#listen. i hate seeing a bunch of phones during gigs. i do

[moonchild-in-blue]

💕 I love you 4k live concert recordings with crisp sound quality. I love you 4k live concert recordings with crisp sound quality. I love you 4k live concert recordings with crisp sound quality. I love you- 💕

[random-imagines-blog]

Sideways {Andrew Garfield x Reader}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 1811 Summary: Andrew gets a call that no one wants to get. Especially from their own child. Warning: Contains hospital, miscarriage and talk of pregnancy.

The best part about your job was that you could do a lot of it online, and could travel with Andrew when he went abroad for his different acting gigs. This was one of the last times that you would be able to go, since it was the Summer and your daughter was going into first grade, and you wanted to keep her in one place to keep her adjusted. Still, he was going to appreciate all that he could get. And every minute that he wasn’t needed on set, he was going to take you and your child together to go and explore. He’d been here in Vancouver before, but you hadn’t, and he was eager to show you what he had learned about on his last trip here. But for now, he was stuck in the studio, getting fitted for one of the ‘special’ outfits that he was going to be wearing for this film.

He was laughing with the wardrobe stylist, joking about something that happened with the director on the first day here. They had pranked him by bringing in a bunch of extras and announcing them as the main cast. The director had sputtered, and not wanting to be rude, had to excuse himself to make ‘script adjustments’. Once he had realized that it was all a prank, he saw the funny side, and all tension and nerves around the team had dissipated. Andrew had been in on it and thought that it was hilarious, especially since he had been dressed as one of the camera-crew. Best acting he had ever done, the director had said to him.

“There’s a call for you, Mr Garfield,” His assistant said, popping up beside him. She was a small, older woman with a very no-nonsense air about her. She hadn’t appreciated the prank, because it meant that she missed out on a few hours of work. “It’s urgent.”

“It is?” Andrew asked, wondering who it could be. You only texted him during work hours, and he’d give you a call at lunch once in a while, otherwise he would wait to tell you about his day once he got home. That way his little girl could listen in and chime in whenever she wanted as well. “Excuse me,” He told the woman who was measuring his shoulders to make an adjustment to the suit. She nodded, and helped him to remove what he had on of the costume, then he changed quickly then finally accepted the phone from his assistant.

“This is Andrew,” He said, just in case it was an urgent professional call. He could hear a commotion coming from the other end of the line. There were men talking, and then a loud siren. Ambulance, not fire truck or police. He knew the difference, having always stayed in hotels in busy cities.

“Daddy?” The six-year-olds voice came through, and Andrew felt his heart sink from his chest down to his knees. He looked at his assistant who looked more solemn than usual. And maybe even a little bit concerned. “Daddy - it’s Mommy.”

“What’s wrong with mommy? Tell me everything - and where are you going?” He took his wallet and keys from his assistant, who had been holding onto them during the fittings.

“Where are we going?” Andrew heard her ask someone, and a man said something in response. “Vancouver General,” The little girl repeated.

“I’ll meet you there, okay? Stay with one of the paramedics until Daddy gets there. I won’t be long.”

-

It took him half an hour to get to the hospital, and that was with light traffic. He cursed the studio for being so far away, but he knew it was just the stress. His daughter wasn’t able to give him much information, just that you had been in the bathroom, crying in pain, and then told the little girl to call 911. They had taught her the emergency number for every country that they stayed in, just in case. It was good that she knew, but he hated that she had to use it.

You had been feeling fine that morning, he recalled. You went to the hotel restaurant for breakfast, had a simple meal of oatmeal and fruits. He was thinking that perhaps you had food poisoning of some sort? He hoped it was something as simple as that, though you wouldn’t have called 911 over something so trivial.

He parked, then ran into the first entrance that he could find. It was emergency, and they gave him directions to the fourth floor. He noticed from the signs around the elevator that it was to ... to a pregnancy floor?

He saw his daughter first, sitting on a bench, reading a book, swinging her legs back and forth since they weren’t reaching the ground. There was a paramedic sitting with her, but not saying anything. Just keeping an eye on her, which Andrew was thankful for. His footsteps brought their attention, and the little girl jumped to her feet. She had been crying, Andrew could tell from the puffiness of her cheeks. She ran towards him, and he leaned down to catch her in a hug. “Daddy! I called just like you taught me to!” She pulled your phone out of her pocket, it looked so massive in her little hands, and she held it up to show you.

