#i used to hang out in the river at my parents' in france

[deeisace]

I got up to do yoga for the first time in. possibly years.

cs my brain is a hellscape that won't let me do actual work

my sewing is right there and i'm not fucking doing it. why.

anyway warrior pose made every one of my joints crunch

maybe i should start doing yoga again huh

[valjeancrazylover2]

okay i have a couple questions for the infodump

what are the family histories of your ocs like where are their parents from, how were they raised etc.

general rehana and hélène like how did they meet, how do they interact

you might've said this before but what's the scar on javert's face from

thank you!!

Thankyou for the ask! Answers under the cut :-)

1) Family Histories

Uhh.. hopefully this is what you were asking for? follow-up questions always welcome lmaooo

Gérard - i... dont have much on him at all. The VAGUE idea i had in my head is that his home life was not the greatest . I'm pulling from meta jokes ive made about all of Jordan Simon Pollard's ensemble characters, basically. Anyway, he's probably from the more rural & farm-heavy area in the North around Paris? It was probably... strained. I wouldn't say TERRIBLE, but I think his father was a bit of an overbearing patriarch. His mother was caring, but stern. So while it could've been worse, he wasn't having the BEST time. His older brother (who has been dubbed Guillaume Ambroise, but he will always be Willy Wonka in our hearts) probably got more freedom than he did, because he was the older son and probably was nearing adulthood when Gérard was still around preteens, for which he probably got quite salty about. With them both being queer, too.. ouch. No wonder Gérard repressed HARD. His brother did not so much, but he ended up travelling, so who cares. Probably let down his father by leaving and not taking over the business. Oops!

Additionally he was probably like, upper working-lower middle class? So not TOO comfortable, his dad was probably a labourer? But they're fine. They have food. If his dad got out of work they'd start to panic. So i get the feeling there was just an overall tense feeling overarching Gérard's life growing up, which led to his older brother basically scarpering and becoming the absolute free spirit/travelling perfume merchant or whatever the hell that he became, and Gérard the radical student. He probably made it a bit better in Paris, but not much. His apartment is probably fine.

Albéric - Probably the most fortunate of the group. Born and raised mostly in Bergerac, in the south of France. Albéric's father (named Albéric Joseph-Renault Lafitte) moved up to Paris for work when he was just entering college age and they've basically lived there ever since, but they own a family holiday estate somewhere along the Dordogne river. His mother was probably also from a rich family, hence the marriage. I do think however that they did hold affection for each other, so it wasn't unpleasant by any means. Albéric's father is, however, quite firm & strict and became a little more eccentric as he got older. They're new money, so not aristo by any means and didn't have their family guillotined in the Revolution.

So his life was .. kind of boring? Like his father as mentioned moved to Paris for work, but he was a prosecutor, so its not really that exciting (putting aside the fact that he was a very good prosecutor and known by Javert), and he's been setting Albéric up to follow suit. Albéric does have a younger brother (not by much) who joined the National Guard, and an older sister who moved away to live with her husband, so it's basically just him around the house. Law has basically been all he's expecting. In a previous post I made where I shared some writing I had done with them, it mentions the fact that he made friends with Marius and co. because they seemed fun (and he was right!).

Also, he does indeed have a Bergeracois accent. This sets him apart a little from the Parisien bourgeoisie that he's used to hanging out with when his dad (who was a bit better at adopting the Parisien accent) has guests over, but it obviously doesnt matter when it comes to Marius & Co. because they have other problems and are probably too busy making fun of Gérard to care.

François - I also don't have too much on him. His parents hail from the Philippines, where they wanted to give their son a better life, but didn't want to go to Spain, so went to... France. Great. Named their child François-Michel to fit in, but he retains the Spanish surname Dolosa from the colonial rule. (Fun fact, was originally going to be Dosier before i changed it.) Double colonialism! As a result I think he grew up in the poorer areas of Paris. Not totally scuffed, but he's still not that well off.

His father was probably a labourer but moved up into some more cushty job in Paris like a clerk or something. Mother working on a loom in a factory maybe? Nice honest people.....

Anyway, growing up he was probably loved. I think his grandmother also lived with them, in some dingy rooms they managed to get. Not exactly coddled? but his family were supportive of his endeavours.. family all have jobs but him cause he was #struggling cause he only ever wanted to look at birds, wanted to do something fun so family funded his trip to law school (WHICH by the way he did NOT complete after being talked out of by his friends, but continued frequenting the library anyway cause DUH). He's living in a similar situation to pre-barricade Marius, in some fuckass apartment with holes in the walls and he has maybe 3 outfits and that's only because he owns 3 different waistcoats. Spent his money on bird merch. seriously just blinged out in bird merchandise.

René - Not too into the details. Similar to françois in some respect. His mother and aunt, along with their parents (René's grandparents) are from a fairly aristo family from what is modern day Somalia... you might remember Rehana - he and Rehana were both born in Somalia, around the same time (she is a few months older) but moved to Paris at around age 7. They live in a modest house for their wealth. When René starts to gain independence in the world and make his own way, he decides to change his name (initially Rohaan Mohamed Said) to René Gignac, as his arabic name was unfortunately getting him flack whenever he was applying for jobs or whatever, so thought a french name would do him better. Around this time, René's mother remarries another rich man, and the family becomes a bit more stable financially, as before they were relying mostly on whatever René's grandfather had going on but as he was getting older yadda yadda you get it. They're fine now.

Because of the wealth, they were a fairly lax family. Not totally blind to societal issues (yknow, since they're African in 1800s France) but they haven't been scraping the barrel like, say, François and Marius were. This leads to René's more hedonistic outlook to life, but still enters law school for.... something to do. Its a respectable position, and he's going to meet a lot of other rich men (who he might also hope to get with, you never know). Obviously his studies are funded by his family. He and Rehana move out of the family home to live in their own, slightly less modest houses.

Additionally they were also a Muslim family, but René is nonpracticing, and Rehana is a bit more lax on it. Religion isn't something i've been focusing on right now though with my les mis canon so I'll probably return to this later ...

Thats about it, though. He's stupid rich.

2) Rehana & Hélène

Thanks again to @vexonlegs for the help with these two .

They met through René, actually! The ever-dramatic, he knew Rehana had been a little lonely lately, and got talking to a woman he met in the library. Hélène studies law herself, for fun...? (professionally, she is an actress who also dabbles in some writing & directing.) This obviously intrigued monsieur René "Nosy Parker" Gignac greatly so he was asking all about her, got MAJOR lesbian vibes all round. Hey, Rehana likes theatre! Rehana does a bit of writing! And introduced them. They got on swimmingly. Moved in together and everything (this was very easy to do without much suspicion back in the day).

They're very nice, to René's disappointment, as he loves some gossip . as mentioned, hélène is an actress, so rehana will attend her performances. She will give her a hand in writing, should she need any consulting. They both quite enjoy watercolour.

Hélène also has a tendency to get quite exasperated with people, at which she will need to storm out of a room and probably collapse onto Rehana's lap to make herself feel better.

And of course they frequent underground lesbian parties of any sort, usually in drag. Forgot to mention they'll usually wear suits around the house, with their hair (which they have cut short for the time period) styled up. All-round swagging it up, they're having a GREAT time.

Not sure if I ever mentioned that they are friends of Cosette's? Since Marius got his own friend group, I thought it was only fair Cosette had one too. We discussed that it was probably an embroidery group of some sort. Just an extra hobby for Rehana & Hélène, since they've got plenty of time on their hands at this point, and plus, it's nice to mingle with people who arent...... actors.

3) Javert's Scar

I don't think i ever actually have said where it's from?

Admittedly, I've been drawing him with it for a while now, but I haven't decided on a story behind it LMFAO. If you look at some older art it was just a tiny cut across his lip, probably from some scrape he had with a prisoner at Toulon, but then I draw Adam Robert Lewis' Javert ONCE and suddenly something clicks and now Javert's scar has grown several inches.

I think the story is still probably the same, though. When Valjean knew him in Toulon, he did not have the scar. In Montreuil-Sur-Mer, he has the scar. I think in my head somewhere the scar and Javert's leaving Toulon had some connection, but I couldn't decide on what worked best, whether he became police of his own volition or being recommended for his safety after being attacked? I don't know. I think that's just for you to decide.

And, in case you were curious - he does actually have more than one scar! I just only ever draw him visibly with the one on his face. He has one on his head, from being struck in MsurM. Luckily this was more superficial and scratched up the skin rather than doing any damage (the bald head is an easy target). He has scars over his body from other various police work, and very old scars, mainly on his back, from being raised in prison.

Hope these answer your questions!! Thankyou again for the ask!!!

[punkscowardschampions]

Sylke

Sylvie: [during the week off you’re having because the school would at least have the decency to half-arse this with relative speed and not leave y’all hanging, might be a couple of days but shouldn’t really be longer than that when you’re doing the bare minimum lol]

Sylvie: My parents have talked to the head and [Sam’s mum]

Sylvie: She has to complete [and the details of this shaming nonsense course they’re sending you on ma’am, like how many hours or whatever the tea is] and they’ve both apologised, surely to Sam’s delight

Sylvie: Thought you’d want to know the outcome

Jake: Thanks

Sylvie: Head is keen for a line to be drawn under the whole thing so if [Sam’s mum] values keeping her job and on top of her mortgage, she isn’t going to repeat her mistake

Sylvie: even if her daughter remains a bitch on the low

Jake: She doesn’t have a mortgage, they’re renters

Sylvie: Even more reason to be an adult

Jake: Everyone believes it has been dealt with accordingly, who am I to disagree

Sylvie: It’s got you this far

Jake: My mother gets to book her own meeting, she’ll be happy

Sylvie: Sorry, like

Sylvie: at least this one doesn’t require you get your kit off, assuming your illness requires that of you

Jake: It won’t require me at all, they can talk about me like I’m not there all the more easily if I’m really not in the room

Sylvie: I didn’t go to mine, much to everyone’s annoyance 

Jake: I’d annoy her if I went

Sylvie: Isn’t that the goal?

Jake: It isn’t her fault I’m sick and taking it out on her isn’t going to heal me

Sylvie: You’ve given up hope on making her listen then?

Jake: She’s a nurse, she wasn’t ever letting me manage this my way, at school or anywhere

Sylvie: Probably not

Jake: For sure not

Sylvie: What are you going to do with how pissed off you are?

Jake: Maybe I’ll join a punk band

Jake: or learn to play bass

Sylvie: You’re not allowed to become actually cool, sorry

Sylvie: you’re needed, the pretentious singer-songwriter theatre kid that you are

Jake: I haven’t been a theatre kid since [whatever school year, cos he was younger and now he’s just a music guy]

Sylvie: The streets don’t forget, Jakey

Jake: Takes me back to West Side Story

Sylvie: Please tell me the Puerto Rican accents were forgone

Jake: [tell her whatever spin the teacher decided to put on it instead because y’all can’t be doing those accents in the year of our lord whatever year this was]

Sylvie: Smarter move than I knew [the drama teacher] was capable of

Jake: [give the art teacher some ‘credit’ because I’m sure it was a collab for better or worse]

Sylvie: If all else fails, you can run away to Broadway, or the West End

Sylvie: you’ve got options

Jake: France is still an option, I’m not totally failing that class

Sylvie: What if I want France, neither am I, break and all

Jake: Do you?

Jake: we could draw a line using The Seine, I guess

Sylvie: I’ve got to go somewhere

Sylvie: I suppose that could work, I’m not unreasonable

Jake: Or one of the other major rivers, depending which part of France you want

Sylvie: Have you been?

Jake: Not yet, my mother actually does have a mortgage to pay off

Sylvie: We did a weekend in Paris, during the ballerina days

Sylvie: I don’t know anywhere else, I’ll have to take the rudeness, fit right in

Jake: I should’ve taken my ballet more seriously while I still had my health, the dance school might’ve organised a trip then

Sylvie: Everything is starting to make so much sense

Jake: [send her the hilarious pic of you]

Sylvie: I was going to say you’ve always been the only straight male in a room full of girls but maybe they weren’t so sure about that

Jake: Straight male dancers exist

Sylvie: I’m aware, my dad still teaches

Jake: I know, he taught my sister

Sylvie: Where’d you go?

Jake: [wherever you did because you’re spoilt and you were clearly doing not just little kid ballet classes everyone does for fun but the whole thing]

Sylvie: That plie was serious business 

Jake: Not serious enough for a weekend in Paris

Sylvie: It’s my parents' thing, not that I didn’t enjoy [whatever ballet y’all went to see, probably a Christmas one] at the time

Jake: Talia got me into it too, she wanted a partner

Jake: until she wanted to stay home and watch [whatever show was this girl’s fave then]

Sylvie: That’s cute

Sylvie: until you got ditched for [whatever heartthrob was on this show, even if it’s silly]

Jake: I had the last laugh when they cancelled the show after 2 seasons, I guess

Sylvie: And rocked your tutu

Jake: Pride of place on the gallery wall, front and centre

Sylvie: This isn’t your first betrayal then

Jake: No, it isn’t

Sylvie: Still, great having decisions made over your head when you already feel like you’ve lost control of your body ain’t it

Jake: I’m sorry that’s how the petition came across, even if it was the least of your worries

Jake: I didn’t know what else to do

Sylvie: I get it, from your point of view

Sylvie: I stand by it being selfish but it’s not like you owe me anything so 

Jake: I fully accept how selfish it was

Sylvie: You weren’t, that’s what I’m not into

Sylvie: making out it was something it weren’t but neither of us got what we wanted so we can call it even, for real

Jake: A clean slate would be cool

Sylvie: The least of your worries too

Sylvie: but I’m not going to go off at you if I’ve got no reason, you can have that guarantee

Jake: How did Sam apologise? 

Sylvie: Begrudgingly

Sylvie: very obviously being held against her will by [whoever usually takes detentions because there are always a few teachers that love it lol]

Jake: What was her letter’s word count?

Sylvie: [actually take the time to count it because I’m sure it is hilariously low]

Sylvie: I feel the love

Jake: If she used the phrase [something cringe she said to him when she kissed him and he was horrified so she had to backtrack and be sorry], I feel cheated

Sylvie: Oh my God

Sylvie: The fact the ground didn’t swallow her up there and then shows how sorry she’ll never truly be

Jake: She’s tone deaf, in and out of the music block

Sylvie: The boycott will happen without community organisation, yeah

Jake: Yeah

Sylvie: You already think all I do is bitch about people

Sylvie: only for shit people can and could help though, there’s the difference between me and Samantha

Jake: I don’t think that

Sylvie: When I was coming for you, I should’ve left your friends and girlfriend out of it, cheap shots

Jake: I’ve got no room to talk, so I’m not

Sylvie: You’re allowed to suck right now more than usual though

Sylvie: I’m thinking of taking the free pass and running with it, honestly

Sylvie: the perks are minimal, get ‘em where you can

Jake: I don’t get the pass until everybody finds out

Sylvie: Hmm, maybe

Sylvie: you can bank on some brooding that makes sense in hindsight though

Jake: I’ll bear that in mind too

Sylvie: It’s not what you wanted but you might suit it

Jake: There might be songwriting perks

Sylvie: Absolutely

Sylvie: all artists are tortured

Jake: The list of historical figures with the same diagnosis as me usually claim it’s the best thing that ever happened for their art

Sylvie: Who are you to disagree?

Sylvie: I don’t think anyone is ever claiming that about what I’ve been lumped with

Jake: You could be the first to romanticise it, if you weren’t so averse 

Sylvie: I’d like to see you try

Sylvie: nothing could be less romantic

Jake: Okay, I’ll see what I can do

Sylvie: Good luck with that

Sylvie: You’ve not been given a challenge like this before, Cohen

Jake: You already don’t like me, or your diagnosis

Jake: I haven’t got much to lose

Sylvie: That’s the nihilistic spirit that’ll see you through

Jake: I’m a realist

Sylvie: Is that so

Jake: And you’re really adamant we both suck

Sylvie: I’m the one that gets to be offended, not my shitty body

Sylvie: and you don’t care so I don’t need to worry

Jake: Who says I don’t care?

Sylvie: You definitely did

Sylvie: when you were trying not to say worse

Jake: When you provoked me

Jake: that doesn’t count

Sylvie: Yes it does

Sylvie: you provoked is realer than you being nice

Jake: That’s like saying my drunk friends are realer than the teetotalers 

Sylvie: They’re more inclined to tell the truth, yeah

Sylvie: even if they’re also inclined to talk a lot of bollocks too

Jake: 50/50 split probably

Sylvie: Are you allowed to drink now?

Jake: In small amounts, but nobody agrees on what that’s supposed to mean

Jake: it’s a no dressed up as a maybe

Sylvie: Snap

Sylvie: the judgment is heavy, may as well say ‘you’re already fucked up enough, do you think you should be chancing it?’ out loud

Jake: Whenever they don’t want me to do something they call it a trigger now

Sylvie: I fucking hate that word

Jake: Or say it’ll make my meds less effective, when they can’t guarantee how well they’re going to work anyway

Sylvie: Kid gloves and cotton wool, just in case

Sylvie: it’s all just in case, what if it’s for nothing and we could have lived our lives and been fine?

Jake: No one wants to have that conversation, the one where we do end up running off to Paris instead of being miserable

Sylvie: I’m not letting my parents care for me forever just because they would

Sylvie: the stuff that is bad for us is bad for everyone, we’re just meant to be virtuous to make sure we aren’t causing our illness and being bad sick kids

Jake: My mother got the t-shirt and that was all she got

Sylvie: You’re going to be more determined than anyone not to let it happen again

Jake: My father’s death didn’t leave her rich, mine would bankrupt us

Sylvie: You’ve got to make it to adulthood, make it your problem entirely

Jake: By living virtuously? 

Sylvie: I think virtue is the lie people tell themselves when they’re scared about their odds

Sylvie: so no, pure dumb luck

Jake: 4 years, minimum 

Sylvie: Then Paris

Jake: My half of

Sylvie: Got time to hash out those details

Sylvie: I’ll ask [their French teacher] what side I want

Jake: I’m committing my own betrayal if I don’t insist on the Jewish Quarter

Sylvie: Well, you should get in touch with your roots, dick move if I stand in your way there

Jake: 4th arrondissement but you’d know the way better than I do

Sylvie: Right by the river

Sylvie: There are 20 arrondissements, apparently, an even 10 split sounds good

Jake: Sounds fair

Sylvie: I am fair

Jake: Me too

Sylvie: Are you?

Jake: I try to be

Sylvie: Yeah, I think that’s genuine

Sylvie: from my outsider perspective

Jake: Genuinely the nicest you’ve been to me

Sylvie: I’ll stop

Jake: Are you feeling okay?

