#it’s crazy to me how the band that did so much to open the cultural and musical worlds to people

[sweetpaintedladie]

i can’t explain why but this makes me ill

[weaversweek]

More from Lilith Fair

"Foolish games" - Jewel

Lilith Fair was organised by Sarah McLachlan, always featured Suzanne Vega, but Jewel was the star attraction.

America's most charted single of the year was a double A-side - charming song "You were meant for me" was turned for its sad flip "Foolish games". Jewel Kilcher had broken through with debut album Pieces of You, and was the biggest thing in American pop.

Lilith Fair wasn't without its criticism. Sarah Vowell, the acerbic cultural critic, made a very fair point.

Lilith Fair isn't a picture of solidarity so much as a picture of uniformity. McLachlan, the event's organizer, has chosen singer-songwriters in her own image: pretty, polite, folksy moderates with sensible hair and more melody than message.

Future editions were less white, less acoustic; future years would show rock and rap, and Latin and R&B.

"Naked eye" - Luscious Jackson

Jill, Gabby, Kate, and Vivian were on the fringes of fame over here: given quarter-hearted approval by the fashion police because they were American and influenced by hip-hop beats and were women. In the error of Britpop, that's at least four capital offences.

"Naked eye" is about being emotionally vulnerable, honest about what you're feeling. Always reminds me of a sunny day with my favourite person of the time, as banks of snow melt into puddles.

"Sleep to dream" - Fiona Apple

Twenty-seven years before Chappell Roan, Fiona Apple wore a suit of armour onto the New York subway. Photographer Joe McNally explains.

"Fiona had always been shot as a waif – tendrils of hair blowing (dressed in lingerie), out in some sort of lily field. She told me she wanted to chuck that scene and be a warrior woman in a suit of armor. I was like 'Cool, babe, works for me!' We did the whole Camelot thing in a daylight studio. A big deal with hair, makeup, styling, painted backdrop, falling rose petals, fake blood on the sword, catering, crew, managers, hangers-on. Everything. All the while her manager is heating up about how late it’s getting. I was like, 'You brought her late, okay?' Finally he explodes and says 'Gotta go now and the subway is the only way' (it was rush hour in New York and she had a gig in Jersey, 'Get on the subway in the armor?' And she said, 'Yeah, that sounds about right!' I shout for a camera, wide lens, hot shoe flash, green and magenta gels and a bunch of 100 speed 35 chrome. We bolt and slip her through the turnstiles–sword and all–unnoticed, Subway came right away and I started ripping film like crazy for 5 stops. On the train, New Yorkers, true to form avoided eye contact. The studio shot went away and the subway shot (flash on camera, 1/15 of a second at F4, a hand held mess of a photograph) ran as the lead. You never know."

from the book "The Moment it Clicks" by Joe McNally

Performance from Conan O'Brien's show.

Bonus interview

"Your new cuckoo" - The Cardigans

First Band on the Moon had yielded an unexpected hit when Lovefool was included on a film soundtrack. What are these Swedes doing in the top ten, do they think they're Ace of Base?

For their next hit, the group released something more typical of their sound, bouncy and energetic and with a nice minor key lilt. But they didn't really promote it, being on dates in Lilith Fair at the time, so only a minor hit.

Lilith Fair was well-documented at the time, but much of the history was recorded digitally. All those ones and zeroes have become halves, and the memories are in danger of being lost. Television coverage and interviews with the performers were made at the time.

Later, there have been oral histories from the fans and performers points of view.

"Closer to fine (live)" - Indigo Girls

We learn that Emily and Amy, the core of the Indigo Girls, were the glue to bind the tour together. Knock on dressing room doors, open windows, get to know their co-stars.

The energy came out on stage, with lots of the acts joining in for a mass singalong near the end of the night. Here, for instance, are Sarah McLachlan, Jewel, Meredith Brooks, and others.

[farcillesbian]

[ID: a photo of page 239 from Where Are Your Boys Tonight? The Oral History of Emo's Mainstream Explosion From 1999-2008 by Chris Payne.

[text continuing from previous page] always trying to grow the band. He had the big vision for growing the empire.

Adam Siska: Post-Napster the music business was scratching its head saying "How the fuck do we stay alive?" And then Pete Wentz showed up. The labels were like, "Wait a second, you already have thousands of fans? You're selling how much merch every night? And wait . . . you know like five other bands that are doing this, too?"

Adam Samiljan: Fall Out Boy opened the door to introducing fans to something different with Gym Class Heroes. I remember how exciting it was to take on an artist that, sonically, did not make sense right away.

Anthony Raneri: Emo-rap is fully a thing now . . . But at the time I was like, "Holy shit, Gym Class Heroes . . . it's emo and rap." I'd never seen anything like it.

Travie McCoy: Nick Scimeca reached out asking if Gym Class Heroes needed merch designs and we're like, "Hell yeah." And he played our shit for Pete and then Pete reached out like, "Yo, this shit is dope."

Nick Scimeca: I would hit up any band that sounded good to me and email them: "Hey, here are five shirts I've designed, if your band needs shirts, hit me up." That's how I met The Academy Is . . . and Gym Class Heroes. Once you were in Pete's inner circle, you were on a rocket ship.

Travie McCoy: It was crazy that Pete was reaching out to us. He's like, "Yo. we've got a show in Buffalo, come out." And we're like, "Fuck, that's an hour and a half away from us, we'll be there." So we went out and hung out with those guys in Buffalo. That was my first time seeing a crowd of kids singing every single fucking word to every song. I was like, "This is what I want." We're hanging out after the show and Pete goes, "Oh bro, I see you got tats." I was like, "Yeah, bro, Black people have tattoos too, heh, heh."

Mani Mostofi: When Pete was in the hardcore scene, there wasn't a clear place for a kid like him back then, for Black kids and mixed-race kids, and he was trying to carve out his own space. Fall Out Boy's gravitation towards hip-hop culture was partly because of that.

Andy Greenwald: There was no question that the dominant pop music in North America was rap. And these other emo bands had absolutely nothing to [text on this page ends]

/end ID]

hi can anyone hear me

[iwanthermidnightz]

Este, Danielle, and Alana Haim—better known collectively as the Grammy-nominated rock band Haim—brought their signature charm and wit to Glamour's 2022 Women of the Year ceremony in New York City, where they were honored for their contribution to music, pop culture, and sisterhood.

On Tuesday, November 1, actor and known Haim superfan Sophie Turner introduced the trio to a crowd that included other Women of the Year honorees like Jennifer Hudson and Angela Bassett.

“They will always make you feel welcome, loved, important, and in the presence of something truly special,” said Turner of Haim. “Their sisterhood extends beyond each other, outside of the Haim circle. And everyone who’s ever heard their music or had the privilege of meeting them, you do feel like an 'honorary Haim sister.’”

Haim thanked their honorary sister onstage as they accepted their 2022 Woman of the Year Award. Read Haim's speech in full below:

Este Haim: We are honestly thrilled to go from opener to honoree in just eight years! It's pretty crazy. We were honored to be here then and even more honored to be recognized this year among these other amazing incredible women. Jennifer Hudson, I love you.

We are fortunate to have our parents, Donna and Moti, here with us tonight. Our parents fostered an environment of respect and learning and taught us how to play music from a very, very early age.

They taught us to embrace the way music made us feel and encouraged us to express that through our performance. To quote the great Stevie Nicks: “Play the way you feel it.” I took that very seriously—so seriously that our fans that come to see us live know me for my “bass face.”

If you haven’t been to a Haim show, first of all, shame on you. But if you haven’t encountered my bass face, I can’t do it on the spot. But thankfully, I have a BAFTA and Golden Globe Award–nominated sister actress that will give an example of what it looks like when I perform. [Alana performs the “bass face.”] She's method. Thank you, Alana.

And that’s what I do—that’s how I express myself and I love it. Okay? But there are some people out there that don’t embrace it as much as I do, especially when we were first coming up as an all-female band.

During one of our first big interviews, I was asked by a male journalist if I make the same faces onstage that I make in bed. Yeah, let it sink in. As you can imagine, I was shocked and scared and couldn’t believe that something that I loved and did naturally was being distorted into something it wasn’t. I remember going back onstage the next night and all I could think about was that question that he asked me and how this man from a magazine was picking apart my face. But luckily, the joy of being a musician and a songwriter is that we can take our experiences and turn them into something beautiful. And for that we are so grateful.

And we did just that. We wrote our song “Man From the Magazine” on our last album. And in turn, every time we play it, it makes us feel stronger onstage.

So if we do anything in our careers, we hope to inspire anyone to pick up an instrument and write about their own experiences and to not let anyone deter them from expressing themselves in the way they want to express themselves.

Thank you again for this incredible honor. We will never forget this evening. And congratulations to our fellow honorees, incredible examples of female excellence. And lastly, please vote!

[mistressemmedi]

Måneskin: "Different from whom?"

Greetings from Miley Cyrus - phenomenal numbers.

The streams of Zitti e Buoni are growing by the second, and ahead of Muse, on the top of the English charts, twelfth in the Spotify Global Chart. We almost tripled followers after Rotterdam (from 1.4 to 3.3 million, ed). Contagious and universal madness: T-shirts and merchandise sold out in 10 minutes. Like records, tickets for a tour that adds dates and expands on maps. They are even looking for us in festivals where the Rolling Stones have played. - Thomas

After the whole cocaine scandal that was started against us from France, which was later denied by my drug test, in Spain there people have been making murals with my face saying "No drugs". Some tweets made us laugh: «Congratulations, Italy! I have never been so sure that four people have fucked each other ". Miley Cyrus started following us. "You are great". “You are more” . - Damiano

From rags to riches - what a story

It was only 2016, and we were playing in restaurants, on the streets, in via del Corso (famous street in Rome). Damiano without a microphone, Thomas's guitar with broken strings, Ethan drummed on a cajón. At the occupations of the high schools in Rome (Kennedy, Virgilio, Mamiani) we had our first gigs and half an hour of fame, between those who criticized us and those who said "these guys are so cool". One of the rare times in which they offered to pay us to play - 50 euros each - we offered that money to those after us, in exchange for the chance to play during their time slow, as we knew there would have been a bigger crowd. We already understood then how it worked. That visibility was worth more than the money. We still think so ». - Victoria

The intimacy of rock - Choice of a genre

Music allows is this miracle which allows one to talk about very personal and private topics, even difficult and delicate ones. They are and remain deeply yours, but at the same time they become a confession that reaches a wider audience, and in this passage which is like a delivery, they also find their place in you, their elaboration. They are overcome, they are accepted. One moment it feels aggressive, one moment later a (soft) ballad. It's very cathartic. - Damiano

Against panic - The stage as therapy

I have suffered a lot from anxiety and panic attacks, it is a problem that I have worked on thanks to a course of psychotherapy, to my friends and family. Playing has helped me not to let myself be paralyzed by my fears, not to be limited in my private and professional life. I have learned to accept, to live with this side of me. I don't hide it. I no longer feel ashamed. - Victoria

This belief that only crazy people go to the psychologist is widespread ignorance. Nobody is born learned. And it is often difficult to understand why we are here, let alone the derivation and direction of our desires. It is a long and legitimate journey towards one's clarity. - Damiano

Essere fuori di testa – Ma diversi da loro (Be out of your mind - But different from them)

Already feeling a strong passion for something that is not a 'regular' profession but an artistic language, it puts you on a level where you're an anomaly, and while you're neither superior nor inferior to others, it places you in the condition of what breaks the mold but you're also being at a loss, leaving it to you to be bold and to take risks, hoping that they will pay off and land you somewhere. "What good is it if you don't stand out on your own?". You want to give it an aesthetic to your artistic dream, but to others it boils down to " You dress differently! You must be gay! ”, I'm 22 now and it makes me laugh, but at 17 it had an effect on me too. - Damiano

The beauty of being unique - Of believing in that and defending it

After all, we are all different not because we want to be alternative but because really no one is the same. Justice is being judged on what you do and not what you are. Justice is equality, respect, beauty. - Ethan

Fluid sexuality - Pride is freedom

We appreciate heels on men, we kiss each other, we have an open, extended mind, and we are proud of it. The horizons become vast, beyond the oppression of conservative families. With information on the web, knowledge is enriched and with it the possibility that minorities will be fewer and fewer, because majorities will be fewer and fewer. This will lower the volume to insults and bullying. If social networks can reach a village of 50 souls to reveal to someone, who is afraid of the darkness, that someone has felt that same fear.. There is no longer the need to give it a name, to define that "something" to fear, to brand it with labels that only limit you. Definitions have always had this effect on me. Gender should not even be considered in a person's judgment. Let alone orientation ". - Victoria

Sexism - A culture to be dismantled

Emma (Italian singer) dropped the bomb:" When I went to Eurovision, they insulted me over a pair of shorts. Damiano - half naked and in heels - was never criticized ". The judgment against women is constant, ferocious, and demeaning (if I have a lot of sex I'm cool but Vic a whore, where I show myself strong I'm a leader she is domineering and pain in the ass, who is successful because only because of her looks [and not the hard work she puts in]). As a male I am privileged, the harassment I suffer is not comparable to that experienced by a woman, the comments on my aesthetics are focused only on my aesthetics and do not insinuate anything about my professionalism and my competence, while women are victims of this kind of thinking in a systemic way. But I did find myself in a situation, out of nowhere, with someone who, pulling close to her for a selfie, started licking my face ... "What do you want, did you ask me?" Consent exists, and it is a must ». - Damiano

To grow as a person - The only rule to follow

For me, to conform is the total opposite of educating oneself, and the asphyxiation of one's expression (of freedom). Fortunately, I did not suffer heavy bullying, to the point where I felt I needed to change to adapt to how others saw me. But the matrix of who I am and the aggression that marks me is the same. If I'm a kid who dances and loves dolls, then allow me the freedom to do so. I used to be a kid who wanted long hair and played with Barbies. My friends, as a teenager, looked my long hair and teased me: "You have to find yourself a girl with a short hair to make up for it". My grandparents took the dolls away from me and said: “Stop it, they're not for you” ». - Ethan

“I was six and I already could not tolerate the distinctions between masculine and feminine. I've always had strong ideas about how I wanted to be. I refused things typically defined as feminine as a child, and they made fun of me for skating, for playing soccer, for not wearing skirts, for giving myself the chance to be as I wanted to be. I suffered a little, as I was bullied, but I had courage to stay true to myself, and today thanks to that courage I know that I could have been much more hurt, or I would have risked leaving the most important decision to others: the one about being just me". - Victoria

Love - music and girlfriends

I've been married to music for the past 20 years. I cannot wait to celebrate our golden wedding anniversary. - Ethan

Everyone goes through their own experiences, sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad, but it's never other people's business." - Thomas

When, for the first time, I developed feelings and attraction for a girl it was a bit disorienting because I had never had the courage to go beyond the limitations I had imposed on myself. For society, being heterosexual is the norm and therefore often one automatically pegs himself in that way, giving up the freedom to experience many different shades and facets of love. Once I got over the initial insecurity of having to question one's own certainties, I lived my sexuality in a very natural and free way, as it should be for everyone. - Victoria

I had paparazzi under my house morning and night. So, after four years of relationship, I finally revealed her name. I still have the paparazzi under my house morning and night, but at least I don't have to hide anything anymore. - Damiano

The value of the group - Protecting each other

But the real relationship, the real family, is between us. Our band. We believed in it from the first day, even before calling ourselves Måneskin (moonlight in Danish), even before Ethan drew a giant moon, on the poster for our first concert. We share everything, even the pain of the tragedy of Seid Visin, who committed suicide at 20 because he was a victim of racism. Being a group is what we should all do together: stay united and not retreat in the slightest in the face of abuses generated by a distorted vision of someone "being different|. - Thomas

Non ho l’età – like Gigliola (It references Gigliola Cinquetti who won both Sanremo and Eurovision with her song "Non ho l’età" which translates to Not old enough)

Before us, the only one to win Sanremo and Eurovision together was Gigliola Cinquetti (in 1964). Is there is something for which I feel I am not yet old enough for? No, honestly no. Maybe for kids. I'll be honest, I'm not enough to be a dad. - Damiano

Reached the sky - What fears still remain

We are more than in the dream, we have conquered the dream. To fly high this high, there is the risk is to fall and get hurt, but we will try not to end up like Icarus, who burns his wings with the sun. Everything is in our hands. And this - somewhat presumptuously - reassures us rather than frighten us ". - Damiano

(ORIGINAL INTERVIEW IN ITALIAN)

[Please note that I have changed some words or structure sentence, trying to make it so that the interview made more sense lol - I skipped the first two paragraphs, which was basically the interviewer gushing over how pretty the band is lmao (relatable).

Any mistakes in the translation are sorely mine, nothing was proofread, so apologies in advance]

[piratewithvigor]

My first thought in regard to every band that gets played on my radio station

ACDC: Every dad’s favourite band

Adams, Bryan: Every mom’s favourite singer until Michael Buble came along

Aerosmith: haha they thought Vince Neil was a lady

Alice Cooper: he’s a Game Of Thrones fanboy and I have proof

Alice In Chains: my sister doesn’t like them because she decided AC were Alice Cooper’s initials ONLY

Allman Brothers Band: good music for dropping acid to

Allman, Gregg: That’s too many Gs for one name

Animals: House Of The Rising Sun, or who even cares

Argent: Sometimes Hold Your Head Up is really catchy

Asia: Tuesdays

Autograph: one of the members went on to be a pharmacist

Bachman-Turner Overdrive: There are just so many pop culture jokes about Taking Care Of Business that whatever I say won’t be as funny

Bad Company: with their song; Bad Company, off their album; Bad Company

Benatar, Pat: Always getting her confused with Patti Smith

Black Crowes: I like them for Lickin, but it doesn’t seem to exist outside of one shoddy video on youtube and my old CD

Blackfoot: this band name feels kind of racy

Black Sabbath: Dio was not better or worse than Ozzy; just different

Blondie: I like Call Me, but Blondie confuses me stylistically

Blue Oyster Cult: MORE COWBELL

Bon Jovi: Hello, childhood trauma, I missed you

Boston: ONE GUY. ONE GUY DID IT ALL AND NO ONE KNOWS

Bowie, David: Don’t let your children watch The Man Who Fell To Earth, or David Bowie’s will end up being the third penis they see in life

Browne, Jackson: Another musician ruined by Supernatural

Buffalo Springfield: Jack Nicholson was at the riot they sing about

Burdon, Eric: no ideas, brain empty

Bush: ditto

Candlebox: ditto once more. Who are these people?

Cars: This band feels so gay and so straight at the same time, I can only assume they’re the poster children of bisexual panic

Cheap Trick: I played Dream Police on Guitar Hero so fucking much because it was the only song anyone who played with me could keep up with

Chicago: Chicago 30 exists, but they do not have 30 albums. Fucking riddle me that

Clapton, Eric: 6 discs in one Greatest Hits is too many. That’s called “re releasing your discography”

Cochrane, Tom: For some reason, everyone thinks Rascal Flats did it better

Cocker, Joe: Belushi did it right

Collective Soul: who?