He knew the password, there were no secrets between you two. You knew his as well, but neither of you ever went snooping. In fact, this was the first time that he had used it. He saw indeed that your first call of the day was to work, and then 911, and then to him. He turned the phone dark and put it into his own pocket. He scooped up the girl and held her in his arms in a giant bear hug. He looked at the paramedic over her shoulder, took a step towards him and held his hand out. “Thank you so much for staying with her-”

“It’s no problem,” He said, getting to his own feet. “We had to resupply the ambo anyway. And - the doctor said that your wife was stable. I’m sure she’ll be out soon.” He shook Andrew’s hand then excused himself to go back to work, and Andrew sunk down on the recently vacated spot on the bench, still holding his daughter on his lap. There wasn’t much that he could do except for wait for the Doctor, which didn’t take long. The commotion that your daughter made had gotten their attention.

“Hello, Mr. Garfield?” The Doctor said, coming out of the room. She reminded Andrew a lot of his assistant. Same motherly face, same solemn features. Andrew nodded to the affirmative. “Your wife is going to be just fine, though her body had gone through some trauma. She’s going to need to rest, take it easy for a couple of weeks at least.”

“What happened?” He asked, his voice shaky with relief that you were going to be fine. Still, this had seemed to come out of nowhere. And the fact that you were in the pregnancy wing made him nervous.

“Your wife had a miscarriage, Mr. Garfield. She was three months along,” The Doctor’s voice was straight to the point, no emotions at all. She must have to deliver news like this all of the time. “She claims that she didn’t know that she was pregnant, so she is feeling rather fragile. I’d like to keep her for overnight observation, just to be careful.”

Andrew swallowed, but nodded. There wasn’t any other reaction that he felt like he could have. He could only hug his daughter close, thankful that at the very least, he had her. “Can I see her?” He asked the Doctor, who nodded, and motioned towards the open door that she had just come out of. Andrew got back up to his feet, and walked in, still holding his daughter, who was being unusually quiet. He realized as he walked into the room that she had fallen asleep.

You hadn’t, however. You were laying in the hospital bed, hooked up to machines, getting fluids, staring straight ahead of you blankly. Andrew hummed to announce that he was there, and you snapped out of it, your eyes meeting his. They were still filled with tears on your end, while he was still comprehending the news.

“Hey baby,” You said, weakly smiling. Andrew smiled back, and set the little girl down on a chair, where she curled up immediately and continued to sleep away. All that worry and excitement must have exhausted her. He then went to your side, taking hold of both your hands, being careful of the IVs.

“How -” He said, shaking his head. “How did this happen?”

“I don’t know,” You said, blinking away tears. “I didn’t even know I was pregnant. I swear, I wasn’t keeping anything from you. I had my period and no other symptoms. I mean, I thought I gained a little bit of weight but I thought that was just all of the cake,” You somehow managed to laugh though it didn’t sound sincere. “The Doctor says that happens sometimes.”

Andrew would never dream of accusing you of cheating. The two of you stayed in the newlywed stage of your marriage, remaining sexually active. The math added up enough, three months, you two were definitely intimate three months ago.

“How do you feel?” Andrew asked, caressing the top of your hands with his thumbs. “And not just physically.”

You took a deep breath in and then a deep breath out. “I’m devastated,” You admitted, finally admitting your own truth. Tears were fighting to come out and you had stopped the battle, letting them descend freely. “When I heard that I miscarried - I realized... I want that baby. I want to have another one with you and we just lost our chance.”

Andrew felt the same wave of depression overcome him. In an alternate universe, he could just be finding out that he was going to be a father again. He had to be strong for you though. He could let out his emotions when you got home. You were too vulnerable right now.

“We’ll have more chances,” Andrew said, leaning forward and kissed a tear off of your cheek. It tasted salty, it lasting on his lips for a long while. “I’ll gladly give you another baby.”

You chuckled at that, though you were still crying. “You just like the act of making one, mister,” You squeezed his hands. Andrew laughed as well, and nodded.

“Can you blame me?”

[vanderlindemangofarm]

The Van der Linde Gang - Jobs in a Modern AU

I’ve been really inspired to write about this lately and I’d love to hear your takes! These are the occupations that I think each gang member would have in a modern AU. Some were more challenging than others, but hopefully you guys can see where I’m coming from with each! 