Sylvie: Shut up, boy

Jake: I do have French homework to concentrate on, if I’m going to move there

Sylvie: Suck up

Sylvie: I’m bored enough to do homework though, can’t lie

Jake: [tell her what it is if she really is bored enough to wanna do it]

Sylvie: Merci, perdant

Jake: De rien

Sylvie: Are you still freaking out about Sam’s mammy and her mouth?

Jake: She’ll lose her job the next time, if there is one

Sylvie: It’s not really about her, I know

Sylvie: it was easier when you could act like it was

Jake: I can’t worry, stress is a trigger

Sylvie: What ain’t, kale and yoga

Jake: I’ve been vegan since I was [however old] already

Sylvie: Living like a Buddhist monk should be right up your street then

Jake: Not the hairstyle

Sylvie: People would truly mourn

Jake: If you see me sporting it, you’ll know it’s against my will

Sylvie: You want to know you still have the option

Sylvie: even if you do the ‘right’ thing anyway

Jake: People are going to mourn the band

Jake: and me going out less

Sylvie: You’ll mourn if it turns into a phobia

Jake: You should be happy you get custody of all the venues

Sylvie: ‘Course, I’m thrilled

Jake: [the venue where he had his 2nd fit most recently] awaits

Sylvie: What are you going to do instead?

Jake: Stay in, become that couple

Sylvie: You sound less thrilled than me and I made a point not to

Jake: I’ll still have to make sure nothing happens in front of her, it’s not like I can relax

Sylvie: Stress is a trigger, so I’ve heard

Jake: What isn’t?

Sylvie: You’re going to make your worst nightmare come true if you don’t try to chill the fuck out though

Jake: You think I don’t know that?

Sylvie: Then change up the plan

Jake: To what?

Sylvie: You want to be with her but not tell her, then you need to create more space, not glue her to you

Sylvie: not that I think that’s a brilliant idea but that’s your goal 

Jake: She isn’t just going to be cool with me pushing her away

Sylvie: Think of a reason that’s not the real one

Jake: Like if I was performing at [the cool kid event because we can bring it back]

Sylvie: Exactly

Sylvie: you need to focus on rehearsing, get in the zone, it shouldn’t be hard for this shit to come out your mouth, I can hear it already

Jake: But she’s my muse, she comes to every rehearsal, it won’t work

Sylvie: You’ve got something else to write about now

Jake: She doesn’t know that

Sylvie: You can tell her without telling her what, can’t you?

Jake: No, she’ll think there’s someone else

Sylvie: Jesus

Jake: What would you think if your boyfriend was being distant and that vague about it?

Sylvie: I wouldn’t be in this situation

Jake: Put yourself in it for a minute

Sylvie: I wouldn’t be in such a crappy relationship, I’m sorry

Jake: Every relationship has issues to work through

Sylvie: You don’t trust her, I don’t know what you can do when that basis isn’t there

Jake: I don’t want to burden her with this, to be one

Sylvie: You will

Sylvie: or you’ll turn into a total dick in the pursuit of not

Jake: My mother talks about my father like he’s 2 separate people, before he got sick and after

Jake: she loved him but they weren’t in love anymore, they couldn’t be, because of everything she had to do

Sylvie: You aren’t dying in the same way

Sylvie: if that’s a 10, you’re a 5

Sylvie: it wouldn’t have to be like that

Jake: It would still be different

Sylvie: Yeah, the only way it’s staying the same is if you freeze it in time

Jake: Or I die this second

Jake: but I’m not sick enough to do that

Sylvie: You either want her with you as you are now, or you don’t

Jake: I don’t want anyone with me as I am now

Jake: I don’t want to be who I am now

Sylvie: Got to face reality on that one

Sylvie: no shit you don’t

Jake: Reality sucks

Sylvie: You’re telling me

Sylvie: at least you have someone to dump, pushing away friends and family is harder to do

Jake: You’re telling me, my sister won’t take the hint

Sylvie: If one more person offers me their bowel

Jake: I’ll need mine in Paris, they hate vegans there

Sylvie: You’re fucked

Sylvie: if that wasn’t already the resounding message

Jake: Merci

Sylvie: but welcome to your bowels, and the rest of your organs, I’m not interested

Jake: An organ transplant isn’t going to fix me, yours are safe too

Sylvie: Narrowing it down, I won’t start 20 questions however close I get

Jake: You aren’t that bored

Sylvie: Not that much of a dick

Sylvie: if I’ve got one thing, it’s how much you want to keep this private

Jake: Your next move wouldn’t be to make posters, if you guessed

Jake: or I told you

Sylvie: Have I shamed you into not sucking so hard?

Sylvie: Because I need the win right now

Jake: I’ve learnt my lesson, yeah

Jake: you win

Sylvie: Not hollow at all

Jake: Everything feels hollow right now

Sylvie: We sound like [a really emo local band] fans

Jake: Rock bottom

Jake: which I think is what their demo is called

Sylvie: Of course it is

Sylvie: the only way is up is an embarrassing comeback/state of affairs

Jake: What’s your favourite song by [the band he remembers seeing her in the front row at]?

Sylvie: [top 5 at him because the sort of people y’all are]

Sylvie: but [the song] by a longshot, honestly

Jake: Cool

Sylvie: Do you like them?

Jake: I only like [the song she said was her fave]

Sylvie: It’s their best one, so that’s an acceptable answer

Sylvie: I’m not their groupie or anything

Jake: You can stand where you want, we got there too late to be anywhere but the back

Sylvie: Fashionably or for an actual reason?

Jake: [some of his friends] were working

Sylvie: You don’t have a job yet?

Jake: I didn’t expect to be suddenly unemployable, I thought I had time

Sylvie: Wasn’t judging, me either

Jake: Talia works [wherever she does that Maggie saw her, in my head it’s giving like health food shop vibes, whether that’s like a juice bar, a holland and barrett type deal or a trader joe’s energy] she was going to put in a good word for me before we stopped speaking

Sylvie: My cousin said, yeah

Sylvie: you’ll be a dead cert now, diversity hire

Jake: I wanted to work somewhere like [pete’s record shop, and other places these cool kids hang out]

Sylvie: You still can, I’m not going to just say it to make you feel better

Jake: [top 5 at her of where you would, not that your mum will ever let you now but we’re imagining a world where you could]

Sylvie: You’d be a good fit for [one of these places, not actually being rude with it just genuine lol]

Jake: You’d be for [one that’s giving fanfic trope of being next door/across the street so they can wave at each other but also genuinely]

Sylvie: As long as there’s a line to be drawn between us at all times

Jake: [telling her you’ll draw one across the classroom of whatever their first class they have together is ready for when she comes back after her week off because you shamelessly have already thought about her coming back to school, we see you]

Sylvie: I might just refuse else, make it your problem

Jake: You’d make [the teacher] have a problem with me

Sylvie: Yep, teacher’s pet

Jake: [that one teacher who hates everyone] doesn’t like me

Sylvie: That one actually isn’t your fault though, they don’t like anyone

Sylvie: if you’re going to be disliked, it should be on your own annoying merit

Jake: Mine, not yours

Jake: don’t be difficult

Sylvie: Are you telling me what to do?

Jake: I’m not your teacher

Sylvie: The only people you listen to

Jake: And you’re not my mother, no matter how many times you add a babyish y to my name

Sylvie: I don’t want to be, thank you very much

Sylvie: not my fault it suits you

Jake: It isn’t your fault Sylvia suits you, which is why I haven’t said so until now

Sylvie: Wow

Jake: If you want to be [the emo band]’s groupie

Sylvie: Obviously there’s nothing I want more

Sylvie: the line is so long though

Jake: Quel dommage

Sylvie: Garcon stupide 

Sylvie: you have basically told me to go stick my head in the oven, Mr. Nice Guy

Jake: I’m not telling you what to do

Sylvie: Fighting talk from a pacifist, yeah

Sylvie: you would never

Jake: It’s you who has an opinion to express about everything until I ask you to walk a mile in my shoes Sylvie: You asked me to walk a mile in her shoes, technically

Jake: If you want to be that pedantic about it

Sylvie: You aren’t actually one being, whatever you tell yourselves

Jake: And you aren’t superior, whatever you tell yourself

Sylvie: To your lies and codependency? 

Sylvie: I am though

Jake: Everybody lies

Sylvie: I wouldn’t pretend to be a different person for as long as she has, I don’t see the point

Sylvie: the point is you, to her, but that’s not a good enough reason to me

Jake: I don’t understand who you think she’s pretending to be, or actually is, whichever

Sylvie: I know you don’t

Jake: She wouldn’t change her whole personality for me and I’d have noticed if she had

Sylvie: You wouldn’t, you haven’t

Sylvie: you see what she wants you to

Jake: My friends would say something if I’d gone blind

Sylvie: It’s not worth it, getting involved with couple drama

Sylvie: suddenly you’re jealous for just pointing out the obvious

Sylvie: if it works, it works, she chose the gig

Jake: Why would she do that?

Sylvie: To be with you, you idiot

Sylvie: she’d rather that than be her own person

Jake: That doesn’t make any sense

Jake: she could be her own person and be with somebody

Sylvie: That was what I said

Sylvie: but not you, or at least that’s what she’s surmised 

Jake: Why are you trying to trigger an existential crisis in me?

Sylvie: Please don’t throw that word around like that, it triggers me

Sylvie: she isn’t the first or the last to do it, I just think it’s a stupid long game

Jake: She’s the first to do it to me

Sylvie: Are you doing it back?

Jake: Before I got sick I had no reason to lie

Sylvie: You’re getting some payback

Jake: Is that what it is?

Sylvie: Unintentionally

Sylvie: In her head, I’m sure she never meant to hurt you, she meant to be everything you wanted

Jake: She was everything I wanted

Sylvie: Mission accomplished

Jake: You don’t have to be such a 

Sylvie: Go on

Jake: No, then you win

Jake: I’m not giving you the satisfaction 

Sylvie: You act like I’ve made this all up, just to fuck with your head

Sylvie: that’s not how I get my satisfaction

Jake: You’ve pointed it all out to do that

Sylvie: I’m not going to live in your delusion

Jake: Who asked you to live anywhere near me? I didn’t

Sylvie: The mistake was continuing the conversation past where it needed to be, clearly

Jake: Mine was starting it, I already said I’m sorry

Sylvie: but you want to use me for free sick kid therapy

Sylvie: until you inevitably tell her and let her fawn all over you

Jake: I don’t want to use anyone for anything, you least of all

Sylvie: Sure, pretend you’ve got nothing from this

Jake: Nothing good

Sylvie: Cool

Jake: I’ve got a headache, wondering who my girlfriend is

Sylvie: I’m not going to tell you

Jake: Of course not, why would you finish something you started?

Sylvie: I think you know exactly who she is

Jake: If you thought that you wouldn’t have said anything

Sylvie: Maybe I wish you’d wake the fuck up

Sylvie: but why should I care

Jake: Why do you?

Sylvie: I don’t now

Jake: Cool

Sylvie: You’re not

Jake: Neither are you

Sylvie: This is childish

Jake: You really, really suck

Sylvie: You

Jake: You should come with your own trigger warning

Sylvie: You’re bad for my health

Jake: I hope I don’t see you around

Sylvie: You won’t, trust me

Jake: All the sleepwalking I’m doing will make it easier not to

Sylvie: Did you do it before?

Jake: I’m not doing it now except in your unsolicited opinion

Sylvie: Oh

Sylvie: disappointing

Jake: You’re going the wrong way about not wanting to be my mother, that’s the right track

Sylvie: I’ve never met anyone who sleepwalks, I’m sorry

Sylvie: you and your mam will make up, no need to develop issues

Jake: Children do, I did then

Sylvie: Kids are weird

Sylvie: I want to hear shaming stories from now

Jake: You won’t

Sylvie: You heard my disappointing 

Jake: I don’t listen unless there’s a Miss in front of your name

Sylvie: You don’t listen

Jake: Yeah I do, actively

Sylvie: 🍎🍪⭐️

Jake: I’ve heard everything you’ve said

Sylvie: Headache to prove it

Jake: It’s a side effect of my meds

Sylvie: Every day or ‘til you’re used to them?

Jake: They’re meant to go away in a few months

Sylvie: That’s shit

Sylvie: your meds sound hardcore

Jake: I told you I was sicker than you

Sylvie: Do you want me to horrify you with my symptoms?

Jake: I googled them, you can’t horrify me with something I’m desensitised to

Sylvie: That’s unfair, you could be bullshitting and I’ll have no idea

Jake: You kept calling yourself a freak, you drove me to look them up

Sylvie: It’s rude of you to not take me at my word

Jake: You were ruder to me

Sylvie: I am rude

Jake: To yourself too

Sylvie: My bowel being cut out until its on the outside is freaky

Jake: It isn’t Frankenstein’s monster worthy

Sylvie: Oh thanks

Jake: Your clothes would cover it, it’s not being broadcast like neck bolts

Sylvie: It could leak

Jake: You’d be hypervigilant 

Jake: and all the friends and family you aren’t keeping secrets from are on standby

Sylvie: Oh yeah, that’s great, check there’s not shit on my top everyone

Sylvie: it’s disgusting

Jake: It’s the worst case scenario 

Sylvie: And it’s all I can think about

Jake: In mine I die

Jake: or get a piece of my brain cut out

Jake: if you want to swap

Sylvie: I could die too

Sylvie: but I knew it was your brain, guessing games kept to myself

Jake: I don’t have any gold stars to give you, sorry

Jake: an apple maybe

Sylvie: The teacher kink is yours

Sylvie: keep the apple, it’s not good for me, weirdly

Jake: Spoilsport

Sylvie: You started it

Jake: I don’t think I did

Sylvie: It’s all your fault

Jake: You’re having fun blaming me, that doesn’t mean it’s my fault

Sylvie: You think I’m having fun?

Jake: Ripping me and my life to shreds, yeah

Sylvie: I could think of better things to do, better ways to entertain myself

Jake: Leave me alone and do them then

Sylvie: You still can’t tell me what to do

Jake: I’m still not

Jake: it’s a suggestion you’re free to ignore

Sylvie: You’re free to ignore me

Jake: Where would I get my unlicensed therapy from?

Sylvie: You’d have to go see the school’s therapist

Jake: Her waiting list is no joke, unlike her mindfulness advice

Sylvie: A compliment by comparison, still taking it

Jake: I can’t stop you

Sylvie: Don’t you want someone to talk to

Sylvie: It’d be better if it wasn’t you but there’s no choice in any of this so why would that be different

Jake: If I wanted to talk I would to my girlfriend, or sister

Sylvie: Alright

Jake: You have people in your corner who aren’t me, choose one of them

Sylvie: You’re being deliberately ignorant to the fact that none of them are sick and that’s why you don’t want to talk to them and neither do I

Sylvie: which we’ve been over but you don’t actually care so save it

Jake: You don’t even know how I’m sick

Sylvie: And you think mine is no big deal 

Jake: I don’t think you’re a freak but you don’t want to hear that

Sylvie: What we think of each other doesn’t even matter

Jake: Your diagnosis isn’t you

Sylvie: It’s all people give a fuck about now

Jake: Before it was [something that defines her at school like his school play thing does him]

Jake: people don’t dig deep, most of them

Sylvie: Exactly, the headline is going to do all the talking, unless I go out of my way to have people talking for other reasons

Jake: I could shit myself too, might in front of everyone

Sylvie: And I wasn’t saying that means we should get jackets but

Sylvie: at least you know what that feels like, it’s not an abstract fear

Jake: I want somebody to talk to but I don’t know what to fucking say, no one gave me the vocabulary for this

Sylvie: Me either

Sylvie: I want to know how to keep this conversation going, for it to help, even 1% is good enough at this point

Jake: Hasn’t it helped calling me out?

Sylvie: I feel guilty, and frustrated

Jake: At least you aren’t babying me

Sylvie: Haven’t called you Jakey in a minute

Sylvie: you aren’t stupid, you just act it

Jake: I didn’t care when it was only because I’m the baby of the family

Jake: they weren’t trying to wrap me in cotton wool because I’m broken like they are now

Sylvie: You were special for reasons that don’t make you feel defective, same

Jake: With everybody

Jake: it was for holding a mic and a guitar and doing something cool with them both

Sylvie: What if it’s never the same again

Jake: It already isn’t, I can’t get on stage anymore

Jake: I can’t even write songs

Sylvie: I think I’m going to have to leave, seriously

Jake: School?

Sylvie: Here

Sylvie: I don’t want people who don't get it to know anything about me

Jake: Would your parents move somewhere else?

Sylvie: I don’t know

Sylvie: it’s the same with them anyway, everyone feels like a stranger, they get to me in ways they never did before, the little things

Jake: They’d be angry and frustrated if it was happening to them, it’s unfair

Sylvie: Yet I end up feeling like the monster for wanting to tell them to all go away

Sylvie: it’s not just you, if that’s a comfort, you were right when you patronisingly suggested it’s because I’m going through it, obviously

Jake: You can tell me to go away as much as you want

Jake: I understand the urge, if there was anywhere to run off to

Sylvie: Thanks, back at you

Sylvie: all I need is a missing persons attached to my name too, attention-seeking much

Jake: Getting on a plane is probably a trigger, everything else fucking is

Sylvie: Boats take ages to get anywhere

Sylvie: the middle of the ocean is a solid place to fuck off to

Jake: Seasick is something like how I feel anyway

Sylvie: Fingers crossed for an iceberg

Jake: I’ll play until we sink

Sylvie: Rose was shameless for that

Jake: You wouldn’t budge over either

Sylvie: For Jack I would

Jake: I’m seriously surprised [the drama teacher] hasn’t adapted Titanic into a musical yet

Sylvie: Your drama days are over, keep your great ideas to yourself

Jake: [one of your friends who looks like young Leo, whether that’s a boy or a girl lol] could play him

Sylvie: If you wanna watch your girlfriend get steamy with them, sure

Jake: I’ve watched all of her performances, it wouldn’t be any worse than [one of her others]

Sylvie: [the drama teacher] never keeps it PG but a full frontal nude portrait is a bit far, even for him

Jake: I’d cast [someone else haha, the drama and disloyalty but you’re saying they have Kate Winslet vibes] 

Sylvie: Your life wouldn’t be worth living for real, Mr. Director

Jake: You’d cast her as Rose’s mother, the stuff you’ve been saying

Sylvie: Unsinkable Molly Brown would be funnier

Jake: You don’t think she’s got the personality to pull it off

Sylvie: By that merit, you’d cast me as the bloody iceberg

Sylvie: it’s acting

Jake: You’d be a good iceberg

Sylvie: I know

Sylvie: you can get locked down in third class, for being rude

Jake: If you want to be stuck with me for the whole play

Sylvie: I glide in, fuck up your life, go about mine

Sylvie: right?