Collins, Phil: If his biggest hits were done by MCR, they would be emo anthems, but because he’s 5′6″ and from the 80s, they’re not

Cream: *Vietnam flashbacks on the hippie side*

CCR: *Vietnam flashbacks on the war side*

CSNY: David Crosby; meh

Deep Purple: THEY’RE SO MUCH MORE THAN SMOKE ON THE WATER

Def Leppard: the only music for when you’re a heartbroken bitch but also a sexy one

Derek And The Dominos: Clapton and ‘Layla’ broke up

Derringer, Rick: Tom Petty if he was from the midwest

Dio: You thought it was an anime reference, but it was me, Dio

Dire Straits: You can tell how bigoted a radio station is based on how much of Money For Nothing they censor

Doobie Brothers: I have yet to smoke weed, but I listen to the Doobies, and I think that’s pretty close

Dylan, Bob: I take back everything I said about him in my youth

Eagles: Hotel California isn’t their best song, but the memes that come from it are second to none

Edgar Winter Group: @the--blackdahlia

Electric Light Orchestra: Actually an orchestra and sound a fuckton like George Harrison

ELO: I really hesitate to ask what happens with the 7 virgins and a mule

Essex, David: no prominent memories of him

Fabulous Thunderbirds: cannot spell

Faces: Who on earth thought that was a good album name?

Faith No More: I got nothing

Fixx: One Thing Leads To Another is a damn bop

Fleetwood Mac: I ain’t straight, but I’m simply not enough of a witch to enjoy them to full potential

Fogerty, John: He got sued cause he sounded like himself

Foghat: Slow Ride slowly becoming less coherent feels like a drug trip

Foo Fighters: He was just excited to buy a grill

Ford, Lita: deserved better

Foreigner: dramatically overplayed

Frampton, Peter: a masterful user of the talk box

Free: dramatically underplayed

Gabriel, Peter: leaving Genesis changed him a lot

Genesis: if someone likes Genesis, clarify the era, because yes, it does matter

Georgia Satellites: sing like you have a cactus in your ass

Golden Earring: Twilight Zone slaps, but it doesn’t slap as hard as this station thinks it does

Grand Funk Railroad: Funk

Grateful Dead: I like their aesthetic more than their music

Great White: there are so many fucking shark jokes

Greenbaum, Norman: makes me think of Subway for some reason

Green Day: the first of the emo revolution

Greg Kihn Band: RocKihnRoll is literally the most clever album name I’ve ever seen

Guns N Roses: They have more than three good songs, but radio stations never recognize that

Hagar, Sammy: I’m still trying to figure out where he lived to take 16 hours to get to LA driving 55 and how fucking fast was he driving beforehand?

Harrison, George: He went from religious to rock, and if he had continued rocking, he would have gotten too cool 

Head East: I respect people who use breakfast foods as album names

Heart: Magic Man and Barracuda are played at least once every goddamn day. They’re not even the best songs!

Hendrix, Jimi: I have both a cousin and a sibling named after Hendrix references

Henley, Don: Dirty Laundry gives me too much inspiration

Hollies: Somehow sound like they’re both from the 60s and the 80s at the same time

Idol, Billy: he’s doing well for himself

INXS: Terminator vibes

Iris, Donnie: knockoff Roy Orbison

James Gang: too many funks

Jane’s Addiction: if TMNT had a grunge band representative

Jefferson Airplane: *assorted cheers*

Jefferson Starship: *assorted boos*

Jethro Tull: The only band to make you feel not cool enough to play the flute

Jett, Joan: icon

J. Geils Band: I requested them on the radio once and it got played

Joel, Billy: he really did just air everybody’s business like that

John Cafferty And The Beaver Brown Band: literally wtf is that name

John, Elton: yarn Elton sits in my basement, unstaring. Please someone take him from me

Joplin, Janis: Queen

Journey: Stop overplaying Don’t Stop Believing. It takes away from the rest of the repetoire

Judas Priest: literally started the gay leather aesthetic

Kansas: another fucking band Supernatural stole

Kenny Wayne Shepherd: the man confuses me to the point where he isn’t in the right place alphabetically

Kiss: Mick Mars and I will simply have to disagree on the subject

Kravitz, Lenny: runaway vibes

Led Zeppelin: Fucking fight me if you don’t think they’re the most talented band (maybe not the most talented individually, but collectively, no one comes close)

Lennon, John: My least favourite Beatle for reasons

Live: I got nothin

Living Colour: slap a decent amount

Loverboy: do you not get TURNT the fuck up to the big Loverboy hits? Who hurt you??

Lynyrd Skynyrd: Sweet Home Alabama is a Neil Young diss track

Marshall Tucker Band: no opinion

Manfred Mann’s Earth Band: VERY STRONG OPINIONS THAT THEY AREN’T GOOD

McCartney, Paul/Wings: Power couple

Meatloaf: I have nothing but respect for a man who willingly named himself Meatloaf

Mellencamp, John: voted cutest lesbian of 1987

Metallica: I liked their appearance on Jimmy Fallon

Midnight Oil: I get them confused for Talking Heads a lot

Modern English: who?

Molly Hatchet: Hollies vibes, but also Georgia Satellites vibes

Money, Eddie: DAN AVIDAN, IF YOU SEE THIS, COVER TAKE ME HOME TONIGHT

Motley Crue: Stan Mick Mars and John Corabi. They’re the only ones who deserve it

Mott The Hoople: no one loves them except for David Bowie

Mountain: props for naming an album ‘Climbing’

Nazareth: I want to make a John Mulaney joke here, but I can never come up with one

Nicks, Stevie: witch queen

Night Ranger: I get them confused with Urge Overkill

Nirvana: Kurt Cobain was the ally grunge needed

Nova, Aldo: he’s Canadian, at least

Nugent, Ted: *serves a ghost as jerky*

Offspring: nothing here

Osbourne, Ozzy: this bitch crazy

Outfield: Your Love is kind of a sketchy song, but it slaps hard

Palmer, Robert: low quality Eddie Money

Pearl Jam: *grunts in Eddie Vedder*

Petty, Tom: I have so many feelings about Tom Petty and they are all good

Pink Floyd: which one is Pink?

Plant, Robert: solo career is a crapshoot, but his voice is unparalleled

Poison: I want them to write a song called ‘Alice Cooper’

Pretenders: I want to say good things, but I have nothing to say

Queen: A doctor of astrophysics, a screaming girl, a disco queen and a diva walk into a bar. It’s Queen; they’re there to play a gig

Queensryche: neutral opinion

Quiet Riot: they got big because of a song they hated. I love that

Rafferty, Gerry: the second-sexiest sax opening in all of music

Rainbow: Ritchie Blackmore created something very magnificent

Ram Jam: one good song and they didn’t even write it

Ratt: I’m sure they have more than Round And Round, but I don’t know it

RHCP: funky, but if you have paid money to hear them, you’re going to The Bad Place (I don’t make the rules)

Red Rider: basically Golden Earring

Reed, Lou: Walk On The Wild Side would be such a cool song if it wasn’t so dull

REM: American Tragically Hip

REO Speedwagon: Props for having a dad joke as an album title

Rolling Stones: Never in my life could I imagine the drummer being named anything but Charlie

Rush: How to make being uncool the coolest fucking shit

Santana: The world needs more Santana

Scandal: There’s something really funny about The Warrior being my brother’s “song” with his girlfriend

Scorpions: Was Wind Of Change written by the CIA? Only the spotify podcast I got an ad for once could say

Seger, Bob: A different variety of Eric Clapton (frankly a better variety, but that’s just me)

Simple Minds: we ALL forgot about you

Skid Row: Sebastian Bach is prettier than all of us

Soundgarden: music that makes you feel like you dunked your head underwater

Springsteen, Bruce: my arch-nemesis. Maybe someday, he’ll find out about it

Squeeze: according to my friends, the stupidest band name ever, but they’re theatre kids, so you know

Squier, Billy: If he can make it through 1984 alive, you can make it through whatever bad day you’re having

Stealers Wheel: Yet another band who I always mistake for George Harrison

Steely Dan: my house’s nickname for the Robber in Settlers Of Catan

Steppenwolf: Either makes me think of Jay & Silent Bob, Jack Nicholson, or that time I had to cut 6lbs of onions

Steve Miller Band: when you’re in the right mood, they slap hard

Stewart, Rod: my soundtrack to summer 2015

Stills, Stephen: Love The One You’re With Is Catchy, but the lyrics are questionable

Stone Temple Pilots: the only band to write a song about goo you smear on yourself

Stray Cats: an obscene amount of merch is available for them

Styx: Supernatural would have ruined them for me too if I hadn’t been into them previously. 

Supertramp: I hunted for Breakfast In America for two years and it was worth every hunt

Sweet: I will never understand my two-month obsession with Ballroom Blitz when I was 15, but it was legit all I listened to

Talking Heads: you may find yourself in a pizza hut. And you may find yourself in a taco bell. And you may find yourself at the combination pizza hut and taco bell. And you may ask yourself; ‘how did I get here?’

Temple Of The Dog: I keep confusing them for Nazareth

Ten Years After: somehow still relevant

Tesla: not the car or the dude

The Beatles: Evokes a lot of opinions from people. Mine is that I love them

The Clash: I showed my sister the ‘Lock The Taskbar’ vine ONCE and it still kills her

The Doors: evokes teenage terror from deep within my soul

The Guess Who: Canada’s answer to confusing question-themed band names

The Kinks: kinky

The Police: wrote the theme of 2020 and everyone somehow forgot it was about a teacher resisting becoming a pedophile

The Ramones: playing all of their songs in a row wouldn’t take more than 2 hours

The Romantics: you don’t think you know them, but if you’ve seen Shrek 2, you have

The Who: If someone can explain Tommy to me, I’d be glad to hear it

The Zombies: I think they happened because of the 60s

Thin Lizzy: Could the boys maybe leave town?

Thorogood, George: blues, but make it modern

Toto: the most memed song behind All Star

Townshend, Pete: just makes me think of the end of Mr. Deeds

T-Rex: Mark Bolan is an icon

Triumph: The no-name brand of Rush

Tubes: like the yogurt

Twisted Sister: they did a christmas album and my mom does NOT hate it

U2: U2 Movers; we move in mysterious ways

Van Halen: RIP Eddie

Van Morrison: honestly, who’s named Van?

Vaughn, Stevie Ray: Steamy Ray Vaughn

Walsh, Joe: The Smoker You Drink The Player You Get

War: Foghat, but even groovier

Whitesnake: the most successful band to be named after a penis

Wright, Gary: the 90s thanks him for writing the song every movie used for the “guy sees cute girl and it’s love at first sight” scene

Yes: To Be Continued

Young, Neil: The best part of CSNY

Zevon, Warren: the album cover of Excitable Boy makes me deeply uncomfortable for reasons I don’t understand

ZZ Top: has been the same three guys since 1969. Lineup unchanged. 

3 Doors Down: They feel a little modern to be on a classic rock station, but whatever

38 Special: Why 38?

[lightthewaybackhome]

Sorry this is so long. Probably should have done a 2 parter.

"My darling girl, when are you going to realize that being normal is not necessarily a virtue? It rather denotes a lack of courage!" - Aunt Frances, Practical Magic

 

My whole life, as far back as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be artistic. I’ve wanted to create. I love beauty. I love artistry. I love creation. I love the artsy look: jewelry, tattoos, flowing clothing, and funky hair. It is a personal aesthetic I keep returning to, especially as I get older. As a child, I tried so many different forms of art—painting, photography, drawing— but none of them seemed quite right. None of them got what was in my head out. All of them fell short until I started writing. Writing was a flame, a fire, a drug. Writing allowed me to express what was in my imagination. This is the first thing to understand.

Everyone is artistic and art is everywhere. I’ve believed this as long as I can remember. There are amazing artistic feats in our world: books, movies, video games, paintings, sculptures, and magnificent pieces of music. Yes, art can be very high and very special. But, art can also be found in charcuterie boards, homemade quilts, sourdough bread, cocktails, soup, and all ordinary things if we but look and see. Art can be high magic and art can be ordinary. This is the second thing to understand.

As I’ve embraced being a homemaker, a HearthKeeper, a woman where she’s meant to be, I came across the term domestic artist. As much as I didn’t like the book Eve in Exile by Rebekah Merkle, it gave me this. It gave me the term domestic artist. That stuck with me. It spoke to me because it captured both the first and the second thing. It captured the never-ceasing call to create which haunts me at all times, and it elevated and honored the ordinary in a sprinkling of fairy dust. It said, “Yes, you have to cook today. Three meals plus snacks and drinks. It’s your job, but, but, what if, what if instead of looking at it as some drudgery, some Cinderella enslavement, what if you looked at it as an opportunity to create beauty?”

Not every meal, every outfit, every moment of your day can be a work of art. Some days you just have to do what you have to do. Some days get upended in the opening credits with a broken washer or a sleepless child. Some days plans change. Life changes. One minute life looks like this, and then the next it’s on to something completely different. But, the beauty of being a domestic artist is that you can create art in any of these moments and in any setting. You can find art in any moment and in any setting.

See, the world tells us that homemaking, HearthKeeping, is boring. It tells us it’s pointless. A waste. You could be changing the world. Only dumb useless women keep their homes. And that’s because they’re either tied down by a dictator of a husband or the demands of children or the cultural trappings of their religion. Courage, dear heart. Courage! Homemaking is magic. Homemaking is flexible. Homemaking changes with the seasons and the woman. I, I am a bit bohemian, a bit rustic, a mixture of rugged and romantic. I grew up a tomboy, but have embraced being a woman in her home since I was a child. I love leather and lace. I love cottage-witch aesthetics. I love boots and long flowing things. I like deer heads, linen, skulls, and ruffles. I like feathers and dreamcatchers, but I also love to decorate with open space. I love pies and feeding my husband. But, look at this, one of my best friends is a classic. She loves clean lines, traditional and timeless pieces. She loves modern accents. She loves beachy highlights and hammocks. She’s not into farmhouse, rustic modern, or raw-edged wood. On any given Sunday, she’s in a pencil skirt, simple top, simple heels with her three daughters in matching dresses while I’m in distressed boyfriend jeans, a mullet-tucked top, and wearing my crow skull. We’re very different, but we’re both homemakers who love making our homes.

I have a woman in my life who quilts and that flows out into their decorating. So many of her things are beautifully hand sewn. If she wants it, she makes it. Another friend grew up in Africa and her home is filled with her love of that culture. One dear friend loves plants and grows amazing flowers that she uses to create Instagram-worth bouquets. Another woman isn’t super fluffy-feminine but she has an eye for remodeling and so is constantly making improvements on her home: flooring, painting, and more. My sisters, like me, both enjoy a minimalist approach to decorating and all three of us have a special place for coffee. Both my sisters’ homes are welcoming and peaceful even with kids running around like crazy.

That’s the point, the world tells women to band together, that we’re a sisterhood, that we should go out and change the world, abandoning our homes before we’re relegated to only kitchen and nursery work, but reality tells me that the most amazing women I know are busy in their homes. This is sisterhood. This is where we bloom. It is here that we have flexibility. For over five years, I’ve struggled with chronic health issues. Homemaking lets me decide each day what I can do and how I’m going to do it. Homemaking lets you change what you do for each season of life. Lots of littles? Keep it simple. Empty nest? Explore. Somewhere in between? Keep growing. Lots of energy? So many things you can expand into if you just refuse to believe the lie that homemaking is beneath you. Don’t be normal. Don’t believe that homemaking is a waste of time. Don’t buy into the lie that you are somehow being less than everyone else when you raise your children, love your husband, and create beauty. Have the courage to be strange. We were made for this! It suits us. This is an environment women thrive in.

When I got over my grammar inhibitions and started writing, I felt like my soul came alive. I felt like I’d finally found what I’d been searching for since I came into this world. It doesn’t matter whether I’m writing an epic story or writing about HearthKeeping or just word doodling, writing, words, stories just flow from me. Wonderfully, homemaking is like that for me, too. I want to read books, I want to learn, I want to talk about it, I want to do it. It’s not perfect. I don’t always feel glorious, but I do feel ‘right’ when I’m doing this. I feel like I’m where I belong. I feel like this is a place I can both rest in and grow in. I feel safe when I’m having a fatigue flare up and I feel excited when I think about all that I can do.

A real-life example: Sundays are long hard days. They’re days that generally spike my fatigue and my husband is worn out. They’re both the best and hardest day of the week. When we get home I make a cocktail and we crash. Inevitably, the minute I sit down my man asks for a snack and what we’re having for dinner. For several years, this drove me up a wall. It is Sunday. The day of REST, why is it my responsibility to always make food? Epic sigh. Epic whiny sigh. I would meal plan for the whole week and then wing it on Sunday and Monday, always with poor results and grumpiness on my part. Then, one week as I meal-planned, I realized that I could also prepare for the weekend. Lightbulb. Facepalm. Really? Why had it taken me into my 40th year of life to realize that if I want a quiet, restful, happy weekend, I should just plan snacks, drinks, and meals ahead of time? I’m going to blame it on my chronic health, brain fog addled mind. I’m going to blame it on laziness. I’m going to blame it on being a young homemaker. Some are understandable, some are inexcusable.

Sundays now involve way less stress because I can immediately prepare snacks and know what we’re eating the minute we get home. No more attitude issue. No more stress. Easy and nice.

Did this change the world? Does this matter to anyone but myself? Did my husband even notice? Maybe not, but this is homemaking. This is HearthKeeping. It is my job and my calling. Even without notice or world-shattering consequences, I’m pleased with the outcome. More than pleased, I’m really happy about it. It brings me joy and delight to find a better way to take care of my family. It allows me to sprinkle my Sunday afternoon with just a little bit of artistry. I make drinks, snacks, dinner. I feed my family.

See, one of the lies that the feminists preach is that we’re wasted in our homes. And yet, the majority of the women I know who work outside the home aren’t doing glamorous jobs. They’re not travel bloggers or world-renowned chiefs or CEOs. They’re cosmetologists, retail workers, bank tellers, nurses, teachers, and such. Now, none of those are bad. Working outside the home isn’t bad. (I think each family has to decide what family looks like to them.) Please, please, don’t read that as degrading. I worked retail and I think retail is important. These are all God-honoring employment in which you can strive and serve. I’m not bashing any of those jobs. I have many many dear friends who work outside the home. What I am saying is that I think we as women need to ask ourselves if leaving our homes en masse was worth it. Has it given us all the joy, delight, and fulfillment the feminists promised us?

I’ve done both. I’ve been a co-owner of a business that I helped grow from nothing to something amazing. I’ve worked as an everyday retail worker. I write and am the main editor for a small neighborhood magazine. And I’m a HearthKeeper. I will tell you right now, no qualifications, that HearthKeeping is the most satisfying job I’ve ever had. It not only challenges me every day but it also works with me. The boundaries are what I set in place and so I grow as I can. The work never ends, yes, but it also never ends. There is always something else to explore.