Arthur: Film location scout. His natural eye for photography and framing makes Arthur the perfect member of a pre-production team. His no-bullshit approach to everything means he keeps to deadlines, although he’s known to go wandering off into the wilderness for unknown amounts of time. He enjoys the lone working side of his job and finding exactly the right spots that would make the film come to life. He doesn’t always like the films once they’re finished (in fact he’s often bought cinema tickets and walked out half way through, grumbling that it wasn’t worth the popcorn) but he can’t deny the excited buzz he gets every time he gets hired. In his early years as an assistant he met Bertie Mason, a nervous but talented photography intern. Despite an ill-advised hookup after a week joined at the hip they have remained close friends and still go out on shoots together. 

John: landscape gardener. John? Flowers? Yes, alright, I found it hard to believe too. But look, it’s not about the flowers, even if he does get misty-eyed at the sight of a sunflower in the early morning light. It’s about the challenge, the outdoors, and solving problems. After all the renovations he did to his house and garden (some more successful than others) John found how much satisfaction he got from digging and reshaping and planting. Don’t get me wrong, he’s often without a shirt, even in the colder months, much to the delight of some and the horror of others. He always makes friends with the household pets and is wonderful with the kids, always dropping his task to throw a frisbee around for a bit or cheekily accept an ice cold glass of lemonade from their mothers. Whenever he drives past one of his projects he feels himself glowing with pride - “I did that!”. 

Dutch: philosophy lecturer. As always, late with Starbucks. Will he actually grade your essay? Will it mysteriously disappear? Keeps you on your toes, doesn’t it? Sitting precariously on the very edge of his desk, leather jacket hanging off his shoulders and losing his balance every 15 minutes, Dr Van der Linde is nothing short of a wonder. For the love of all that is holy, do not get him started on Kant. Kant has no place here. You want to talk about your precious Kant? Get your butt down to Dr O’Driscoll’s class, he has plenty to say about Kant. Perhaps a little too fond of Socrates. Plato who? Completely illegible handwriting and definitely sleeping with several members of the faculty. But somehow his students always walk away with excellent grades. At the end of each term Dutch takes everyone out to a local bar for drinks, insists on buying tequila which no one really fancies at 11am. Claims to ride a motorcycle called The Count which no one has actually seen. Impossible to hate, and he writes everyone great references for their summer internships. 

Hosea: social worker. In a crisis, there’s no one better to knock on your door. Hosea has seen it all and he’ll see it all again, but that doesn’t stop him from treating every single case he gets with the upmost respect and care. His no-nonsense approach to his work means he gets things done, but he never sacrifices his compassion. He mostly works with teenagers and has a way of being able to connect to each individual without coming across as patronising. He’s been in the field for over two decades and is an invaluable mentor for any newcomers, always willing to share a word or two of advice or be a shoulder to cry on. 

Javier: guitar teacher and music therapist. During his worst years, Javier’s guitar was his lifeline. And he wants to help others find their lifeline, too. He works on a freelance basis, mainly going into mental health hospitals, schools and prisons. He runs workshops focusing on guitar playing, but brings other instruments (mainly percussion) to try too. He’s a gentle teacher, always with a joke in his back pocket for when you need it most. He has nicknames for everyone and remembers everything they’ve ever told him. He’s patient and never lets anyone feel bad for making a mistake. Javier also runs an after-school guitar club at the local middle school alongside playing his own music at gigs whenever he can. No, he doesn’t reply to DMs no matter how thirsty they are. 

Sadie: self-defense instructor. After surviving an attack several years ago, Sadie used her ferocity to get her qualification in self-defense to teach other women how to fight back should they need to. Her husband Jake helps out in her classes, happily allowing himself to be thrown around and slammed onto the mat as many times as required. Her students are terrified of her in the best and nicest way. Sadie also volunteers at a women’s refuge, providing emergency care and taking phone calls. 

Charles: environmental campaign manager. Charles has always been drawn to charities and started doing voluntary work for Greenpeace when he was at university, securing an internship with them in Canada which led to a full time job. Whilst Charles mainly hosts meetings and organises events, he also works closely with elementary schools and runs workshops with outdoor activities, crafts and music. Last week they made bird feeders! It was awesome. He’s also a keen activist and regularly meets up with Javier to go to protests and community events, most recently for BLM. 

