today, Friday the 13th (intentionally - it is a horror novel after all ;p ) of March 2020, I officially became a published author. It is a fantastic, monumental feeling. My story, my novel, my creation, is out there for people to buy, read and hopefully, enjoy.

If there’s any advice that I can give for anyone aspiring to be an (indie) author, it is this: just write your ideas down. Sounds simple, if not downright obvious, but it really is incredible that so many people don’t achieve their dreams or aspirations simply because they don’t do them. The world of authoring and indie writing is so much more accessible now than it was even fifteen years ago, that is takes a great lot of effort not to find at least one platform to get your works out onto.

It is also incredibly easy to find every excuse in the book to not write at all. School, work, family etc, being the big ones, and they are legitimate reasons. But they are only obstacles themselves to an extent, before you yourself make them obstacles. Start small. Set yourself half an hour on an evening. No more, no less. Half an hour to start getting your ideas onto paper and then after a week, you’ve spent three and a half hours writing. You’d be surprised at how much you’ve achieved after three and a half hours of concentrated effort.

If you need motivation, there are plenty of people out there, particularly on the internet, who give great examples of motivation that apply to all disciplines. Joe Rogan, for just one example, has plenty of people on his podcasts who talk and give advice on self-betterment, and it can apply to anybody. If you want to write, you will find the time and means to do it. It doesn’t matter how long it takes; everybody finds their ways at different times.

As to my next works, what am I going to be writing next? Well, shortly after writing Payment as a short story I thought of another idea to write about, and use that particular project to actually develop my writing style. This next one, of which the first ‘act’ as such does already have a skeleton outline to it, is a light hearted yet philosophical at times medieval adventure, combining humour and seriousness together. I’m not going to divulge ay more information the storyline because, although it’s a simple idea, I believe it’s one that no-one’s done before and some smart-arse with more time on their hands than I can easily bash something together using my idea!

The school coursework pieces? They are still on my ideas list and will no doubt be developed into their own proper projects and they hopefully will also be published just as Payment is! The fantasy that I started aged eleven? Absolutely no idea. Whilst I would certainly like to do fantasy, going for originality is going to be difficult, as the standard format (young hero finds out he’s the ‘chosen one’ and goes on a long quest) has been done to death, as have a lot of fantasy ideas already. George R R Martin had the idea of using the idea of old English houses warring against other in the past, and that was used to great effect even before he threw in the ice zombies! So that one is going to be a case of properly allocating some time to sit down, think and decide how I’m going to go about, but make no mistake, I will go about it!

Thank you all for taking the time to read through this! I hope its provided at least some entertainment or light (ha!) reading, and I hope you’ll feel interested to buy my debut novel!

My Facebook page can be found at:

https://m.facebook.com/Rhys-N-Rivers-Writing-101015961412385/?ref=bookmarks

All the places where Payment can be bought from can be found there. I thought it better to post one central link than the individual ones.

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vgckwb · 5 years ago

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ML: Are They Worthy? Chapter 28: Kindred Spirits!

Vlad spent some of his free time during the school day manning a little booth he set up to sell Pride flag pins and sign people up for Paris Pride. Juleka and Rose were some of the first to stop by. “Hey Vlad.”

“Hey Juleka. Rose” Vlad replied.

“Hi Vlad. I love that you’re helping out with this event” Rose said.

“You can too. All you gotta do is sign here” Vlad said, displaying a piece of paper.

The two of them signed it. “So, does this also allow us to walk in the parade as well?” Juleka asked.

“No” Vlad replied. “For that, you need to sign THIS piece of paper.” He presented a second piece of paper. “If you want to walk together, you only need to take up one slot.”

“Ooooo. How fun!” Rose said. The two of them signed that one as well.

“Now, can I interest you ladies in some pins?” asked Vlad.

“Of course! That’s why we’re here!” Rose said.

“I’ll take a lesbian one” Juleka said.

“I’ll take a bi one!” Rose said.

“Sure thing” Vlad said.

After school, Marinette was walking out when she saw Adrien’s car. “Um, I thought Adrien had fencing after school,” she said.

“I do” said Adrien appearing behind her. “It’s for you.”

“Me?! No. I couldn’t, I-”

“Relax Marinette” Adrien said. “Father is helping you in any way he can. This is him trying to help.”

Marinette paused. “O-OK then” she said. She walked up to Adrien’s bodyguard. He opened the door for her. “Thank you.” She said Adrien’s bodyguard was caught off guard by this. He looked away and blushed at the compliment. Marinette got in, and then the bodyguard got in, and they drove off.

Adrien’s stare lingered a little bit. “Isn’t Marinette cute when she gets nervous?” Vlad asked from behind Adrien. “Or is it cuter when she’s confident?”

Adrien turned around. “Vlad” he said. “I’m not fully over Ladybug to admit what I think yet.”

“Well, you don’t need to be fully over her, you just need to be over her enough” Vlad said.

“Is this why you’re here Vlad? To get me to maybe ask Marinette out?” Adrien said.

“No, that’s just a bonus” Vlad said. He went to whisper into Adrien’s ear “I actually need to talk about some hero stuff.”

“Well can it wait? I’ve got fencing” Adrien said.

“No problem. I can watch” Vlad said.