I think being a homemaker is largely attitude. You can buck against what you do, and most women do. Just spend two minutes on Pinterest looking at doing laundry or dishes and the bitter hatred comes pouring out. Look at the complaints women make against their churches: we’re relegated to doing nursery work and kitchen duty. What if, just for a moment, we decided to be Domestic Artists? What if, for just a moment, we tried loving our jobs instead of complaining? What if we thought that dishes meant food and good times and healing of the souls around us? What if we saw laundry as a way to keep beauty and cleanliness around us? What if we saw it as our privilege and delight to take care of the food, children, clothing, cleaning, cooking, gardening, growing of the next generation, and the men of the world? What if we embraced the domestic arts and saw them as truly magnificent, glorious, unique arts? How many of us would be able to say with a straight face that working retail is more fulfilling than managing a small world? Is it more fulfilling to go work in an office than it is to orchestrate a place of welcome, rest, and renewal for your husband and yourself? It might be more visible, but is it truly more long-lasting?

I can say that it isn’t. I can say that I think being a homemaker is uniquely suited for women and that we should have the courage to go against the grain of our world and say no. No, I’m not going to give all of myself to work outside the home when the home is far more challenging and interesting. No, I’m not going to believe the lie that homemaking is oppression and boredom. I will find beauty in the ordinary and I will embrace art in the everyday. This is one of those amazing jobs where it is what you make it. It is what you pour into it. If you think it’s boring or demeaning you won’t get anything out of it. If you think it is challenging and rewarding, you will get the world out of it. You will grow yourself and those around you. Think about what a wonderful thing it would be if we made our homes our careers! If we women really took on the label Domestic Artist in our own individual ways.

[himooonlight]

who are you? pt. 1 (reggie x reader)

pairing: reggie x reader word count: 3k warnings: sad stuff i guess? this is mostly fluff though plot: you dream about reggie constantly and when you see him perfoming with julie, you decide to ask her about him A/N: english is not my first language and this is my first fanfic, so please, be nice ok? hope you like this. oh, and i'm thinking maybe 5 parts? who knows

- I know this is going to sound weird, but do you know any Reginald who likes country music?

The girl in front of me looks at me as if I have just said the biggest nonsense she has ever heard. Her smile fades and she checks around us as if looking for someone who had also heard my question.

Julie is an intriguing girl. She seems very understandable and kind, but I feel like my sanity is in her hands, which makes her figure weigh too much on me. I can't look away from her worried features, feeling bad for making her feel like this. I know she had a terrible year having to deal with her mother's death and all the block to play and sing, but I can't help it.

Not knowing the truth is going to consume me.

- What did you say? - She asks.

Julie and I have never spoken before. I am a year older than her and our school schedules have never crossed, even though I’ve seen her in the halls before. Everyone knows the incredible voice she has, the artistic talent that seems to run through her fingers - it would be impossible not to know about her reputation. What made me talk to her, though, was Reginald.

Reggie.

A boy I thought didn't really exist until three days ago.

- I asked if you know any Reginald who likes country music. - I repeat in a lower tone. - Do you think we can talk?

She doesn't hesitate to agree and soon steps forward to go to the music room. I only know about the existence of that classroom because some of my friends like to go there during lunch hours to sleep a little before afternoon classes. She opens the door, lets me go through, and closes it behind me, making sure we're alone.

We sit in the back of the room, near the windows. The horizontal blinds are open and the weather looks happy. The sun shines brightly and there are no clouds to tell the story of the crazy girl who has been dreaming of someone unreal for months and had fallen in love with a non-existent being.

It's funny how the figurative tranquility makes me uneasy. The day seems peaceful, serene while chaos is established inside of me. The blue, maroon and white paintings on the wall seem to make fun of my nervousness; the delicate yet majestic instruments seem to want me to leave considering that my madness is too much for anyone to bear.

Julie looks at me not knowing that she is my hope and that also makes me anxious. Possibly even more apprehensive than comparing my problems with the calmness of the place around me.

- I'm not sure where to start or if you're going to believe me, but I need you to listen carefully. If it doesn't make sense to you, if you don't know what I'm talking about, please just ignore it, ok?

Julie nods and moves her chair closer to mine. Her eyes look worried and I can see that she is an ordinary person. As much as many people have put her on a pedestal, she looks normal and comprehensive at close range. She doesn't look like someone who would be evil and bitter of her own accord and it's comforting to know that even if she can't help me, maybe she can understand my torments in some way.

I let the air enter my lungs, my shoulders going up and down slightly. She doesn't pressure me to speak even though I can interpret by her fingers tapping on her leg that she wants me to say something soon.

Without thinking too much about word choices, I open my heart to her because some things need to be shared.

Even when it's not easy to start.

- A few months ago I started having dreams with Reggie. He looks just like the guy you sing in that band with, the bass player. A friend of mine showed me a video of you a few days ago and I know it's him, it can only be him. - Without thinking too much, my hands reach for hers, as if begging her to believe me. Julie doesn't back down or make a move to start laughing and that encourages me to continue, with as many details as possible. - Do you know who he is? My friend said they are holograms, but probably it's inspired by some real person, right?

My speech starts to get tangled up and Julie continues with the same expression as when we arrived, just listening to what I have to say. I feel pathetic because I seem to be performing a show for something that in the eyes of others may be irrelevant. I wish I could explain to her that I am usually a very rational person. I like reasonable explanations, the feeling of being in control of where I am going, of having a detailed plan on how to achieve my goals. In general I know that unforeseen events can happen, but the relief that organization and rationality bring me is too comforting and important for me to be able to accept Reggie in my life under normal circumstances.

However, he quickly became someone important to me and it's scary how just the thought of him can make me feel nice and peaceful.

Reggie brought me peace of the kind that you often seek while sleeping or resting. Peace of the kind that we look for when looking at the sky, at flowers, at children playing in a park happily. He, someone I didn't know, offered me happiness by just appearing in my dreams, smiling at my sleeping version. It was something about his adorable smile, his small teeth, his upturned nose and expressive eyebrows. It was something about the way he made me laugh, how he had genuine intentions about everything, how his beautiful eyes lit up when he talked about something he liked.

- I don't know anything about creating holograms, sorry. - Julie answers, smiling weakly and clearing her throat. She looks uncomfortable, so I let go of her hand. - But if I find anything about it, I'll let you know.

- Julie, you really don't know anything about him? He loves pizza, has a very peculiar sense of humor and likes children and animals. He likes it very much. He is not very close to his family, but he regards his two best friends as if they were brothers. He is kind, understanding and real. I guess truthful is a better choice of words, cause I don't know if he really exists.

I know she can see my distress from the way I'm letting the words flow, but I can't help it. Reggie not only brings me peace but also a feeling of belonging that seems to go beyond the moment.

It's not like I'm getting to know him, it's like I'm recognizing him.

- Look, are you sure you are not confusing him with someone else?

Julie herself doesn't seem to believe or agree with her question. I'm being too specific and I know it. I know this because Reggie asked for my help on Thursday night's dream, saying that he didn't know if he could make it. I know this because he told me the name of his band. I know this because he said he didn't recognize me, but that he felt the same way about me, about us.

- Julie, I know about Sunset Curve. I looked them up and I know they died 25 years ago. - I answer, looking at my own feet. I don't want her to think I'm a threat and that I'm going to expose her secret. I just want answers, I just want a chance to understand my connection with Reggie. - I just want to know if you know Reggie. If there is anyone I can ask why he appears in my dreams, why I…

I can't complete it out loud, but mentally I say "fell in love with him".

I know why I fell in love with him, to be honest.

Reggie is physically familiar. More than that, it's like meeting someone special who means a lot to me. He's someone whose beauty comes from his smile. The kind of person who is always trying to see the positive in things. Who never believes that he has actually lost anything or that he is in the wrong place. He's the type to believe that every thing he dropped on the floor and didn't see, every umbrella forgotten somewhere, every delay unintentionally; everything means something. An arrangement so that he could be in the place he is in right now and that this place could not be a mistake. He's the type who doesn't bother with something that broke, with something unexpected, with something he isn't planning because he is convinced that maybe he broke a plate today so he could go to the market and find money on the floor or just feel how pleasant the day is. That maybe he was late because the bus he was going to take was going to break down halfway. He is the type who thinks that regardless of the situation, he is in the right place, where he should be.

Reggie has an engaging aura, as much as I couldn't even explain what exactly it means. He is affectionate, funny and I don't think I could ever create him.

- Why you…? - She insists.

- Why I feel this way about him.

Julie seems to think about what I said and I choose not to press her. I pay attention to the room, on how the sun comes through the window and makes me think of the day I met Reggie.

My first dream with him was at a book club. It was a friendly place that I had never visited before; a two-story white house with a big backyard. The meeting took place outside and the residence looked like it was turned into a cultural center. About five people had books in their hands and were talking excitedly about the story, going on about the metaphors the author had used to explain the parents' suffering when they lost their child. Near the boundaries of the place, three boys who seemed out of place were talking quietly. At their feet, boxes of instruments looked like misunderstood foreigners while snacks and sweets on the table near them were very much welcomed. The blond boy next to Reggie was talking to another boy about something I couldn't hear and Reggie seemed to shine.

It was late afternoon and the sun was passing through the trees in the yard. The white fence he leaned against contrasted with the black clothes he wore, while the darkness of the fabric contradicted with the gentleness of his face. He had caught my attention the minute my eyes met his.

Without saying anything, Reggie came towards me, making me nervous. In the dream, however, I was a man. As much as I was living and seeing everything from my point of view, my body was masculine and taller. My hands were calloused for some reason that I did not know and my clothes were extremely large, almost sloppy.

- Hi. - Reggie said, smiling as if he knew me. His eyes were shining and I was sure mine were too. - Do you have a name or can I call you mine?

We were not too far away from his friends for them not to hear us. Soon they started laughing out loud, embarrassed by the pick up line. I couldn't help but laugh, even though in some part of my brain I knew that maybe if the situation was rationalized, I would find it weird. However, I felt the same way about him. The desire to meet him, to know his preferences, to feel what his hand would be like in mine.

- Maybe I went too far with that one. - He said, giving me no chance to answer. - I think I have the right to remain silent.

- Reggie, you have the right to remain silent. What you lack is capacity. - The blonde said, making the other friend laugh even louder. Some man behind us asked us to speak quietly and right then the sun stopped touching the man in front of me. It seemed that we finally understood that moment; seemed that the universe made sense.

Reginald was speechless, just like me. We looked at each other for a while, admiring each other's details. Because of that exact moment I would know how to point the timid freckles on your nose even with my eyes shut or on the way his eyes seemed to have at least four different shades of blue and green. At that moment I fell in love with his skin, his dimples, how well his hair was combed and how he smelled of jasmine.

- Hey. - I replied to him, holding out my hand. He looked into my eyes, then my lips and then took my hand in his. Time seemed to stop around us. - I guess you do have a name, Reggie, but can I call you mine?

Julie touches my arm, pulling me out of my memories.

- I don't know if I would have answers for you. - She says. - I'm sorry.

Julie gets up and goes to the door. I can't ignore the fact that my throat is dry and my hands are shaking slightly in anticipation of any more response that she wants to give me. Anything, any explanation that might justify how I feel about Reggie.

She suddenly stops and turns to me with wide eyes.

- You can't see, right? - She asks.

I don't know what she's talking about, so I just shake my head.

- Where's Reggie? - She talks again.

When I open my mouth to say that I don't know, he appears near the piano. His eyes are more intense than in my dreams and he does not smell of jasmine, but it's still him.

My Reggie.

I get up quickly and almost trip over the chair, making Julie look at me with even wider eyes. I look from her to him, repeating the process a few times.

He wasn't there a few seconds ago.

He appeared in the middle of nowhere.

Him.

He exists.

- What's going on here? - He asks Julie, but his body is turned towards me. I look him straight in the eye and walk slowly because I'm afraid this is a dream and I want to spend more time looking at him like that. - Julie, why does it look like she sees me?

- I see you, Reggie. - I speak softly, not diverting my attention from him. - You exist.

He opens his mouth a few times, not understanding what is happening and I feel the same thing that I felt in that book club.

Feels like I'm coming home, that I love him, that everything makes sense. I feel that there is too much of him in my heart.

- Can you see me? - He asks, walking slowly towards me. It seems the same distance from my first dream; the same strong feeling of belonging, of finding something that I had already given up looking for. - Do you really see me?

- I see you, I can really see you.

My vision starts to blur and I hear Julie talking in the background, but I can only look at him and ask myself if he knows who I am, if he feels the same. When a tear falls from my eyes, Reggie walks faster, ending our distance and extending his hand to touch my face. When I feel a shy and almost unnoticed contact, I close my eyes and throw myself into his arms, but I can't find his body.

Confused, I open my eyes again.

He's not there.

He disappeared in the middle of nowhere.

Him.

He does not exist.

- It's just a dream, isn't it? Is this my farewell to him? Will I never see him again in my dreams? - I ask Julie. I touch the piano that seemed so close to Reggie before and let my fingers roam the black top of the instrument. I just wish I could feel him the same way. - I could have swore that this is real, but I think I love Reggie so much that he made me like being asleep more than being awake. It is terrible to love him in my dreams and not have him when I wake up in the morning.

- You love me?

I hear his voice behind me and when I turn, he's there.

- Who are you? - I ask, like an idiot. I know who he is, but I need to understand a few things before I completely freak out.

Julie walks over to me and touches my wrist. She seems to be asking me not to scream or pass out. Something in Reggie's eyes is apologizing silently and I'm afraid of his answer.

- I'm Reggie. - He smiles weakly and it hurts me because it's a sad smile. - And I think you're my unfinished business.

[finalgilmoregirl]

just in time (bucky barnes x reader)

summary: bucky hears your music in the middle of the night, and sees you in your natural state for the first time. lightly inspired by the song ‘just in time’ by tony bennett !

warnings: none :) just fluff !

a/n: ooooo first one-shot & it’s of bucky! yay! i hope you enjoy this, ive had this idea in my head for weeks & im glad i’m finally writing it. acne is something i struggle with so i can relate to this and maybe you will too! <3 also sorry for any mistakes!!

————————————

It was another one of his many sleepless nights. Even after months of therapy and his nightmares actually lessening, there still came nights where he was afraid to go to sleep. No matter how comfortable he got, Bucky was still anxious at the thought of his mind forcing him to dream of his old life, afraid of seeing the faces of the innocent souls he killed.

He couldn’t stand just laying in the dark either. Bucky felt like he should’ve been doing something if he wasn’t sleeping, but he felt far too tired to even want to do anything else than sleep. All he wanted was to relax.

As he turned over for what felt like the hundredth time, he heard something. At first he thought it was someone talking, but the voice didn’t sound like anyone he knows in the compound....’Is that music?’ he thought.

The song sounded familiar, and thanks to his super-soldier hearing, he was quick in identifying the specific voice. Tony Bennett.

He was a fan of the singer. When he was busy catching up on music and pop culture, he found himself listening to music from the 40s and 50s the most. He felt at home listening to songs with big bands playing in the background and raspy voices singing the lyrics.

He was no longer tired as he pulled the messy covers off of his body and began to stand up. He was curious to know who was listening to music at this hour. Maybe even praise them for their good music taste. As he walked down the hall to the door next to his, he was pleasantly surprised to learn the music was coming from your bedroom. He could see the dim light coming from under your door, and now he was curious to why you were up so late, seeing it had to be at least 2:30 right now.

Surprisingly, Bucky wasn’t as nervous as he thought he would be, considering he was standing at your door in the middle of the night. He’s had a growing crush on you since you first joined the team, around 4 months after he did. Now it being a little over a year and a half since you joined, he’s gotten comfortable around you to the point where he can talk to you about most things, even the nightmares that came back now and then.

And of course you had the same feelings for him, he was just as suave as you imagined, him being known as a ladies man in the 40s. Although he was more timid now, after getting him to open up, you would’ve never guessed how much of a delight he was to be around.

He knocked on your door, and it wasn’t until after he did that he realized what he was doing. ‘Knocking on a girls door in the middle of the night, are you crazy?’, he thought as he felt his heart beat a little faster. ‘What if she was asleep? What if she was working on something? What if she had company?’

All those thoughts cleared in a second however, when you opened the door and looked up at Bucky’s tall frame in the dark hallway. You were wearing a t-shirt that was definitely 3 sizes too big, and biker shorts that peeked out the bottom of the shirt. Your hair was in a ponytail, fly aways and loose strands framing your face. He looked at your face once again, barely visible in the dark light, Bucky only able to make out your eyes and lips.

“Bucky? What’s up?”, you asked, a hint of confusion and even worry in your voice. Bucky forgot why he was here until he heard the music again.

“I couldn’t sleep and I heard your music. Just thought I’d come by to see where it was coming from.”, He said, shrugging his shoulders and putting his hands in his sweatpants pockets.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry! Did I wake you?”, You quickly asked, now feeling guilty at the thought of him not being able to sleep because of you.

“No, no! I was tossing for hours doll, don’t worry it wasn’t you. Just couldn’t sleep, is all.”, He assured you.

You sighed in relief as you opened the door more, wordlessly inviting him in. He accepted your silent offer and sat on your bed as you went to the record player in the corner of your room, turning it down a little, so you would be able to talk without having to raise your voices too loud.

“You like Bennett?”, Bucky asked, sitting on your bed. You giggled and turned to where he was, and nodded. “Yeah. Something about music like this just makes me feel safe. I don’t know it’s weird.”

“I don’t think it’s weird. I love it. Reminds me of the good ol days.” he said, laying back on the bed with his hands under his head, even though the pillows were just a few feet away. You hummed as a way to show him you understood.

“Sorry I don’t look presentable. I wasn’t really expecting guests.” You laughed with a hint of nervousness, sitting cross legged and facing him.

He furrowed his brows and turned his head, and that’s when he got a clear view of your face.

Your bare face.

He was a little surprised to say the least. He’s never seen you without makeup. In the entire time he’s known you, you’ve always worn it every single time he’s seen you. Always powdered up to perfection with your long lashes curled and shimmer making your face look almost reflective in the light. But this was the opposite and he was at a loss for words.

“You- You’re not- your face....”, he stuttered. He didn’t mean for it to come out as mean. If anything his heart was soaring at the sight of you. However you thought differently.

“Jeez Buck. Way to make a girl feel good about herself.”, you said, covering your reddening cheeks with your hands. “What you’ve never seen a girl without makeup? I knew it was bad but I-“

“No no no!”, he interrupted. He lightly grabbed your wrists and lowered them, so he could get a good look at you. “I was just surprised. You look just as beautiful without it. I’ve never seen you without makeup and I just, wow. You look adorable.”

He started to observe your clean face, taking in every freckle and scar. Every little splotch of red and the light bags under your eyes. He was seeing a side of you he’s never seen before, and another side he fell in love with after only seeing it for a second.

“Oh stop.”, you rolled your eyes. “I wear makeup so you wouldn’t have to see my flaws, not so you can stare at them.” she joked, but Bucky could tell this was something she struggled with.

“C’mon doll you think a few scratches are gonna scare me away? You think I like my scars? Nothin’ to be ashamed of.” he said, patting your leg and sitting up to be at eye level with you, even though he still had to look down, him being taller and all.

You looked so natural and pure. Glowing, even although that could’ve just been the lotion you’d applied earlier. You felt your cheeks burn for a different reason too. He said you were beautiful in what you thought was one of your worst states.