Micah: motorcycle mechanic. Micah is massively invested in motorcycle culture and treats his beloved bike better than his own mother, if he still spoke to her. Although he pretends not to care, fixing bikes is his greatest passion and almost looks...happy when he’s doing it? Maybe? He likes knowing more than the people who stop by his shop and makes sure they know it. Occasionally he leaves his number on a scrap of paper inside women’s handbags when they’re not looking but for some reason none of them call. Like it or not, he’s incredibly skilled and will have your motorcycle singing a tune if that’s what you want. Euphemism? Of course not. 

Abigail: nurse. She was so shy when she realised she wanted to pursue nursing - would people laugh at her? Was she too impatient, too nagging, too shrill? Her dyslexia always put her off going into further education and she was always discouraged by her parents. But with lots of encouragement from Hosea (who helped her to fill out her applications and other forms) and her friends, Abigail went to university in her 30′s to get her degree. She graduated top of her class and now works full time in her local hospital, based mostly in the emergency room. From drunken brawlers to tearful children and grumpy old men with lumbago, Abigail has learnt to keep her cool and to have faith in her own ability. 

Molly: holistic therapist and masseuse. It took years to get that bastard of a philosopher out of her head (and out of her bed - damn those happy hour drinks “for old times’ sake”), but she’s finally free. Molly radiates a kindness that few took to the time to see, and she wanted to take strength from her past struggles to help others who may need someone to listen, just as she did. Molly took a bunch of online courses in various holistic therapies, including aromatherapy and massage, as this was something she had always been interested in. She runs a tiny clinic on a quiet street, the rooms filled with sunshine and the scent of geraniums. She also has a quite popular ASMR YouTube channel, Emerald Eyes ASMR, which she shyly admits just reached 500k subscribers. Her most popular video, ‘Irish Girl Helps You Fall Asleep (soft spoken, tapping, mouth sounds)’ just reached over a million hits. 

Kieran: veterinarian specialising in equine care. Much like Abigail, Kieran didn’t like the idea of going back into education. He’d had a rough time of it as a teenager, dropping out of high school early and working a string of menial jobs for the next decade. They paid his rent, but he still felt poor. His favourite job, however, was working at a stable. The horses made him feel calm and he found that he could read them better than most people. He went to the library and read as much as he could about them. From there, he got himself an apprenticeship which paved the way for him to earn his degree in veterinary science. He smiled so hard in his graduation photo his eyes disappeared into his cheeks. He travels all over the local countryside, visiting farms and ranches to care for the horses. His confidence picked up after the first few blunders, and little by little he’s saving up to buy his own ranch one day. 

Lenny: political science student. You know that kid who always looks amazing, even in 9am lectures? Yeah, that’s not Lenny, but he’s sat just behind. See him? Yep, the one rubbing sleep from his eyes as he pushes through the effects of another all-nighter. It’s not due to procrastination, but from perfectionism. He spends hour agonising over references, appendixes and even titles. One time he was so tired he signed his work “Ynnel”. He’s completely in love with his course and relishes every class he takes. Oh, he’s taking Dutch’s ‘History of Western Philosophy’ module by the way. Sitting in the front row, middle seat, directly in front of Dutch, his eyes glinting wickedly. Poor Dutch. Lenny has a counterpoint for absolutely everything and can barely stifle his laughter as Dutch gets more and more flustered. He’s been dating Jenny Kirk, an English Lit student, for the past few months and it’s going well. So well in fact, that he might stop hiding his Doctor Who merchandise every time she comes to his dorm room. 

Tilly: business student. Tilly started university at the same time as Lenny and they still always go to the library together, rolling their eyes at each other over their morning peppermint lattes. Tilly is at the forefront of any and all on-campus activism. Think of Sam from Dear White People - that’s our Tilly. She wears her Ravenclaw scarf all autumn and winter long and posts scathing Instagram stories about the cafeteria food. But she’s powerfully kind and very ambitious, taking on a part time job tutoring kids with dyslexia in their reading and writing. 