Adrien was surprised. “I’m not sure if Mr. D'Argencourt will allow it.”

“No harm in asking, right?” Vlad said.

When they asked, Mr. D'Argencourt said “I will allow it.” Vlad and Adrien got excited. “IF you can beat one of my students.”

“Sure, I’ll go against him” Adrien said.

“Part le fer! If Vlad is to face off against anyone, it’s someone who won’t let him win because he has a vested interest in it” Mr. D’Argentcourt.

“I get it. Fencing is serious business” Vlad said. “So, who am I taking on?”

“How about Kagami?” Adrien asked.

“She wouldn’t happen to be in on this” Mr. D'Argencourt said. “I know how close you and her are.”

“No sir. They haven’t even met yet” Adrien said.

Mr. D’Argencourt stared Adrien down. “Well, since I know you wouldn’t lie to me… KAGAMI!”

Kagami ran over after wrapping up a practice match. “Yes sir” she said, lifting her helmet up.

“This young man is named Vlad. He wants to watch today’s practice. Please see to it that he earns that spot” D’Argencourt said.

“Yes sir!” Kagami said.

“Is that all you know how to say?” Vlad said.

“Vlad. Don’t antagonize her” Adrien said.

“He’s right. I don’t play nice” Kagami said.

“Oh ho ho. Interesting” Vlad said. “Wanna know something? I don’t play nice either.” Kagami lowered her helmet. “Anyway, where do I suit up?” Adrien led Vlad to the locker rooms.

A few minutes later, Vlad and Kagami were squaring off. “Pret… allez!” Mr. D’Argencourt called. Vlad and Kagami were going against each other really hard. Their movements were aggressive, yet elegant. Eventually though, Vlad got a hit on Kagami. Mr. D’Argencourt was shocked. Still, as a gentleman and a lover of the sport, he signaled Vlad and declared him the winner.

Vlad lifted his helmet and said “Still got it.”

“Young man, how did you become such a good fencer?” Mr. D’Argencourt asked.

“I was the top fencer back at my school in Toulouse” Vlad explained.

“Well, if you are interested in joining, we could certainly use a talent such as yourself” Mr. D’Argencourt said.

“Unfortunately, I can’t” Vlad said.

“Why not?” Kagami asked angrily.

Vlad sighed. “Because I was eventually kicked off the team,” he explained.

“What happened?” Kagami asked.

“Well, as I said earlier, I don’t play nice” Vlad said. “When I don’t like someone I am very clear about it. One person I didn’t like just happened to be on the fencing team. He gathered a bunch of other students, and tried to ambush me. Lucky for me, I can hold my own. They however could not, and things got messy. I explained to everyone what had happened, and he promptly kicked both the orchestrator of the attack and me off the team. Although, mine was supposed to be temporary, I made it permanent. I didn’t feel like I could work well there. I really only liked one other person on the team. It just wasn’t a good fit.”

“Well, if you change your mind, my invitation stands” Mr. D’Argencourt said. “Although, I do want to check on this incident. What was your instructor’s name?”

“Mr. Renaud” Vlad told him.

“Renaud? As in Bernard Renaude?” Mr. D’Argencourt said.

“Yeah. Why?” Vlad said.

“I used to go to school with him” Mr. D’Argencourt said. “Anyway, you may watch. Everyone else. ALLEZ!” Vlad went to sit on the sidelines while everyone began practice. Kagami looked at Vlad, concerned. She eventually went to practice as well.

Meanwhile, Marinette was busy working on her designs in Gabriel’s home work station. “Your design looks great Marinette” Tikki said. “I’m sure Vlad and Adrien will love them.”

“Thanks Tikki” Marinette said. “I sure hope so. It’s nice of Mr. Agreste to let me use this room and his supplies. It gives me the confidence that I need to finish these.”

“Marinette you need to have to be confident in yourself” Tikki said.

Marinette came back with “Yeah, but-”

“Trust your instincts, Marinette” Tikki said.

Marinette smiled. “Thanks Tikki.” The door was opening. “Tikki, hide!” she whispered. Gabriel entered the room. “Mr. Agreste?”

“I thought I would keep you company” Gabriel said.

“Um, aren’t you busy?” Marinette asked.

“Not at the moment,” Gabriel said. “Besides, I know it can get kind of boring working on something alone.” He sat down next to Marinette. Marinette continued to work. “So, you like Adrien huh?”

Marientte was shocked by this sudden topic of conversation. “Well, of course. I mean, I like all my friends.”

“Marinette” Gabriel said in a tone that indicated he knew.

Marinette looked down. “Is it that obvious?” she asked.

Gabriel chuckled. “Relax. I don’t think he knows yet. I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Marinette turned to Gabriel and said “Well, I’m going to have to tell him eventually.”

“I suppose that’s true” Gabriel said.”But you know what I mean.” Marintte giggled. “You know, he speaks highly of you.”

Marinette was curious. “He does?”

“Yes” Gabriel said. “I’ve heard him refer to you as your class’s ‘Everyday Ladybug.’ You must be impressive to earn that title.”

“Well, I just do what I think is right,” Marinette said.

“Wouldn’t it be right to tell him how you feel?” Gabriel said.