“I don’t think you should wear makeup anymore.”, Bucky stated, confidently. You snorted at that.

“Of course I have to wear makeup Buck, I have to look presentable. I can’t let people see me like this.”, you sighed.

“Well at least don’t wear it so much around me. It’d be a shame if I didn’t see this at least once in a while.” he yawned, laying down, this time his head on a pillow.

This wasn’t unnatural, you had movie nights and hung out in your room in the past. He knew he was getting brave though, falling asleep on your bed, when you hadn’t even invited him in the first place. But he couldn’t help it. He actually felt relaxed.

“Alrighty then, Soldier. I’ll try not to. But just for you.”, you said, nodding. You lied next to him and faced him. You started to feel brave too.

“Y’know...”, you started. “I had a bad dream. That’s why I had my music on. I was hoping it would help me sleep. But I guess with you here, maybe I’ll sleep even better.”

Bucky just smiled. You pulled your thick blanket up to cover the both of you and got comfortable, almost laying on him with how close the two of you were. He draped an arm on your side and continued observing your face. He was still fascinated by it.

And just moments later, you fell asleep. Bucky did too, a few minutes later, with the voice of Tony Bennett playing softly across the room, the song feeling perfect in this moment.

'Cause love came just in time

You found me just in time

Then you changed my lonely life

That lovely day

a/n: thank you for reading!!! :) don’t be afraid to leave a request and tell me what you thought. <3

[tyrantisterror]

I did a four part series of trivia posts when ATOM Volume 1: Tyrantis Walks Among Us! came out, and that was pretty fun!  You can see that set of trivia posts here if you’d like.  I thought it’d be fun to do another now that ATOM Volume 2: Tyrantis Roams the Earth! is out - just one this time, because a lot of the trivia I talked about with Volume 1 still applies.

I’m gonna divide this into two sections: non-spoiler trivia, for things that really don’t give a lot of plot points away, and spoiler trivia, for things that DO give away major plot points.  I recommend not reading the spoiler trivia until after you’ve read Tyrantis Roams the Earth!, for obvious reasons, and will put the spoiler trivia under a cut.

Ok, let’s go!

- So if you read ATOM Volume 1, you probably noticed that the book is split not only into chapters, but “episodes,” which consist of four chapters a piece.  It’s kind of a nod to how the series owes a great deal of its DNA to various monster of the week shows, with Godzilla: the Series and The Godzilla Power Hour being obvious influences.  It also allowed me to pepper in some illustrations and cheesy b-movie style titles into each volume.

- The first “episode” of Volume 2, Tyrantis in Tokyo, pays explicit homage to the giant monster movies of Japan, perhaps even moreso than the chapters that came before it.  Given how much Japanese media influenced ATOM - from tokusatsu like the Godzilla, Gamera, and Ultraman franchises to anime like Digimon and Evangelion (hell, the title of this episode itself is a tip of the hat to Tenchi Muyo by way of one of its spinoffs) - it kind of felt obligatory that Tyrantis visit Japan and pay his respects.

- Tyrantis in Tokyo also fits in a tribute to another staple of Atomic Age pop culture: Rock and Roll.

- Kutulusca, the giant cephalopod that appears in Tyrantis in Tokyo, is one of the oldest kaiju in this series, dating back to the first iteration of Tyrantis’s story that I put to paper back in 2001 or so.  It’s changed a lot since then, but its fight with Tyrantis goes more or less the way it originally did.

- Old Meg, the giant placoderm/shark, and Nastadyne, the bipedal beetle, both owe their existence directly to Deviantart’s Godzilla fandom.  Old Meg originated as a dunkleosteus monster I submitted to a “create a Godzilla kaiju” contest held by Matt Frank, while Nastadyne is based on a Megalon redesign I made during the “redesign all the Godzilla kaiju” phase of DA’s kaiju fandom.

- The second episode, Tyrantis vs. the Red Menace, gets dark as we visit the USSR, which had enough REAL horror with atomic power in its history to make creature features seem a bit defanged by comparison.  It’s probably the episode with the strongest horror elements - ATOM’s always been influenced by Resident Evil, and this is probably where that influence shows the most strongly.

- It also features the first fully robotic mecha in the series, the mighty Herakoschei!  Its name is a combination of “Heracles” and “Koschei the Deathless,” with the former part being added by its Russian creators to make it seem a bit more international as they offer it to the U.N. in hopes of gaining aid for a very extreme kaiju problem they’ve developed.

- Most of Tyrantis vs. the Red Menace takes place in the Siberian Monster Zone.  Its name is a reference to the Lawless Monster Zone in Ultraman, which is such a cool fucking name I wish that I wish I could go back in time and steal it.

- The next episode, Tyrantis’s Revenge, is... full of spoilers, so we’ll move on for now.

- The penultimate episode, Tyrantis vs. the Martian Monsters, is a love letter to MANY different sci-fi stories that involve life on Mars, though the most prominent of them is of course The War of The Worlds (one of my top 3 favorite books) and its various adaptations.  From its tentacles sapient martians, the tripodal leader of the titular monsters whose name includes the word “ulla” which is uttered by said sapient martians, the plant monster made of red vines, the cylinder-shaped spacecraft the Martian monsters are sent to earth on, the copper-skinned stingray-esque flying martian who shoots lasers from its tail, and the fact that every chapter title in this episode is a quote from the book, the H.G. Wells influence is STRONG.

- The final episode, Invasion from Beyond!, is shamelessly inspired by Destroy All Monsters, although there’s a dash of “To Serve Men,” Godzilla vs. Monster Zero, and The Day the Earth Stood Still mixed in as well.  It’s also sort of a tribute to my first “published” bit of a kaiju fiction - a rewrite of Destroy All Monsters that included EVERY Godzilla monster that had appeared at the time, which my middle school self wrote back in 2002 or so for Kaiju Headquarters, a kaiju fansite I’m not sure exists anymore.  Invasion from Beyond! is just as ambitious (but hopefully better executed) as my DAM Remake, with dozens upon dozens of different kaiju duking it out, earthlings vs. aliens.

- There were three different documents I made to outline the final battle of Invasion from Beyond!  It’s the largest episode of the series so far and more than half of it is that fucking fight.  My inner child is pleased, though, so hopefully you will be too.

Ok, that’s all I can share without spoilers.  READER BEWARE WHAT FOLLOWS BELOW THE CUT!

JUST MAKING SURE you know that SPOILERS will follow from here on out.  Read at your own peril!  YOU WERE WARNED!

(I’m gonna start with lighter ones just in case you scrolled too far and want to turn back)

- There’s a number of explicit Spielberg homages in ATOM Volume 2, from a “we need a bigger boat” joke during a chase with a giant shark to the fact that Invasion from Beyond! opens with a group of people flying to an island of monsters to review whether or not it should get more funding.

- When Tyrantis appears in the first chapter, I snuck in modified lyrics of The Godzilla Power Hour’s theme song.  “Up from the depths”... “several stories high”... “breathing fire”... “its head in the sky”... Tyrantis!  Tyrantis!  Tyrantis!

- The two rock bands in Tyrantis in Tokyo have real life inspirations ala Gwen Valentine, albeit a bit more muddled than hers.  The Cashews are inspired by The Peanuts (see what I did there), while The Thunder Lizards are a mix of The Rolling Stones, the Beatles, Buddy Holly, and the Big Bopper.  I wanted The Thunder Lizards to be more akin to the myth of a famous rock and roll band than the reality - less the real Beatles and more the Yellow Submarine cartoon version of them.

- The song The Thunder Lizards write for Tyrantis was written to fit the tune of “The Godzilla March” from Godzilla vs. Gigan, though ideally if someone made an actual song of it it would be its own song.  I got the idea from Over the Garden Wall, which used the Christmas song “O Holy Night” as a a starting point for “Come Wayward Souls.”

- Perry Martin, UNNO reporter and peer of Henry Robertson, is a nod to Raymond Burr, with his name being a combination of two of Burr’s most famous roles: Perry Mason, and Steve Martin from Godzilla King of the Monsters (1956).

- Dr. Rinko Tsuburaya is a few homages in one.  Her name comes from Rinko Kikuchi (who played Mako Mori in Pacific Rim), while her last name is obviously in homage of Eiji Tsuburaya.  Her being the daughter of an esteemed scientist is inspired by Emiko Yamane from the original Gojira.

- Nastadyne’s Burning Justice mode is named after a similar super mode from various Transformers cartoons, though it’s more directly inspired by the Shining/Burning Finger super move from G Gundam.

- Martians sending kaiju to different planets via shooting them out of cannons (with or without cylinder spaceships around them) is another War of the Worlds shoutout.  So is martians living on Venus after their homeworld was made uninhabitable, actually.

- Kurokame’s vocalizations are described as wails in explicit homage to Gamera.  His name can be translated as either “black tortoise” (a reference to the mythical guardian beast Genbu, which can also be construed as a Gamera reference thanks to Gamera: Advent of Irys implying Gamera and Genbu are one and the same) or a portmanteau of the Japanese words for crocodile and turtle - “crocturtle.”

- Burodon’s name is just a mangling of “burrow down.”  It also sounds vaguely like Baragon, who Burodon is loosely inspired by.  AND, since Burodon is sort of a knockoff/modified Baragon, that kinda makes him a reference to various monsters in Ultraman!

- The final battle of Tyrantis in Tokyo is sort of a hybrid of the finales of Ghidorah the 3 Headed Monster and Destroy All Monsters.  

- The Japanese kaiju teaching Tyrantis the art of throwing rocks at your enemies is both a joke on the prominence of rock throwing in Japanese kaiju fights AND the tired trope of an American hero learning secret martial arts from a Japanese mentor ala Batman, Iron Fist, etc.  In this case, the secret martial art is throwing rocks at people.

- When introduced to Herakoschei and its pilot, we are told that the strain of piloting this early mecha is so intense that many pilots have died in the process, with the current one passing out on more than few occasions.  This is of course a Pacific Rim homage - sadly, no one invents drifting.

- Herakoschei’s design is a loose homage to Robby the Robot and Cherno Alpha, because big boxy robots are cool.

- The Writhing Flesh and ESPECIALLY Pathogen are both hugely influenced by Resident Evil and The Thing.  Giant body horror piles of raw flesh, tendrils, mismatched mouths and limbs may be a bit outside the main era of monster design ATOM homages, but they fit the themes and bring a nice contrast.

- I came up with Pathogen long before Corona but MAN it definitely feels different in 2021 to have a giant monster whose name is a synonym for disease driving other creatures crazy in a quarantine zone than it did when I plotted out the story in 2016.

- The chapter title “Hello, Old Foes” is a riff on “Goodbye, Old Friend”

- Minerva, the kaiju-fied clone of Dr. Lerna, is meant to be an homage to Attack of the 50 Foot Woman, which is a genuinely good giant monster flick.  I am sure many of you will also believe I included her because I’m a pervert whose into tall women, but you’d be wrong!  I included the seven foot tall Russian mecha pilot Ludmilla Portnova because I’m a pervert whose into tall women.  Minerva’s inclusion was just coincidental, I swear!

- Since Promythigor is a play on the archetypal ape kaiju to contrast Tyrantis as a play on the archetypal fire-breathing reptile kaiju, their fight has a lot of nods to King Kong movies.  Promythigor attempts the famous jaw-snap maneuver of Kong (with less success), J.C. Clark paraphrases the “brute force vs. a thinking animal” line from the King Kong vs. Godzilla American cut, and Tyrantis slides down a mountain to knock Promythigor off his feet in a reversal of Kong doing the same in King Kong vs. Godzilla.

- Tyrantis sliding down a mountain on his tail doubles as a Godzilla vs. Megalon homage.

- Though Promythigor is the archetypal Ape and Tyrantis the archetypal Fire-Breathing Reptile, I think it’s fun to note that in some ways, Promythigor is the Godzilla equivalent in their matchup, and Tyrantis the Kong.  Promythigor has a slight size advantage, was scarred by humans performing unethical weapons technology, and is associated with violent explosions.  Tyrantis is a good-at-heart prehistoric beast who humanized in part by his unlikely friendship with a human woman.

- Of course, in the context of the famous quote from the American cut of King Kong vs. Godzilla, they remain in their archetypal lanes.  Promythigor is the more intelligent of the two (though not necessarily wiser), and Tyrantis is in many ways a brute reptile.  Their battle is a rebuttal of sorts to the assertion that Kong is the “better” animal because he is closer to human.  Promythigor’s near human creativity and emotions don’t make him the kinder/more benevolent monster, but instead fuel a very self-centered and destructive attitude that makes him the far more dangerous threat.  On the other hand, Tyrantis, who is less intelligent, limited in communication with others by his reptilian mindset and instincts, and simple in his thoughts and desires, is nonetheless a sweet creature that is easily dealt with when others consider his animal needs and mindset.  There’s a quote from Hellboy I love that probably sums up all of my writing thus far: “To be other than human does not mean the same as being less,” and that’s what the matchup between these two in particular tries to illustrate: the “less” human Tyrantis is nonetheless more benign than the “more” human Promythigor.

- Kraydi the psychic lizard began life as a soft sculpture I made of the Canyon Krayt Dragon from The Wildlife of Star Wars.  The sculpture didn’t look much like the illustration, but I liked how it came out, and so I made it an original monster named Kraydi (see what I did there).  Figuring out an explanation for that name in ATOM’s world was possibly the most difficult kaiju naming task in the series, but it worked out in the end.

- Kraydi and Promythigor having psychic powers is a result of my time on Godzilla fan forums in my middle school years.  Most of the forums had OC kaiju battle tournaments, and SO many of those kaiju had a wide array of beam weapons and psychic powers just to win the tournaments by beam-spamming and mind controlling their foes into oblivion.  There’s a special kind of rage you get when your original creation is beaten by “Fire Godzilla” because he has a genius level intellect and the power of unstoppable telekinesis.  Kraydi began as (and still is I suppose) my attempt to do a psychic kaiju well, while Promythigor’s villainy being tied to psychic powers being forced on him is sort of my passive aggressive commentary on people foisting powers on a monster without any real thematic reason for them.

- Henry Robertson and Dr. Praetorius chewing out the laziness of people giving kaiju completely unaltered names of mythic beasts will probably be seen as a jab at the Monsterverse and/or the numerous writers in the kaiju OC scene who do the same, but it’s ACTUALLY a jab at my past self, who had DOZENS of kaiju whose names were just Greek mythological figures verbatim.  There are dozens of kaiju named Hydra, Scylla, Charybdis, Chimera, etc., past me, try to make the names stand out!  Oh wait you did.  I mean, don’t pat yourself on the back too much, you still went with “Mothmanud” as a canon name and never came up with something better, but, like, good on ya for trying I guess.

- Dr. Praetorius takes his name from the evil mad scientis in Bride of Frankenstein, who basically has all the wicked traits that Universal’s Frankenstein downplayed in their take on Dr. Frankenstein.  Ironically, ATOM’s Dr. Praetorius is a bit less evil than his fellow mad scientists in ATOM.  I really like how his character turned out, he surprised me.

- Isaac Rossum, the pilot of the USA mecha Atomoton, is named for Isaac Aasimov, whose robot stories are to robot fiction what Lord of the Rings is to high fantasy.  His last name is a reference to Rossum’s Universal Robots, which is where the word “robot” came from.

- The unfortunate pilots of MechaTyrantis in ATOM Volumes 1 and 2 are all nods to Jurassic Park.  John Ludlow = John Hammond and Peter Ludlow, Ian Grant = Ian Malcolm and Alan Grant, Dennis Dodgson = Dennis Nedry and Lewis Dodgson.

- A good way to pitch Invasion from Beyond! would be “what if the staff and monsters were able to fight back when the Kilaaks tried to take over Monsterland?”

- Ok, here’s a fun joke that no one will get but me because it requires a very specific chain of logic based on some obscure and loosely connected nerd bullshit.  There’s a rocker in ATOM’s universe named Sebastian Haff, right?  One of his songs, “Darling Let’s Shimmy,” is referenced right before a mothmanud larva emerges from the ground in both ATOM Vol. 1 and 2.  Ok, so, in the Bubba Hotep, an aging Elvis impersonator named Sebastian Haff claims he is actually the real Elvis Presley, having changed places with the real Sebastian Haff as a sort of Prince and the Pauper deal that went wrong.  Got that?  Ok, so, in UFO folklore, a common joke is the theory that Elvis didn’t die, but was rather abducted by aliens (or he actually WAS an alien the whole time - the whole “Elvis didn’t die, he just went home” joke in Men in Black is a good example of this).  Ok?  Ok.  So, in ATOM’s universe, we can surmise that their equivalent of Elvis, whose name is Sebastian Haff, WAS abducted by aliens, and that his song “Darling Let’s Shimmy” is subconsciously influenced by his repressed memories from his time aboard the Beyonder spaceships, which is why it accidentally awoke a Mothmanud larva in Volume 1.  There’s a lot of bullshit jokes I put into ATOM, but this is perhaps the bullshittiest of them all.

- One of the most common bits of feedback on ATOM Volume 1 I got was “I kept waiting for something to eat Brick Rockwell, he’s such an asshole.”  And I had to smile and go, “Oh, yeah, guess he never got his, huh?” the whole time without letting on that he was going to die here all along!

- Dr. Lerna and Brick Rockwell’s nature as foils to each other is probably most apparent in Invasion from Beyond!, where both are given fairly similar situations - a nonhuman approaches them with a solution to a global crisis - and react to it very differently.  I worry that some people may think they both made the same choice and got different results, and that that’s hypocrisy on my part, but I hope I wrote it so you can see how their choices and situations actually differ in key ways, and why their decisions, while similar on the surface, are ultimately very different, and thus result in almost opposite outcomes.

- So, when I planned out this book in 2016, I swear I didn’t know about the Orca from 2019′s Godzilla King of the Monsters.  Having the plot hang around Dr. Lerna deciding whether or not to use a sonic device to rouse all the kaiju to save the earth was not INTENDED to be a Monsterverse reference - it came about from me looking at Pathfinder’s take on kaiju, who are all explicitly influenceable by music, and thinking, “Oh, wow, music and songs DO have a major connection with kaiju in a lot of media, I should do something with that.”  Whem KOTM came out a few days after Volume 1 came out I realized I was kinda fucked here, because the comparison was definitely going to be made, but I’d also set this all up already and you can’t just change suddenly to avoid looking like a copy cat and make a good story, so... I dunno, I leaned into it a bit, but it is what it is.

- While most people will probably think they’re a reference to the Reptoids of UFO folklore, the Reptodites are more inspired by the Dinosapien of speculative evolution fame and, even morso, by the Reptites from Chrono Trigger.  Me wanting to avoid the “lizard people control the government” conspiracy theory trope is one of the main reasons why Reptodites have this non-interference clause with humanity.

- Lieutenant Gray is a bunch of different humanoid aliens rolled into one - a little Hopskinville goblin, a little classic gray, a little this one weird alien with five-fingered zygodactyl hands, etc.

- There’s some Beyonder Mecha in this volume that are basically kaiju-fied versions of the Flatwoods Monster.  The species that built them ALSO engineered the Mothmanuds, because connecting Mothman and the Flatwoods Monster is fun!