Jake: That’d be acting

Sylvie: Maybe I’ve got hidden talent

Jake: And depths, which is why I cast you

Sylvie: That’s how my dad started teaching instead, got injured

Jake: My sister liked him

Sylvie: They’re nicer than the arsehole they raised, like

Jake: My mother’s a saint in comparison to me, maybe my father sucked, who knows

Sylvie: You can saint him, that’s what’s expected, no one can fault you

Jake: They have, but if I was dying the way he was, I know I’d suck more than I do now

Sylvie: Right?

Sylvie: though, the right drugs will make you nicer than ever

Jake: I guess

Jake: the hardcore part is all I’ve got

Sylvie: I won’t suggest you start hardcore sedatives, that seems a way off still

Jake: I’m sedated enough

Sylvie: Numb is right

Jake: They lower the excitability of nerve cells in my brain, my doctor said

Sylvie: Your brain is too excitable

Sylvie: that makes any cure sound like a lobotomy 

Jake: It feels like one, I can’t think, pay attention or remember stuff, and it isn’t even a cure

Sylvie: but the alternative is scarier

Jake: Oui

Sylvie: well fuck

Sylvie: you should smash something up immediately

Jake: C’est la vie

Jake: ma vie, and toxic masculinity isn’t allowed, I’m not immediately dying

Sylvie: The rules don’t apply, death is nothing compared to the dreaded symptoms and the many medical interventions along the way 

Jake: In my mother’s house they do

Sylvie: Go out then, don’t make me tell you how step by step

Jake: I’m not meant to alone, that’s step or rule 1

Sylvie: You haven’t been alone since

Sylvie: whenever the fuck you two started dating

Jake: I’m not smashing something up in front of her

Sylvie: Why not?

Jake: If I’m going to lose control like that I might as well tell her, or do it fully and just show her how sick I am

Sylvie: It’s to stop that happening

Jake: Everything’s a trigger, I can’t

Sylvie: Relieving stress is good for you

Jake: Her questions wouldn’t be

Sylvie: I can’t account for her being a fun sponge like that

Jake: You don’t have to

Sylvie: I’m just that helpful

Jake: Breaking something isn’t going to help me

Sylvie: When was the last time you tried?

Jake: I don’t go around destroying stuff deliberately

Sylvie: Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it

Sylvie: but I’ll complete the list myself

Jake: Why can’t you actually try and help?

Sylvie: I am

Sylvie: where are your suggestions?

Jake: Where are you if you want me to do something weirdly out of character

Jake: you could offer to be my cover instead of blowing it

Sylvie: Do you want to try then?

Jake: I don’t know

Jake: What would I be breaking?

Sylvie: It doesn’t need to be anyone’s property, or your own

Sylvie: can go to [junkyard energy] and have your pick

Jake: No trips to the ED, she’s working

Sylvie: I won’t let you get injured, alright

Jake: Okay, we can go

Sylvie: We can go?

Sylvie: You can come, it’s an opportunity for you

Jake: I’ll try anything once, as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone

Sylvie: It won’t, scout’s honour

Jake: Cool

Jake: Where’s [this junkyard or whatever]?

Sylvie: [give him directions, probably via which bus/train to get, we know the vibes]

Sylvie: Now?

Jake: Unless you’re busy

Sylvie: Now’s good

Jake: [tell her where to meet you in relation to the directions she gave and you therefore know this place is without fully being like come to my house because you lowkey are scared to go out by yourself rn but you’re trying to keep it slightly lowkey and not be like I’m FRIGHTENED]

Sylvie: We can go together

Sylvie: if you’d rather, but I’ll need to know where you live first

Jake: [the area] is no Paris

Jake: but [do tell her because you do need to go together even though me and my boo are playing god and aren’t letting anything happen on public transport on this day]

Sylvie: Do you think I’m some sort of snob?

Jake: I don’t know where you live, it’s just my opinion on where I do

Sylvie: [a friend who is mutual to you both] lives nearby

Jake: Yeah, [however near by, like however many streets or doors down]

Sylvie: I won’t get lost

Jake: I wouldn’t be much help, it took me ages to remember that to tell you

Sylvie: Too right-brained, is it

Jake: Too medicated for my excitable brain

Sylvie: No worries, I love being in charge, we’ll manage

Jake: At least I can still remember where I live, that’d be embarrassing 

Sylvie: You aren’t dementia patient grandpa levels

Sylvie: not that I’d need to search high and low, your mammy and sister would find you before I needed to find your house

Jake: They’d want to put toddler reins on if they knew I was leaving the house

Sylvie: I mean

Sylvie: better not, that would look weird

Jake: Accuse me of having a student-teacher kink again instead

Sylvie: Written all over your smug little face

Jake: My face isn’t smug

Sylvie: It is whenever you’re in class

Jake: Until [whenever their first convo was] you didn’t know which classes of yours I was in

Sylvie: It’s a blur of smugness, obviously

Jake: You’re a blur, how quick you get out of your desk

Sylvie: I’m not after the teachers, don’t need time to longingly gaze

Jake: It’s almost like you hate every lesson and have better places to be

Sylvie: Hates a strong word but you have to admit most lessons are boring

Jake: Did you like any, before?

Sylvie: I like my choices, usually

Sylvie: don’t think any of my meds make my concentration for shit but feels like I should check

Jake: All 4? That’s cool, me too

Sylvie: What else do you do?

Sylvie: Music, I’m sure but what’s your other one

Jake: Classical Studies

Jake: I’m going to fail for sure, we’re reading [a book he deffo can’t concentrate on thanks to these meds]

Sylvie: Oh no

Sylvie: You should drop out, take one of the easy passes, save the Latin for the girls in turtlenecks

Jake: Maybe I will

Jake: but I don’t know if there are any easy passes for me anymore, being practically lobotomised 

Sylvie: You’re only a temporary zombie, excitable brain

Sylvie: but even doped up, anyone can pass RE

Sylvie: the points you’d get for your basic understanding of Judaism alone

Jake: Those side effects might never go away, unlike the headaches and other stuff

Sylvie: You can play with the dosage?

Jake: And different meds

Jake: but those are because of what the meds do, how they control the symptoms

Sylvie: I get it

Sylvie: you still have to feel like you, like a person

Jake: The doctors don’t care if I’m a new me, a different person

Sylvie: It’s your body

Jake: Which is more messed up without the meds

Sylvie: It’s a shit choice, it still is one

Jake: Nobody’s going to let me make that one

Sylvie: Family shouldn’t own us as much as they do

Sylvie: you don’t notice until you want the opposite of what they do for you and suddenly you see how suffocating it is

Jake: The meds are my only chance of maybe living a slightly normal life, whatever their downsides

Sylvie: My point still stands

Jake: It does, or there’d be none in breaking something

Sylvie: I took [however many guys] money in pool [when you had your first convo]

Jake: What did you do with it?

Sylvie: Drinks, mostly

Sylvie: I’ve still got [x amount]

Jake: [An album of a band you know she likes] comes out [soon]

Sylvie: How’d you know that

Jake: Everybody knows the release date, they teased it months ago

Sylvie: I meant how did you know I like them

Jake: You were wearing [some kind of merch of theirs, however obscure it may be, could literally be a wristband or something if we wanna be subtle or a t-shirt if not] when [on another occasion he saw her which is different from the time front row at that gig]

Jake: I’ve got [a different piece of merch from the same era]

Sylvie: Cheek to make me seem like some stalker before 

Jake: I don’t remember doing that

Sylvie: Now you can claim brain fog, sure

Jake: You can claim to be a poser who doesn’t like them, if you want

Sylvie: You’re hilarious

Jake: Or you could give me your top 5 again

Sylvie: [do, duh]

Jake: [give her yours but sneak in a few extra so it’s actually a top 8 because it’s too hard to pick only 5 songs you love from this band clearly but you haven’t fully done 10 in the hopes she won’t notice you’re cheating haha]

Sylvie: Pick your ultimate favourite for being a cheat

Jake: I asked for your top 5, you didn’t specify

Jake: [drop the other 2 you didn’t]

Jake: that’s my top 10

Sylvie: You’re a dirty rotten cheater, boy but your taste has gone up marginally in my estimations 

Jake: [nerd out about this band some more because it’s the first one y’all have come across that you both really like, again we see you]

Sylvie: Do you know when they’re next playing the city?

Jake: [I won’t commit us cos it depends if we want y’all to go to a gig together before you’re a couple, when you are or if we wanna be mean and say this band isn’t touring again for a year or more and hence you think you could be dead by then, cos all are valid and moods, we’ll decide but tell her what info you know rn]

Sylvie: Maybe you’ll be back out by then

Jake: Maybe I’ll see you there

Sylvie: Don’t worry, we can lose each other in a crowd

Jake: But I know where to find you, the front

Sylvie: You’ll be late and by the back wall

Jake: I wouldn’t be late for [this band he likes]

Sylvie: No?

Sylvie: Maybe I can tolerate you by the front too, not like you will be talking

Jake: Just singing

Sylvie: You can hold a note

Jake: Tolerably well? 

Sylvie: I’m not being nice, just honest

Jake: Could you honestly name 5 of my songs?

Sylvie: Why in the ego boost would I do that

Jake: I’m not asking you to, I’m curious if you could even name a song out of [however many you’ve performed to date]?

Sylvie: Probably not, but I’ve heard some, you know that

Jake: I don’t, stage lights mean everybody’s lost in the crowd

Sylvie: Yeah but I’ve been at gigs you’ve played

Sylvie: you aren’t so egregious I left

Jake: Cool, thanks

Sylvie: Shut up

Jake: You volunteered the information, I wasn’t fishing for a compliment

Sylvie: I can see your smug little face again

Jake: I still don’t have one

Jake: but you can show me yours when I’m happy I smashed something up, if I am

Sylvie: You have to come at it with an open mind

Jake: I will

Sylvie: What else would you do, what else was I doing

Jake: [this french homework he mentioned before but in terms of whatever it is, e.g the imperfect tense or whatever lol]

Sylvie: You’re welcome

Jake: You’re welcome to come in and do it before we go

Sylvie: Do you think I’ll survive Paris without [whatever grammar thing this undoubtedly is lol]?

Jake: No one in Paris would tolerate our classroom French, to survive the conversation they’d switch to English immediately

Sylvie: Mortifying, you look so French too

Jake: Don’t tell [the theatre teacher like lol god knows what she/he would try and cast me in next]

Sylvie: Marius is too shamingly close to your real personality 

Jake: And I’m meant to be ashamed of that comparison because…?

Sylvie: Of course you aren’t

Sylvie: and China is a sweet little orphan princess

Jake: She’s an actress

Sylvie: Yeah, truly

Jake: I heard what you think of her, of both of us

Jake: you don’t have to keep bringing it up

Sylvie: Alright

Sylvie: I wasn’t talking about her

Jake: You could’ve not typed out her name at all

Sylvie: I was comparing you to a character in a musical, is it that deep

Sylvie: I’m sorry

Jake: You’re attacking her character again, mine it doesn’t matter if you do, we’re talking, but she isn’t here to defend herself

Sylvie: What’s wrong with Cosette?

Jake: Now you want us to do a literary analysis of Les Mis?

Jake: you know the point you were trying to make, or score

Sylvie: For God’s sake

Sylvie: the point is that you’re an irritating couple too, that’s it

Sylvie: don’t act as if I’m attacking her

Jake: Why are you acting like you haven’t?

Sylvie: I’m allowed to say what I want

Jake: Yeah, like I’m allowed to say you’ve got no reason to talk about how annoying you find us as a couple

Sylvie: Of course all you want is positive feedback

Sylvie: go talk to [the drama teacher]

Jake: I don’t want feedback on how I’m living my life, particularly from someone who knows pretty much nothing about it

Sylvie: Oh please, I’ve never met anyone who wants applause for their every decision more than you

Jake: She’s my girlfriend, boo us all you want, it’s my decision not yours

Sylvie: I really don’t care

Jake: Then drop it

Sylvie: Drop this? That’s a great idea

Sylvie: because I think you both suck, so why am I agreeing to waste my time on trying to make you feel in any way better

Jake: You’re bored and have nothing better to do with your time, this isn’t about making me feel anything

Sylvie: I can absolutely do better

Jake: Cool, I’ll see you around

Sylvie: Whatever

Jake: [me like sir let her go, you go and do your homework lame ass]

Sylvie: [leaving a convo with him once again in a state like why do you care though sis, let’s have that conversation lmao]

Jake: [you surely wish you could break something rn don’t you hun, sucks to suck and have to defend your awful gf’s honour (however halfheartedly you just did haha) don’t have a fit about it please]

Sylvie: [my boo says sure would be a shame lmao, meanwhile you gotta go find people to hang out with to prove you got better things to do even though you’re still very much in a hiding mood so you don’t actually want to rn]

Jake: [Winnie says do some socials because he’s a drama king, I say mr bear you calm down]

Sylvie: [what if we’re kissing boys little man, well, probably boy singular you don’t need to go wild but yet again, gotta prove you can]

Jake: [the way I just gasped as if I am Jake and it’s any of his or my business who she does or doesn’t kiss]

Sylvie: [mhmm though, the scandal haha, people thinking you’re dying ‘cos you’re off school and you just pop up like let’s party]

Jake: [you know it’s a notp when I feel sorry for him rn for having to spend time with his gf lol, at least you can pretend to yourself when you bring these flirty vibes to her wanting to likewise makeout and more and it’s a flop it’s purely because you’re worried you’re gonna have a fit (cos we all know damn well he’s avoided antics since fit 2 for that reason) and not because of this girl]

Sylvie: [which I know China is suspicious about like hello? I was gonna be an asshole and say she was at home tonight but we’ll be kind/unkind and do it that way]

Jake: [we should be v unkind and say he has to go over there for this booty call because there’s nothing ruder than making y’all makeout/hook up for the first time in however long while her fam who don’t like him are there being loud and unavoidable when he turns up, the vibes would be terrible]

Sylvie: [the way I know Billie Piper digs at China for acting like miss la-dee-da around you and not herself so you’re once again getting hit over the head with those accusations, you just thought her mum didn’t like you/was a nightmare lowkey but nay nay]

Jake: [mhmm and he needs to be hit over the head with how right Sylvie is as if he wasn’t already thinking about it and her so much so thank you for your service being so real ma’am, p.s Winnie says her first lesson back at school should be French and they should have to be paired up for the most awks convo anyone has ever, we don’t need to do it obvs but we do need to know haha]

Sylvie: [win says y’all need to THINK about it and we so do, the death throes of this relationship and y’all developing feelings when you wanna hate each other is so juicy]

Jake: [I’m thinking we should bring back the cool kid event from the OG but this time he writes and performs just that one song which is blatantly about Sylvie and lowkey she knows but it’s more subtle than the OG one so she can’t be 100% that it is and isn’t just about him being a secret sick kid and China should 100% think it’s about her because they are still together when, like I fully imagine Sylvie isn’t even there but the mutual friend we mentioned who lives by Jake is and is talking about it so then she has to go find it online and is like OH]

Sylvie: [we simply must, it’s too real for how you would approach this but also such delicious drama, also imagine being pretty damn sure that a song is about you but being so scared to bring that up because the humiliation if it wasn’t lol, you would have to die]

Jake: [imagine if he was like bitch it isn’t about you, thankfully it shamelessly is, it should take him a minute to write this song and the cool kid event to happen though so I’m just debating if it’s more legit if they don’t talk again before he drops the song and does all that (awks french convos aside because you know they gotta get paired up more than one haha) or if they should lowkey be finding every flimsy ass excuse they can to talk as often as possible]

Sylvie: [he says delulu much lmao, crushes got you feeling like that’s a possibility and it’s so mortifying, I was also debating how we should go forward because the energy is you’re finding excuses to talk because you know you want to but maybe after both of these ones have ended in arguments you do want to find a bit of decorum and try not to, idk, there’s merit to both approaches, I suppose it depends how long away this is because if you keep getting paired up you will eventually break, I feel]

[nityarawal]

9/10/2023

Evening Songs

#Nitya4Anjali 

9/16- 10-10 

#Anjali4Eternity

Almost My Daughter's

14th

Birthday

10/10

A Month

Of Bliss

9/16 Independence Day 

#Nitya4Eternity

9/16

Persian Independence Day

Virgo

Libres

Sisters

10/10 #Anjali4Eternity

Grace Please

9/16 Mexican Independence

Day

9/16 Fireworks

For Freedom

From The Commonwealth

Heathens

Missionising

Oppressing

9/16

My 50th Birthday

9/16 Reza Shah

Is Coming Home

Iran

9/16 Iranian Revolution

9/16 No More

Mullah's Ruling

For

Commonwealth

Games

And Shams

9/16 Independence 

Once Again

For Poets

From Shams

Not UK Scams

9/16 Freedom

Mitraism 

Friendship Again 

From The Arabs

9/16 Freedom Of Faith

Once Again

Friends

Mitra Pagan Needs 

9/16 I Wanna See Your

Hair Little Sister

9/16 Golden Blonde

Hang It Long

Loose

9/16 Freedom Again

With Mamma

9/16 I Wrote My

Way Out

For My Little Girl

9/16 

I'd Give 

You Anything

#Anjali4Eternity

9/16 Freedom With My

Kids'

In Our Homes

Safe

Freedom To Travel

Away From This

9/16 Why'd You

Torture Us

Practicing Medicine

9/16 You Have To

Answer

To #FreeBritney 

And Me

About Parent Alienation

Billion Dollar Settlings

9/16 How Long Will She

Fast

On Water

9/16 Cleansing

Parasites

From Her Harem

9/16 Amber Liquid

Drops Of Pine Sap

Resin

#CampCalifornia 

Families

9/16 Snow Rivers Will

Wash Us Clean

9/16 Last Days

Of Summer

9/16 Sea Fog All

Gone

9/16 Neptune Laughter

9/16 Encinitas

Peace Palace

Leucadia

Jupiter Gurus'

Beacon's Bliss

Gloxina

Huntley

Reunion 

9/16 #FreeBritney

Where's Your Babies

18 Years Old

9/16 I Promise

I Won't Be Mad

Kids

9/16 We Forgive

Your Gag Orders

Pleas

Deals

9/16 All The Children

Played By Courts

Gagged

Silenced

Forgiven

9/16 Independence Day

We Sing

Freedom Fighters

Singers

Singin'

9/16 Persians Followed

Mayan

Suit

Singin'

Dancing To Their Primal

Sufi Tunes

Drumming Back

Old Cultural Beats

Hearts

#IranianWomenLivesMatter 

9/16 Tehrangeles

Do You Want Princesses

Back 

Armenia

Israel

Azerbaijan 

Scotland

France

Italy

Monarchies

9/16 #HalfPrincessesLivesMatter

9/16 Where Have All

Our Royals Gone

Californians

Hawaii 

Quarter Princesses

Alienated

9/16 Any Mammas

Want To Hold

Our Hands

And Share

Our Glory

Merci

9/16 We Couldn't

Have Done It

Without You

Global Mammas'

Mahalo

Birthed New

Mothers Defense Teams

9/16 France

United Nations

And All My 

Kingdoms Sisters

We Couldn't Have

Done It Without You

Gratzia

So Sing With Us

Hold Our Hands

Celebrate

For Autonomy

Ending A Oligarchy

Gracias Madres

Mothers

In America's

Mother Land

Celebrate With Me

Queens

Our Daughter's Freedom

Hard Earned

Won

Celebrate With Us

Mammas'

That Get To Sing

Baes To Sleep

Such Primitive

Luxuries

Kissing Babies

Cheeks

"Frere Jacquas,"

Sing With Me

In French

Farsi

Tehrangeles

Sufis

Sing With Me

Mothers Tongues

Sing

Celebrate With Me

Whirl

To

Cycles Of Our Daughter's

Cycles Of The Moons

Oceans

Spinning Dervishes

History

Remembered

Gently

Sing With Me

Celebrate With Me

Every Girls Faith

And Heart Matters

Celebrate With Me

Sing With Me

Dance

For

*"Above All Else

Guard Your Heart

For 

It Is The

Wellspring 

Of Life,"

My Love

You Matter

#Anjali4Eternity 

Xo

Peace-

Nitya Nella Davigo Azam Moezzi Huntley Rawal 

*Proverbs: 4:23 

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Victor’s Remembrance Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Note: A bullet-point summary, but important scenes have detailed translations!