“Oh. Well…” Marinette said. “Whenever I try, I get all nervous, and I freak out super hard. I mean, Adrien is just so perfect.”

“No he isn’t” Gabriel said. Marinette looked confused. “Well, at least that’s what he told me. He hates being seen as perfect. I’d agree with you, but after we spoke, I began to see his flaws. In his heart, he’s just as much a child as anyone his age. Maybe even more so.”

“In what ways?” Marinette asked.

“Well, this is his first time going to school. Meeting people outside of social events.To him, it’s like being in a candy store, and he’s allowed to pick whatever candy he wants” Gabriel explained.

“Oh. I didn’t know. He seems to be so calm about everything” Marinette said.

“It’s alright” Gabriel said. “You know, he gets that from his mother. She was such a calm, caring person. She loved seeing what the world had to offer, yet she remained calm. To be honest, sometimes I worry that I might be a bit too distant and Adrien gets nothing from me.”

“I don’t think that’s true” Marinette said. “I think he gets some of your kindness from you. I mean, you came here to keep me company apropos of nothing. Plus, I think you both function better with other people around.”

“What do you mean by that?” Gabriel asked.

“Well, it’s just that Vlad told me the story of how he and Adrien met” Marinette said. “He said you told Adrien that Nathalie is helping you maintain your sanity after your wife’s disappearance. I think it’s the same with Adrien. While his presence does light up the room, I think the room lights him up too.”

Gabriel was aghast. “I had never thought about it like that before. But you’re right. Having someone there certainly helps me. I don’t understand why I didn’t see why it could help Adrien as well. Especially since he has his mother’s ability to socialize. She was a social butterfly. Me? I’m more of a moth. Still, she knew when someone was sincere or not. Wanna hear about how we met?” Marinette nodded.

“Alright then” Gabriel said. “It all began when I had won a design contest. My prize was a ticket to a high class social event. I had trouble socializing, but I managed to keep a low profile. Or so I thought.”

“Hi there” Emilie said, reaching her hand out. Gabriel looked at her. “I thought when people do that, the other person was supposed to shake their hand.”

“Oh, uh..” Gabriel said, nervously. He reached out and shook Emilie’s hand.

“Thank you” Emilie said. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you the talented young designer that won your way in here, correct?”

“Well yes I am, but…” Gabriel stuttered. “I...don’t do well at parties.”

“Wanna know something? Me either?” Emilie said. “Don’t get me wrong. I love meeting people, but these events just seem so overwhelming. I mean, there’s just so much I have to do to keep up appearances.”

“I more have trouble with the people aspect” Gabriel said.

“So, why did you enter the contest?” Emilie asked.

“Well, I’m an aspiring designer” Gabriel said. “I wanted to get my designs out there, simple as that. Tell me to talk to a stranger and I turn to stone. But if you ask me what their ideal outfit should be, then I’m your man.”

“So, what would my ideal outfit be?” Emilie asked.

Gabriel was taken aback. Nevertheless, he accepted the challenge. “Well, I think it would be an elegant yellow dress with one shoulder, a pair of white pumps, and a green necklace to match your eyes.”

“Wow” Emilie said.

“But, I also love what you have on currently” Gabriel said. She was wearing a white tank top, a yellow coat, a black fluffy skirt, white and black striped stockings, and a pair of white flats.

“You think so too? My friend Audrey designed this for me” Emilie said. She pointed her friend out.

“Wait, you’re friends with Audrey Bisset?” Gabriel said.

“Yeah. You know her?” Emilie said.

“Not personally” Gabriel said. “But she is the up and coming name in the world of style.”

Emilie took Gabriel’s hand. “She won’t be the only one.” Emilie dragged Gabriel to meet Audrey. “Hello Audrey. I just thought you would want to meet the young man who won the design contest.”

Audrey turned to Gabriel. “Well it’s about time you make yourself known. Just so you know, I was the deciding vote on the committee. So, you better thank me for letting you in here. And you should have met me first” she said.

“Audrey. Don’t be like that” Emilie said. “He doesn’t do well at parties.”

“I gathered that from when you had to drag him to me,” Audrey said.

“Thank you, Miss Bisset” Gabriel said.

Audrey handed Gabriel her business card. “If you have any more good ideas, let me be the first person you call.” She walked off.

“Well, that could have gone better,” Gabriel said.

“Nah, for Audrey, that was a great first encounter” Emilie said.

“I take it she’s not as personable as you” Gabriel said.

“Nope. But she’s really sweet once you get to know her” Emilie said.

“I’ll take your word on that, Miss…?” Gabriel said.

“Oh. Right. Emilie” she said. “Emilie Blanchet.”

“Gabriel Agreste” he responded.

“Enchante” she said.

“We spent the rest of the evening together” Gabriel said, telling the story to Marinette. “We laughed. We ate. We learned about each other. It was a magical evening. By the time the party was winding down, I found myself having a great time.”

“So, Miss Blanchet?” Gabriel said.

“Please, call me Emilie” she responded.

“Fine. Emilie” Gabriel said. “I had a great time with you tonight.”

“Me too, Gabriel” Emilie said.

“I don’t suppose we could meet again sometime. Could we?” Gabriel asked nervously.