Susan: midwife. Think having a baby is scary? Try crossing Nurse Grimshaw. She’s here now, and that baby is coming out of you one way or another. She’ll hold your hand through thick and thin but if you dare say “I can’t do it” one more time she’ll unleash hell. Susan will make sure everyone has a job to do. Partner just standing there like a lemon? Not on her watch. She’s harsh but kind to her trainees and will always offer a cup of coffee and a shoulder to cry on, but there’s a time and place for slacking and it’s not on her labour ward. 

Trelawny: talent agent. Our Josiah is cunning, infuriatingly charismatic and with an eye for the best of the best - what else could he do so effortlessly? He’ll wrangle you a 10 second role as a latrine cleaner in a non-profit film and he’ll still make you feel like the next DiCaprio. You’re a diamond, don’t you know? Of course you could nab Elphaba, we’ll worry about the singing later. How do you feel about cat food commercials? No no, it’s not pornography, it really is cat food this time - he double checked. On top of this, he knows everyone in the business. No, really. He can’t move 3 feet down Broadway without someone booming his name. The tone of said boom depends, of course, but who hasn’t been caught with his bottom out in that director’s wife’s en-suite? 

Sean: outdoor activity centre instructor. You mean you can actually get paid to swim in lakes, ride ziplines through the forest and eat roasted marshmallows?! Sean couldn’t believe his ears. But it was true, and he’s living his best life. He may be on his penultimate warning for unruly behaviour, but he knows he could never really get fired. How could they? Everyone loves him. And to his credit, he’s a fantastic instructor, especially with kids. Everything from canoeing to caving, wild swimming to climbing, Sean has mastered it all and he always makes it fun. No one is allowed to feel left out or silly for not being able to do something. Sean has a way of making everyone feel included, even if you can only make it up the first few rungs of the ladder. Hey, that’s still off the ground! He once knew this feller Bill who cried because a moth flew into his face. You’re doing fine. 

Mary-Beth: librarian and YA author. Sweet Mary-Beth, how could she be anywhere else but surrounded by books? She adores her job at her small, local library and is always looking for ways to make it even better. She often gets tangled up in the stories she reads whilst organising shelves, but it’s quiet enough most days that she’s rarely caught. She loves helping people find their books or recommending her favourites. She also runs the toddler storytime groups and a writing club for older kids. Of course, she’s also writing her own books. The first of her ‘Valentine Mysteries’ books made a modest profit and she’s excited to write more about the adventures of Leslie Dupont. 

Karen: actress. Realising that she had a knack for accents and even after an especially successful high school lead role as Roxy Hart, Karen didn’t really acknowledge her would-be passion for acting for a long time. But she used her talents to get herself and her friends into X-rated films, dive bars and successfully pull off dozens of prank calls. It wasn’t until one of her friends was going to an open-call audition for a short film and wanted someone to go with her that Karen had her epithany. She was cast on the spot, much to the dismay of her friend. Since then, she’s been in a handful of arthouse films, a commercial here and there, and recently enjoyed a short run as Hermia in A Midsummer Night’s Dream at a small theatre downtown. Does she want fame and fortune? Honestly, she hasn’t really thought about it. Right now, she’s just enjoying the ride. And the phone numbers left for her at front of house from many admirers. 

Strauss: financial loan adviser. Oh boy, perhaps you saw this one coming. Then again, maybe not. Old Leopold isn’t quite the two-pronged-tongued eldritch horror people often mistake him for. In fact, he actually advises people against loan sharks. He had his fair share of debts y’see and he genuinely doesn’t want anyone else to go through the same thing. He’s not exactly sweet and cuddly, but he might let you have a free pen if you call by his office. I mean, technically they’re not free but...never mind, just take it. 

Bill: plumber. It was purely accidental that Bill bashed his way into his career. No, really. His sink was blocked and after an hour of poking and prodding the pipes he started hitting the poor thing with a spanner out of pure frustration, cursing all the way. To his shock, it worked, and he suddenly had running water again. What shocked him more is that he realised he wanted to know how. So, he bought a book. And he read the book. And one thing led to another, and now he’s the proud owner of Williamson Plumbing Inc. The money is very good, but for Bill that’s not it. You have to understand that for him, it’s the act itself of fixing something that brings Bill immense satisfaction. And Bill isn’t used to knowing more about something - anything - than those around him. For the first time perhaps in his life, he can sit down, solve a problem, and know that he’s done a good job. 