- Pleprah is, obviously, a one-eyed one-horned flying purple people eater.

- Tyrantis’s brush with death, in addition to being so very anime, was inspired by my dad outlining how mythic heroes often have to travel to the underworld/land of the dead before they can finish their journey.  It’s one of the plot points that I’ve had planned for this series since middle school.

- I’m sure some will view it as hackneyed and corny, but as a person who’s battled with depression for decades, having Tyrantis’s choice to live be the big heroic turn of the finale was very important to me.  Tyrantis incorporates elements of a lot of imaginary friends I made as a kid, and in many ways he’s kind of the face of my more positive side in my head.  He’s been telling me to choose to live for a while, and while maybe to an outsider it may seem hackneyed, it’s just... very Tyrantis.  He chooses life and kindness in the face of pain and struggle.  That’s Tyrantis.

- Tyrantis’s powered up form is called “Hyper Mode,” which is another Gundam reference.  Originally it was a lot gaudier and involved him turning gold like a fuckin’ Super Saiyan.  I opted for something a little more toned down here.  

- Also, speaking of KOTM references, I decided to make Hyper Mode Tyrantis’s final duel with Pathogen be a sort of foil to Burning Godzilla’s final bout with Ghidorah in KOTM.  Instead of ravaging the city, Hyper Tyrantis’s pulse of energy rejuvenates his fallen allies, and as a result he is “crowned” not out of fear for his supremacy in the wake of killing a powerful enemy, but in gratitude for his kindness.  See?  Leaning into it!

- And now I can finally reveal that Yamaneon is ATOM’s equivalent of The Monolith Monsters - that is, a kaiju that is also a mineral.  I took the “strange continuously growing rock” thing in a very different direction, though, as unlike The Monolith Monsters, Yamaneon is actually alive.

- At various points in the pre-writing process, either Promythigor, MechaTyrantis, or both were going to die fighting Pathogen.  I ultimately decided to let them both live, with MechaTyrantis even getting his flesh and blood body back, because I think it’s more interesting and thematically consistent that way.  They get a chance to heal their wounds by changing their ways.

- The Great Beyonder and Dorazor both almost didn’t make the cut, as I felt they didn’t have the same pull as villains that Pathogen, Promythigor, and MechaTyrantis did.  But then I thought that could actually be the gag - build them up as the final boss, only to have Pathogen take their crown.  I want to explore post-face turn Dorazor a bit more, though.  We’ll have to see about that in a later volume.

- Volumes 1 and 2 make up what I call “The Ballad of Tyrantis Arc” for ATOM.  I call it that because Tyrantis’s storyline in these two volumes was patterend after Chivalric ballads like Yvain the Knight of the Lion.  Tyrantis, a heroic warrior who is kind but dumb of ass, learns of strange goings on outside his home and investigates.  During his journey into the unknown he falls in love with a powerful woman, whose favor he tries to win.  Through happenstance he is separated from his love and, distraught, wanders around fighting various foes to prove his worth, before finally returning to his love a better hero.  Invasion from Beyond! could even be seen as a sort of Morte d’Artur, with Tyrantis and a bunch of other kaiju heroes (including Nastadyne and Kemlasulla, who are built up as Hero Kaiju of Another Story) take part in a huge battle that threatens their idealic kingdom (of monsters).

- Volume 2 isn’t the end of ATOM, but it’s designed to work as an ending if you want to tap out here.  As a reader I feel a definitive ending is important, but as a writer I’m always tempted to revisit my beloved characters, so I feel giving closure while leaving a few doors open for possible future adventures is a good compromise between these positions.  There will be more ATOM stories, some (but not all!) following Tyrantis and Dr. Lerna, but if you want to know that Tyrantis and Dr. Lerna get an ending and the resolution to their arcs such a thing promises, here you go.  An ending, if not THE END.

[asthmark]

❝ comfortable ❞ l.mk

synopsis → “oh, i’m mark. mark lee.” he gives her a lop-sided grin, reminding you of a high school boy. the kind you would have a crush on.

word count → 3k

a/n → instead of admitting to the fact that this has been in my drafts since october what if i just said i was watching superm interviews and got inspired.. would anyone believe that??? anyway superm on the ellen show was a fever dream lol

your leg bounces nervously as your makeup artist touches up your look and you stare at the tv screen in anticipation. you were finally making your television debut. you knew you were blessed for the wonderful opportunity, especially for how new you were to the music industry.

you had started like nearly every other artist; posting covers on youtube. these were well received and gained a good amount of views and likes but your career really took off when you began creating original content. every time you would release a single, it would make it on the trending page thanks to your growing fanbase and exposure to the general public, who seemed to like you. soon enough, requests to interview you whether it be on radio, tv, or magazines were high and, thanks to your managers, you found yourself in los angeles, backstage in a studio, waiting for the ellen degeneres to introduce you to her live audience and thousands of viewers at home.

“don’t move so much, miss l/n,” the woman trying to apply your highlighter comments. “you’re smudging your makeup.”

you force yourself to sit still as you apologize. “sorry. pre-show jitters.”

the woman smiles, emphatically. “i understand, sweetheart. i would be nervous too.”

you’re quiet for a moment, debating if you should continue conversing with her. “can i be honest?”

she hums as she dabs a beauty blender into your cheek. “go ahead.”

“i am so nervous that i’ll mess up or say something stupid. the only thing close to an interview i’ve ever done was a q&a on my youtube channel. and at least i could edit stuff out then.” you huff. “if i make some kind of mistake on my tv debut, my career will be over before it even started.”

“well, think of it this way,” she says. “you went from a moderately popular youtube channel to the ellen show. that doesn’t happen for no reason. there are people out there who really admire you.”

you chuckle in disbelief. “it’s crazy to think about people actually wanting to see me. i still can't believe it.”

she giggles, softly. “they know there's something worth seeing.” at seeing your small smile, almost as if you were barely realizing your own star status, she laughs. “you seriously gotta wake up, girl. you’re famous!”

you smile at her, finding humor in her words. “thanks for the wake up call.”

you both direct your attention to the tv placed backstage that broadcasted what was happening on stage. you listen in to ellen’s monologue as she tells jokes and addresses current topics. before long, there’s a knock on the doorframe. you half expect a staff member to let you know that you’ll be on soon but instead you hear a quiet, “hello?”

you and your makeup artist both turn to the boy standing in the doorway. he's wearing a black jacket paired with dark, ripped jeans held up by a belt. he goes to bow, then remembers that korean etiquette does not apply and decides to wave as a greeting instead. you reciprocate the gesture. he stands with only one foot inside the room, almost as if he’s too polite to enter without being given the okay.

“did they send you to get your makeup done?” the woman who had done yours says.

he nods. “they said something about concealer and bb cream, i think?”

she smiles. “yeah, it’s basic stuff. come on in. what’s your name, dear?”

“oh, i’m mark. mark lee.” he gives her a lop-sided grin, reminding you of a high school boy. the kind you would have a crush on.

“well, mark lee, i’m lily. i’ll be doing your makeup, making sure you look pretty for the cameras.” she motions to you. “i'm just about done here so i’ll be right with you.”

“okay, thank you.” he shuffles in, his eyes glued to you and you hold his stare. he nods, a wordless greeting as he settles in next to you. in return, you throw up a peace sign and he smiles at your casual behavior.

“you know what? somebody used all the setting spray. i’ll be right back, i’m just going to steal some from my co-workers.” with that, lily darts out of the room.

it’s pure silence between the two of you until you spark conversation. “i didn't get to introduce myself but i'm y/n.”

“i know,” he responds, quickly. “i'm kind of a fan, actually. i mean, it’s practically impossible to not be. you’re all over the place. especially with the new single you dropped... which is a bop, by the way.”

you smile at his simply-worded praise. it was a nice switch up from the professional reviews you received from critics. “that’s so cute. i’m honored.” you miss the way mark’s ears turn slightly pink at your words. “but enough about me, what do you do, mark?”

“oh, me? i’m in the k-pop scene.”

you hum. “that’s a good genre to be in. which group?”

“right now i’m promoting with superm, it’s kind of like a side project. but originally, i’m in a band called nct.”

you lean forward at hearing the familiar name. “nct? as in, nct 127?”

mark’s eyes light up. “yeah! you know us?”

you nod, enthusiastically. “oh my god, yes! you collabed with ava, right?”

“we sure did. are you guys close?”

“i help her write lyrics sometimes.” you lower your voice down to a whisper for dramatic effect. “i wrote the chorus to ‘sweet but psycho’.”

the way mark’s jaw drops is almost comedic. “no way! that song got her famous, dude!” his lips curve into a playful smirk. “just because of that i’m gonna have to get you in the studio.”

you return the mischievous look. “is that a promise?”

“i’m back!” lily announces, giving mark no time to respond. she gives no warning as she spritzs you with the bottle she had gone to retrieve.

you cough, choking on the mist. “no heads up?”

“sorry, dear. you’re on in two minutes, no time to waste.”

you feel a chill go up your spine. it was finally time.

mark nudges your arm. “you okay?”

“a little nervous.” that proves to be the biggest understatement of all time because in reality your heart is doing somersaults.

“hey.” you stare at him, his brown eyes boring into you. “you’ll be fine. there’s nothing to worry about. you got this!”

you smile at his words of encouragement. he cared about you and you find that your heart is pounding for an entirely different reason now.

“i'll be here to cheer you on while you’re out there and i’ll be back when you’re done to tell you how amazing you did, okay?”

you nod.

“now get out there!”

“well, we have a great show for y’all today,” ellen says, clasping her hands together, having just finished her monologue. “i mean, it’s always great but the exciting thing is we have two musical guests today.”

the audience that cheered wildly is shown on screen. you almost forget about the knot in your stomach when you see some people in the crowd wearing shirts with the cover art and quoted lyrics of your last single.

“i see you guys are ready so, without further ado... let’s get started. our first guest is a soloist who has made quite a big name for herself in such a short period of time. she currently has three singles on the billboard charts, her most recent music video is number one trending on youtube, and she has a new ep coming out soon. here for her television debut, please welcome y/n l/n.”

you walk out from behind the stage, a huge smile on your face. the crowd screams and you wave to them until your hands become too occupied hugging the hostess who greets you with open arms and a proud smile. once the hype dies down and your entrance music fades out, you take a seat, opposite of ellen.

“how have you been y/n?”

“amazing,” you respond, letting your hands fall neatly in your lap.

“and why is that?”

you sigh, wistfully. “everything has been going so well for me lately. i mean, i feel like all these doors are opening up for me all of a sudden. i think i finally made it.”

“you’re just barely realizing that?” ellen exclaims.

you laugh, along with the audience. “kind of, yeah. it just all happened so fast.”

“is there an experience that comes to mind where you finally realized how famous you are?”

you try to think for a few moments before your eyes light up. “okay so, i was at a mcdonald’s like, last month and i went through the drive thru and ordered some nuggets and fries. so, i pull up to the window to pay and it’s around 2 a.m. so the cashier guy is super out of it, like he’s not even paying attention to me. finally, he goes to grab my card and he gets a good look at me and just freezes. like, full on shuts down. so i ask him if he’s okay and he nods so i try to hand him my card again but he goes, ‘no, you’re famous, you don’t have to pay’. and in that moment i just knew.”

“hold on, pause,” ellen announces, dramatically. “you’re telling me that you have been nominated as artist of the year, gained over ten million followers on social media and made your national television debut but the thing that really made you say ‘wow, i’m famous’ was a couple of chicken nuggets?”

“ellen, c’mon,” you begin, seriously. “it was a twenty piece.”

“oh, well, that changes everything,” she says, playing along with you, as the audience erupts into laughter.

the rest of the interview goes smoothly, running on jokes and sarcastic energy. you discuss your young age (thus resulting in some of your baby pictures finally being revealed to the world), millennial culture (the crowd went wild when you explained terms such as netflix and chill to ellen who claimed she didn’t understand yet her sly smirk said otherwise) and your upcoming ep (that you would be giving a sneak peek of later on in the show).

you continue chatting once the commercial break is announced and ellen showers you with praises, commenting how young talent never failed to amaze her, although it did make her feel old. you get to thank the hostess and tell her how much you appreciated her sweet words and the opportunity she had given you before the crew is dragging you backstage so you can prep for your upcoming performance.

you’re greeted by a “that was awesome!” and a high five one you get backstage.

you flash mark a full smile. “couldn’t have done it without my hype man.”

just then lily walks in to touch up your makeup.

“and my hype woman!”

she just rolls her eyes and chuckles as she reapplies gloss to your lips. 

“seriously though, y/n. why did you have to be so perfect? the bar is all the way up here now.” to emphasize his point, mark raises his arm as high as it will go.

“hey, i only tried hard because you’re up next. you’re a hard act to beat, mark lee. i mean, you’re charismatic, charming, witty; basically every talk show host’s dream.”

he scoffs yet you see how he avoids your gaze, your compliments obviously flattering him to the extreme.

a staff member walks by, cutting your conversation short. “y/n, you’re back on in one. superm is on right after.”

you and mark turn back to each other, speaking the same two words at the same time.

“good luck.”

ellen introduces you again, only this time you hold a guitar and stand in front of a microphone once you’re back on the stage. you perform a never before heard song but judging by the roaring applause and standing ovation you receive by the end of it, it’s another successful hit.

you bask in the amazing response and then you’re ushered backstage for the last time. you catch sight of the staff placing more seats on the stage as you exit and you smile eagerly, knowing exactly what’s to come. you search the hallways for your new friend, hoping you can catch him before the show goes back on air. you’re almost about to give up when you hear your name being called.

you lock eyes with mark who stands a couple feet away, barely hidden from the audience’s view. even from where you stand you can tell he has a nervous smile on his face. you jog towards him and to your surprise, he envelops your figure without a second thought. in return, you tentatively wrap your arms around him.

“great job,” he murmurs, breath fanning your ear. “i really did cheer you on.”

“i’ll make sure to do the same.” you hesitantly pull away from his embrace, holding him at an arm’s length away. “go get ‘em.”

he gives you a determined nod and you watch him rush on stage, the audience’s wild cheering increasing. their energy didn’t fade once throughout the interview and just as you had suspected, mark was doing wonderfully. he clearly thrived in interviews; his awkward, boyish nature enchanting everyone in the studio, yourself included.

ellen crosses her legs and clears her throat. “so, i have to ask you something, you know, for the fans.”

the group leaned forward in anticipation, awaiting her next words.

“are any of you dating?”

the crowd released noises of amusement at hearing the very personal question. you can’t help but feel intrigued although you knew ellen has always been quite the invasive person. you watched as the seven boys looked around at each other, unsure what to say but before their silence can become suspiciously long, mark ends up taking the question.

“why are you always so curious about this, though?” he blurts.

the audience absolutely eats up his response, cheering at his bluntness. even you find it humorous, shoulders shaking with a chuckle. that’s definitely gonna become a meme, you think.

“it’s my job!” counters ellen. “why are you so defensive?”

the crowd is very responsive to ellen’s rebuttal, ‘ooh’ing in amusement.

mark’s silence only pushes the hostess to continue teasing him.

“does it maybe have anything to do with y/n?”

your smile drops. had she seen you two? you’re not sure why you feel so exposed; after all, you had just been talking.

ellen’s lips adorn a sly smile at mark’s stunned reaction. “you seemed to be getting very comfortable with each other backstage.”

the black haired male stumbles over his words before he gets a semi-coherent sentence out. “we just, um—we just met.”

“oh really? you two looked like you had known each other forever.”

mark chuckles breathlessly, eyes glued to his lap, obviously at a loss for words. ellen stares at him expectantly so he mutters, “i like making friends.”

ellen, the audience, and even some of the band members laugh at his response.

“well, i’m sure there’s a lot of fans out there that wish they were your ‘friend’.” her tone makes it clear she doesn’t buy his excuse but she prods him no further, instead turning to stare into the main camera. “when we get back superm will be performing their title track ‘jopping’. during the commercial break, please feel free to place your bets as to how long mark and y/n will remain ‘friends’.”

the camera pans to mark for a couple seconds; his ears are bright red and his cheeks are dusted light pink, his makeup doing nothing to help hide the blush. his eyes dart around, anxiously and then they cut to commercials.

you shake your head, smiling at the entire situation and just how big of a dork mark was.

you attentively watch superm’s two performances, eyes mostly glued to a certain rapper. you sit patiently in the makeup room, waiting for mark to return backstage so you can congratulate him but he never appears. you try to conceal your disappointment, even when lily enters the room, smiling brightly.

“well, the show’s over, doll.” she removes her makeup stained apron and glances at you as she places it on a nearby rack. “hey, why the long face?”

you stare at your reflection in the mirror, no longer bothering to hide your pout now that your frustration had been made known.

“you did great, if that’s what you’re worried about. just ask mark.”

“he left,” you mumble. “i thought i’d be able to catch him before he left and we could… i don’t know, talk a bit more? i just really—” you trail off.

“like him?” lily suggests, too loudly for your liking.

your head snaps towards her, eyes wide, only confirming your feelings.

“don’t worry, dear, you can say it. i won’t tell ellen,” she jokes.

you sigh and slump down in your seat. “yeah. i like him.”

“well, then, i have good news for you.”

you half-heartedly hum, allowing her to continue.

she waves a piece of crumpled paper in front of your face. you grab it from her, staring at it curiously.

“what’s this?”

she nods her head at it, encouraging you to find out for yourself. “open it and see.”  

you obey, unfolding the tiny item. your eyes struggle to read the words inside but if you squint, they become clearer.

please call, me i would love to become closer ‘friends’.

(xxx) xxx-xxxx

it’s mark btw :)

you can’t contain your smile at the cute little note.

“he’s adorable,” you say, mostly to yourself but lily audibly agrees.

“he ran into me as he was leaving and begged me to deliver that message to you. which reminds me, i’m supposed to let you know that he wishes he could have stuck around but his schedule is ‘crazy tight’ so he had to ‘dip’. his words not mine.”

you nod, grin widening. “thanks, lily.”

“my pleasure. nothing like young love.”

you give her a glare although it’s all but threatening.

she folds her arms, teasingly. “so, are you going to give him a call or what?”

you’re sure she sees the phone in your hand and the way your fingers press the numbers on the keypad, excitedly but nevertheless, you decide to answer.

“i’d be crazy not to.”

[meta-squash]

So, last night I had a thought about self-harm (and addiction) and the reaction or framing from the press re: Richey Edwards vs Peter Doherty.

(This went off on a tangent, I’m sorry if it’s a little nonsensical and also I know my opinions are maybe kind of controversial.)

[Blanket TW for discussion of self-harm, eating disorders, and addiction in this post]

My best friend and I were having a conversation last night about self-harm as a coping mechanism and how people who have never self-harmed before don’t understand it and don’t know how to react to it, among other aspects of the subject. Later that got my brain on a different train going in a similar direction but a different destination.

I was thinking about the difference between the media interest surrounding Richey Edwards and Peter Doherty, and how the media framed their struggles and problems etc. (There is a slight difference between the two given that the Manics never got huge in the media and Richey wasn’t around for the explosion of internet tabloid culture.)