This format will be used in subsequent translations because pausing at every frame takes too much time (I’ll still do it for Gavin’s dates because I’m biased) :>

Doing this will also retain some novelty for you when the date comes to EN! :)

In his birthday event, Victor is eight years old and takes a plane alone to visit his mother in France

His birthday wish: I wish for my mother to be healthy, for my father’s work to go smoothly, and that my family can be together more often.

His mother plays “Serenade” (by Franz Schubert) on the piano. She tells him that it’s a song to be played to someone you like (this piece of information will be important in the date)

The actual date begins on 12 January, the evening before Victor’s birthday

MC is in Souvenir to ensure that her preparation for Victor’s surprise party is complete - both the cake and gift are done

Victor suddenly calls and tells her to pack her luggage so he can whisk her off to Paris to settle some issues with a program

Several hours later, they reach Paris

MC can’t help feeling downcast because her efforts to prepare the surprise party went to waste

Even though she’s used to having their private time taken over by work, she still wants to help him celebrate since it’s a special day

He happens to be free that evening, so she hopes to give him a surprise

But Victor suggests that he brings her to meet someone

Along the way, he purchases flowers, and MC’s mind wanders for a while

Afterwards, she realises that Victor is bringing her to his mother’s former residence, which is near a university

IT’S SO PRETTY

He starts talking how his mother allowed students to stay here whenever they wanted to, so it’s kept in good condition

And that she used to be a student in the university as well

MC starts feeling very anxious because it’s as though she’s here to meet the parents

In her fluster, she accidentally presses on the piano keys, and Victor asks if she’s preparing for an impromptu performance

MC starts playing "Serenade” on the piano because she heard him listening to it in the car before

She doesn’t know what it means to Victor

Victor is stunned for a while but recovers

Victor: MC.

Victor rarely calls my name in such a serious manner. It takes me a long while to react, and I nod numbly.  

His low voice seems to have a deliberate warmth in it, and it softly encases me within.

Victor: I’ve never cared about a “sense of ceremony”. A lot of ceremonies are meant for others to see. My life does not require the participation and approval of many people. A certain dummy seems keen on this though, and is always thinking of holding parties, giving gifts, preparing surprises…

Victor’s frown disappears. His dark eyes are dyed with a faint smile.  

Victor: So… it’s not a bad thing to switch the roles sometimes. MC, this is my “sense of ceremony”.

MC gets flustered and accidentally reveals that she prepared a cake as a birthday surprise

They leave the residence, heading towards the café where the cake is at

Just as we reach the opposite end, a small souvenir stall catches my attention.

In the midst of various souvenirs, one particular item takes up half the space. With a closer look, I realise that those are locks.

MC: Eh? Did we walk past the Love Lock Bridge just now?

I can’t remember when I first came across the story related to this bridge.

Legend says that if two people who are mutually in love hang the lock on the bridge, they will be together forever, until death.

I hurriedly turn around, but only see glass railings, and the slow-moving water under the bridge. There is no place to hang the lock.

Victor: Due to safety concerns, this bridge underwent a rectification a few years ago, and the railings are completely made of glass now.

I look towards Victor in shock.

MC: How did you know that I was thinking about this?!

Victor: A dummy’s thoughts are written all over her face. There’s no need to guess. For example, it’s clear from your face that you want to buy the lock as a souvenir.

Not wanting to be seen through once again, I retort in a soft voice.

MC: …I wasn’t planning to buy it at first, but since you put it that way, I have no choice but to buy one.

While saying this, I pull a resigned Victor to the small stall, and carefully select a lock.

Among the various fancy designs, a relatively simple red coloured heart lock catches my eyes.  

MC: I’ll have this one!

After paying, I stuff the lock and its golden coloured key into Victor’s hand.

Victor: What are you doing?

Looking at his hesitant expression, I smile and blink at him.

MC: This is your birthday present. A heart lock – there’s only one in the world! You didn’t guess it this time round, right?

Victor’s expression freezes for a moment, but it quickly returns to its usual state. He purses his lips into a line.

Victor: You’re right. Even after a year, your taste has not improved. However…

“Kacha”

Victor raises his hand and locks the heart lock.

After that, he places the golden coloured key into my palm.

The cold key and the warm fingertips – these two feelings mingle on my skin.

Along with his voice, they take over my senses.

Victor: Take it.

MC: For me…?

The white breath from my words spin in the air, and finally condense into a smile, appearing on his lips.

Victor: This is a key – there’s only one in the world. Now, I’m giving it to you.

The sun has completely set, encasing the world in a cloak of fiery red.

In the distance, the Eiffel Tower lies in the sunset. Sentences strung with beautiful French words drift into our ears. The occasional noise from pedestrians passes us by.

Everything is quiet and tranquil. Only my heart is beating wildly.

I curl my finger, holding the key tightly, as though I’m grasping a switch to the future.

MC: You… why are you suddenly saying such childish things…

In contrast to my wavering voice, the sound of Victor’s laugh is clear as it lands on my ears.

Victor: I said it before. It’s not bad to be like this sometimes.

His voice and the music of a cello from a café somewhere are both low and long drawn.

A bird flies over the Seine River, and the streetlights flicker for a moment before they light up.

The bell tower rings five times in the distance, and the lingering sound in the air reminds me of the time, and also tugs at my heart.  

It is 5pm in Paris, which is also… 1am in Loveland City.

After a second of hesitation, I make a decision.

I suddenly lift my head, directly meeting Victor’s gaze. I stare at the reflection of myself in his eyes.

I stand on my tiptoes and pull on his tie, secretly retrieving the present I prepared since this morning from my pocket.

I can see a flash of astonishment in Victor’s eyes, but that emotion is soon concealed and becomes even more profound and tender.

Cooperating with my movements, he leans down, and his hair sweeps across my cheek.

Like the evening light in the sky, and the streetlamps that were just lit, the gentle and soft sensation lingers where we touch.

In the midst of my rapidly beating heart, I release my hold. I take out the present, both cheeks red.

MC: I was lying just now… this is my real present. Victor, happy birthday.

Before I finish speaking, Victor reaches out to hold onto my waist, pulling me over.

The sudden closing of distance leaves me unable to react. I can only look dumbfoundedly at the person before me, and stare into his deep eyes.

Victor: Don’t move.

This is a very light and shallow kiss.

Like a feather, gently brushing across my lips. Like gentle waves on shallow water.

Yet, utterly special under the encasement of the sunset, the music and chiming of the clock mingling together.

It leaves an indelible mark in the deepest parts of my memory, and the most tender parts of my heart.

-

Phone call: here

Video call: here

[sagesilentfire]

I'm looking for a trans sensitivity reader (for Marcie) and possibly a poc sensitivity reader (for the monsters vs mewmans plot), so if you're available, please tell me, and we'll figure something out.

Forgive my inability to draw humans, please.

I know this is a big departure from my usual content, so I'd like to make sure you know that watching SVTFOE is not necessary to enjoy this AU, as everything needed to understand the plot is explained in-story. In fact, I'd love to have someone who's never even heard of a svftoe to read it so I can make sure it makes its own logical sense.

Anyways... 

(putting this under a read more for your scrolling purposes)

Hi. I'm Sage, and I would like to talk about a show I really liked. The past tense being the operative, as it used to be good, but...

I started watching SVTFOE after watching the great Steven Universe, which meant I had high expectations for it. And it met those expectations! From the beginning I was hooked. It was a good show. But as the seasons went on, it started to... rot.

Now, something to know about me is that I do not invest myself wisely. I love the things I love deeply and with passion. I get attached easily, and I love to theorize about the things I love. So I was heartbroken when SVTFOE ended the way it did, with none of my questions answered.

And when my theories were better than canon, well, that meant I had a new project: a complete rewrite of Star vs. the Forces of Evil. This AU will start similar to canon, but gradually diverge from it until it's something completely new. It will also have five separate "seasons".

So here's my AU: Star and Marcie and The Forces Of Evil (aka samatfoe). This AU will tear apart the scraps of lore that we got from SVTFOE and expand on it and make new lore, all narrated by my lovely OC, Sílthéy. And I promise I will get to as much as possible. If you're worried, check the titles of all of the chapters, which will hopefully reassure you that, yes, I will get to everything (or at least everything I've thought of ;)).

Dramatis Personae:

Star: Star will mostly stay the same in the first few seasons, but I'll try to have her actually grow and mature while staying a good person in the later seasons. She'll also be a bit more fire-aligned, because I wanted to be able to tell my Star and the canon Star apart easily. (She also doesn't get those wings until Mewberty.)

Marcie: is a trans girl. The entire second "episode" will be about her being trans. And I will, again, try to not have her act like a jerk in later seasons. She also won't be an adult trapped in a teenager's body, as that was waaay too weird for me. Instead she won't age in the Neverzone, period, and there will be an episode dedicated to her re-adjusting to Earth and discussing what the whole "spent a decade and a half in eight minutes" thing means for her. And, of course, she'll be more involved with the Mewni plot, as she will be interested in learning the lore behind Mewni from the beginning and push Star to find out more about Mewni.

Ludo: Ludo's story will not effectively end with the Battle for Mewni. He will get a redemption arc, with all the pitfalls and trip-ups that come with that. And all of his flaws and issues will be brought up, now just forgiving him for everything he did because he had bad parents. And Dennis will continue to be a cinnamon roll. Some things never change.

Buff Frog/Yvgeny: will not change. He is good lad.

Toffee: This is the big one. Where to start, and how to start it without spoiling everything I have planned? Well, let me tell you this: Toffee is getting a complete overhaul. For one thing, I now made them agender for various complicated reasons that will be revealed in-story, eventually. And for another thing, they will get an actual backstory and personality! Isn't that a novel idea! And they will not die abruptly and nonsensically in Battle for Mewni, so don't worry about that.

Jackie: Oh, Jackie. You poor dear. Jackie will not be delegated to the role of "one-time love interest who just skateboards out of the plot". First of all, Marcie will only have a squish (a platonic crush) on her, because I don't trust my aro/ace self with the weird things people in romantic love do to get together, but I do know what it's like to desperately want to be friends with someone. Secondly, while she will be out of the spotlight in later seasons, it'll be because she's on an exchange trip to France, not because we're abandoning her character and her world for no good reason.

Janna: never changes. Pretty sure she's the one constant of the multiverse.

Tom: will have his redemption arc earlier in the story so I can use him for things, but other than that will not change much.

Moon: First of all, she will not betray everything her daughter stands for by siding with Mina this time. There are plenty of other ways Mina could rise to power, so there's no need to ruin her character by making her do a stupid, illogical thing that even a five-year-old would see was stupid. I mean, she's still going to be kind of racist, but she's well-established to be level-headed and even a little clever, so she will not do something that would so obviously blow up in her face. Secondly, she will be a bad ruler, hence why Mewni is a total mess, but she will learn and become better and help Star's efforts to improve Mewni.

Glossaryck: is... changing. He won't "lose" his sanity for season three, but he will also not be in a totally heroic role. It's a complicated thing and a bit of a spoiler, so I'll leave it at that. Also, he's a dragon now Because Reasons (no, seriously, I have a reason for it. It's also a spoiler).

River: River will be goofy, like usual, but he won't be plot-destroyingly stupid. I'll try my best to not make you question why he's even king while still making him a foil to Moon. It's the tightrope I must walk.

Angie and Raphael: Will not completely disappear from the plot in later seasons, but will instead be like a second family to Star and will be a refuge when her overbearing Butterfly side gets too much.

Kelly: Will not be involved in a stupid romantic subplot with Marcie. Sorry. Other than that, Kelly will remain pretty much the same, aside from now being tiny, because that's just how she came out in my art. She's pretty cool.

Miss Heinous: Will not be Meteora this time around. I disliked how Heinous hurt so many people and was a horrible person, but as soon as her Tragic Backstory™ was revealed, all that pain and suffering she caused was ignored in favor of making her Super Duper Tragic™. So I'm separating the characters. Don't worry, though, she'll get the backstory and character arc she deserves.

Saint Olga: Saint Olga will be the main motivator for Miss Heinous's actions, as she is desperate to please the robot. Other than that, Saint Olga won't actually get much character. She's a bad guy, pure and simple.

Meteora: will not turn into a baby. She will deal with the consequences of her actions like a mature, responsible sixteen-year-old. But because she's sixteen, things won't be too harsh when she does snap. She'll still have her mother and father to help her and guide her.

Eclipsa: Regarding Eclipsa's design, I tried to make her fat, but... I don't know if it translates well in my art. I'm just not that good at art yet. But aside from that, making her cheekmarks dark gray (spades are a black card, not a red card! That bugged me so unreasonably much), and giving her as much of a connection to Toffee as the show implied, I'm not changing much about her. She was one of the good characters.

Globgor: Will have fought against mewmans in the past, but not have eaten them (what were the writers thinking?! Making your metaphorical poc eat people is... not good). And it will be more of a case of Star and Eclipsa knowing he is good and should be released from the crystal, but the general mewman populace not accepting it, until Cornonation, where he proves he's a good guy.

Shinjai: Is a new character I am thrilled to introduce to you all! She came from me thinking that for someone who supposedly wants to end mewman-monster racism, Star sure doesn't have any monster friends (Buff Frog doesn't count. He's an adult, and they don't really hang out so much). So here's Shinjai! She's a septarian, and is introduced instead of Princess Smooshy in Sleep Spells. She's a very minor minor monster noble, and her family has about as much political power as your average worm on a sidewalk after it rains, but all noble monsters must go to Saint Olga's Reform School for Wayward Royalty, so she runs away and gets help from Star and Marcie. She's mostly made to replace Pony Head: she's spunky and... uh, actually she's nothing like Pony Head. She's also unafraid of asking difficult questions and knows more about the plot than she lets on.

Rasticore: is very different from his canon counterpart: he only allies with Heinous and Saint Olga to keep an eye on them for ~someone~, and thoroughly dislikes them, despite agreeing to their mission. He also can regenerate as quickly as Toffee, he just chooses not to for ~reasons~. He also has a mysterious partner, but we all know it's – *gets clubbed over the head by Síthéy*

Mina: Making fun of mental illnesses isn't funny kids. Therefore, Mina is the only neurotypical member of the cast. She does boring neurotypical things like... I dunno, cleaning? And she's still a threat: bigotry and hatred are not exclusive to people with mental illnesses, after all.

Lilacia: Now, Lilacia Pegasus, the horse formerly known as Pony Head, will... exist. She won't be as overwhelmingly annoying, hopefully, as she is in canon. And to make sure she feels consequences for her actions, there will be a subplot in season two about her and Star growing apart as Star grows and leaves Lilacia's annoying party girl antics behind. Lilacia will have to realize that her immature actions are making Star leave her behind, and she'll have to grow as a person because of it.

Then there's a mysterious character who is very mysterious and does mysterious things and has a mysterious personality and is generally mysterious... mysterious. She'll be introduced in the second season and will be as mysterious as promised, I swear.

And finally, of course, it will be narrated by Sílthéy. She will tell this story, and her part in it, for all to hear. Or read? It's a bit of a strange medium, storytelling on paper. Or on a screen, whatever.

Now, of course, by now you must be wondering: What about the shipping? The shipping's the most important part, right? Well, here is my answer: There will be no ship wars. There will be no love dodecahedrons. There will be no cheating, no lies, no throwing other characters under the bus for stupid romantic drama. Why? BECAUSE STAR AND MARCIE ARE BOTH ARO/ACE. Suck on that, Starco! I am the last person to trust romantic drama with, so all of the romantic relationships in this bandwagon will be established, healthy relationships that have decades of chosen love and appreciation for one another behind them. And past!Tomstar and brief, schoolchild-crush-esque Star/Oskar but that doesn't count.

So, I believe that about wraps things up for this post. I'll start posting chapters soon, and will post two chapters every other week, and I'll release the descriptions of them two weeks before I post them. If you have any questions, please ask them! I want to work on my drawing skills, so I might even draw something for them!

Description for next episodes:

Star's Birthday: Star is a young, wild princess who is about to receive her family's most precious heirlooms.

Trouble in Diazland: Star is put under the care of the Diaz family, but can't quite seem to connect with their son, Marco.

And, finally, I have thank yous! These are mostly people I watched but haven't really interacted with yet, so if you get tagged know that you don't know me, I just followed you for svtfoe content. And for, you know, your personality.

Thanks to ankle-beez for being hilarious and reminding me why I made this AU when you relentlessly drag svtfoe. Thank you to @full-moon-phoenix, @dappercritter, and the lizard squad for my regular dose of Toffee. Thank you morningmark and @jess-the-vampire for keeping me invested in svtfoe as a whole. Thanks to svtfoe-critical and @twinklecupcake for good ideas. Thank you to TBlofeld on AO3 for your amazing AU, Monsters, Mewmans, Magic, that, while we took things and ran in completely opposite directions, still inspired me to complete mine. And thank you to Blue Order, whose deeply hilarious and deeply accurate video "How Star Vs the Forces of Evil Fell From Grace" inspired me to create this story in the first place. And, of course, thank you to whoever on the svtfoe wiki writes down the transcripts to every episode. You've helped me so much. I admit that I didn't follow all of your guys' advice, but you did help me get here, every one of you. So thank you.

[ghostlyhamburger]

Under Agreste: The Show: Chapter 4

Rating: T

Ship: Adrienette, Adrigami

Read from the beginning

Read Chapter 4 on Ao3

“Good morning!” Marinette called cheerfully as she walked into Adrien’s trailer. He smiled at her as she gave Plagg a small scratch under his chin.