“Of course” Emilie said. “Here, do you have a pen?” Gabriel handed her a pen. “Now, can I have Audrey’s card?” He gave that to her as well. Emilie wrote her number on the back of Audrey’s card. “Here you go.”

“Thank you, Emilie” Gabriel said. “I should give you my number” he said, trying to find something to write on. “You know? Because I’m not the best at socializing. Especially with someone as pretty as you.” Gabriel then blushed when he realized what he had said.

Emilie giggled. “You know? A lot of boys say that about me, but this is the first time I believe it.”

“Why is that?” Gabriel said, nervously.

“Partially because I didn’t tell you exactly HOW rich I am” Emilie began. “But more importantly, because I want to.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Oo. Here.” Emilie grabbed a napkin. Gabriel focused as he wrote his number down. He had never been quite as flustered before. “Thank you” she said. “Well, I’ll see you later then.” She walked out the door.

Audrey was waiting for her. “Really? You wanna go out with that guy? You just met him” Audrey said.

“Well, when you know, you know. I have a good feeling about this guy” Emilie said.

“If you get bored, or he breaks your heart, I have a number of gentlemen callers. I’m sure one of them would like you” Audrey said.

“And yet, you always go back to Andre” Emilie retorted. Audrey scoffed and walked off. Emilie giggled, following her.

“And that’s how we met” Gabriel said.

Marinette was on the verge of tears. “What a beautiful story.”

Gabriel smiled. “Mind if I look at your designs?” he asked.

“Uhhhhhhhhh” Marintte said.

“It’s alright” Gabriel said. “I’m sure you did a good job. You’ve impressed both me and Audrey Bourgeois before. You don’t need to worry about anything.”

Marinette stared at him. “Well, OK,” she said, grabbing he sketches. She handed them to him. Gabriel looked over them. “I wanted to keep the design simple because I only have so much time to work on it but I also wanted it to be bold.”

“Well, I’d say you succeed in both of those” Gabriel said. “These look good Marinette. I’m sure you’ll have a bright future in the world of design.”

Marinette blushed. “Thank you, Mr. Agreste.”

After fencing practice wrapped up, Adrien met up with Vlad. “Ready to go?” Vlad asked.

“I need to change, but then I’ll be ready” Adrien said.

“Sure thing” Vlad said. Adrien walked off.

“Hey! Kagami called out. “How did you get so good at fencing?”

“Practice” Vlad said.

“That’s it?” Kagami said.

“Yeah” Vlad replied. “Although I’m a bit rusty. If I were battling you for the heck of it, you probably would have won. But because there was something I wanted, I tried harder.” Kagami looked perplexed. “What’s wrong?” Vlad asked.

“It’s nothing” Kagami said. “I just come from a family of fencers. I hate to be embarrassed. It reflects poorly on my mother and my grandfather.”

“Nonsense” Vlad said. “I’d say you have something worth fighting for there. That’s half the battle in my opinion. You’re an excellent fencer. You just gotta learn how to move forward after a loss.”

“I’ve been trying since I’ve got here…” Kagami said. “Sometimes it’s hard.”

“What happened?” Vlad asked.

“The day I arrived, I challenged Adrien to a match. It got really intense” Kagami explained. “It got so intense that we moved around, and the only person who was witnessing the event was this girl, Marinette.” Vlad’s eyebrow raised. “She called the victory in favor of Adrien. I was so upset that I was eventually Akumatized.”

“Sounds rough” Vlad said. “But it happens to the best of us.”

“Have you been Akumatized?” Kagami asked.

“No. But I’m new here. Give it time” Vlad said.

“I’ve been Akumatized twice” Kagami said. “Three times if you count Hero’s Day.”

“You know what that tells me?” Vlad asked. “It tells me your emotions are strong. You just need to not let them get the best of you.”

Kagami stared at Vlad. “Thanks” she said.

“OK. I’m ready” Adrien said. “Kagami?”

“I was just here talking to your friend,” she said. “He seems really nice.”

“I’m surprised” Adrien said.

“Why’s that?” Vlad said.

“It’s just that both of you can be hard-headed at times” Adrien said. “I was worried that it would turn ugly if you two met.”

“Well, if I were to fight him, you might be upset with me, and I don’t want that” Kagami said. “Even though I believe you are also worth fighting for.” Adrien smiled.

“We just had a lovely chat about fencing” Vlad said. “I didn’t want things to turn south either. Especially since you recommended I fight her in fencing.”

“What makes you say that?” Kagami said.

“Well, knowing Adrien, he wouldn’t let just anyone fight me” Vlad said. “He’s a little too nice for his own good sometimes. He wouldn't recommend someone who would lose to me in a heartbeat. He’s not that under-handed. No, he selected someone who he thinks could be a fair fight. And that scares me a little. Seeing how much he trusts you to do your best made me think ‘I don’t want to get on this person’s bad side.’”

Kagmi was shocked, and then blushed. “Thanks.”

“What can I say, Vlad? You can read me like a book” Adrien said. “Oh, by the way, Kagami.” Kagami looked up. “I have been thinking of switching targets recently. Would you mind giving me pointers?”

“Oh. Uh, sure” Kagami said. “Just give me a call.”

“Thanks” Adrien said. Kagami walked off to change.

“Boy, you are really bad at this, aren’t you?” Vlad said.