Swanson: AA group leader. After getting completely sober almost a decade ago and staying that way, Orville wanted to give something back to the people who had helped him out so greatly. Becoming a volunteer to help those who were trapped where he was seemed like the only path, and it felt so right. Orville is there in meetings, making coffee, handing out donuts and training new volunteers. If anyone wants to talk about their faith he’s all ears, but he never pushes it as a cure-all in any situation. Orville’s sobriety has also meant that he’s learnt to make the most phenomenal mocktails. 

Pearson: grocery shop manager and cooking teacher. Simon has his small grocery shop on the edge of town which has a wide range of regular customers. But he wanted to do more, so he set up a small class to teach fellow veterans how to cook. His wife helps out, and they grow the ingredients together in their garden and down at the allotment. It’s just an therapeutic for him as it is for his students, as he’s only just realising how much he wants to talk about his time in the navy. 

Uncle: unknown. For the longest time, everyone thought Uncle worked at one of the worst dive bars in town, as whenever they stumbled in for a nightcap he was there, behind the bar, happy as a pig in shit. Turns out that he just started going there one night and no one could get him to leave. And so every evening he’ll appear like a phantom, sit himself in the half-broken chair behind the bar (clearly labelled “not for customer use”), order the cheapest beer on the menu and sit there until midnight. No one can understand how he gets the means to live as he ragingly denies receiving any government handouts despite his lumbago. Claims to be a veteran but hasn’t fought in any wars anyone has heard of. 

[havocinthebluebox]

@misfit-on-a-journey tagged me to post some 2020 selfies. Let's say goodbye to this awful year and open a brand new book for 2021. Here we goooo !

Mind if I do a little summary of my year like you, @misfit-on-a-journey ? Tumblr.com is like the bar counter I like to slouch on to order a huge cup of tea or a beer after a long day, and talk into the great Internet vastness/the void ! I am still a little bit tipsy from New Years Eve (I spent it with two of my closest friends. I don't have many but I am delighted with this little bunch of geeks, metalhead and weirdos. I was so happy to begin 2021 like 2020, with them. I love them so much. Yup, this post is going to be a little bit cheesy.) 

So, things went pretty ugly for me at the end of 2019. I had to deal with the fact that the person I loved most in this world broke-up with me. It is quite something to see a huge part of your life falling appart like that. It stings. Actually, in the beginning, things did not feel that bad. I kept going to gigs to keep myself distracted and was serving some serious tough-girl bullshit, just womaning-up and following my path. But it took the first lockdown for me to see that I was still hurting, badly. That’s when the third picture was taken. Looking at it now, I love it, but I can’t help but shiver at what dwells in my eyes. I was so lost. I had to move from Brittany to be able to have a final internship as a publisher, and hate the city I currently live in with a burning passion. Hopefully, I am a loner so being on my own during lockdown/curfew is not that bad. I just worked, read, worked out and went for some strolls with my camera and was happy with that. Or tried to, since my glasses broke during second lockdown and I struggled with basic tasks of daily life. Not being able to go to gigs, festival, museums, expositions or see my friends for most of the year was not fun, I will be forever furious at the fact that I live in a country where places of worship reopened before cultural places but thats another story… Another thing happened that saved me from becoming a full time bitter grumpy lady : when I was younger my mother used to give me cameras she didn't use anymore and I liked to take pictures for a very long time but i thought for several years that I did not have what it takes to learn photography seriously. Bullshit. I kicked my ass and began to take pictures. First with my phone and then with the camera I bought. I still have a lot to learn but it made me feel so good. I think keeping my hands/eyes/mind occupied with something new played a great part in me healing and moving forward. Feeling more confident, free from some of the thoughts that felt so heavy in my mind. Things are far from being perfect, and anxiety is never far away from me, especially with my new job. I wont write hypocritical good resolutions here (but you can rest assured that yes, I will eat 5 fruits and vegetables a day, exercise on a regular basis and work for world peace !). I am glad I am able to love myself again. I am glad I have some awesome people in my life : throwing visio-aperitives with them, talking with them even if we were all apart from each other felt good ! I am glad I read some great books. I am glad I listened to awesome bands. I’ll just keep moving at my pace. So, if the worlds keeps sinking in 2021, at least I will be at peace with my true self, against all tides.