“Hey,” Adrien greeted, looking up from his phone. He’d been up for a while already, just waiting. “What do you need from me today?”

“Your job is actually super easy this time,” she said. “Today, you’re going to eat pastries.”

He grinned. “I can get behind that.”

“And I’m here to keep you company till the girls come back,” she said. “They’re split into teams working at local bakeries. I’m not supposed to go because I’m supposedly biased.”

“How so?”

She glanced around the trailer conspiratorially, and then leaned close to murmur, “My parents run one of the bakeries.”

“That’s so cool,” he said with a grin. “Which one?”

“I really can’t tell you that. But I was actually the one who suggested the challenge, help with their publicity.” She took a seat on his bed, right beside him. “I can’t work at the bakery for free like I used to, so I do what I can to help them out now.”

“That’s really awesome of you.” Had her eyes always been so blue, or had he just never been so close to her?

“Thanks,” she said, a light blush crossing her cheeks. She stayed close to him, just for another moment longer, her eyes just watching him, an ocean he could drown in…she pulled back quickly. “Anyway! Want to go get some breakfast so you’re not judging on an empty stomach? I know when you’re hungry enough, anything tastes good, and you should be fair.”

“Sounds good,” he replied, standing up. “What’s at craft today?”

“Some eggs, I think,” she said, following him out of the trailer.

The two talked as they ate, exchanging stories about what it was like working as a model or a baker as a child. Adrien learned that Marinette’s favorite thing to cook was macarons, and she promised to make a batch of passionfruit ones for him once he mentioned that was his favorite flavor.

Long after their breakfasts were gone, they stayed talking, winding up comparing strategies for Ultimate Mecha Strike, when Marinette’s phone suddenly went off.

“Oh, they’re back,” she said, glancing at the message. “You should head over to the mansion, the girls will meet you in the kitchen.”

“You’re not coming?” he asked, surprised.

“Biased, remember?” she replied, grinning. “Nino’s got this. Alya’s supervising your private date tonight, so I’ll see you for the second date tomorrow. Have fun!”

**

Adrien was presented with two identical plates of eclairs. The hopeful girls watched as he ate from one, then the other.

“I think I like this one better,” he said, pointing to the second plate. Half the girls cheered.

“The winner is the Dupain-Cheng bakery!” Nino cried. “Losing team, please leave, Adrien, choose two girls from the winning team for private dates.” He leaned close to the model and muttered, “Please choose Lila and Kagami, makes my job so much easier.”

“Um, I pick Lila and Kagami,” Adrien said.

“Great!” Nino said. “Kagami gets the dinner date, Lila gets tomorrow. Adrien, Kagami, dress up nice, the car will be ready for you in an hour.”

**

Adrien didn’t have to think too hard about his date. The restaurant and his outfit were chosen for him, so all he needed to do was get ready to spend some time with a pretty girl.

When he saw Kagami, though, he actually felt his heart skip a beat. She was heading down the main foyer stairs of the mansion, a dramatic entrance that was clearly planned for the cameras. But she was beautiful despite the trite scene, and he found himself looking forward to spending time with her.

He offered her his arm as she reached the bottom of the stairs, and she took it with a grateful smile.

“Where are we going?” she asked curiously.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” he replied, laughing softly at himself. “But I’m sure it’ll be nice. After all, I get to spend this time with you.”

Her cheeks pinked softly as she smiled. “Are they feeding you lines? That was…cheesy.”

“This cheese is all me,” he said with a grin and a wink. “You ready to go?”

**

“So, you’re from Japan,” Adrien said, spearing a bit of asparagus on his plate. “Did you grow up there, or in France?”

“Japan,” Kagami replied. She took a sip of wine and continued, “We had a housekeeper who spoke French, so I was fortunate enough to grow up speaking the language. Moved to the country when I was a teenager, so by now…it’s been about half my life, I guess.”

“Do you like France?”

“Well, it’s home,” she said with a soft smile. “I still love returning to Japan for holidays, though.”

“I’ve always wanted to visit there,” Adrien said. “I don’t really have a lot of free time, though, with modeling, and my father…”

She held up her glass. “To overbearing rich parents?”

“To turning out amazing despite them,” he replied, clinking his glass against hers.

The conversation between them flowed easily as they found they had much in common—an interest in fencing, woes of being homeschooled, an addiction to American potato chips. By the end of the dinner, they were laughing together like they’d known each other for years.

They returned to the mansion together, walking to the door hand in hand.

“I suppose this is it, until the next crazy date they send us on,” Kagami said, her fingertips lingering against his palm.

“This is it,” he said, distracted by her smile, the way she seemed truly happy around him. He couldn’t resist leaning close and kissing her, a brief brush of lips to lips.

She just smiled widely at him as he pulled away. “Good night.”

**

The next day, Adrien had a good amount of time to himself in the morning. He watched mindless videos on his phone while petting Plagg, the kitten content to curl up in his lap and sleep the whole time.

It was one of the best mornings in recent memory.

A knock came at his trailer door. “It’s me!” Marinette called, her voice bright and chirpy as always.

“Come in!” he called back.

She opened the door and smiled at him, though her eyes seemed to be laughing at him. “Are you ready for your date with Lila?”

He sighed, gently lifting Plagg and setting him aside. “No.”

“Too bad,” she replied, her smile growing wider. “Get yourself to wardrobe, and then you’re going to have a wonderful stroll by the Seine and share Andre’s ice cream with her.”

“The sweetheart’s ice cream?” he asked. He idly picked some fur off his pants.

“Yep, that,” Marinette said. “I wonder what ice cream will represent her? Do you think Andre has a rotten apple flavor?”

Adrien laughed. “Well, if he does, I’ll smile and pretend it’s delicious right until the cameras shut off.”

She joined in the laughter. “You. You’re my favorite. Be at wardrobe in five, okay?”

**

Andre sighed beatifically as he gazed at the two people before him. “Ah, young love! Let me see what I can come up with for you!”

Lila held onto Adrien’s hand too tightly as the ice cream vendor bustled around his cart, scooping ice cream into a cone before handing it to her.

“Durian and raspberry pepper,” he announced. “Sweet with a firey kick!”

Lila struggled to hold her smile as she accepted the ice cream. She took a bite and immediately winced at the unusual flavors.

Marinette was at her side before Adrien could blink. “I’ll take that,” she said, gently pulling the cone from Lila’s hands. “You’ll get it back, don’t worry, but—Andre, can you make up something for both of them?”

Andre’s smile didn’t falter as he replied, “I do not have any flavors that can harmonize these two.”

“Can you make one for him and pretend it’s for them both?” she asked, smiling though her eyes were hard and determined.

“I suppose I can…”

“Great,” she replied, turning and walking out of the view of the camera. “And, go!”

“For you,” Andre said, scooping up more ice cream, “Peach, blueberry, and strawberry, a sweetness that can’t be matched.”

Adrien smiled and thanked him as he took the ice cream.

“All right, let’s have the lovebirds take a bite!” Marinette called.

Lila wrinkled her nose as she looked at the cone in Adrien’s hand. “Uh, I’m allergic to strawberry.”

Marinette glanced up at the sky as she willed the universe to smite her where she stood. Or Lila. She wasn’t picky in that moment. “Can you just pretend?”

Adrien took a bite of the ice cream while Lila pretended to chew on something.

“It’s ice cream, Lila, you don’t chew--you know what, this is good enough, we’ll make it look good in editing. Just—enjoy your ice cream, guys, hang out while we get some more footage.” She handed Lila’s cone back to her before slumping onto a bench next to the river.

A few moments later, Adrien sat down next to her. “Did you want any ice cream?”

“Sure,” she replied, leaning over to take a bite. She smiled as the fruity flavors spread over her tongue. “Wow, I forgot how good Andre’s ice cream is.”

“It’s really great,” he said, smiling at her. “So do you believe the whole magic ice cream thing?”

“Nah.” She shrugged. “I just think it tastes good. So, do you know who you’re getting rid of this week?”

“Oh yeah, I have to figure that out,” he said with a groan. “I don’t know. I know there’s the girls you want me to keep, and I do want Kagami to stay, so maybe I’ll just…wing it on the rest?”

Marinette smiled and nudged him with her shoulder. “So, do you think Kagami’s the one?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? She’s different from the other girls, and I want to get to know her more,” he said. “What do you think of her?”

“I think you should pick one of my girls so I get the bonus,” she teased. “But if you walk away from this show happy and in love, then hey, that’s all I can really ask for.”

“Well, I’ll at least walk away with a new friend, right?”

“Oh yeah, best friends,” she agreed. “Even if your work and my work mean we’ll never actually talk again, I think you’re awesome. And I’m not just saying that because it’s my job to make you happy.”

Adrien smiled and offered her more ice cream.

**

At the ceremony that afternoon, Adrien chose to send home Mylene, Suzanne, and Roxanne.

He barely remembered who any of them were, so he figured that was the best option. He wished them the best before heading back to his trailer for some quality time with Plagg.

But as he approached his trailer, he saw someone he probably should have expected sooner or later.

“Hello, Father.”

**

“Next time: How will the girls fit in Adrien’s fast-paced world of fashion? Will their style stand up to the scrutiny of notable designer Gabriel Agreste? Find out!”

Buy me a coffee?

[everymovie2020]

Final Destination (2000)

Date watched: 17 November 2019

I watched all five of these movies in one day, and let me tell you something – I was fucking PARANOID about my household appliances/general safety in my house afterwards.  When I was cooking dinner, I was genuinely concerned about accidentally killing myself.

Fuck you, Final Destination movies.

I had only ever seen the first two and not the last three, but as I've now seen all five, I'm going to do my ultimate ranking of all the movies in this post for your ease of convenience. From best to worst:

Final Destination

Final Destination 2

Final Destination 5

Final Destination 3

Final Destination 4

I would actually say that I enjoyed Final Destination 5 more than FD2, but I think FD2 is the better movie.  FD5 introduces a weird plot twist that I'll get into in my review of that film.  FD2 is certainly the most memorable one of the franchise, I think, if only for the horrifying car crash sequence at the start.  But I'll get into that later.

This isn't going to be very coherent because having watched all five movies in one day, I am having trouble recalling what happened in which movie, though I did write out a list of wtf moments and all of the deaths.  Perhaps I could do a death ranking per film as well?  Why not?  Let's do that.  Let's go all in on this thing.  I wrote copious notes.  May as well put them to use.

And another thing, pre-FD1 discussion – I used to think Devon Sawa was super hot but I don't think that anymore.  My tastes have changed.  Although, Kerr Smith in this movie?  10/10 would bang.  What a babe – he's a total silver fox now as well.  Aged like fine wine, that one.

ALSO – Ali Larter's name, in this movie, is CLEAR RIVERS.  AMAZING. AND NO ONE THINKS IT'S WEIRD.

Alright, FD1, here we go, and I'm going to keep this abridged because every single one of these movies – bar the 5th – have exactly the same plot:

Devon Sawa is going on a high school trip to France with 40 of his high school friends.  He has a vision of the plane exploding and everyone dying, so he freaks out and gets kicked off the plane with like, six other people, and then the plane explodes.

The authorities are baffled.  Devon Sawa is baffled.  Everyone is baffled.

So then they all start dying one by one – one dude is strangled by the clothesline in his bathtub (question – he lives in a house, do they not have an outside clothesline/dryer, why are they relying on hanging their knickers in the bathroom, it's weird to me), then the hot blonde is smushed by a speeding bus in front of everyone (there's so much smushing in these movies, my god) and the nice teacher lady is just completely fucked over by her whole entire house.  I often think about this sequence and how horrifying I find her death. Poor nice teacher lady. Seann William Scott is decapitated when a speeding train dislodges a piece of metal, and Kerr Smith finally cops it in the end when he takes the full force of a billboard to the face.

It's funny how death always waits until they know something is coming before striking.  I mean, six months pass between Devon Sawa and Ali Larter thwarting death and nothing happens to any of them, but as soon as they're in Paris, death is like "now it's time to fuck shit up".

And now for the plot of every single Final Destination movie (except for the last, which is ever so slightly different):

Vision of major disaster in which every character dies one by one

Survival of major disaster ensured by main character

Every survivor starts dying one by one in horrible ways

Main character and girlfriend/boyfriend/friend try to figure out wtf is going on

They finally figure out they're on death's list and they need to save people in order to survive

They narrowly avoid death in the end

But it turns out they haven't avoided death and in movies 3, 4 and 5 they die regardless

In 1 and 2 the main characters survive

The first one is boosted by its cast, which is a solid late 90s/early 2000s teen movies cast – Devon Sawa, Ali Larter, Kerr Smith, Seann William Scott (as the nerd of all things).  Both Ali Larter and Devon Sawa survive but both later die (I'm sure she refers to him dying in FD2, and then she herself dies).  The only movie in which the two main characters definitely don't die (onscreen) is FD2.

Here are some other random thoughts:

There's a recurring them in these movies to make the bedrooms of the main characters as creepy as possible but then they gave up on that in FD3.

There's another recurring theme of people in these movies being absolutely obliterated by buses speeding through residential/business areas at 100 miles an hour.

THAT BUS IS GOING SO FAST.  What is it, the bus from Speed?!

Ali Larter's parents in this movie are just randomly MIA and nobody says anything about it.

Not only are there speeding buses in America, but when they're on the narrow streets of Paris, there's yet another speeding bus.

Things always seem sped up between the initial vision of the disaster and the actual disaster happening – I mean they were on the plane for a good five minutes before the explosion in the vision, and yet it's like a minute when it happens "in real life".

Disaster ranking:

As disasters go, the plane crash was pretty horrifying.  In terms of the other disasters in the movies, honestly, they're much more spectacular.  I will give this a 9 for realism, but overall a 5 because I wasn't dazzled.

Death ranking, from worst death to best:

Death by speeding bus – so contrived.  We've seen it before guys, let's get more creative with this bitch;

Decapitated by piece of metal that flew up from under a train – I mean, yeah, but like, let's go bigger;

Strangled by inexplicable clothesline in a bathtub from which you are unable to get up because the tub is slippery and you cannot get any traction so you just hang there with a cord around your neck like a damn fool;

Smashed by a sign that came out of fuckin' nowhere on a quiet street in Paris – it was certainly unexpected, RIP Kerr Smith; and

Stabbed in the chest, after the following sequence of events occur – pouring boiling water into a mug then getting spooked and throwing the boiling water at the thing that spooked you (nothing, it was nothing), then pouring freezing cold vodka into said hot mug causing it to crack, dripping vodka on the wooden floor as you walk across the room, then dripping vodka down into the back of your computer, which, even though it's turned off, begins to spark and smoke and causes a fire, then the computer monitor explodes sending a chunk of glass into your throat, and then you slip on the vodka on the floor and crash into the kitchen island, and reaching up to get a tea towel to stem the flow of blood you knock over your knife rack and a butcher knife embeds in your chest, and then when someone is trying to help you they accidentally push it all the way in.  And then the entire house explodes.  That's a convoluted death and it earns best death of the movie for this movie.

Famous last words, Kerr Smith!

[frcscrs]

“fraser, my boy.” he heard the whispers from his grandfather from across the room.

fraser moved slowly, the weight of all his medals, the hat adorning his head, seeming to make each step more challenging than the last. it hadn’t helped much that it made him feel suffocated as well. he was counting down the minutes until he could take it off.

his grandfather, who wasn’t nearly as wizened as some of the old hands fraser had shaken in his times touring, but he wasn’t well. father blamed the cigarettes he smoked in the 60s that likely will end up killing him before anything else does. because of it, his voice was raspy, caged like aluminum rattling against metal. but even with a harsh voice, his eyes were always kind. 

“you were spectacular today, son.” he reaches, taking fraser’s hand from where he sat in his chair. 

“grandfather, that’s quite kind of you, but---.” 

“nonsense.” his grandfather cut him off. “you mustn't reject my compliments, boy. i mean them.” he gives fraser’s hand a squeeze. “i quite liked the part where you went off of your notecard. i heard a few chuckles from below. i believe they like your charm.” he says carefully, looking up at fraser, who looked down with what could only be described as a horrified expression. 

he had a hard time hearing, considering when the moment he had gotten away from the thing, his mother had come, cursing him for the way he had chosen to reflect himself, and while he knew she wanted to smack him, and it wasn’t uncommon, her eyes shooting into his skull was enough to send him out with his tale between his legs.

“mother hated it.” he said quietly.

“your mother hates everything.” he shoots back. “i never liked that woman.” he grumbles. “your grandmother didn’t either. she wanted your father to marry the princess of france. unfortunately, your father wasn’t smart enough, or handsome enough for her.” he sighs. “so he got stuck with a cold rotting slab of liver meat which you call mummy.”

fraser snorts, though he quickly pulls it back in, hands growing a bit sweaty.

his grandfather drops his hand, only to point to a chair beside him. “sit, boy. keep me company.”

“yes sir.” he nods, taking the seat beside his grandfather.

he’d only been home for a few days since travel. coming close to his twenty-first birthday, the responsibilities were growing. not to mention one of the maids found cocaine in his sock drawer, and mother had nearly torn his room apart. his leg was a bit jittery, not having had his fill in about a week. 

“father and mummy hate me.” fraser blurts. if there was anyone he felt maybe he could seek refuge in, it would be his grandfather.

“what makes you say that?”

“i can feel it.” he presses his lips together. “the way i stand in a room makes them irate. they hate the way i talk to women, they hate the way i chat with men. they can’t comprehend that all i’d like is to live before i become king. every idea i have is treated with a fit of laughter only to get a sneer with their reply. their hands always feel cold when they touch me, and of course they only do when it’s out of obligation. i overheard them one night saying how my brother was destined to be king. he was born with the better mind than i was.” he licks his lips. “i feel as though they wish they hadn’t carried me as their child. that they would have been better off leaving me at a commoner’s doorstep.” fraser’s fingers drum against his thigh. “then i consider that maybe that’s how i feel. that i would have much rather preferred growing up considerably more normal than this.”

there’s a hang in the air, his grandfather looking across the room rather than at his grandson. he wondered maybe if he spoke out of turn. that his grandfather would turn to him and tell him that it wasn’t his place to be feeling such unraveling emotions. he needed to get a grip. 

instead, his grandfather took a deep breath before speaking. “i never had the misfortune of having to live in your’s or your father’s shoes. truth be told, i was quite happy marrying your mother and leaving the royal duties to her. it left me the opportunity to sneak by the pond and light up… oh, what do you young folks call it… a fat doobie.” 

fraser can’t help the short cackle, earning a glance from a few people in the room. he bows his head in apology, turning back to his grandfather. “i had no idea.”