“Bad at what?” Adrien said.

Vlad giggled. “You seriously can’t see it? Boy, you’re hopeless.”

“Hey, come on. What’s this about?” Adrien asked. Vlad started walking off. “Vlad. Where are you going?”

“The exit” Vlad said. “Your ride is almost here, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Vlad, can you tell me what’s going on?” Adrien said.

“Maybe when we get in the car” Vlad said.

Back the Agreste’s, Marinette was wrapping up her work for the day. “Alright, that’s a good place to call it for now,” she said. “I should get going.”

She walked out of the room and was about to leave. “Finished for the day, Marinette?” Gabriel said.

“Oh, yeah” Marinette said. “I just wanted to get home before it’s too late.”

“My driver should be back any second. He can drop you off” Gabriel said.

“Oh. Thanks” Marinette said.

“You know, if I had known someone like you was out there, I might have let Adrien go out sooner,” Gabriel said.

Marinette blushed. “Oh. Thank you, Mr. Agreste.” Marinette walked out the door. Adrien’s car pulled up. The bodyguard walked out and opened the door. “Adrien? Vlad?”

“Oh, hey Marinette” Adrien said.

“You leaving?” Vlad asked.

“Uh, yeah. I didn’t want to stay too late. It is a school night, after all” Marinette said.

“Well, my bodyguard can take you home” Adrien said.

Marinette giggled. “You father told me as much. But thank you anyway.” She got in the car. “See you tomorrow?”

“Of course” Adrien said. The bodyguard got back into the car and drove off.

“Hey father” Adrien said. He was getting used to seeing his father more. “Vlad’s going to hang out for a little bit. He needs to talk to me about something. We’ll just be in my room.”

“Of course” Gabriel said. After all, he’s your friend, right?”

Adrien smiled. “Right.” The two of them went to Adrien’s room.

Gabriel walked into his office. “What’s on your mind, sir?” Nathalie asked.

“I was just thinking. If Emilie were here, she would have gobbled Marinette right up” Gabriel said.

Nathalie looked at her boos. “She will, Mr. Agreste. Just give it time.”

“Of course, Nathalie” Gabriel said. “Now I have another reason to get her back.”

In Adrien’s room, Adrien asked “So, you’re saying Kagami likes me?”

“Yup” Vlad said.

“I knew that” Adrien said, setting up Ultimate Mecha Strike III

“Really? Then why’d you play dumb?” Vlad said.

“Because I only know it as Cat Noir” Adrien said. “I didn't want to raise suspicions of anyone there by saying something I shouldn’t know.” He started playing.

Vlad was confused. “It was fairly obvious from the outset.”

“I don’t know about that” Adrien said.

Vlad sighed. Beyyo popped out. “Can we please talk about the matter at hand? I’m getting a headache hearing all of this love talk!”

“I second that” Plagg said. “Also, where’s my Camembert?”

“Vlad, can you get Plagg some cheese? It’s in the safe” Adrien asked.

“Sure” Vlad said. He went to the safe and grabbed some and gave it to Plagg.

“Thanks” Plagg said.

“Sure thing. Just stay far away from Beyyo” Vlad said.

“In a room this big, it should be manageable” Beyyo said.

“Whatever” Plagg said. He began munching on his cheese.

Vlad reached into his coat. “Here’s something for you too, Beyyo” he said, handing him some jerky.”

“Thanks” Beyyo said, munching down.

“So, what’s the problem?” Adrien asked.

“Well, last night we tested Chloe, and things got a little intense” Vlad said.

“In what way?” Adrien asked.

“Well, we asked what would happen if everyone listened to Chloe” Vlad began. “It ended with her stopping the world and crying.”

“What happened afterwards?” Adrien continued.

Vlad went on. “I stopped the dream and I had a chat with Chloe. She told me that she felt like she couldn’t be herself in front of people, so she came up with a mean persona so that when people hate her, at least it will be genuine, instead of hiding behind fake appreciation.”

“Did Chloe tell you why she couldn’t be herself?” Adrien inquired.

“No. But I assume you know” Vlad said.

“I’m not telling” Adrien said.

“I wouldn’t expect you to” Vlad retorted. “Anyway, Ladybug is worried about leaving Chloe alone for too long. So I came to you because you know Chloe so well. How would you recommend speeding things up?”

Adrien smiled. “Well, if it is what I think it is, I don’t think Chloe will be ready until she admits that secret to people. And you can’t force that. However, it seems like Chloe is at least ready to change. So maybe we just need to keep pushing her in the right direction.”

“I see” Vlad said. “Say, if I were to learn her secret, would you agree to meet with her about it with me as Judgement Wolf?”

“Sure, but how do you plan on doing that?” Adrien asked.

“I think I’m going to run some more tests,” Vlad said. “If that’s alright with you.”

“Of course. Just don’t push her too hard. Maybe give her a break” Adrien said.

“Fine” Vlad said. “I’ll put it off until tomorrow. But Ladybug would like an answer sooner than later. For Chloe’s sake.”

“I know” Adrien said. “I want one too. She’s my oldest friend. Of course I want to protect her.” Vlad smiled.

“Double K.O.” the game said.

“I think I’m getting better” Adrien said. “Come Friday, I should be able to win.”