Tagging : @tasha-lemon @omarandjohnny @paon-de-jour @jine-openspace @my-space-and-all-within @magical--wizard @violet-hellfire @antikosmikprose​ @dumbbabyelfbitch​ @a-pyre-of-doom​ @scarsoftheshatteredsky​ you know the deal : only if you want to do this. And if anyone else is interested, say I made you do this !

[thesparkinthefire]

Ghost - Pedro Pascal x Reader

A/N: I have a one and a half hour breakfast break because my company does not know how to plan, so I thought I might as well upload this now. I am uploading it through my phone and don't know how to proper edit on tumblr so this might look like a mess. English is also not my first language and I never wrote in it before - please point out any mistakes I might have made. I think this is part one of two.

Word count: 1,997

Paaring: Pedro Pascal crushing on musical!Reader ft. Oscar Isaac

Trigger Warning: age gap mentioned, a lot of jealousy

"Though my heart is broken, it keeps breaking every day." - With You, the Ghost cast album

Pedro didn't hate Oscar. It was quiet the opposite – that guy was his best friend. His amigo in the US of A and the wild life of Hollywood. Working with him on Triple Frontier was a dream come true and felt more like a guys-trip than work most of the time. Both of them were part of the Star Wars universe and if it somehow would have been possible they would love for their characters to meet just to work together a little more.

No, Pedro didn't hate Oscar. Except for two things.

First being that one time when he gave him a Wet Willy during that interview when they were answering questions people seem to type into Google – he still cringed whenever he thought back.

The second thing were you. Not exactly you-you because you did absolutely nothing wrong, but for Oscar's relationship with you. 

What an irony, that Pedro had introduced the both of you. You were a young actress from Europe and after you blew up because of your role in a teen-romance movie you were his partner on the second season of The Mandalorian. Your character had been a fan favourite, came into the show half way through the season and was set to stay at least for a few more episodes in the third season.

You were younger than him. A lot. But that had never bothered you. In every interview you had you were asked how working with “an experienced actor like Pedro Pascal” was like – which he found a little offensive, he might have a little lower back-pain but he wasn't that old – you smiled and answered that age was only a number and you two got along very well. And he was more than glad that you saw it that way.

To claim that he had never crushed on one of the actresses he had acted romance with would simply be a lie, but he was a professional. He never told anyone if he did and he did his best at keeping it a secret and not letting his feelings dominate his brain. But it was different with you. The moment he first saw you he thanked god that you had gotten the role. You were stunning in your very own way. Always kind to everybody – it didn't matter whether you were talking to him, the director or the clumsy intern. You always brought yourself to smile in the morning even though getting up early was like torture to you. You stayed focused on set, even when your nerves were killing you. Having a bad day was tough but you always acted kind and polite. You were perfect. In every possible way. Acting romance was the main job for the two of you and that wasn't only hard because he was wearing Din's helmet all the time. No, the problem was that he wasn't acting. He fell madly in love with you. It wasn't even your character. You were just so damn perfect.

You met a bunch of times outside of work, after the second season had aired and press tour had been wrapped. You got along so perfectly well that he sometimes had to ask himself, if he wasn't being too obvious. Maybe he was. But you never told him to step back or just didn't notice it. You should have noticed it by the time he asked you, what you were doing for Christmas. “Probably watching Netflix,” you had answered. “I am not going home until the new year and, yeah, everyone else is with their families.”

“You could join me,” Pedro had said before his mind had really processed the words you had said. “I mean- I am having dinner with a bunch of friends and, yes, we don't have a no-girls rule and you could join me. Us.” He had never seen something as beautiful as you when your eyes lit up in that moment. You happily accepted. That's how you met Oscar Isaac. Pedro's best friend, who he had never hated as much as in the moment when you were kissing him.

Oscar and you had a lot in common. You both loved Star Wars and were more than happy to discus every single theory about Finnpoe, Din Djaren and your character, the Skywalkers and Baby Yoda – just like you and him had so many times before. You both started by playing theatre – just like he did. You learned Spanish when you were still in school and tried your best to hold simple conversations with Oscar while he tried to teach you more – just like Pedro had. The thing that really connected the both of you and that made Pedro feel invisible were musicals. Sure, he had seen a few but singing was just not his thing. Oscar and you, on the other hand spent hours talking about the motifs in Hamilton, the fate of Gleb in Anastasia, the musical adaption of Heathers, the movie adaption of Cats and the harmonies in Dear Evan Hansen. Pedro loved listening to you. You were the most beautiful when you were talking about something you were as passionate about as musicals. You whole face lit up and you started talking with your hands. As much as he loved it, he hated it. Because it wasn't him you were talking with but mainly Oscar. You both loved singing and sooner or later ended up with his guitar, when the three of you were meeting at Oscar's house, or at your piano, when you were in your apartment. Pedro didn't dare to imagine how many hours you had spent in togetherness singing and acting out scenes. Fuck's sake he shouldn't – Oscar was married after all.