“of course not.” his grandfather shakes his head. “but what you have that none of us ever had, is a bleeding heart, my boy. all of us here are far too good at hiding. even our flaws and our feelings and those vices we can’t help but indulge in, we keep it all swept under the rug. for centuries, it’s been sought after that we keep those things away as well. i say to hell with it. you becoming king, fraser, and you letting the people glimpse at your feeling, at your flaws, that you indulge in the commonplace vice from time to time, it will let people into your homes, and in turn, into their hearts. you could be the greatest king scotland has ever known because of what your parents find to be so damning.”

fraser takes a deep breath, and for a moment, he considers that maybe his grandfather was right. maybe it was fully within his grasp to turn things around. but he knew a monarchy couldn’t be shifted with one man in the span of one lifetime. “grandfather,” he says quietly, leaning closer. “i don’t think i want to be king.”

his grandfather winces, processing the words that were given to him. he shakes his head, leaning back from him. “no one who becomes king, wants to be king. it’s the number one trait of the job.” he shrugs. “saying you don’t want it only means you understand the scale of it, and will, undoubtedly, treat it right.” his grandfather places a hand on fraser’s once more, “no matter how your parents treat you, and train you to fill it, you are a good man fraser. and when they make you want to go out there and drown yourself in the river, you come see me. it’s what i’m here for.

/--/

everything was cold and still and it felt like life had been breathed out from his body. the air from outside was crisp and nipped at his skin in a way that wasn’t at all intimate.

he tugged at the cuffs of his suit, waiting for one of the wait staff to join him. they did, and greeted him with a smile of pity. “your highness.” he bowed his head.

“cut the shit.” he waved his hand, stepping forward. “give me it.” 

the waiter fishes in his pocket and slides out a glistening clear packet. fraser had already taken an adderall the night before and could still feel his heart racing from it. but he snatched the packet, peeling it open and digging his finger inside. he looks at it for a close moment before sighing. “looks like shit but it’ll have to do.”

“i don’t have your income to afford high enough grade cocain, sir.” the man replied with an attitude.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” fraser sneered at him, rubbing the fine powder on his gums. “i’m literally on my way to my grandfather’s funeral and you address me with that tone?”

the man instantly washed over with guilt and he bowed his head. “sorry, sir.”

“get out of here.” he huffed, taking a quick sniff from the bit he gathered on his picky, tucking the bag into the inside of his pocket.

he walked back around to the front, getting into the car which waited to take him to the service. he was by himself in the car. his parents rode separately, and his siblings in another car. fraser was certain he wouldn’t be able to handle riding with anyone else, anyways. so he just kept his gaze out the window, feeling his heart pick back up again and his mind reeling. it was better than the bottomless pit he had felt himself falling into the night prior. which his grandfather on his deathbed, coughing up a storm, voice even more detrimental than it normally had been. he said all his farewells. clutched everyone’s hands and wept. fraser heard he told his mother to go fuck herself, which gave him a pleased thought.

but fraser… he hadn’t made it in time. 

the party hosted by one of his university mates was in london and by the time he’d heard, he was already drunk, and considerably high from passing around blunts. he was in the middle of finding himself pleasure from a woman when someone burst through the door, telling him his grandfather wouldn’t make it through the night.

it was what caused for adderall, and him drunkenly rushing to his jet to get him back soon enough to hear his grandfather’s scratchy voice again.

by the time he stumbled through the door, he was already gone. his father was already making preparations for the funeral, and fraser didn’t even get to see the body. his mother could see how absolutely plastered he was, and had sent him to his room. she still had the power to do that to him, even at twenty.

when he got to the service, most everyone was standing around the grave, the scottish flag draped over the casket, the arms ready to fire in his name. fraser climbed out of the car, moving to not make a noise. instead, he stayed in the back. he hoped no one would notice him. no one would address him. he slid his sunglasses onto his nose so they couldn’t see the bags under his eyes starting to form from not sleeping. or maybe how his pupils were the size of saucers from the round he just did. all he did was listen. he listened to the wind blow, he listened to the birds chirping. he could hear the river bank flowing just so faintly. it reminded him of when his grandfather liked to walk him down alongside the edge. they would rest boats atop the water and follow with them as long as they could before the water melted the paper and they soaked into the bank.

then they’d sit at the bridge. his grandfather would tell tales of ruling with his grandmother, who died a few years before he was born. she was beautiful and strong and empowering and fraser always wanted to be her. he never met her, never saw what her being queen was like, but he knew if his grandfather spoke of her with such love, then she must have been the most amazing queen the country had ever seen. 

then he’d tell him how fraser reminded him of his grandmother. how she would have loved him. how she’d spoil the ground he walked on and made him feel like the proper prince he was. 

he’d fill fraser up with the kind of love he dreamed of. when he came to the palace, it was like having his chest filled with daisies and warmth and playfulness. they were all the things that were forbidden.

now those things were being buried with him. and fraser wanted to ask if they could put him down there as well.

the world was beautiful to his grandfather. fraser liked living in his world. the one where people loved and laughed and lived and maybe fraser took that a little too hard but he never hurt anyone. never on purpose. 

now, the only world he was left with was the one his parents had created. where things rot and mold and cold winds cut at dry skin. it was a world fraser feared. a world that stuffed itself down his throat and begged him to inhale it. it snuffed him out as his flame began to ignite. and he knew his only way of keeping his flame alive was to validate everything they felt and then some. 

the gun set him off from his trail of thought. considering the things flowing through his bloodstream, the shots made his skin leap from his body every time, making him take the smallest step back. 

the next thing he knew, the grave was being lowered and people were dispersing. he stayed where he stood for a while, just watching and ignoring the passing bodies. not even his siblings or parents could stop him. so he stepped up to the edge, looking down and hoping that maybe his grandfather was playing an elaborate prank, and the casket would open and out he’d come. he’d shout, “i got you, dear boy! ah, the look on your face is simply priceless!” 

but there was no one around to even give a whisper. not really.

it was just fraser. standing above his grandfather’s grave. his heart shooting out of his chest and his head getting dizzy. his neck got itchy and he felt his throat close up. it was a nasty feeling, one that he wanted to reject. one that could be buried with him. instead, he made himself leave. he cut himself short from any moment he was having, and went back to the car. there, he found true silence. 

fraser knew there would be a gathering at the palace to celebrate his grandfather. however, the last thing he wanted was to be surrounded by people who pretended to know a thing or two about his grandfather. instead, he just wanted to cocoon himself. to hibernate and hope that maybe when he woke up, someone better would come out. that fraser mccormack would be a better man. a more fit king.

but he was just left with the hollowing pain in his chest of being without one of the only people who made him feel like he had his own place in this world.

he considered taking the jet back to london and going over the deep end completely. just burying himself in other people. people who didn’t really care. people who never asked. they just wanted to take from him and he didn’t particularly care. they offered him something without even knowing. by simply not being his family. 

“fraser!” his mother called from behind him as he began to climb the stairs to his chambers.

“mother,” he sighs, turning around. “i would just like to go rest now.”

“what is wrong with you.” she hisses, grabbing his arm. “you smell terrible, you look like you’ve gone through a meat grinder, and--...” she gets a better look at his face. “god, you’re high out of your mind.”

“it’s almost life i suffered a great lost, mummy.”

she takes a step back, a swift clap against his cheek and he’s left searing. his inside wilt and that feeling from the grave comes back up. it comes and he can’t stop it until it’s leaking from his eyes and he’s sobbing right before his mother. body terrible and absolutely hysterics from his lips. the first time he’s allowed himself anything. in years. 

“oh for christ sake, fraser. stop the water works.” she clicks her tongue. “you will go down there, treat the guests with respect. shake every damn hand in the room and be thankful that there are still people who want to pay your degenerate grandfather any respects.”

his lip quivers but he knows the spite and the anger and resentment is coming over the top, too. “he was a better man than you can ever imagine.”

she digs her nails into his arm, yanking him closer, their noses nearly touching. “your grandfather was a pitiful man who knew not how to control himself or behave himself in a cordial way. your grandmother only enabled his treacherous behavior and we were lucky he was not king otherwise this country would have become a disgrace.” she let’s go, and he steps back. “clearly, you have far too much of him in you, and i can tell we are destined for the horrors i feared.

“why must you always belittle me? does it make you feel so much better to make me feel weak and small?”

“you are weak and small, fraser!” she snaps. “you are a terrible, immature brat. you have never taken ownership for anything you have ever done and i refuse to coddle you like your grandfather did. you want me to hold your hand because you’re crying? what about the children who lose their parents every day and live in poverty? they don’t get their hands held. they get the hold harsh reality of this world and so should you, fraser. instead you lock yourself in a dream land where you are king of everything nice and fun and sinful. you refuse to see the world from any other side and it’s pitiful. i wish i had gotten a son who was clean and pure and strong. instead i got some junkie.”

fraser remained in his spot, and couldn’t help being stunned at the words she spat at him. the rage, the spite, the anger and resentment she had, it was all laid there on the floor in front of him. his humiliation climbed up his neck like a spider and wrapped it grotesque legs around his neck, choking him until his toes went numb and the sobs kept coming.

“jesus.” she rolled her eyes. “get out. you clearly cannot stand to be here, so get out and don’t come back until you’re actually needed.”

she didn’t move. she just waited. waited for fraser’s shame to send him forward. it did. eventually, it got one food over the other, and then down each stair. it got him out the door into the crisp air where he wished he’d just freeze. he climbed into the car, closing the door and laying across the back seat, asking the driver to take him to the jet. he couldn’t unhear her words. it wouldn’t grow weaker. it only got louder until it rattled his brain and his heart beat out of his chest. he never wanted to go back. he never wanted to see any of them again. and he wondered, maybe, if he didn’t come back, he’d be a happier man.

but he’d never come to find out.

[jancmalandra]

On learning to dance

After spending the first half of January wandering the countryside of France just South of Paris, Moomintroll and Snufkin started heading North again in order to make it back to Moominvalley in time for the first day of Spring in late March. When they crossed the border of Belgium, Snufkin began to introduce Moomintroll to an entirely different kind of foraging from the scouring of the woods and fishing in the rivers that they had done on their way South.

"We have to stick to the coast so that we can still fish in the ocean.", Snufkin said, "As you know from our encounter with Rudolpho, the wealthy love taking up land for their mansions near the ocean. Fortunately, truly unpleasant people like Rudolpho really are rare, even among the wealthy. But even the kindest of them are too blinded by how much money they have to know how much more good they could do and how much happier they could be if they let go of it and released it back into the world. So much of what they try to hold onto inevitably slips through their fingers every day without them even noticing that we can take advantage of it as we move North. You already have experience in seeing the holes in the security of these estates, but that doesn't mean we can take them lightly. It is riskier to sneak on their estates to steal suplemental food, but the forests will not have enough to offer us until well into late Spring. One thing that will work in our favor, though, is that even the wealthy love having the kind of joy we experience with your family and all your friends in Moominvalley all the time. We need to keep our eyes and ears open for any parties that might be in the works in one of the mansions we pass. As much as I dislike crowds and noise, parties leave their kitchens and storerooms a lot more open to.....creative borrowers like us."

Moomintroll couldn't help noticing that Snufkin still didn't include himself in with his family or the Moominvalley community, as much as he had always loved being there, and despite his parents' unparalleled hospitality. He had to force himself to simply listen to Snufkin instead of jumping in immediately with words that might miss the mark due to his eagerness. Moomintroll would have a precious opportunity to offer Snufkin deep, loving comfort in his tent, under his covers every night, which would be much more effective than any words he could say. Learning patience had never been easy for him, but he was getting better at excersizing it little by little.

Snufkin's experience and advice proved invaluable as they moved North. Raiding oceanside estates definitely involved real danger, but they always came away with enough produce from each raid to supplement their diet of fish for several days. By the time they were halfway up the coast of Sweden, the two of them had become a well-oiled team of trespassers, which eased their trip up the coast of the Baltic Sea. But even their charmed luck and earned skill was bound to fail them at some point.

They came to a very charming fishing town in the North of Sweden near the border of Moominland. It would be their last stop before returning to Moominvalley. Their destination was only three days away, and they only needed one more haul of vegetables to see them through. The town had the same kind of warm, friendly, open atmosphere as the tiny village Moomintroll came from, only with many times more people. Even Snufkin found himself disarmed by the welcoming townspeople, despite the crowds, as they scouted the expansive townhouse of the founding family of the town, which stood right in the harbor area. They were a family of Fuzzies who were genuinely a part of the community their ancestors had built. Snufkin and Moomintroll caught sight of them when the pair arrived in town; they were simply strolling the streets to announce their annual Coming Of Spring Fancy Dress Ball and inviting all the shop owners to join them for it that very night.

It would be fair to say that Snufkin and Moomintroll dropped their guards as they crept into the townhouse through the doors to the dry storage area attached to the kitchen. They were completely unaware of the Hemulen who ran the household as Head Butler. He was very serious in the execution of his duties, and once the master and mistress returned with their children and the confirmed guest list, he locked the townhouse down by sending an under-butler to every door. Snufkin and Moomintroll were trapped in the vast dry storage area off of the kitchen. It was only a matter of time before they were discovered. Snufkin immediately began muttering about needing his space and he turned to Moomintroll, looking just a little desperate.

"I hope you've got a really good idea for escaping this place, because I'm drawing a blank, here!", said Snufkin.

"Actually, I think I do!", said Moomintroll, "This is a Fancy Dress Ball: all we have to do is join in like we belong when the guests are really starting to have fun. Even the staff will have stopped keeping count of everyone when the party kicks into high gear. We need to get me a quick costume: your traveling clothes will do the job for you perfectly! There's bound to be alcohol ready to serve to the guests: we need to make sure everyone gets drunk whether they planned to or not: that will really speed things up! What's the strongest alcohol you know of?"

"Vodka.", said Snufkin. "It's thoroughly nasty stuff; no odor, no taste, and it's WAY too strong to drink without mixing it with something else."

"Vodka. Vodka. Vodka.", Moomintroll repeated to himself, forcing the name into his memory. "Lastly; we won't be able to carry this off if you're this nervous. You'll give us away if you're not completely at your ease. I need you to look into my eyes as much as possible, and think of our love for each other. Picture it like an endless field of Spring flowers where there's only the two of us. Our love has all the space we'll ever need! Just focus on that, and that will drive out all your fear!"

Snufkin did as Moomintroll asked, and it truly was like magic. He could actually see that infinite field in Moomintroll's eyes and the two of them walking together in it without any fear! Suddenly, he was totally calm. "I'm alright now, Moomintroll! Go ahead and find yourself a costume, scope out the ballroom and find a way to make all the drinks alcoholic! I'll be fine here until you get back, I swear!"

Moomintroll peered into kitchen cautiously, but it was deserted. All the tables and equipment showed signs of the preparations for the party, but all of the food and drinks must have been moved to the ballroom very recently. He saw a spare cook's uniform hanging on a nearby hook in a line of similar hooks and a cook's hat on a long shelf above them and decided they would make a really good costume! The coat came down to his knees, but it would have to do. He looked out of the main kitchen door and heard a large bustle and hubbub coming from the ballroom just down the hall. He walked into the ballroom as casually as he could, and looked around very carefully. To his immediate right there were two long tables, one with four punch bowls filled with various luxurious juice mixes and punch cups, the other with a full wet bar set-up. Moomintroll inched his way over to the wet bar. Fortunately, all the activity of the staff in the ballroom was focused on the other side of the room, where everyone was still setting up all of the snacks on a set of tables that ran the full length of the room. Moomintroll peered under the tablecloth of the wet bar and saw a row of cases of high-quality alcohol. The Vodka was easy to find, and Moomintroll carefully took four bottles and poured one into each of the punch bowls. He then snuck back out and made his way back to Snufkin. All they had to do now was wait in the kitchen for the sound of the party starting to get out of hand.

The guests arrived in glamorous costumes and the big band at the top of the ballroom started playing highly energetic Swing music. It took only an hour for the sound of unrestrained hooting and hollering to come down the hallway. Moomintroll and Snufkin walked into the ballroom and joined the crowd of drunk dancers. The main doors to the townhouse were on the other side of the room from the bandstand. The thick crowd of guests formed an unavoidable barrier between them and the doors. The pair of them would have to dance their way into the crowd's hearts to escape without being discovered as frauds.

"I still don't have the slightest idea how to dance, Moomintroll.", said Snufkin, keeping his eyes firmly on Moomintroll's. He was completely at peace because of this. He was almost supernaturally sure that everything would be alright because of their love for each other.

"Just stay where you are, hold my paw, and move so you can keep your eyes on me. I'll take care of the rest!", said Moomintroll. Moomintroll had the best possible personality for dancing: he had very few inhibitions and no self-consciousness. He just let the music flow through him and moved completely freely under it's command. He swung and shimmied around Snufkin with total abandon! Snufkin found watching him move as intoxicating as the Vodka that was now fueling the party, and he was able to respond in kind just by holding his attention on Moomintroll! They were so wrapped up in their own world, they failed to notice that the rest of the partiers had gradually stopped dancing and were watching them in amazement and cheering them on drunkenly! Their host suddenly stopped the band after three songs of this.

"Alright, everybody!", he said enthusiastically, "We clearly have the winner of the prize for Best Couple!" He came over to Snufkin and Moomintroll and put a gold ring on a silk ribbon around Moomintroll's neck!

The crowd broke out in uproariously loud applause, and Snufkin and Moomintroll used the crowd's celebration of them as a perfect opportunity to make their exit out of the townhouse in style. The pair made their way back to their campsites outside of town without further incident. They immediately packed up their tents and their gear and left town just to be on the safe side.

"So, who are you going to give the ring to?", asked Snufkin, grinning at Moomintroll knowingly.

"Snork Maiden, obviously!", said Moomintroll with conviction.

"Do you think that's going to work out as you hope?", asked Snufkin tenderly.

"I have a really good feeling that we aren't the only ones who've gone through a lot since you fell in love with me. Regardless, I'm going for all my dreams now without hesitating. I've spent too long undermining my own hopes with doubt and fear. With you by my side, I can dare to do anything!", Moomintroll said, kissing Snufkin deeply.

The End

[sweetdreamsjeff]

Obituary: Jeff Buckley

       Pierre Perrone                         

Friday 6 June 1997 00:02     The Independent                                                                                                                                                                        

Second-generation pop stars hardly ever live up to their illustrious parents. Jeff Buckley was the exception to that rule.

His considerable talent and distinctive soprano voice eerily echoed those of his father, the singer Tim Buckley, who died of a drug overdose in 1975. And, in the space of three years and one album, Jeff Buckley attained the cult status his troubled father had taken eight years and as many records to achieve. Yet, though they hardly had a chance to bond (Tim was estranged from Jeff's mother and died at the age of 28, when his son was seven), their tragic destinies mirrored each other.