“Let’s hope so” Vlad said.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fanfic #Marinette #Vlad #Aradia #Tikki #Beyyo #Plagg #Juleka #Rose #Mr. D'Argencourt #Kagami #Gabriel #Emilie #Audrey #Bodyguard #Nathalie

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political-fluffle · 5 years ago

Link

American conservatives who find themselves identifying with Putin’s regime refuse to see the country for what it actually is.

(...) There are also, in our society as in most others, quite a few people who are paid to help America’s enemies, or to spread their propaganda. There always have been.

But in the 21st century, we must also contend with a new phenomenon: right-wing intellectuals, now deeply critical of their own societies, who have begun paying court to right-wing dictators who dislike America. And their motives are curiously familiar. All around them, they see degeneracy, racial mixing, demographic change, “political correctness,” same-sex marriage, religious decline. The America that they actually inhabit no longer matches the white, Anglo-Saxon, Protestant America that they remember, or think they remember. And so they have begun to look abroad, seeking to find the spiritually unified, ethnically pure nations that, they imagine, are morally stronger than their own. Nations, for example, such as Russia. (...)

Fortunately for all such critics, they don’t have to spend much time in the country they are “rooting” for, because there is no greater fantasy than the idea that Russia is a country of Christian values. In reality, Russia has one of the highest abortion rates in the world, nearly double that of the United States. It has an extremely low record of church attendance, though the numbers are difficult to measure, not least because any form of Christianity outside of the state-controlled Orthodox Church is liable to be considered a cult. A 2012 survey showed that religion plays an important role in the lives of only 15 percent of Russians. Only 5 percent have read the Bible.

If American Christians would find little to cheer for in Vladimir Putin’s Russia, American white nationalists would be disappointed too. Carlson has wondered aloud about America’s racial mix, asking, “How precisely is diversity our strength?” He would have a real dilemma in Russia. Nearly 20 percent of Russian citizens do not even identify as Russian, telling pollsters that they belong to different nationalities, ranging from Tartar and Azeri to Ukrainian and Moldovan; more than 6 percent of Russians are Muslims, as opposed to 1.1 percent of the U.S. population. And that might be a gross underestimate of the actual number of Russian Muslims, since in some parts of the country, Muslims are off-limits to census takers. Remember all those phony stories about Swedish and British neighborhoods that are supposedly no-go zones ruled by Sharia law? Russia has an actual province, Chechnya, that is officially ruled by Sharia law. The local regime tolerates polygamy, requires women to be veiled in public places, and tortures gay men. It is a no-go zone, right inside Russia.

As for Putin himself, there is no evidence that this former KGB officer has actually converted, but plenty of evidence that Putin’s recent public displays of Christianity are just as cynical as Stalin’s vaunted love for the working classes. Among other things, they are useful precisely because they can hoodwink naive foreigners. But you don’t need to listen to me say so. Listen, instead, to the words of a young Russian, Yegor Zhukov, who was put on trial for publishing videos critical of the regime. In an extraordinary courtroom speech, he addressed the loud support for “the institutions of the family” that Putin often offers in Russia, and contrasted it with reality:

An impenetrable barrier divides our society in two. All the money is concentrated at the top and no one up there is going to let it go. All that’s left at the bottom—and this is no exaggeration—is despair. Knowing that they have nothing to hope for, that no matter how hard they try, they cannot bring happiness to themselves or their families, Russian men take their aggression out on their wives, or drink themselves to death, or hang themselves. Russia has the world’s [second] highest rate of suicide among men. As a result, a third of all Russian families are single mothers with their kids. I would like to know: Is this how we are protecting the institution of the family?

The reality of Russia isn’t the point, just as the reality of Stalinism wasn’t the point, not for Sherwood Eddy and not for George Bernard Shaw. The American intellectuals who now find themselves alienated from the country that they inhabit aren’t interested in reality. They are interested in a fantasy nation, different and distinct from their own hateful country. America, with its complicated social and political as well as ethnic diversity, with its Constitution that ensures we will never, ever all be forced to feel as if “all life is focused in a central purpose”—this America no longer appeals to them at all.

Most of them know that this fantasy foreign nation they admire seeks to put an end to all of that. It seeks to undermine American democracy, beat back American influence, and curtail American power. But to those who dislike American democracy, despair of American influence, and are angered by American power? That, truly, is the point.

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kalluun-patangaroa · 6 years ago

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SUEDE: SLIGHTLY RESTLESS EUPHORIA

April 15th, 2011

Illustration by Amber Halford

How did Suede and Metallica ever get together for all-night rock sessions?

Brett Anderson (vocals): Our press agent sorta said, ‘Hey, Kirk Hammett is a big fan— should we get you together?’ So we went out to San Francisco to Kirk’s place and spent a lot of time being a bit naughty and playing songs in his basement. He had a studio—a little bit of a jamming room. I remember running through ‘Metal Mickey,’ we did a bit of T. Rex—we were off our faces, anyway. He’s a nice chap!

Kirk said he was struck by how normal you were and how you didn’t spank your buttocks once.

I should have spanked my buttocks. He was probably very disappointed. ‘This can’t be the real Brett Anderson. He’s not spanking his buttocks.’