But my thought starts out with this: Peter and Richey seem to have done similar types of self-harm in similar amounts, and yet it is Richey’s self-harm that got all the media attention. Richey’s alcoholism and anorexia were not as chaotic or as....public?...as Peter’s drug problems, but it was all but ignored by the media even when he was fairly open about it.

Aside from the original 4REAL incident, which was a complex combination of situationist spectacle, self-expression/release of frustration, and intense message to the industry, Richey’s other moments of self-harm seem to be a more (for lack of a better word) normal level; they seem to have mostly been smaller, shallower cuts or cigarette burns. Aside from the one other recorded incident in Amsterdam ‘94 where Richey cut his chest enough to need stitches, there are no other instances on record of moments at the level of the 4REAL incident. Richey’s moments of self-harm seemed to typically be a more moderate coping mechanism rather than a tendency towards grievous injury. And yet the media’s main focus when it came to Richey was his self-harm and the spectacle of it rather than his lyrics or his other obvious struggles with alcohol and eating disorders.

And it’s interesting to compare that to Peter’s self-harm. I don’t think he’s ever had a moment like 4REAL, but he has used moderate cutting and cigarette burns presumably as a coping mechanism. His “strop” at Brixton ‘04 being the most outwardly dramatic and maybe the closest to 4REAL. But there are plenty of photos or footage of him with visible cuts and/or cigarette burns. And yet it doesn’t seem to be something the press really cared about.

On the flip side, there’s Peter’s addiction and all the media craze surrounding that. (As an aside, I cannot imagine how awful it must have been to have the media obsessing over your drug use while telling you to get better while essentially being its cause.) The press practically documented Peter’s every move re: his drug use and addiction. It was sensationalized and plastered everywhere and this obsessive attention was placed on it.

Which is the opposite of what happened to Richey’s problems. He talked fairly openly about his alcoholism in a number of interviews but rarely was he directly asked about it. Off the top of my head I can’t think of any interview that directly asked him about his eating disorders either, but he did mention some aspects of that in a few interviews (most notably his last ever TV interview for some Swedish channel).

Part of this difference in media focus kind of makes sense. The media picks the thing that’s more dramatic and crazy-sounding and a bigger spectacle. For Richey, it was self-harm, because he started with a proverbial bang by coming out the gate with the 4REAL incident that catapulted the Manics into the eye of the industry proper (despite the fact that he never reached that intense level again). For Peter, it was his drug abuse partly because of its more widespread chaos (drinking alone in your room is not as interesting or glamourous as smoking crack at wild parties, plus a dramatic band breakup draws readers) and partly because of his proximity to Really Famous People (ie Kate).

I guess it just interests me how the media decides which thing is more “concerning” and how that false concern in fact fuels the very thing it pretends to be so worried about.

The 4REAL incident was a shocking thing; it seems as though over the years the remaining Manics have come to acknowledge that that was pretty much the point. Nicky called it an “amazing, fantastic statement” in the 98 Up Close documentary. It’s something that was outside of Richey’s other self-harm because it was very much for a spectacle (JDB does say in the same docu that he was pretty sure Richey had sort of planned it). But none of Richey’s other moments of self harm were as public or as performative. I’d even say his Bangkok chest-cutting was only partially performative, considering how horrific the band considers that trip to have been. But really, his self-harm seemed to be mostly a private, personal thing, a coping mechanism. And yet it was pretty much all the press focused on, ignoring the alcoholism and anorexia that a) were likely actually affecting his ability to function and b) were likely bigger problems that the self-harm was used to balance out. The remaining band have talked about Richey’s drinking and how it affected him and made it difficult for him to function, and none of them ever really talk about Richey’s anorexia but looking at photos of him in 1994 you can really see the toll it takes on him. But the press weren’t interested in that.

And again, similarly, Peter’s drug use was fascinating to the press because it was dramatic and chaotic and an interesting spectacle. But after reading the Books Of Albion etc it sure seems like the press were major instigators of a lot of Peter’s problems and his need to use drugs to cope and/or escape. They ignore his self-harm because it’s not as interesting as his addiction; the opposite of the “mundanity” of Richey’s introverted alcoholism.

The press chooses which problem it’s “concerned” about depending on which one is a more interesting, easily-maintained spectacle. If it can flaunt “concern” in order to goad or stress their victim into doing that thing more, it can perpetuate that cycle: “we’re so concerned about you, look we’ve written an article on your drug-induced antics/your dramatic self-harming tendencies with pictures and misquotes and misunderstanding, oh we’re so concerned we’ve parked ourselves outside your venue and/or house to ask intrusive questions about your problems rather than your art, wait why are you still struggling with this drug/self-harm problem we said we were concerned about you, look we’ve written another article about how you’re struggling and we’re concerned but we haven’t actually asked you what’s wrong or how to help or done the most obvious thing which is leave you alone” ad nauseum.

Plus, these things are always appropriated by the press rather than a request made for clarification from the person. The victim’s candid thoughts about their hurt or their reasons for needing this coping mechanisms are not actually heeded but are twisted round and into part of the “story” rather than taken seriously as an explanation or a plea for the media to fuck off because they’re exacerbating the problem.

And now I go into more theoretical ramblings.

(Side note and/or clarification or...something: I can speak from long-term experience when it comes to self-harm as a coping mechanism etc, but I have not personally dealt with drug addiction so when I’m talking about that, it’s definitely as an outsider. I have friends who are recovering addicts and who I’ve known during their more intense struggles but I have not experienced it myself, like, in my own brain/body.)

Something my best friend and I were discussing in the conversation that triggered this entire thought-train is self-harm as seen by outsiders/people who have never self-harmed or thought about it in any seriousness. (And here comes some more serious discussion, as a warning.)

We talked about how there really isn’t a good argument against self-harm as a coping mechanism. (And I know my opinions here are probably controversial.) Most seem to center around “healthy” coping mechanisms vs “unhealthy” but if it’s your own body and you aren’t hurting anyone else, who’s to say what’s what? The other problem re: “healthy” coping mechanisms (like taking a bath, treating yourself, etc) is that the concern against self-harm seems to be that it isn’t addressing the underlying issue that requires the coping mechanism. But neither does doing some skin care or eating an apple (that is, if the problem is a stressor outside of needing sustenance or being able to do something “relaxing” enough to actually relax). That isn’t to say that self-harm is a good reaction to every stressful moment, but it truly is a very singular type of stimulation and release that is sometimes the only effective method of reacting to and coping with an internal or external stressor.

As a clarification, most acts of self-harm are not to the severity level of 4REAL. Cigarette burns and collections of minor-to-moderate cuts are much more common, neither of which are particularly threatening to the overall wellbeing of the person.

The other thought about self-harm and the reason for the media’s focus on it is the discomfort of and fascination a “badge” of struggle. When you’re depressed and you can’t get out of bed, it’s not like you get up a few days later and there’s a big sign that says “Was Depressed, Couldn’t Move,” or if you feel stressed and overwhelmed so you go drink wine in the bath, you don’t spend the rest of the day with some sort of sign telling other people that you felt bad so you bathed. But self-harm is a personal coping mechanism with evidence attached. And that evidence makes people who can’t understand it uncomfortable. Self-harm leaves a mark which other people are confronted by and they don’t know how to react because they cannot imagine how that can be something that helps. Self-harm is a “badge” of struggle and/or coping--not that it’s a proud mark or anything, just that it’s visible to others in a way that stands out and is singled out. I’ve gone out in public in my pajamas after not getting out of bed for 5 days and nobody looked at me funny or asked me why I looked all rumpled. But I’ve had random strangers at the grocery store ask me about the self-harm scars on my upper arms. Scars are a sign of hurt or stress etc that are visible to others which means they feel compelled to confront their feelings about it and often come up uncomfortable and not understanding and confused.

Similarly, I think drug use/addiction can sometimes be a similar “badge” of struggle, especially if it’s apparent onstage or during various public appearances. It’s something that people outside of it don’t understand. Likely they don’t understand the use of drugs as something other than “for fun.” People don’t understand the depths of using drugs as escape from or coping with (or both) stressors. Raw dogging reality is kind of a tall order if reality is overwhelming and stressful to a degree that’s difficult or impossible to control and/or manage. Not to mention using drugs for coping or escape then can lead to dependency and addiction and that’s a whole new game. Because, you know, that’s the thing: it’s not just about kicking an addiction. If you try to kick an addiction without replacing it with something else, you can pretty easily fall back into it because it’s not just a physical dependency, it’s a way to deal with reality. If you’re trying to go from a using a crutch to deal with reality to straight up raw dogging it without a fallback crutch, it’s gonna be real hard. In terms of a “badge” of struggle I think that use of drugs where intoxication is more obvious or more intense than, say, weed, people are uncomfortable. With a drug’s effects on behavior, I’m sure, but also with the outward signs that the person is obviously using a coping mechanism to deal with stresses or hurts.

In both situations it’s an exposure of this internality that outsiders can’t fully understand or touch. Everyone’s reasons for self harm or drug use are going to be different. The “benefit” that the coping mechanism brings is going to be different for everyone. And it especially means that strangers who don’t have experience with these things cannot fathom them and cannot comprehend them. There’s that desire to understand, that curiosity, (and sometimes an actual desire to help), but no one can read another person’s mind or understand their internality completely, and the visuals of self harm or of drug use are a very intense and forward reminder of that.

And I think those “badges” of struggle are something the media loves to capitalize on, because they can be turned into a spectacle and can be monetized due to outsiders’ discomfort. People watch horror movies or read tabloids because it makes them uncomfortable from a safe distance; these things aren’t happening to them, but another person’s obvious pain/fear/sadness/struggle/etc is just discomforting and strange enough to evoke a dark fascination rather than a total rejection. And the cycle continues as the media capitalizes on their victim’s stress and their coping with that stress, and which then causes more stress which then causes a need for a more intense coping or escaping mechanism, etc.

To bring it back to my original point, the reason the press focused on Richey’s self-harm (despite it being not too terribly excessive or intense) and not his addiction or ED problems, and the reason the press focused on Peter’s addiction and not his self-harm is because of the degree and type of fascination/discomfort those things brought. Richey’s self-harm was interesting enough and obvious enough that they could show lurid photos of his scabs and scars and talk to him about it, but he did his drinking in private and didn’t really cause any sort of scene onstage. And Peter’s drug use was interesting enough and public enough that they could show lurid photos of it as well as collect all sorts of gossip and rumour and twisted-around tales while his self-harm clearly wasn’t as dramatic or fascinating to them. People can read the tabloids and be darkly fascinated by a person cutting themselves up but maybe not by someone drinking at night in their bed (because that’s boring to read about). People can read the tabloids and be gleefully horrified by abuse of class A drugs and the actions/behavior surrounding that but that’s going to be more interesting than a person stubbing a cigarette out on their arm in frustration and despair. It’s all about what can be painted in a more dramatic light. It’s all about what internal things can be made public.

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

PROMPT: Followup to How do you think Euryale would court the MC? #knifewifesquad

WARNINGS: Somewhat OOC 

characters Mentions of blood Crimes against fashion 

Unhealthy/Predatory Behaviors 

Reference to Greek Mythology 

Potential Spoilers for Routes 

Written by @evoedbd 

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

Alisha’s answer was gorgeous. There was no other word that summed up everything that ran through her mind. Cute, delicate, fiery, marblesque… all fell under that uniquely gorgeous category. In a manner beyond human or Godly monster, or any Alisha had seen in her brief life.

The first thing to captivate her was unimaginably expressive eyes. Gems the colour of peach, dancing a fine line between pink and brown. Pale and captivating. Shock blew them wide, even as a weariness hardened them, and something void of sanity swum in their pale depths. There was something innocent about them, how large and clear they were perhaps, topped by a petite brow that seemed to carry the weight of the world and pale hair a shade between winter sunshine and summer dried grass. Hair with a short cut, wispy fringe and hanging in girlish pigtails tucked between delicate little ears… with little earrings shaped like a butcher’s knife from a murder scene, complete with photo realistic colour decal. The Alice in wonderland went batshit crazy theme continued with a lavender summers dress, ending just above delicate knees, leaving little black shoes suited to a child on display. Shoes bathed in blood; little bows knocked askew.

“Who are you?” The woman demanded; voice shrill. Soft looking lips, only half coated with a dappling of peach lipstick, peeled back from teeth. Sharp teeth. Teeth with the top canines extended almost like fangs, though evidently within the human vein of acceptable. An adorable, proud yet dainty nose turned upwards, thin nostrils flaring as if scenting the air for the next kill. So, it was becoming apparently clear Alice should never have left wonderland… but even on the rampage, her unique appearance still fell in gorgeous. Godly even. As if carved from the finest marble, then drizzled with a faint layer of gold so she gleamed in the light.

“That was a stupid question. I know who you are. What the hell were you thinking? Just barging in here like that! I could have turned you into… well, a museum piece! Do you know how many museum pieces my sisters have donated?”

Something about the way she spoke of museum pieces made Alisha feel entirely uneasy. As if these pieces could feel… but that would mean… oh. Oh no. Please no.

Alisha went to open her mouth, went to speak, only for an utterly confused squeak to escape. Enough to make her want to facepalm. She was usually calm and rational, heck she faced down Hercules on the daily, but some insane chick had her squeaking. How was that even a thing? Well, she had to be real. She had a real-life Godly Monster, someone so potent she had etched her name in history, in her living room. So, she had it down to one out of three to guess from, but what would happen if she got it wrong? She had to think carefully, try to piece everything together on the fly. A beauty carved of stone, who spoke of statues as if they were living beings, with sharpened teeth? A woman who had an unhealthy obsession with knives and inflicting pain on demigods… or anything really… anybody? Why was Alisha still looking into her eyes?

“I’m sorry, I don’t know who you a- you’re hurt.” She’d started carefully, tilting her gaze cautiously to avoid looking as intimidated as she was, only to notice the black patch against the woman’s ribcage. No matter who, no matter what she was, she was hurt. She was bleeding all over her own shoes. Over Alisha’s furniture. And she was kind of sweet, even with the psychotic side. This was a woman who’d left helpful messages and items to support Alisha through some tough times. It made sense now why the acts were humanly inappropriate. Could Alisha really hold cultural differences against an injured woman?

“No I’m not!” The woman’s snappiness made Alisha’s heart jump. Her insides lurched, every droplet of blood trying to relocate an inch to the left. Yet, somehow, she didn’t move a muscle. The HERA agent simply stood her ground, extending her hand as she pointed to the dark patch against the lavender.

“What’s that then?” Alisha demanded, watching the other woman lower her gaze. Peach eyes fixed on the wound for a split second, lips pursing in clear irritation. Something about it had Alisha thinking the irritation was more for the dress than the cut.

“It’s a flesh wound.”

… apparently Alisha was right.

“That’s still hurt!” Alisha finally snapped, her exasperation bursting through her human instinct to fear the godly.

“Are you calling me weak?” The woman’s sharp demand was accompanied by an earthquake worthy shift in her attitude. The peach in her eyes shrunk, the band of colour narrowing down to pinpoints even as her eyes blew wide. A crazed monster, matched by the rows of unnaturally sharp teeth, which she had bared in a wide mouthed snarl. Something Alisha couldn’t help but smile at. Granted, she probably should have been revaluating her strategy given there was also a giant leopard seal snarling from her couch, with teeth for days and murder in its lavender eyes, embraced by a halo of lavender that betrayed it was definitely this woman’s aura… but, of course, Alisha didn’t. The longer she stared at the flex of aura, for every breath of salt and brine she inhaled, she could feel an answering tide within her. It swelled in her chest, overcoming her entire being, washing away all possibility and competition until it was the only thing that could escape her.

“Euryale.” The name tasted so right. How a word could have taste, Alisha couldn’t begin to explain. Yet, the way it rolled across her tongue, how it made her lips caress the syllables… it was the tide, an ebb and flow, the rolling of waves in her mouth to which Alisha was helpless to resist. The ancient name held such wonder, such elegance, something delicate and something fierce. Of course this was Euryale. How could Alisha have ever thought otherwise? She lacked the force of Stheno, nor held the renowned grace of Medusa. Euryale was potent emotion. The myths of her cries crumbling stone played in the back of Alisha’s mind, for if she were stone, she truly doubted she could handle anguish in such a raw form. Not if Euryale expressed it like she expressed her irritation.

“You’re not weak, at all, but you are hurt. I don’t understand any of what is going on, why you’ve been leaving me messages, or why you’re hurt, but you are hurt. I need to help you. I’m not about to turn you over to H.E.R.A. If you’d wanted to hurt me, you wouldn’t have sent me all those nice things. You’d have already done it. For now, that’s enough for me to trust you. Can you now trust me?” Alisha’s words were spoken gently, as one might speak to a nervy colt. She could only watch as peach reclaimed white, swelling until there was barely white left. Those gorgeous eyes glistened, oceans beginning to trickle from them before everything withdrew. Then, the scent was only a memory. The seal as tangible as a dream one couldn’t quite remember after waking.

“You don’t know… was my intent not clear?” The Gorgon questioned, lower lip trembling as she pouted. Alisha could only shake her head.

“Charybdis and Prime told me that lines of courtship were still done in human society! They even had me spend hours memorising hundreds of atrocious lines that I might woo you properly! They said romantic notes held universal intent!” Euryale went from mopey to utterly infuriated within a blink, stamping her little black flats into the pool of blood and salt water. Alisha could only blink.

“You were… you were attempting to hit on me?”

“I spent days researching the languages of the finest poets under their guidance, only for you not to understand their complexity?” The Gorgon continued. Alisa could only bite her lip, struggling not to laugh.

“You… googled pickup lines?”

Euryale’s cheeks flushed.

“Prime told me that was how you wooed in this era!” Euryale whined, crossing her arms defensively across her chest. With every frustrated huff, her murderous little earrings jingled, making Alisha’s struggle to keep her composure that much harder.

“And stabbed them into my door? For weeks…”

“I read delivery should be given personal flare! Stheno said I should be direct!”

Well… she was direct alright.

“By stabbing my door… for weeks…” Alisha reiterated, voice lacking emotion. Aphrodite was going to have a field day with this. May was probably already planning friendfictons… Alisha could only facepalm.

“I had to research your patterns for months to establish an appropriate time schedule-”

“Are you confessing to stalking me? For months?” Alisha had to cut in. So, that explained some things, probably should have freaked her out too… but could she completely fault this adorable creature? Ok, so it was unquestionably out of line, something that Alisha would have to have some strong words with Euryale about, and Euryale was a poster child for sweet but psycho… but it was somehow charming too. Euryale looked very much like a teenager grumbling about a crush. All the social floundering, the sincere effort put into it. So, things were very lost in translation, but… it was kind of endearing watching an ancient godly monster try to act like a twenty-year-old.

“I was observing! I had to perfect the wedding gifts.”

“Wedding…?”

“The exchange of blades? A proposal? You accepted them… you didn’t know their meaning, did you?”

Again, Alisha could only shake her head. No. Nope. Absolutely no clue.