Born in 1966, Jeffrey Scott Buckley was the result of a short-lived liaison between Tim Buckley and Mary Gulbert. In one of the few interviews Jeff Buckley later gave, he recalled that the couple:

broke up in the early Seventies. I was only about four when my dad left. I was really brought up by my mother and my stepfather. I owe them my most pregnant musical memories. They were together for about four years and the house was full of music. My mum would play piano and cello all the time and my stepdad had great musical taste. I would listen to anything: the Beatles, Bob Dylan, Jimi Hendrix, Joni Mitchell, Judy Garland, Robert Johnson, Thelonious Monk, Bartk, Mahler. And I asked a lot of questions. Learning about music seemed effortless. I guess I must have had natural abilities. Looking back, it felt like instinct.

Indeed, at five, the young Buckley had picked up his grandmother's guitar and taught himself to play. In Southern California, he might have felt rootless and restless, but music already seemed to drive him on. Aged 13, Jeff even wrote his first song, "about a break-up with a girlfriend. It was awful."

Having graduated from high school, the teenage Buckley left home, studied at the Los Angeles Musicians' Institute and played in a few rock and reggae bands (including Shinehead). In 1990, he moved to New York and started hanging out on the Lower East Side, forming Gods and Monsters, a short- lived group. He also guested at a Tim Buckley tribute concert where he attracted the attention of the producer Hal Willner.

Buckley only found his forte two years later when he started to perform solo with his electric guitar at coffee houses such as the Fez, Bang On and the Sin-e Cafe, in Greenwich Village. By the time the "Live at Sin- e" EP came out in late 1993, Buckley had evolved an amazing style, blending jazz, folk, rock, classical music, unusual covers (an epic version of Van Morrison's "The Way Young Lovers Do") and French chanson (Edith Piaf's "Je N'en Connais Pas La Fin) to create a fluid hybrid in which both listener and performer could lose themselves. He soon signed to Columbia Records and, fittingly for an exponent of the neo-hippie tendency, set about recording his debut album proper at Bearsville studios, near Woodstock.

Buckley left nothing to chance. Since he'd only been playing with the bassist Mick Grondahl and drummer Matt Johnson for a month, he called upon guests such as the ex- Captain Beefheart guitarist Gary Lucas (who'd already helped him shape some of the compositions like "Mojo Fin") and the avant-garde composer Karl Berger who provided unusual, flowing string arrangements. Andy Wallace's production did the rest and, by the end of 1994, rock critics the world over were praising Grace to the heavens.

The soaring, yearning vocals drew comparisons with Robert Plant, Jim Morrison and, predictably, Buckley's father. The puzzling, wide-ranging choice of cover versions (Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah", Benjamin Britten's "Corpus Christi Carol", "Lilac Wine", a standard covered by everyone from Nina Simone to Elkie Brooks) was discussed in hushed tones. Having added guitarist Michael Tighe, Buckley toured like there was no tomorrow, appearing at Reading and Glastonbury festivals and winning fans wherever he went. His vulnerable stage presence made girls swoon and he became an unlikely sex-symbol of the alternative music scene.

In 1995, Rolling Stone magazine named him Best New Artist and "Last Goodbye" became an alternative hit on US college radio. Yet, though Grace sold very well in Britain and France, Buckley never really appealed to the MTV generation. This suited him fine as he was keen to explore new musical horizons.

However, following up Grace's early promise proved difficult and Buckley marked time with various limited- edition releases ("Peyote Radio Theatre", among others). Last year, he guested with Jazz Passengers and appeared on Patti Smith's comeback album Gone Again. More recently, he paid tribute to the beat poet Jack Kerouac on Kicks Joy Darkness, a collection of readings which also features REM's Michael Stipe, the Clash's Joe Strummer, the actors Matt Dillon and Johnny Depp and the writer William Burroughs. Last December, internet fans could read a worrying message Buckley had posted on his website. It read: "I'm in the middle of some wild shit now. Please be patient."

Earlier this year, Buckley finally set about recording new songs in Memphis with former Television guitarist Tom Verlaine. But the resulting sessions had left Buckley somewhat frustrated and, having scrapped those and sent his backing musicians home, he was trying new material on his own while considering using the producer Andy Wallace again. There was already talk of a European tour to coincide with the album release in the autumn and Buckley obviously felt under pressure.

On 29 May, Buckley and a friend, Keith Foti, went to downtown Memphis and hung out at the Mud Island Marina with an acoustic guitar and a ghettoblaster. Having played some songs, Buckley decided to go for a swim in the Mississippi. His friend tried to stop him but Buckley jumped in fully clothed and still singing. As a boat passed by and created a large wave, Foti moved the ghettoblaster out of range of the water. When he turned round, Buckley had disappeared from view, probably caught by the undertow in the treacherous river.

Listening to Buckley's recordings again ("Eternal Life", dedicated to a long-lost lover, "Dream Brother", written about the father he didn't know), the sense of foreboding present in the lyrics proves overwhelming, never more so than in "So Real" during which the singer wails, "the nightmare. It sucked me in and pulled me under".

Jeff Buckley was fond of describing his wonderful songs as "dreamlike, coming from your subconscious. You have to let yourself go and it can scar you or destroy you. It's a bit like dying."

Jeffrey Scott Buckley, singer, songwriter, guitarist, organist: born Orange County, California 17 November 1966; died Memphis, Tennessee 29 May 1997.

[freedom-shamrock]

The Ladybug Special

Also over on AO3 Part 2   Part 3   Part 4

Inspired by @lnc2's Tumblr post

Thanks also go to @whatarubberchicken because I was stuck on a title!

Adrien walked swiftly toward Esplanade des Invalides.  It was warm and sunny, a beautiful day. And for the first time in what felt like months, possibly because it might have actually been months, he was finally able to meet up with his friends outside of school for something other than a project.  He'd missed so many of their planned get-togethers, including a few that he'd set up, thanks to his father's capriciousness and a million and one photoshoots.

But not today.

He took a deep breath, allowing the energy and scents of the city fill him. Nearly four blocks away from the river, he could still smell it. He'd found his senses heightened as Chat Noir, of course, but apparently long-term use of the miraculous had impacted him out of the suit as well.  He was glad it had been a gradual change, so he could adapt as it grew. Things that would have once been repulsive had gained layers of texture and interest. He still found stinky cheeses unpleasant, though.

He paused at a stoplight and pulled out his phone while he waited to cross.  Sending a quick text to Nino, he let his best friend know he was only a couple blocks away.  They were meeting up at André's cart, and because the glacier moved around so much, they'd planned to decide the rest of their afternoon from wherever that happened to be.  

Turning the corner, André's iconic cart came into view on the curved sidewalk bordering the bleuet de France roundabout. Nino and Alya were already there, holding hands, their heads tipped toward each other as they waited.  Marinette was nowhere to be seen, but that was hardly unusual. While she'd gotten better about getting to school on time in the last year, she still had a tendency to go missing during akuma attacks. If she wasn't actively helping evacuate their class, she was nowhere to be found. Alya mentioned that she suspected their friend had an anxiety disorder; until she wanted to share it, they would just support her as best they could.

Adrien broke into a jog, eager to get to his friends.  "Hey Nino, Alya. What a perfect day."

Alya laughed. "Look, the sunshine came out," she said, gesturing to his face. "I'd almost forgotten what it looked like."

"Pfft," Nino snorted. "It's nice to see you so happy, dude.  I think I finally understand what radiant truly means, looking at you in the sunshine, away from photographers and fans."

Adrien rolled his eyes.  "You two are ridiculous. Where's Marinette?  She never picks on me."

Alya coughed, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, "She wants to pick you up."  But that didn't seem right.

"Alas, my dude," Nino said with mock sadness and a slow shake of the head. "Your staunch protector is stuck at home, running the bakery counter while her parents prepare a huge order for some shindig at the Grand Palais.  I guess it came in late, but with a bonus Tom and Sabine couldn't turn down."

"Awww."  Adrien felt his joy droop a bit.  He'd really hoped to hang out with all three of them, not just because he'd heard Marinette's tales of woe at being a third wheel with the other two.  But he was determined to not let this setback bring him down. "Well, maybe we'll have to swing by the bakery later, see if she's up for a movie or something."

Alya grinned, looking positively predatory.  "Yes. Let's definitely do that." She looked over at André's  cart, where the line had dwindled to the last couple. "But until then, how about we get our ice cream."

"Yes!" Adrien agreed.  "I love this stuff. André's the best."

Adrien stood behind his friends as they ordered.  The André experience was half food service, half performance art, and he loved it.  There was something sweet and, dare he say, magical about it. As his friends stepped to the side, beaming at each other over their matched couple ice creams, he met the man's eyes.

"Ah!  Adrien, so good to see you."  André held his outstretched hands to his sides.  "Still coming to see me without your sweetheart, I see.  Perhaps this one will draw her out, yes?"

Trying not to blush, Adrien shrugged.  "I can hope."

Making a show out of waving his ice cream scoop about, before digging in and assembling Adrien's treat with a pronouncement that sounded suspiciously like a spell. "Strawberry with black chocolate chip! Blackberries for her hair, and blueberry ice-cream just like her sky blue stare!"

"Purrfect as always," Adrien said, thinking of his Lady as he reached for the treat.  "How do you always know?"

"Ah, ah, ah."  André grinned and wagged a finger at him.  "Trade secrets. Not to be shared."

Adrien understood all about keeping secrets, and honestly, given his work with the miraculous and Master Fu over the last two years, he was inclined to believe in magic.  "Have a great day, André." He walked over to where his friends waited.

"What did you get?" Alya asked, eyeing up Adrien's ice cream.

"My usual."  Adrien held it out for them to see before he scooped up a bit with the tiny spoon.  He closed his eyes and savored the first taste.

Nino took a step closer, going so far as to catch Adrien's wrist and hold it steady as he stared at it.   "Dude," he said gently.

"Yes?"  He felt unaccountably nervous all of a sudden.

"Dude."  The word was elongated and a sly grin spread over his face.  "Marinette, eh?"

Adrien glanced around, wondering if she'd been able to show after all. "Marinette?" he asked, uncertainly.  Alya's eyes had gone much wider than usual, and she'd slapped a hand over her mouth. He realized his friends were staring at his ice cream.  What did Marinette have to do with his ice cream. "Oh! You think my ice cream is Marinette themed," he said, understanding. "I guess I can see that, but no, it's…"  He froze. In the middle of preparing to reveal what they would see as an embarrassing fanboy crush, realization hit him like last week's akuma.

Blackberries for her midnight hair, worn in twin tails since they'd met.  Blueberries for her piercing blue eyes. Eyes he'd seen in the face of two amazing girls… one.  He corrected himself. Just one girl had those amazing eyes, even if she had two forms. The strawberry chocolate chip wasn't just her super suit.  It symbolized that she had the heart of a hero, that she was truly Ladybug, whether she was transformed or not.

He stared at his friends in shock.  "Oh my god," he whispered. "It is

@lnc2 - thanks for letting me play with this.  I hope it fills your need for an ice cream reveal.

[bethhxrmon]

All the ones that would be even 💖 Love youuu!

Love you too, mom!!!! 😘

lavender; soundcloud or vinyls? Ummmm neither, I kinda just use spotify and youtube whoops!

lunar mist; do you like wearing other people’s shirts/jackets? Heck fricking yes!!!! I love it!

gardenia; what’s a promise you’ve recently made to yourself? Ooof idk that I’m not gonna beat myself up for getting a B in AP Stats.

whirling butterflies; would you kiss the last person you kissed again? It genuinely depends, most likely not tho. I’d probably slap him first for being a douchecanoe.

apricot drift; how do you feel right now? Pretty alright, still sick but not too terrible!

queen’s cup; what are you craving right now? Fruit. Just, give me all the fruit please and thanks.

water lilly; when was the last time you cried? why? Literally today bc I was listening to the Legally Blonde soundtrack and one of the songs got me too hard today.

winterberry; do you bite or lick your ice cream? Normally I just lick, but if I’m in a rush, you gotta do what you gotta do even if it hurts the teeth.

desert rose; do you like yourself? For the most part, yeah!

night owl; how many countries have you visited? Only the US, but I’ll get to go to France, the UK, and Spain soon so there’s that!

creams and sky; what’s the craziest/bravest thing you’ve done? Idk, there was this one time last year when it was the last orchestra concert of the year. And I was playing while people were coming in. And I deadass played the Mii Channel music for a whole ten minutes. That was pretty wild for me.

pumpkin patch; what’s your zodiac sign? Scorpio!

daphne; do you believe in karma? Hmmm I think so.

wisteria; whom do you admire and why? If we’re talking people I know, then definitely my orchestra teacher bc she just does so much and works so hard. She deserves the freaking world.

remember me; did you make someone laugh today? I don’t think so, depends on if my chronic dumbassery entertained my friends today.

lilac; if you could go back in time which time period would you visit? I think it’d be fun to hang out in the 20s. Not for too long bc human rights, but I’d love to check it out.

primula; what makes you sad? Climate change lmao

queen anne’s lace; who do you trust the most? Almost definitely my all time best friend @gaypanda 

forget me not; do you have any regrets looking back in your life? Not really, I’ve just been doing what I can.

violet; favorite tv show? I really love The Good Place

snowdrop; what does your ideal day look like? Waking up without an alarm, getting to be around people I enjoy, having coffee or tea with them, and just chilling.

peony; share a small random book passage that means something to you. I can’t find it verbatim, but that part in War and Peace when Sonya is hated on even though she’s done nothing wrong means a lot. Mostly because it pisses me off. Tolstoy is truly a little bitch.

honeysuckle; do you usually date people your age or older/younger? Usually older bc I’m the youngest in my grade.

love in the mist; best books you’ve ever read? In no particular order: Phantom of the Opera, The Body Project, The Color Purple, the entire Harry Potter series, and Turtles All the Way Down

magnolia; coffee or tea? Why not both???

snowflake; are you a dog or a cat person? Cats. I just really love them, dogs are okay tho.

cosmos; do you ever think about the galaxy? All the time!

freesia; do you have a good relationship with your parents and siblings? why/why not? My parents, yeah, I don’t have any siblings.

poppy; have you ever dealt with a mental illness? Hell yeah boi, got that good ol’ depression and anxiety that my parents don’t think I have oof.

dandelion; do you consider yourself and extrovert or an introvert? I think I’m both

anemone; describe yourself in 3 words. I am baby ( @spellboundcities will understand)

angelonia; what is your eye and hair color? Green eyes and blonde hair

buttercup; if you could change one thing in the world, what would it be? The establishment, fam. Gotta stop that poverty and that climate change.

calendula; biggest pet peeve? When people say they “don’t believe” in something that literally exists?????? Like, how dumb can ya get tbh

blazing star; share a secret. Idk if this counts, but I totally threw my stand partner under the bus so I could be stand partners with one of my close friends bc he can actually play.

petunia; who’s story is your biggest inspiration in life? why? Right now, probably Elle Woods’, I know she’s fictional but she’s freaking great and it’s an inspiration when I gotta go to college all by myself and stuff.

nymphea; forest or river? Forest

pansy; do you like poetry? Yeah, it’s cool!

[cromulentbookreview]

Quoth the Raven

Hee.

Uh, and by that I mean: The Ravens Tale by Cat Winters! ‘

Can you imagine how awful it’d be if your creative muse took the form of an actual human who followed you around, that other people could see? If that were the case, two of my muses would probably take the forms of Malcolm Tucker and Kimmy Schmidt. They’d be constantly fighting one another while the third muse, Mr. Spock, stands by with a raised eyebrow, just saying “fascinating” over and over again.

The others, of course, would be a badass gospel choir singing about Hercules.

I promise my ramblings about personified muses will become relevant at some point.

I’m a bit of a Poe freak. A Poevian? Poe-head? Do Poe fans have a fan cult nickname? (I’ll have to ask the Poe museum...). Anyway, Poe was, and is, my favorite American writer. Nathaniel Hawthorne, Henry David Thoreau and Herman Melville can eat dicks, because Poe is the best. Though I do like some of Hawthorne’s stuff. Melville was OK, too. Thoreau can go eat dicks and pay his fucking taxes.

Goddamn Frogpondians...

(The Gif above is an accurate representation of how Poe treated the transcendentalists in his criticisms. Also a reason why you should watch Altered Carbon. Season 2 better have more Poe, damn it!)

Anyway, I’d always had a love for Poe and his works ever since I was very young, the reason being the first ever Treehouse of Horror. I was just a wee little beeb when that episode premiered, but I was raised on The Simpsons and on Simpsons reruns. Their 1990 adaptation of The Raven, narrated by none other than the amazing James Earl Jones (!!!!), stuck with me throughout my childhood. In fact, I’ve got the whole of The Raven memorized probably because I’ve seen that Treehouse of Horror so many times. Also I read The Raven a bunch, too.

Also, I, too, hated the transcendentalists. Transcendentalism = the worst.

Plus, there’s just something so very relatable to me about the author who writes things that people enjoy but is unfairly maligned by the literary establishment and who has vicious, untrue rumors spread about him that people actually believed. I mean, that never happened to me or anything…

Anyway - for some reason, people still believe a lot of the bullshit spread about Poe both during his lifetime and after his death. (Word of advice, don’t let your bitter enemy be your literary executor). Poe was not an opium addict or a drug addict of any kind, or a crazy-ass drunk. Though he did drink a bit. He did marry his 13-year-old first cousin when he was 26, but no one knows the exact details of the nature of that relationship. He was kind of a dick, though, that much is definitely true. I mean, once you’ve read one, or two, or eight different Poe biographies, you start to figure that yeah, he could be a bit of an asshole. I can be a bit of an asshole, too, so I figure when I die, Poe and I can hang out and be assholes together. Also, lob insults at Thoreau.

Basically, fuck yeah Edgar Allan Poe. God, I spent so many hours of my college life picking The Masque of the Red Death apart instead of, you know, having friends. Or a life. Also, Poe invented the whole detective genre. Seriously, we wouldn’t have Sherlock Holmes and all the great detectives who came after without the stories of Auguste Dupin.

Just don’t mention the orangutan.

Anyway! The Raven’s Tale!

Since he’s such a huge figure in American literature, there’s plenty of fiction about Poe. But pretty much all fictional portrayals of Poe depict him as an adult. There’s virtually nothing about his youth - and Poe’s youth was absolutely fascinating. His parents were actors: his father ran off, then his mom died, leaving Edgar, his older brother Henry and younger sister Rosalie, orphans. The three were split up: Henry went to his grandparents, Rosalie was taken in by the Mackenzie family, while Edgar went to live with the wealthy Allan family of Richmond, Virginia. The Allans never formally adopted him, but he got their name anyway. The Allans took Edgar along with them to England, where he went to boarding school for a while before they went back to Richmond. Poe was very much a poor kid among the superrich - there was no forgetting that he wasn’t an Allan, but the child of, euch, actors. In the 19th century, you have to spit the word “actor.” Everybody loved seeing plays, but actors were massive slutwhores not worthy of being around decent people. In his youth, Poe was quite the athlete (he swam six miles in the James River without stopping once. I, meanwhile, don’t believe in swimming, because if humans were meant to swim, we would have been born with gills and an ability to breathe water). In October of 1824, Poe even got to meet the Marquis de Lafayette during Lafayette’s Grand Tour of the US.  Also, he hated John Allan, who was the worst.