What Crass lyric is so close to the front of your mind at all times that you can sing it to me right this second?

‘Do they owe us a living? Of course they fucking do!’ I love Crass. Feeding of the 5,000 was one of my favorite records growing up. I love that record. I love all the artwork. Talking about bands that draw you into a world—Crass really created their world, and it was a really confrontational, intelligent, political world. I really responded to it as a young teenager.

What part of the Crass ethos do you hold most dear?

I don’t live on a commune in Essex. But it opened my eyes—if it’s done right—how powerful political music can be. I never wrote overtly political music, but I did write music that dealt with not like party politics, but themes of poverty and alienation and I used that in songs—that was possibly inspired by Crass.

How was Suede a political band?

Dealing with the politics of life. Setting our songs in a real social context. I never wanted to be a writer who waved flags for a political party, but listening to the songs you can tell I was brought up as a member of the working-class, and you can tell the songs have a very strong left-wing bias.

You said you felt there hasn’t been a definitive genre of music invented in the U.K. in the last decade, and that you feel music is meant more to placate than provoke now. Why?

I do very much feel that’s the state of things. I can’t see that the last decade has created its own genre, which is a terrible shame for that generation. Not to say there hasn’t been great music. There’s amazing music! I love discovering new bands and there’s a great wave of new bands. But the biggest cultural development of the last like ten years was computer technology. It wasn’t anything to do with art and music, and that’s a shame. Even in the 90s, we had dance music—definitely a 90s genre. Maybe people have become too knowing. There’s too much of a structured sense of what’s cool and what isn’t, and that comes from magazines constantly publishing lists which contain the same five Beatles albums and this kind of thing. There’s this constant pressure to comply with this very sort of rigid set of accepted rock albums. So bands are too afraid to go outside those reference points. I sense this real fear in the music industry. A lot of it is because the industry has become a lot more corporate. People won’t take risks anymore. In the early 90s—that’s the only time I can talk about because that’s when I started—magazines were putting unusual bands on the cover. Magazines put Suede on covers before anyone had ever heard of us. Commercially, that was very ill-advised—but at least it suggested they had a sense of purpose. Now I get the sense people only back who they think are gonna win, regardless of if they actually think it’s any good or not. They will back who they think are the winners, and they will write good reviews for the bands they think are gonna sell lots of records whether they like them or not, and I think that’s a fucking terrible way to be. People are too afraid of not being cool? Or getting it wrong? No one’s willing to get it wrong. No one’s willing to stick their neck out and become a hated figure. No one’s got that kind of confidence. Everyone’s too willing to comply. It’s a terrible thing. But things go in cycles, don’t they? Maybe it’ll move into another period where people are taking chances.

When is the last time you suffered Stendhal syndrome?

At the Musee d’Orsay in Paris. I was looking at the Toulouse-Lautrecs, which were absolutely amazing. I’ve never been a huge fan of Toulouse-Lautrec before, but seeing the paintings in the flesh—as it were—is just so amazingly powerful. They’re so beautifully observed. I’m not sure if I actually experienced Stendhal syndrome, but I’ve read about it and it’s an extreme reaction to beauty—that’s the closest I can imagine it to be.

What’s it actually feel like?

Like drinking too much coffee. Slightly restless euphoria. Or maybe I’m getting it confused with actually drinking too much coffee. I’m a huge fan of art . I spend a lot of time in galleries and that’s my favorite period of art as well—the post-Impressionists. Paul Gauguin and those artists. I love all the medieval painters as well. People like Bruegel and Cranach and Holbein. There’s something incredibly primitive about it—Bruegel’s ‘Return of the Hunters’ is so atmospheric. What I really like about Holbein is he’s such an amazing draftsman and a great observer of human features. He could completely capture a person. You’re looking at someone who lived 500 years ago but it could be someone passing you on the street. They’re so real. I love that about Holbein’s paintings.

Did you want to try and observe things that carefully in Suede songs?

It’s difficult in the framework of pop music. It isn’t a very subtle medium. It doesn’t have as much as fiction or fine art. You’re in a very rigid structure—melody and rhyme and rhythm and those things are constricting you. I don’t think pop writers can ever take it to that depth of observation. But what pop writers can do is engage at an emotional level that other artists can’t do. The pop song, when done right, is incredibly powerful. That’s partly to do with the simplicity as well. Truth in music is incredibly important, but artifice can be incred- ibly important as well—that’s something I’ve done quite consciously. Lots of the songs I’ve written for Suede have been deliberately superficial but perversely enough there’s a kind of truth in that. A sketch is powerful because you fill in the missing pieces. You fill in the framework yourself. If it’s too full, there’s no space for you to interpret it.

Francis Bacon said, ‘The job of the artist is to deepen the mystery.’

Absolutely. One of the most important quotes ever about creativity. Something I’ve learned through mistakes over the years is it shouldn’t be too clear what you’re doing. Sometimes the sketch is so powerful because of the room for interpretation. As soon as you know what something is about, it somehow kills the mystery. And mystery is so important in music. That allows the song to have life beyond what it was intended for. When a writer’s writing, they have a very specific thing in mind, but they don’t know about the life of the listener. The listener applies his life to the music and there’s a new interpretation. That’s why a good song has so much power. It reaches into people’s lives. But to do that, there needs to be a sense of mystery. I’ve always tried to do that with detail. There’s this whole thing with great songwriters saying songs should be universal, but I actually think songs should be opposite—strangely specific and set in a place to make them real. I mean, still allow space for interpretation.