What followed was a tirade of ancient Greek, spoken so vehemently it could be nothing but the most enthusiastic of cussing fits. It was accompanied by little stamps and huffs, so reminiscent of a toddler throwing a tantrum that Alisha was caught between cooing at the more twee aspects of the scenario or blushing at the few phrases she could roughly understand. She did neither. Before she could decide, Euryale’s foot came down that bit too hard in her previous mess, splattering little pink droplets across the floor. Her shoe slid through the puddle, sending the Gorgon sprawling onto the couch with the grace of a beached whale, and a terrified yelp that cut Alisha to the core. Before Euryale could stop it, a pitiful whine escaped her, degrading Alisha’s mind to one goal.

Comfort.

She sprang into action, reaching to press her hands tightly to the wound even as she broke into babbling.

“Hey, hey, hey! I am sure you’re really lovely, and would make a wonderful, erm, soulmate. But I haven’t really gotten to know you, and I really appreciate the knives, but I’m not ready for marriage… maybe we could start with something simple? Like coffee?” It was after her verbal outpouring that Alisha realised this was the first time she was touching Euryale.  Months of gifts and messages had finally led to this.  It should have been ground-breaking; Alisha had expected the moment to erode the mountains.  Expected her heart to seize in her chest… but everything was still.  The heat of blood and comfortable curve of Euryale’s body didn’t leave her brain melted.  Didn’t feel monumental the way she’d expected.  It was natural, just like the act of taking breath, as if she’d been born to do precisely this.

“Coffee?” The hopeful yet confused way Euryale muttered that had Alisha practically melting. How was this twee little psychopath so adorable?

“Yep. Maybe some dinners, or some movies? Oh, do you have a phone?”

“A… phone?”

“So we can call and text. I adore the gifts, but I can’t afford to keep replacing the door, not to mention if someone breaks in, I’m only human.”

“You’re Hera.” The Gorgon whispered, looking into Alisha’s eyes. Again, the peach had swallowed the white, brimming with such profound sorrow that Alisha couldn’t resist leaning closer to press her lips to the Gorgon’s forehead.

“I’m still only human… so, coffee?”

“Coffee.” Euryale agreed, lips pulling into a timid smile. Before either woman could process more, The Gorgon flinched, a hiss escaping between her teeth.

“And bandages?” Alisha suggested, earning some form of snort from Euryale to accompany the flush to her cheeks and the growing little smile.

“Bandages are good.”

In hindsight, Alisha probably should have asked what had happened, but she was far too lost in that gorgeous smile, in that beautiful moment of vulnerability, to do anything more than come to two very startling conclusions.

One - she was the biggest sapphic disaster to ever walk the earth.

Two - If Euyrale didn’t stop being so endearing, Alisha was absolutely fucked.

[gaemkyuu]

The Future

Warnings: none!  A/N: This is the last part! I hope you’ve all enjoyed my mini series with my own character. I’m debating if I should add one last one with a child in the mix, but I want to know what you want! Send me a message or leave me a comment! Requests are open :) Disclaimer: This is a FICITONAL writing piece on Charlie Gillespie. In no way do I claim or declare that Charlie’s portrayal is accurate to real life. I do however, own Teagan Valencia :)

Masterlist *now taking requests ;)

The Teagan Valencia Series: The Meeting  / The Fight / The Proposal / The Present / The Recovery / The Future

The Future

“Teags? Baby you gotta get up now... Teags, come on. I can’t let you sleep in any more. Plus, breakfast is here and you need to eat before things get crazy” 

Teagan snuggled into her pillow a little more, groaning at Charlie’s soft voice that disturbed her slumber. She was never a morning person, but she knew today she had to be. After a solid year of planning, the countless hours she spent at Bridal expos with Savannah and her cousin and all the tedious decisions her and Charlie had to make, their day was here. She rolled over to face his side of the bed and opened her eyes, squinting at the sunlight and the beauty before her. Charlie was smiling, familiar twinkle in his eyes that she often saw when he was excited.

Today was the day!

“What’d you get us for breakfast?” he chuckled, kissing her on the nose, not surprised that she cared more about the food than getting up and getting ready for their big day. 

“Well, you’re going to have to put some clothes on and meet me on the balcony to see. You get five minutes” she groaned at his conditions and pulled the blanket over her head, not wanting to leave the warmth of the bed. Grabbing her phone off the nightstand, she saw that it was 7am and with a big sigh she got up and threw on a hoodie and sweats. She followed the scent of her nose into the living room of their hotel room, shivering a bit as she felt the cool air from the balcony come through. The view of the mountains from their balcony was breathtaking and adding Charlie while he softly played his guitar made it even better. Teagan wished that she could freeze time to just soak in this moment, capturing the image in her memory, but she knew they were on the clock now. She padded softly over to Charlie, kissing his lips quickly before taking a seat at their table for two. He had arranged the table with everything that was previously on the room service trolley, including the small arrangement of flowers in a slim glass vase at the center of their table.

“Well this is sure fancy! Thank god for room service, no?” she smiled lovingly at him as he rested his guitar on the side of the table. He grimaced at his placement and went to move his guitar to a more secure location, eventually deciding to run it into the suite, placing it on the couch. She giggled at his antics and as he hurried over back to her.

“I mean, seeing as we both love food and most people hate us when we’re hangry, I thought a nice, big, but healthy, eggs benny would be the perfect fuel for the start of our day” he smiled brightly, running his hand through his hair as she took a sip of coffee. He offered her both of his hands across the table and she placed her hands in his, both bowing their heads and saying a silent grace before beginning to eat their meals. As they sat and ate their breakfast together, they enjoyed the calmness of their environment briefly discussing what their respective schedules would be like that day. The two had made a point that they wanted to start their big day together. The entire event would be busy, but having a moment together to enjoy their last meal as an engaged couple was probably one of the best decisions they had made for their special occasion. However, this moment couldn’t last forever as Charlie’s phone started ringing and a loud knock at the door signaled the end of their breakfast. Charlie opened the door as he answered his phone, smiling at Savannah and Teagan’s cousin Michelle as his silent hello, continuing his conversation on the phone.

“It’s Wedding Day! Good morning our beautiful bride!” Teagan smiled at the excitement her two maids of honor had as they rushed in to give her big hugs. “You all ready for today?” Savannah asked, her giddiness radiating through her smile.

“Let’s do this!” Teagan smiled, getting up from her seat picking up the plates from their breakfast, the other two girls helping her. Charlie caught her waist after she put the dishes on the trolley and pulled her close as she giggled at the sudden action. He started to tickle and kiss her as she helplessly fought to get out of his grip. “Charlie! Come on! That tickles! No fair!”

“Just one last kiss as your fiancé?” he pouted, turning her around to face him. She shook her head and rolled her eyes, giving him a kiss, but he quickly deepened it. “I’m going to go to Owen’s room to get ready. Everything’s already over there. You gonna be okay getting ready here?”

“Leave her with us Charlie. We’ll take care of everything!” Michelle smiled, reassuring the groom. Charlie opened his mouth before Savannah interrupted him. “Call you if we need anything. We know!” and with one more quick peck and a hug, Charlie slid out the door. “Alright miss, you got 30 minutes to shower before the hairstylist, makeup artist and photographer arrive. The other girls will be over with snacks and sangria in about an hour! Hop to it!”

The next few hours were a blur. After Charlie left, Teagan did shower and get into her bridal robe for the rest of the morning. True to Savannah’s words, she was swept away to get her hair and make up done while the photographer took pictures of her getting ready. Teagan’s sister, Charlie’s sister Megan and Teagan’s childhood friend showed up right on schedule with her bridal gown and the other bridesmaid dresses. In a whirlwind of hairspray, powder and camera flashes, wine glasses were toasted, music played softly in the background and Teagan’s mother showed up to help her put her wedding dress on.

Meanwhile, Charlie was playing rock band in Owen’s suite with Jeremy and Charlie’s brothers, snacking and toasting the occasional alcoholic beverage to one another. Eventually the boys got ready and headed over to the ceremony location making sure everything was fine. Charlie was grateful that Teagan had suggested hiring a wedding planner and coordinator as he had no idea what still needed to get done. However, the planner had everything under control and simply used their muscles to help move a couple things around, eventually shooing them away to a small room as guests started arriving.

Teagan shared soft tears with her mother as she put on the finishing touches on her outfit, buttoning up the last buttons on her dress and placing the veil on her head. They both cried a little harder when her father entered the suit to see his daughter all dressed up. After a few teary moments and a touch up here and there, the group took a few photos and headed down to the lobby of the Fairmont Whistler where their limo awaited.

As the music at the ceremony began, Charlie took his cue, with the help of the planner that is, to head down the aisle with his parents at his side to the altar. As each couple walked down the aisle and lined up on either side of the altar, Charlie eagerly searched for his bride. He smiled and high fived their ring bearer and flower girl as they made it to the end of the aisle and into their seats and as the crowd rose, the music pausing for a moment, Charlie knew it was time. As the music played, his eyes lit up as his bride and soon to be wife appeared at the top of the aisle. Teagan locked eyes with him and held his gaze as she floated down, her parents at either side. For the both of them, it felt like an eternity had passed until Teagan arrived at the altar, the both of them hugging her parents and quickly taking their places in front of the officiant.

Just like that, the ceremony began without a hitch and it went perfectly. They completed wedding Traditions in the Filipino culture for Teagan’s family, with a few clumsy moments with Charlie. Teagan had insisted that if Charlie was uncomfortable with the traditions, they could leave it out of the ceremony no problem, but Charlie always loved learning about her culture and thought it would make the ceremony that much more special to include it. When it came time for the vows, Owen passed Charlie a folded up piece of paper and with a deep breath he prepared to read it. But for a moment he paused, reading over the first few lines and then crumpled it up, shoving it into his pant pocket, the crowd laughing at his actions.

“I wish I had the perfect words to describe how much I love you or how amazing of a person you are, but there simply aren’t. I am eternally grateful for how much you have impacted my life. Before you, I was a chaotic mess that would be running around from thing to thing. I mean, I’m still a chaotic thing that runs around from thing to thing, but I now have someone following me, supporting me, reeling me in when I’ve gone off the deep end and occasionally engaging in the chaos with me. I remember feeling like absolute shit when I spilled coffee on you that day, but you were so kind and forgiving. You’ve never met me with anger and you’ve always shifted your life around for me. I knew what commitment was, but I didn’t understand until what it was until you came into my life. I’d always be off on some adventure, doing whatever it is that I wanted and I never knew that I wanted, needed, someone in my life until I left you in Canada after asking you to be my girlfriend. I know I don’t have the best timing, and I eat weird food that make my breath smell weird, but I vow to love you, cherish you and be with you even after life decides to separate us. There is no one else in this lifetime for me, other than you. Mahal na Mahal Kita” Teagan smiled and used the Kleenex Savannah had given her to blot away the tears, as Michelle passed her a neatly folded paper.

“I wish I was as good at winging it, but I’m not so I’m going to read mine” the crowd chuckled at her comment as she took a deep breath, steadying herself before reading. “Monsieur Gillespie, je t’aime. From the moment you spilled coffee on me, I knew that fate had brought you into my life for a reason. At first, I thought you were put into my life to force me to live a little and take a break from my life, but I was so wrong. It wasn’t until I was going through therapy, that I realized why you were a part of my life. I’ve always loved everything about you, from your adventurous side to your caring gentle side and yes, even your chaotic side that, at times, makes me want to kill you. But I didn’t know how much I needed you until I faced the biggest adversity I had ever faced in my life. Throughout my entire recovery process, and as I still recover from the trauma, time and time again you have shown me that I am worthy of love.” her voice cracked and she had to take a few deep breaths before continuing. “Even though I felt broken, ashamed and disgusted with myself, you continued to do whatever it took to help me feel like me again. Had you not been with me through the whole ordeal, I don’t think I would be standing here today, marrying you, as the happiest woman in the world. I vow to love you with every ounce of my being and I commit an eternity to loving you and supporting you. Il n’y a rien dans le monde qui peut enlever mon amour pour toi. Je t’aimerai aujourd'hui, demain, la semaine prochaine, pendant les mois qui suivent et toutes les années après ça.” As she finished, Charlie wiped away a tear that managed to escape his eyes and held her hand tightly.

In this moment, there was nothing that could take away the peace that befell both of their hearts as they vowed to spend their lives loving one another unconditionally. They exchanged their rings, sealed their commitment to one another with an “I do” and were officially pronounced Husband and Wife. As they walked up the aisle to  the main lobby area of the Nikita Lake Lodge, they giggled and stole a few kisses here and there before being joined by a photographer and starting their two hour photoshoot. Teagan’s parents interrupted their photos briefly to bring the two a snack and coffee from the Tim Hortons down the road, which the newly wed couple were grateful for.

As the reception drew nearer, the couple were ushered into the limo with the rest of their bridal party and were welcomed by Teagan’s hairstylist and make-up artist for touch ups. Everyone was quickly ushered into a small waiting room away from the main reception hall and they indulged in hot hors d’oeuvres and champagne, awaiting for their time to enter the reception. If Charlie and Teagan could have it their way, they would’ve celebrated like this for the rest of the evening, but they knew that there would be cries of outrage without a reception from both family and friends.

As the night drew on, they dined on delicious food supplied by the hotel caterers, occasionally interrupted by the clinking of glasses to steal a kiss from one another. They shared their first dance as a couple and Teagan smashed a mini cupcake in Charlie’s face when they cut their cake, but their favorite part was the toasts. Savannah kept her composure, while Michelle did not as both girls gushed over the newly wed couple and the memories they shared with the both of them. Owen went completely off script but Jeremy was there to help him get back on track for the both of them to deliver a great speech that had everyone doubling over in laughter, but also tearing up at the end. When the couple said their Thank yous, and wrapped up for the night, the part they had been looking forward to the most had finally arrived.

The dance floor, unlike most weddings, was full with people the entire night. Everyone had the time of their lives dancing and the newly weds were occasionally interrupted by their guests who wanted to wish them well and say their goodbyes. Owen did his signature Flash Dance jump with Charlie and Jeremy, while Maddie, Jadah and Savannah killed it when Beyoncé came on. Charlie and Teagan were honestly the happiest they had been in a long time, but the night had to wrap up eventually, and as much as they tried to help and clean up the reception, their bridal party forced them to go back to their suite.

Upon entering their suite, they were shocked to see that the entire place had been cleaned, as a  bottle of champagne on ice and a plate of chocolate dipped strawberries welcomed them on the counter. Teagan munched on the strawberries as Charlie popped the champagne pouring them a small amount in the champagne flutes. The tired, but happy, couple sat on the couch cuddling and sipping champagne in a comfortable silence, hand intertwined. As Teagan gave a big yawn, Charlie couldn’t help but smile before a yawn overcame him as well. 

“I really don’t know how couples have the energy to have sex on their wedding night. Like honeymoon I get, but man this was a long day!” Charlie burst out laughing at Teagan’s tired observation and kissed her on the forehead as he got up from the couch. He extended his hands out to her, offering her to help her up from the couch, knowing that a wedding dress wasn’t always the easiest to move around in. Charlie helped Teagan out of her dress, kissing her back softly as he undid every button sending shivers up her spine. When she was out of her dress, she quickly picked it up and hung it on the hanger it originally came with as Charlie undressed to his boxers and climbed in bed. As he flicked on the light of their bedside table and plugged their phones in, Teagan shut the main bedroom lights off and crawled into bed with her husband.

“So how does it feel to be Mrs. Gillespie?” Charlie wiggled his eyebrows at her, pulling her closer to him. She pondered for a moment, already knowing an answer, but knowing her fake hesitation would catch Charlie off guard. His smile faltered for a second, a little confused.

“Honestly? Pretty fuckin great!” He laughed at her response, kissing her on the lips. “How does it feel to be married to me?” Charlie paused a moment, eyes twinkling and grinning at her.

“Pretty. Fuckin. Great” 

[c-atm]

Connie Maheswaran sighed...She knew this was a bad idea, but no one else was around, and the best friend/ bane of her existence/ big crush/ betrothed had an eye for these things, so his expertise was appreciated.

"So." Steven Universe, gem hybrid, alien prince, sweetheart, and hero to many, started with a grin. Placing his hand on the curve of her back." How skimpy of a bikini are we getting, huh?

She growled dangerously as she felt his hand crept lower." Stop it, you pervert."

Steven just smirked as he lifted his hand back up. That lecherous fox smirk that he only showed her.

"I promise that my intentions are as 'pure' as the lily-white of your clothes." 

Connie arched an eyebrow looking at her yellow polo, black denim shorts, and orange kicks. "What white are you talking about?" She implored.

The alien royalty squeezed the college sophomore bottom. "The thin warm cloth underneath." He whispered into her ear, making her fume with annoyance, bashfulness, and made just a wee bit of an exciting impression… Despite her pouting with puffed blush crossed cheeks and steady brows.

"How the hell do you know?" She questioned, grabbing his wrist and clenched tightly, making the 'big gem on campus' fall to his knees in slight pain.

"Ow, ow, ow! I promise I didn't peek at you while you were getting dressed today."

"But you did peek at me." She arched an eyebrow.

"On accident." He pleaded, " We both know I would never peep on you."

"Now, Steven..."

"Not without an escape route."

Connie took a moment to consider it, but in the end, she decided he was right.

Steven always had a damn way to run away. Not like when they were teens, and she would easily catch and punish him for his transgressions against all womankind. However, they were more innocent, like giving her (not-so unwanted) pecks on her cheek or complimenting her physical growth.

It was the reason her betrothed became her bane before becoming her friend and crush.

Though his actions couldn't be helped, it was ingrained in him. The gem race was very liberated when it came to physical appeal, appreciation, and affection and saw all forms as beautiful. From the first (of what would become semi-normal) time she visited his home planet, it quickly became apparent to her that kissing, touching, and 'raunchy' commentary was commonplace among Homeworld. A lot of sensual and carnal PDA was everyday stuff for gem kind. 

All except fornication in all its forms. 

That was considered divine as gem fusion but way less lax—the ultimate show of reverence for one's unique being. Even stories of one’s actual sexploits were to be kept between partners, no matter how many there were; neither monogamy nor polygamy took precedence on Homeworld.

She let his wrist go with an unamused hum, opting to hold his hand to keep it from wandering.

”Let’s go, my perv.” Connie sighed as she led him further into the store, towards the dressing rooms. She was nearly closing the door behind her as she entered, turning and facing him, hiding with the plywood entrance. "So, against my better judgment, I'm gonna go into the dressing room and wait for you to bring me back some swimwear," Connie informed, blushing. "I need you to take this seriously, ok? No games at all." She muttered.

Steven gasped, placing three fingers on his chest as if he was an offended southern Bellé. "Why madam, I do declare that I will be at my most critical. After all…" He caressed her cheek with a smirk on his face, "the chance to decorate you in my taste doesn't come along often." He grinned as he interlaced his fingers together. "I can see you now in...Hehehe! Oh yes..."

Looking at his bottom lip gnawing, nearly crossed eye blushing expression of perverse elation, Connie almost regrets asking for his advice and help but, there is a reason for that. "Can you not imagine whatever you are imagining and help me?"

He looked up at her pouting profile and smirked lovingly before kissing her forehead. "You're more tempting than anything I can imagine." 

She took a deep breath, rubbing the back of her left calf with her right foot, and idiosyncratic behavior towards surprising affection and praise.