All of that is primo YA Fic material. So how come nobody's used it? I’ve read plenty of not-so-great novels about Poe as an adult, where’s the fun YA origin story? So, needless to say, I was so very, very, very pumped when I learned of the existence of The Raven’s Tale. A novel about young Poe? By a fellow Oregonian? Oh hell yes.

Cat Winters seriously did her research, and as a future librarian/someone with a MLIS, I 1000% appreciate anyone who does their research. In the world of The Raven’s Tale, an artist’s muse can take a visible form (I promised it’d be relevant, didn’t I?!), but Poe’s muse, when she appears, isn’t exactly normal: she’s dressed in mourning, looks like a victim of the 1811 Richmond Theater Fire and wears a necklace made of teeth. Not the best muse for a kid who is just trying to survive one last week under his awful foster father’s roof before he can escape to the University of Virginia. John Allan, who is seriously the worst, has demanded that Poe suppress his urge to write poetry, because art = bad, money = good. If Allan catches Edgar writing, Allan will yank him out of the University of Virginia and force him to work for the family tobacco company. As much as Poe hates John Allan, he loves his foster mother, Frances, currently super sick and frail. Frances just wants Edgar and John Allan to get along, so, as you can imagine, the teenage Poe is currently stuck between forcing himself to be civil to his shitty foster father for his foster mom’s sake, and his desire to write. So when Poe’s macabre muse - who he, of course, names Lenore - appears in his room in human form and demands that Poe let people see her, he has to choose - embrace his muse and sacrifice his future, or abandon his muse and obey John Allan.

I was so hyped by the mere thought of The Raven’s Tale that I was afraid I’d end up in one of those situations where your expectations for something were so high that, no matter how good the final product is, you’re still disappointed. Yeah, that didn’t happen here. With her eerie, surreal writing style combined with meticulous research, Winters has created a story that is both a captivating Gothic tale and a fantastic tribute to a great American author. Winters perfectly captured Poe’s teenage angst and anxiety in a way that felt both accurate and real. Anyone who has ever been a poor kid among the rich, or who has ever struggled to pay for college will find Poe’s struggles at the University of Virginia all too real. His struggles with his school fees in 1826 will make anyone in 2018 who has gone to college cringe.

To make a very, very long story short: The Raven’s Tale was everything the Poe nerd in me wanted. I cannot wait for this book to come out - hopefully it will inspire more people, especially young people, to study Poe.  

Hopefully today’s young people won’t have to threaten to complain to the department head to get their American Lit professor to include Poe in the curriculum the way I did. It worked and I have no regrets.  

Thank you, and bravo, Ms. Winters, fellow Oregonian and Poe Nerd (Poevian? Poe-head? The Poe museum never responded to my tweet). This book made the lit geek in me very, very happy.

RECOMMENDED FOR: Anyone who has ever enjoyed anything by Edgar Allan Poe

NOT RECOMMENDED FOR: Frogpondians

RATING: 5/5

TOTALLY UNBIASED POE FANGIRL RATING: 5,000,000,000,000,000/5

RAVEN RATING 

SOMEONE ON THE SIMPSONS STAFF IS A POE FAN:

[ekel-a]

What is 'Enough'

When It was time for me to go to high school,  My parents spent an awful lot of time looking for good schools for me …we drove from Arusha to Moshi, Kibaha to Morogoro, Tanga to Bagamoyo. I did an awful lot of interviews. But I never got into any one of those ‘good gifted schools’ In my parents eyes I was smart and they, like every other African Parent, wanted their child in one of those ‘special’ schools one of those schools where kids speak in mathematics and dream in psychics.The schools my parents went to,  They, unlike me, refused to admit that I was average and ordinary. Oh Mom and Dad. We went from school to school…but the answer was always the same, she’s not tall enough, she’s too young, she’s not quick enough, she’s not fast enough, she’s not smart enough, she does not know enough mathematics, she doesn’t know enough Kiswahili, she’s just not enough! She’s not good enough for commerce, she’s not good enough for science, I heard it over and over…and those words can break you as a child, because…what was ‘enough’ Of course they never said it to my face, they would say it in whispers in the school corridors as they walked my parents around. And I was too curious to sit around and wait so I would follow them, and I would hear over and over those words ‘not enough’. And I always wondered ‘What is enough?’  I honestly don’t like special schools, they made the rest of us feel like we were some sort of idiots.. my life goal was to make special schools for average kids, like us. Kids who who got 3 in the first try when they did 1 + 1, yes we’re special too. And no not 'crazy' kinda special (Geeees relax a lil bit) I remember I went to a certain school in Arusha and did an interview, I was with my Mother only this time. And I thought I did pretty well, I did science subjects and the headmaster, pretty nice tall slim guy. He offered me juice after the interview and talked to me a little, unlike all the other schools I was  interviewed in. I really thought I was in, the kids there were lovely and I loved it, in fact I had already made friends and picked a dorm room, chose a spot to hang out and made peace with the school cooks. yes I was fast like that…all that in 3 hours only, if they gave me 2 more days I swear I would’ve been president…, you betcha I know how to mingle. Until well, I overheard the conversation he had with my mother ‘She cant get in, she’s way too behind in her syllabus she wont be able catch up’  Its like heaven was falling over me.I could see the devastation on my mothers face, the look in her eyes, her face dropped, I could see she was tired and it just broke me, I was tired of seeing her tired. So when he came to me to tell me how smart I was but there was no space I walked upto to him as he was leaving and pulled his coat. Pupils dilated you could almost pull a tear from my left eye. The words were sour in my chest and I felt a little pain in my chest as I uttered them…‘ I’ll catch up, I will work really hard, I will show you, I learn fast if you can teach me, please let me in, I promise you I will pass well, you will see I promise’ I remember saying words close to those, practically begging him.  My  heart was beating so fast vultures could hear it from ten miles away. This was my only shot. This man, in my eyes, held my destiny, I felt like I was letting my parents down one more time and I wanted to fix it.The smile on his face was gone and he was more serious now, He bent on one knee ( I was very short) to reach to my height and said right to my face, and I remember the sentence word by word….because they played in my head all through high school, all through university.‘ I cannot teach you what you don’t already Know’I stood there, I might have been young but I was not totally blank, what a way to tell a child that she was an idiot, I wasn’t gonna let him get away with it… ‘But I know more about Biology, Mathematics, Physics than I did in the test, I know more I can learn more’He said the last words  in a whisper almost had me in tears ‘ My Child, You don’t know enough’Those words rang in my head throughout my whole childhood. Before every exam I ever did throughout my whole life, and I promised myself I will never use that word on a child, and If you’re a parent, please do not.I stood there my eyes glared as my mother walked in, never lost her composure, bless her heart, smiled and talked a little with the headmaster and we left, off to board a bus  and walk on home. I could tell she was sad, But she never uttered a word of it, ever. We stayed for a while before she announced we had to do another interview, I was devastated, Do I really need to go to those special schools, I always asked them, Cant I just go to an ordinary school, But they would always remind me that those schools had better teachers and better classes and better education. Better education. So  weeks before I went to interview at this new school, I studied every book there was and did all past papers this country ever had, I wanted to know enough and because It was catholic school I read the bible too, page to page From the apple in garden of Eden to how we will burn in a certain river for our sins ..., you never know what enough meant down there. As soon as I arrived I was received by a nun who was the headmistress at the school, she was kind and patient with me she showed me the waiting room as she talked to my mother, and to my surprise, there was no interview test, there was no entrance exam. They just examine your old school’s results and you’re in, and my old school results were okay so I got in.I had so many questions for the headmistress.‘Aren’t you scared of children who don’t know enough messing up your perfect pass rate?’ I asked her as she held my hand to show me to the gate.  She looked at me almost in disbelief that this question was coming from a child‘What you know is an outcome of how much you’re willing to know’ The woman never spoke much. She said goodbye and I waved. I was just happy I finally got a school.When I finally went to that school, it wasn’t fancy, but the plus side was they had so much books and I was so glad, I read every single book there was, from history of roman empires to engineering books that were way beyond me. I read readers digests from 1930s and magazines from the 60s, all for my need to know ‘enough’. But that my friends is a quick history in my thirst and search for the feeling of ‘enough’… I kept reading, indulging obsessing over everything and anything but never quite got the hang of the real meaning of knowing enough.Fast forward my first year in college, I was sitting around with my 5 10 page assignments gazing outside into the trees daydreaming of getting married to a rich man with a house in 10 countries  with  butlers and maids delivering my breakfast from our other house in France because I like ‘french toast’ (don’t judge  me like that, every girl has had this dream at some point of difficulty in her life, every girl!) The professor said something that woke me, in Economics, She said a quote from Thomas Sowell she said  "The first lesson of economics is scarcity: there is never enough of anything to fully satisfy all those who want it" But  What is enough?  Enough for who? Last week I went to a graduation ceremony and met some wonderful children. They were pre form kids,.  they acted out a beautiful play and kept making errors in the dialogue I could tell their teacher was furious but the kids were so jolly …and  it was so hard not to laugh at their errors they were laughing tooo..we all laughed, and one of the kids was so nervous she ran outside and  hid. I asked their headmaster what criteria they use to advance them to Form 1 and he said none. We teach them all they need to know and advance them when we see they have passed well.‘What happens if they don’t pass,?’‘They keep studying until they do, eventually they do, we are patient’I nodded. Glad they never got turned down. There was no pressure, to be Enough. I met that ol headmaster last month he was older, white hair not young and built like the last time I saw him, we were undergoing training for a project we were doing and he was one of the trainers, he didn’t remember me, not that I expected him to, I Imagine he must have met at least a million children or more in his lifetime. In my heart I had hoped he would remember and see  how I had progressed and see who I grew into and became, but something told me it would not make a difference. So I just passed him by like I didn’t know him. When it was time for one on One  training he came to me and went through my work and was rather pleased. He called all the other trainers  and it became a long pleasant conversation, from history to science to community to economics to everything you could think of and I could not stop myself from talking on and on…my mind was saying stop but every thing the old man would say I would jump in with a word or two. It was a very bad habit, and I was ashamed later on. And as I was leaving he said in a whisper, almost in the same voice I had heard years ago. ‘ My child, you know a little too much for your age, where did you go to school? Did you study abroad?’‘In a little catholic school In some village you probably never heard of’‘You should’ve gone to our school’ he said as he looked around to his fellows ‘ we schooled professors, engineers, businessmen, in our time, perfect grades’‘ I would’ve, but back then I didn’t know enough….but thank you,’  I said, yes I was bitter and it was petty. It was 10 years ago maybe 12 and bringing it up wouldn’t make any difference but just a smirk of satisfaction as he looked somewhat puzzled. He probably never knew what I meant and will never understand what I meant, But it was better that way. So I kept it that way. Am I angry, That I got turned down so many times. Bloody yeah!! But I'm also happy because we have to realize we dont always need what we think we need to excel...we only need ourselves and our hunger to learn. We are enough for ourselves.

[n0resistance]

Rome

    What was interesting with where we were in Rome was that a lot of locals spoke English. Most cities are like this. We had a Counselor that said all major cities usually speak English,  and the authentic places are in the villages. She was right. I tried to speak Italian after all my lessons to our waiter, and he felt uncomfortable that I wasn't very fluent and asked me to speak English! They also get offended when you ask for extra salt, or ketchup, anything that changes the dish. They think you're insulting their food.     

    The food is amazing. Veal, rabbit, pasta, melon con prosciutto, and bruschetta. The wine is excellent. Anything sweet is excellent. I found my favorite wine was from Piedmonti called Gavi di Gavi. Which is in the North. My favorite restaurant in Campo De Fiori  is a chain! This wine and cheese bar called Obica. Which is in New York and LA. Our apartment was walking distance from the Colosseum. It was far from school. I always had to take the bus. Which was honesty policy when it came to payment. So people didn't really pay. When the cops came to check we would just jump off. That's why there were transportation strikes in Rome all the time. The honesty policy system did not work.     

    It took me forever to get to know my area where my apartment was because I always stayed with my friend who lived near Piazza Navona. Which had this amazing fountain of the four major rivers and their Gods. A Brazilian consulate, the best gelato, and our school. My friend and I would go running. One time, since we don't really have phones, and you have to pay per call, we ran to each other's houses without knowing it. I got lost and I finally got to her house and her roommate said she was running to see me. 

    We connected with people through facebook and if we set a time we would meet there. If we weren't there we would wait. It was awesome not having a phone. I had my camera, my journal, and some food vouchers. Our program was awesome because rent was paid for as well as food vouchers to restaurants and the only thing I had to worry about was travel. My dad sent me $150 a week from what I saved over the summer, and that's how I lived. 

     In Rome, I felt like I didn't really have any money, and I felt like I had too much free time. So I had journals and photos and eventually started taking videos. I set intentions. I wanted a tattoo of my mother's signature. It was a card she gave to my father "Happy 3 month anniversary" in 1985. Finding that was really special to me and I brought it with me to Italy to get the tattoo. I wanted to learn Italian, speak to people. Make friends. I decided to do a video project. For Italy, and film everything I was experiencing. 

    I focused and did really well in school. Watch Italian films and got a real Italian education, or as close as you can going to an American school in Rome. My last intention was to see all that Italy has to offer. People in my program went all over Europe. Spain, Morocco, France, and Croatia. I couldn't afford trips like that, so I backpacked every weekend with my friend from New York and my other friend from LA, and went to the beaches or villages and saw Italy.     

     My classes included Italian, Philosophy, Art History, and my favorite History of Italian Cinema. Art History was amazing because every class was at the actual site. It was included in the program so we learned about Michel Angelo and then went to the Vatican to see the Sistine Chapel. Dates were the hardest to remember. We also saw this amazing Duomo  and the art  in Orvietto. We learned about Luca Signorelli and his painting called The Last Judgement. When hell comes on earth and takes everyone who was a sinner. Basically the end of the world. It's graphic and disturbing. I carved my initials with a permanent marker at the bottom of one of the paintings. Orvietto was my favorite because it was a place I could speak to people in Italian, since people didn't know English.     

    One time we brought our friends' parents and we were famished for lunch during Siesta. All the restaurants were closed but this little old lady went inside and cooked us a meal from scratch. I had pasta fagioli, which is my absolute favorite. My friend’s parents asked for ice for their white wine, which is uncommon in Italy. She had to make it from scratch and by the time it was ready, we finished all the wine. 

    We had amazing day trips. Our trip to Napoli we saw Pompeii, Mt Vesuvius, and the Island of Capri. They make the best limoncello in Capri. You see all the people who were preserved from the volcano eruption in Pompeii. As well as the brothels there. We did a day trip on our own when everyone went to Oktober fest to Sperlonga. We rented a pedal boat with a slide. Went swimming topless. Had a freak out because we realized we left our passports and all our money at the beach and nobody was watching it. We had fresh fish. Felt like we got robbed because they didn't tell us how much the fish was until we left.     

    For our film class we had a field trip to CInecitta studios. We saw the original set for Gangs of New York. The set for this one film called Roman Empire. I loved that class. I learned a lot about fascism, neorealism, and realism, and discovered my favorite director Fellini, as well as actress Sophia Loren. Who was the first sex icon in Italy and was one of the first to make it to Hollywood. Italians impress me with the food, culture, and art.  Living there made me want to become a filmmaker. 

    My Italy video project consumed me. I would film and edit it everyday after school. I was obsessed. I wanted to include everything. My friend was so supportive of that. I was upset about this new realization because I already spent 3 years studying business, hotel management, and had this epiphany that I should be an artist. I knew I had to go home and finish my degree. I knew I needed to make money. I knew I wanted to be an artist and express myself through storytelling because most of our entertainment during dinner was my crazy stories from college or my suburban town in New Jersey. 

  So I used Italy as my outlet, I never knew when I was going to come back, or have an opportunity to not work, and be this inspired. That I just ran with it with my camera and my journal. I filmed everything. Car rides, night life, the beach, cinecitta studios,  Pompeii, and all of Rome. It was my first movie. I got terribly homesick and my friends missed me too. I especially missed my dog. He ate brownie batter and had to get his stomach pumped which was $500.00. I felt like I missed out a lot of the sorority events, I just joined. I wrote out a speech to be pledge mom and sent the video to them in a beautiful place in Rome. It was so loud because in the middle of my speech an ambulance came. My sister came to Rome. I got to show her the new life I was living and my apartment. We had aperitivo and wine. It was special to show her.    

     I became close with my roommate, and got close with the barista Luca who made my coffee every morning. I got into cappuccinos because I had to go to the coffee shop to get wifi. I would write all day. He was a ballerina. I also made friends with one of our professors. He would come out with my friend and I, he was always talking philosophy. A friend of mine from Pace was studying in Barcelona and came to Rome. We went to the Jewish area where the holocaust happened. It was pretty sad. Any piece of home was nice. We went to a soccer game and soccer is like religion in Italy. My favorite player was Totti, they call him Il Capitano. We were the only people that drank at the soccer stadium. Everything is closed for soccer. People are very focused and into the game. I got a jersey I wore all the time.

    My favorite area was Trastevere. They call it the Brooklyn of Italy. Not too busy, a lot of creatives, I even prefer the bars and food there. There was a University in New York stationed there called St. John's. When you cross the Tiber River, you end up there. Also, my area was really awesome. I didn't realize it til the end of our study abroad. Since I spent most of my time near the center. I remember hearing Vampire Weekend for the first time at a bar there. I also remember all the live music, burlesque shows, and piazzas near me were amazing.      

    Our school was sweet. They even hosted a Thanksgiving for us and celebrated Halloween, so we wouldn't feel homesick. There's a lot of Irish pubs in Rome where American students hang out. Scholars, The Abbey, The Drunken ship was where you went to turn up. We even went on a pub crawl with wrist bands. You have to stay close to your friends the entire time. Rule#1 never get in a car with strangers.

       I learned a lot about myself in Italy. I found freedom, community, and a desire to be an artist there. I found independence. I learned to cook. A lot better than I've ever cooked before. A different part of my brain would work when I spoke Italian. I developed this big dream to be in an Italian movie. The movies I watched demonstrated the hardships Italy overcame. I spent time on myself and even though I loved New York I didn't have time to breathe. Italy will always be a second home to me. I thank that experience and that calling to go there because it made me who I am.