You said once that Suede writes about the used condom, not the beautiful bed. That kind of detail?

That’s not my favorite quote I ever said—but it keeps coming back. It must resonate with people’s vision of what the band is about. It’s quite a crass way of saying it, but I suppose it’s got some sort of truth. I always wanted to document the sort of grubby side of life. I didn’t want to talk in rock cliché. ‘Baby, I love you!’ clichés. I wanted to sing about the world I saw around me, and the world I saw around me was the used condom. It was the dusty street, the flickering TV. It was that use of detail and the fact I was born in the U.K. that made me write about the U.K. in detail, and it became distorted into the cliché of what became Britpop later—but it was never this nationalistic, jingoistic intention. It was just a desire to write about the world I saw around me.

Did you have to feel like you were living a Suede song to write a Suede song?

I don’t feel I deliberately changed my lifestyle. But I didn’t rein myself in. I felt justified in writing what I was writing—the right thing to do for my artistic vision was live the lifestyle I was singing about, but it’s kind of a chicken-and-egg thing. I was living that, obviously. But you can’t live that lifestyle forever and wanna remain alive. Things have to change. I championed—well, I documented it, and then you realize that what you’re documenting is quite harmful.

Did you think you were going to end up on a prison ship like Dan Treacy?

Well, toward the end of the 90s, things started getting quite dark. Life was definitely changing. I thought, ‘Well, maybe we need to veer away from something.’ I always feel I’m slightly on dodgy ground when people talk about this whole concept of the artist as a damaged character—it’s such a powerful cliché that people really wanna believe in, and I think there’s so much great art made through clarity and sobriety. The damaged artist casts a huge shadow people sometimes can’t see beyond. Me personally, as an artist now I feel much more in control of my art. Much more driven. Certainly more than I did ten years ago. But people need to believe in that sort of figure.

Jason Pierce said he started Spacemen 3 because of people like Roky Erickson and Alex Chilton—that he felt he could do what they did because they were flawed and not professional and perfect.

It’s the ultimate DIY ethic, isn’t it? The ultimate punk thing? Saying it doesn’t matter how incapable or damaged or all these pejorative adjectives you wanna apply—not you can still create art, but it almost makes your art more interesting or valid or gives it an edge you wouldn’t have if you weren’t damaged? Someone like Ian Dury—the ‘cripple as artist.’ It gives the audience a fascination, I think.

You said you were making music to find community in a fucked-up world. Did you ever find that community?

It’s always a search for some sort of community, isn’t it? There’s a line from one of the old songs, ‘New Generation.’ ‘We take the pills to find each other.’ A search for human … ownership or whatever. I don’t know. It’s strange to say because I’ve always conducted my career and Suede’s career almost as outsiders. I’ve never felt accepted by the music industry. I still don’t. I’ve never felt part of any sort of gang, and I never really wanted to be part of any gang. The only gang I’m part of is this weird disparate group of non-members—the ‘others’—and I’m quite happy in that role as well. I don’t jealously look at other people’s lives and wish I could be like that. I don’t have that search for community I used to have— maybe I realized the reality of things.

Does that mean it’s not out there? That it was never there? Can bands create these communities anymore?

That’s the definition of a decent band. They create a community. When I answered your question, it was in a personal sense. Whether I’ve found a community. But hopefully Suede as a band created a community. That was one of our real intentions—I loved bands like the Smiths who had this world you went into, with the sleeves and the reference points. You very much immersed yourself. I wanted Suede to have that sense as well. Almost a strong Suede way of being. The Suede army, as someone once said.

If you didn’t find community, what did you find?

It made my life. It gave me all those things we were talking about earlier. It gave me everything. Gave me purpose in life. I wouldn’t ever advise anyone to do what I did! I’ve been incredibly lucky in my career. 99 percent of people who go into music won’t be as lucky. It is a lot to do with luck! The fact I’ve met Bernard Butler—little things! I might never have met him, and we never would have written those songs and Suede would have been a very different band. I never just say, ‘This is what you should do!’ I was just confident and stupid enough to do what I did, and it just sort of worked! But some of the decisions I made—they were pretty rash!

Is it necessary to commit totally to being creative to be good at being creative? To jump in with no safety net?

Absolutely. You’ve gotta let yourself out there. I didn’t even have an instrument to fall back on! ‘I believe I got enough of a voice to say something interesting, and I’m gonna do it.’ Confidence verging on stupidity that happened to pay off!

Does pop music defend the brave and stupid?

I think so. You have to push it as far as it’ll go. Part of the reason the public loves pop music so much is the drama of the story. You have people who have no idea about the drama and just wanna listen to Phil Collins records and that’s fine, but there’s a whole other group of people that love the back story—how it��s made and why people fall out and fall in love. It’s almost treating the world of music like you’re watching a soap opera and people love that.

Why do people fall in love?

Probably some sort of chemical function. I don’t wanna be unromantic about it but it fulfills a necessary function for the human race.

L.A. Record (US Magazine), April 2011

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