"⁵Just...Stay away from the skimpy swimsuit from earlier."  She warned, burned cheeked as she closed the door behind her, "Himbo hubby."  rubbing her forehead, where the warm sensation of his lips lingered, she grinned. The feeling of pride In her chest.

"Ok... Let's get to business."

Three minutes later, Connie was stripped of her clothing and her pride as she looked at her reflection. Bare to her body and her insecurities. She didn't feel Charming? Girlish? Soft? Cute?

She was never called cute or adorable. No... Words that described her was strong, tall, mature, robust, and built, which was right.

She was six ft by the time she was 16 (she's 6'6 now), always been athletic; being an army brat on an army base until she was 12, strenuous exercise was more than just a habit; it was a lifestyle. Combined with tennis and martial arts, it was easy to understand why her body was built and cut as it was. She had 'mercenaries muscles.' A body made for battle, yet she was 'blessed' with the curvy hips and noticeable bust of her mother's bloodline.

The thing is, she didn't hate her body. She just wasn't privy to the attention she got from it. Most guys were intimidated.

Most girls…' intrigued' to say the least, and then there were some who 'swore' she was 'transitional.' People she affectionately referred to as transphobic bastards.

One cause she was born, lives and will die biologically and mentally as a woman, no matter how 'masculine' she supposedly acts; and more importantly, being trans isn't wrong.

"The scars don't really help either." She mused as she scanned her nude form little scars from her active lifestyle on her stomach.

"I think they give you character, Berry." Steven voiced from behind the door, surprising her enough for her to jump.

"The hell?! How did you get done so fast?!" She nearly shrieked as she turned to the door...Which now had a few swimsuits hang on the knob, " Steven...Did you peek at me?" 

She was greeted by silence.

"Accidentally," 

She gave a slightly exaggerated sigh at his guilty tone to hide the smile on her face. "Really? You don't wanna see me in the buff?"

She could already see the thousand-watt smile on his face.

"Wait, are you saying I can?"

She had to bite her tongue from laughing at his eagerness, "No, sit and wait." She scoffed out a chuckle when she heard him moan, downtrodden. Taking a look at the group of bathing suits in the knob, she went to see which one she definitely will not wear.

----------------

Steven sat in the pink chair in front of the dressing rooms, legs and arms crossed as he waited for his beauty of a betrothed model for him. He knew she wasn't crazy about her appearance, but he couldn't get enough of it.

The fact Connie tower's him by a whole nine inches. Her 'jacked,' pear-shaped body with its hypnotic curves, especially around her bust, hips, thighs, and butt. Blazing deep-set onyx eyes with thick brows, thin cupid bow lips, her slightly narrowed and flat nose, and loose raven hair in a half-braided ponytail that reached her broad shoulders. An amazing amazon made real. 

Of course, her physique was only part of why he was smitten to what humans would call near 'perverse' moments, strange since earthling takes sex for granted, to the point of making multiple websites about it for profit. 

Planetary cultural differences aside, Connie's physicality was just a complementary mirror to her character. Strong, bold, unique, and mesmerizing. No wonder why Connie steals every room she walks in when she wants to or not. He couldn't help but snicker tenderly at the thought of her before tenderness gave a slight way to hunger at the thought of her in a swimsuit.

"Steven...Can you come here?" 

The hybrid looked with a bit of concern and curiosity at the brown hand waving and shy voice coming from the dressing room.

"Hmm?" He stood and walked to took the gold sprayed knob of the plywood in his hand.

"With your eyes close!"

That made his eyes widen, but he followed her request, closing his pink eyes before entering and closing the door behind him. "You ok, Ni'?"

"I...I need you to promise to be honest with me."

"What are you talking about?"

"Just promise. ok?"

"Hmm...I'm opening my eyes."

"Wait. I'm not.."

"...HMM..."

Connie looked towards him in shy withdrawal, holding her left arm, and biting her lip adorned in a blue bikini. The top looked like a cage neck crop top that clipped in the back, and the bottoms were high-waisted with an extra band that crossed around her navel. It was sexy, to say the least, accentuating off all her curves and prominent muscle, flattering her breast, thighs, hips, and butt, without showing too much; it was made for her.

"Well?" She asked, looking at his stare but getting no answer, feeling her cheeks heat in marooned embarrassment. "Is it that bad?"

"Adorable."

Connie's eyes widened, "A-Adorable?" She pursued her lips, looking down at herself. She wasn't used to being called that. 

"Yeah... I mean, yeah, it looks sexy..but it really brings out your softer, sensual charms."

"I...I.." her nose flared as she fought the bubbling feeling in her chest. " You're... You’re not just saying that, right?" She rubbed her left calf with her right ankle.

"I wouldn't lie about this." Steven raised his right hand in a promise.

She crossed her arms, her mouth in a side pout," So...I'm cute in this, then?"

"Are you fishing for compliments?" Steven teased, getting a raised brow look of astonishment from his betrothed

" I..No!" She crossed her arms below her chest, looking away, pouting with puffed blush crossed cheeks and steady brows.  

 Before turning towards the hybrid, just as she was about to attempt to make her point, she was caught off guard by his hand gently but securely grabbing her chin and leading her to move her face up close to his, their nose tips gingerly touching.

It wasn't the first time he did this, and it always made her feel a bit meek. Never unpleasantly, though.

"You're always cute."

The feel of his warm lips sandwiching her top lip with popping clips was new.

New but welcomed. 

[m-y-fandoms]

[Aoi Asahina, Sonia Nevermind, Chiaki Nanami, Rantarou Amami, Ibuki Mioda] x reader imagine: comforting an insecure guitarist s/o after their band plays live

Request: Oh my god, are DR blogs coming back again?? This is the third new one I've found this month!! Really happy about that.  Great writing so far by the way! Could you maybe do Asahina, Sonia, Chiaki, Rantaro, and Ibuki (separate) comforting an insecure, guitarist S/O after they just performed a live show with their band? And like, the S/O is really worried that they sucked even though they did well? Oddly specific, I know. Would appreciate it though! Cheers!

OMG I NERDED OUT AND HAD SO MUCH FUN WITH CHIAKI’S, POINTS TO THE FANS WHO GET THE REFERENCE, though it’s an easy one Nishishi~

Thank you for this imagine request and being so specific about what you want while still giving me a lot of creative freedom! I immediately had some simple but cute ideas about this! - Mod Kokichi

Gender Neutral reader, a few brief lewd humorous lines, but SFW otherwise.

Aoi Asahina

- You were nervous, pre-show jitters shuddering through your body, but you couldn’t back out now.

- Not when your super hot, super excited, super supportive girlfriend had hyped you up just before the show.

- “Stage fright?! How’d you even get into a band in the first place with that mentality?!” Hina teased you backstage, mere moments before going on out to preform. She saw you chuckle nervously, not taking her joke as well as she’d hoped.

- She took your hand firmly. “Look, you know that face you love, the one I make when I’m thinking about pastries?” She continued.

- “The one that makes you look like a chipmunk?” You answered flatly.

- “I don’t agree, but yes! That one! When you’re scared up there, imagine me doing that face! Or better yet, I’ll be front row, in the V.I.P. standing section anyway. Just look for me there!” With a peck on your cheek, she gave you a determined look before pushing you toward the stage and disappearing.

- “H-hina!” You stuttered, but it couldn’t be helped, it was time.

- To your surprise, the nervousness went away as your band was about half way through the first song.

1. The attention is mainly on the lead singer.

2. You were focusing on playing too much to fully take in the screaming crowd.

3. You were actually enjoying yourself.

- As the first song ended, however, the music fading out and the crowd going wild, you felt that little pinch of panic settle back in. There was no music to focus on and protect you, just a hundred faces to look out upon.

- Your eyes darted back and forth over the audience, searching. Your breathing came out a little heavier, until your eyes landed on a lean, curvy, athletic figure, with tanned skin and a smile sweet like honey...no, like doughnuts

- She put her hands up near her face like paws, closing her eyes in an open-mouth smile. You smirked, nodding and strumming your strings once again.

- At the end of the show, fans flooded to the hallway that connected the venue’s main hall to the dressing rooms backstage, reaching out to try and grab band members, hoping to take how an autograph or lock of hair as a souvenir, and you rushed through, sweating and ultimately disappointed with the overall performance you put on that night.

- Hina was already waiting in your temporary dressing room for the night, standing and throwing her arms around your neck before praising you endlessly.

- “S/O, that was amazing! That third song, I felt like the bass shook the place! It was intense, like the final lap in a freestyle race, you know?! We gotta bring Sakura next time. I think she’d really get into the pull of the steady rhythm!” Her little dramatic expressions, her brow knitted together passionately as she spoke...she reminded you every day why you fell in love with her.

- “You...you really liked it? I thought I was kinda just going down further and further in quality as the show went on. I felt like shit by the end…”

- “Are you kidding me! It was fantastic. I think the whole audience was immersed. I know I was! Hey...you better not have all these groupies flocking you looking for a piece tonight!” She teased, hugging your arm!

Sonia Nevermind

- Sonia was extremely excited to go to a public concert. Anything that brought her closer to commoners, to feeling like she belonged around ordinary people was just swell to her.

- Even better that it was in a country foreign to her, where she could be immersed in the cultural norms and behaviors.

- Even better that she was watching the one she loved play.

- She was afraid that you’d judge her when she first admitted her love for the occult, horror, and all things gothic and metal.

- You thought that was pretty hot.

- So there she stood, in the front row of your concert, in a poofy green dress with expensive jewelry and accessories decorating her frame. She stuck out like a sore thumb, but Sonia, blissfully unaware, felt like one of the normal people.

- She jumped when the crowd did, her fist in the air, entranced by each note that came from your instrument.

- Sweaty metal-heads and ravers bumped into her endlessly in the tightly packed crowd, and she couldn’t care less.

- You looked amazing up on stage, and she felt like she was a part of some fan fiction she read once.

- You know the trope, where the reader is in the crowd at a famous band’s concert reluctantly, and her favorite member locks eyes with her and either pulls her on stage with them or takes her backstage after the show and ravished her!

- And she felt her love for you and your musical talent swell within her heart.

- After the concert, she met you outside the back door of the venue, and you were shocked silent at her appearance.

- “S-Sonia are you okay??” The tights under her dress were ripped, her bracelet missing some jewels, the bow tie falling out of her blonde locks, which by the way looked like a rat’s nest. Topping the look off were the pit stains under her arms and in the valley of her cleavage.

- “I’m sorry. I knew this would be a shitty experience. I shouldn’t have brought you. The music was bad anyway, huh? I shouldn’t practiced more.” You looked down in shame, before she nearly tackled you, her arms around your neck and kissing you everywhere, up and down your face and neck and chest.

- “D-do not say these things! Tonight was the b-best night of my life!!!” she sputtered, too excited to enunciate. “You looked like a hero in this J-Drama I watched years ago! Like the protagonist Sawayama Keito!! And I??? I was your romantic love interest, the plain Jane in the crowd, Ito Aiyaka!”

- “You really enjoyed it that much?” You could smell the body odor and adrenaline pouring off of her, very un-princess-like, but you couldn’t care less, grinning like a fool.

- “I love you, Sonia, you crazy kid.”

- “Play for me again tonight, in the dorm room…” she spoke desperately.

Chiaki Nanami

- Chiaki did not want to be in that crowd that night.

- A short, skinny, lazy, introverted girl at a live concert full of rabid fans and no seats? Standing room only?

- She briefly mentioned this to you days before the show, not wanting to hurt your feelings. It was something mentioned in passing, in her normal flat and tired tone.

- “I hope I don’t get stepped on...maybe I can bring my Gameboy and play when things get too wild?” She mused, leaning back on you as you prepared to start practicing on the edge of the bed next to her.

- You loved Chiaki, and you knew how to take her hints by now.

- “Chi, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I know crowds aren’t your thing.”

- “No, I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she smiled that lazy, half-lidded smile. She loved you too, and she wasn’t about to be the only one on campus not there to support you. She yawned and took your guitar from your hands before falling asleep on your lap.

- You thought the gesture was cute, but inside you were a bit irritated. You’d told her many times prior to that night that you needed all the practice you could get, and that you were afraid of bombing. So why would she purposely stop you in the middle of practicing?

- Oh well. You leaned back, memorizing chords and lyrics in your head until you, too, passed out

- The night of the concert, Chiaki stood in the front row, her backpack strapped to her front, oddly snug on her chest and obviously on backwards, but it was easier to access her Gameboy and fidget toys in case she needed to retreat from the overwhelming noise.

- She told herself they were just for emergencies. She was there for you, and frowned thinking about how you’d feel if you looked down off the stage and saw her not paying attention.

- People piled in, and soon your band came on stage. The lead singer introducing you all.

- Chiaki was already feeling like the ceiling was lowering, like the people around her were far too close, and looked down, hoping seeing just the dark venue floor and her shoes would calm her, one hand on her backpack for security.

- “Oh!” She gasped, her little bangs flying up and her eyes widening like saucers as the lead singer sang the first notes. Three notes, that’s all it took.

- “Aha~aha ah ah...ha~uh huh huh…” the lead singer breathily voiced into the microphone, and Chiaki smiled wider than she had in months.

- You met her eyes on stage knowingly, smirking at first, then suddenly anxious that you might slip up or disappoint her. You strummed two loud, vibrating notes, stern and piercing through the air.

- Again the same two notes, before you joined the singer by the microphone, inhaling before singing in harmony:

- “In you~ and I, there’s a new land~ yeah~he heah!”

- She relaxed, tilting her head back as the sound waves overtook her.

- “Angels in flight~”

- “My sanctuary. My sanctuary, yeah~”

- You didn’t tell her you’d be doing covers that night. Video game covers, nonetheless. Her head shot up, looking at her phone quickly. She looked at the date.

- February 14th.

- Man, she spaced out often…but this…

- She blushed furiously, and her eyes locked with yours. You grew nervous, playing even harder. She swooned and let herself get lost in the bass.

- You played iconic video game themes all night, and by the end, Chiaki was more overwhelmed and exhausted then she’d ever been, but in a good way.

- When you walked into your dressing room back stage with flowers you had hidden earlier, she accepted them with a flush of her cheeks.

- “You didn’t need to do all that...s/o...this was…”

- “Y-you didn’t like it? I was nervous for a month planning this gig. I know I’ve still got a ways to go with playing live but-“

- “I loved it.”

- “What?” You weren’t convinced.

- “I loved it. Every second. I’m sorry I didn’t get you a gift, I didn’t even realize.”

- “Gifts don’t mean anything to me, Chi. You’re all I need.” you pulled her into your chest for a tight embrace. “You’re My Sanctuary.”

Rantarou Amami

- Rantarou was so excited about seeing your debut concert, snatching the tickets as soon as you presented them to him.

- “Can I bring along my sisters, too, S/O? They’ve been wanting to hear you play ever since I first mentioned that you were in a band.

- “Of course, but...I don’t know why they’d wanna all waste a Saturday night on my shitty band. We don’t even play that well ye-“

- “Silence!” He picked you up by your waist and squeezed you until you couldn’t breath, much less put yourself down with a self deprecating jab. He kissed your cheek playfully. “You’re sexy and the way you play guitar is sexy. I listened you practice all night the other day!”

- “Y-you did? I didn’t even see you!”

- “Huh...” he scoffed, “ maybe because you were lost in your passion, becasue news flash, you’re good at it, stinker!” He pinched your cheek, always knowing how to make you flustered. “Yeah, I heard every single note, and even peaked in once or twice, seeing you stroke those strings so tenderly…” He forced you against the wall, his hot breath against your ear “ I wish you’d stroke me like that.” You face ran hot and you roughly shoved him away, him giggling like a fool.

- “Okay, okay you win, Amami, bring whoever you want!” You stomped off with a huff.

- The day of the concert, the entire front row looked like a field of spring grass, the large family of green-haired siblings shouting before you even began your first song. You shook your head at Rantarou and his many sisters, half-embarrassed, half-flattered. You felt your hands stumble across the strings, Rantarou giving you a thumbs up and a wink.

- After the show, you couldn’t run off the stage any faster. You ran into the staff room backstage where refreshments and spare equipment were usually set out, and were greeted by a row of Amami’s swarming you and praising you, talking much too quickly and all at once. 

- Rantarou simply let his sisters flock you, asking you to teach them to play, to help them meet hot musicians you knew, to learn to read music. You felt your ego rise, flustered once again at the hand’s an an Amami.

Ibuki Mioda

- Ibuki shouted to the band backstage, tuning her guitar and hyping up the other members. She noticed you a little out of place, looking a quite queasy and apprehensive.

- “S/O! The hell are you doin’ over there! Hudddddddle up!” She pulled you by your shoulders.

- “I don’t know why I let you force me into joining the music club...I shouldn’t have mentioned my interest at all…” you grumbled.

- Months ago, Ibuki had heard you, her darling and adorable s/o mentioning that you played guitar in elementary school, and wanted to listen in on her band once practice one in awhile. Well, that was the end of that. She decided it was time to freshen up your skills and get you comfortable with the strings again. Now here you were, moments from your first live performance since you were 10 years old.

- “Whaaat! That’s like, a major no no, that low energy, ya dig?!” She held your hand, swinging it back and forth with a feral look on her face. “You’re bitchin’! And Ibuki is bitchin’! And tonight we’re gonna set the stage on fire!”

- The show went on as planned, you and Ibuki on guitar while she screamed into the front mic. Your drummer just barely cut through the vibrations of your combined sound waves, and you buckled down and reminded yourself that with Ibuki at your back, that stage was yours. That audience was yours.

- Plus...who was staring at you when Ibuki was up front, looking like that, acting like that. That passion, that intensity, it’s what drew you to her in the first place.

- The crowd roared viciously, opening up a mosh pit in front of your neon gothic goddess of a girlfriend, and you couldn’t have found her more attractive than you did right now, her arms swinging open, releasing the guitar and simply bellowing into the mic, commanding the hellish pit in front of her like one of the succubi from Gundham’s wild tall tales.

- You suddenly felt so unworthy of her in all her glory, simply providing the backup and harmonies.

- When the show ended, you and Ibuki equally carried each other back stage to the school’s stagehand room, leaning on each other’s sweaty bodies for support.

- “Sheesh, that was straight fire tonight, s/o, huh?! Immolation on the stage, in the fleeeesh!” She shredded an air guitar in front of her before collapsing on a folding chair. How did she still have any energy at all?! You scoffed incredulously. “ Ibuki was worried for a second there, but we pulled it off! I knew we’d be amazing!” Huh???

- “You were worried?” You quickly realized what she probably meant, “Oh...like nervous that I’d mess it up for us?” Her eyes widened, a shocked look on her face as her hands flew up to her hair.

-“What? No! Ibuki was worried about Ibuki~” She grimaced.

- “Why would you ever be nervous, you’re the best musician for miles around.” You drank from a water bottle before tossing it to her. She caught it in one hand, downing it.

- “Hey, Ibuki gets worried too~” She winked at you, a flirty glimmer in her eye as she held up a heart made from her connected hands. “But s/o is Ibuki’s rock! Partners in crime, yeah? No need to worry with you at my back tearing it up!”