The year after you met some genius decided to bring the musical Ghost to California for a four week run and thought that no couple would be a better fit than Oscar and you. That was solely a PR-gig because the same director was about to host a bigger play the month after the run, but Oscar still accepted. So did you. And that hurt Pedro so much.

You had been doing a few musicals before you blew up as an actress and were just perfect for the role for Molly but Oscar, god, out of all people. He didn't know if he could handle seeing the you being in love. Even if it was just on stage.

The day Oscar and you accepted the part the three of you met up and watched the movie the musical was based on. You were crying half of the time and Oscar was visibly touched too but Pedro hated it. Maybe only because of the thought of you kissing his best friend for at least four weeks – rehearsals additional. He watched you from the corner of his eye and when he saw Oscar lean in you direction, he quickly wrapped his arm around you and pulled you in. “You are truly a crybaby,” he mumbled and handed you another tissue. For an hour the world was perfect – you, cuddled into his side while watching a romance.

But it soon got back to the cruel reality when Oscar decided, after the movie ended, the best way to cheer you up was singing Unchained Melody to you.

And now he was standing in the doorway to your rehearsal room in the theatre that you had stared working in a week ago, looking at you somewhat between sitting and laying on the orange couch and Oscar above you. Kissing you. Hands roaming over your body, under your shirt, moving it up. It was like looking at an accident – he didn't want to watch because it horrified him, but at the same time he couldn't look away. His heart was crushing, breaking. And the worst thing was, that the first thing that crossed his mind wasn't, that Oscar is a married man.

“Okay, wait,” you said, pushing him away from you. “Is it weird when I do that?”

“What?”

“That.” You tapped against his side, which was turned away from Pedro.

“Normally not but the audience can't see that because that side of us is turned to the back of the stage.”

Fuck.

That was a stage kiss. You were practising. That was all part of the rehearsal. Oscar wasn't cheating on his wife and you weren't... well, you weren't doing anything at all because Pedro had never made the god damn move of asking you out. It had been almost a year since he first met you at the table reading for the second Mandalorian season and he never said anything. Why did he never say anything? He was such an idiot. He could have slapped himself, hit his head against the next wall. What the fuck was holding him back?

“Hey Pedro! Didn't hear you coming.” Your voice brought him back to reality. Oscar moved off of you and you sat back up again. God, he had been starring. He had definitely been starring.

“Todo esta bien, amigo?”, Oscar asked.

“Yeah... Yeah, sure. I am just not feeling well.” That was an understatement. He was feeling sick. Fucking sick. He couldn't wait for the premiere. You would be so happy and excited while the knot in his throat was growing minute by minute until he was forced to sit through two hours of you and his best friend being in love. Usually he was good at separating the human from the role they were playing but somehow it was not possible for him this time. His brain couldn't and it made him mad and sad at the same time because he wanted to be happy for you. Ghost was a musical you were talking about before. It was possibly a dream come true and a huge opportunity to be selected for the leading role and he should be happy for you. He wanted to support you and his best friend on their project and give them the acting advice, they asked him for – that's why he even came here – but his heart wanted him to turn around and walk right out the door and never come back. Maybe even drink to get the images out of his head. They were nightmare material to him.

“Well, don't get us sick. We only have two more weeks until the premiere.”

“I will let you know once I know how to control sickness,” he snapped back a bit harsher than the wanted to. That's what it was. Sickness. A virus. Jealousy was poisoning his heart.

All he wanted was to be there for you. Because he knew how anxious premiers made you. Everyone kept asking you about how you were doing and you always smiled and said that you were just as nervous as everybody working on the production but that wasn't the full truth. Pedro saw it in the way your smile faded for a split second, once the question was asked. He noticed it when you took longer and longer to reply to his messages. He noticed, that you were a little more quiet than usual when you were out for dinner. Stress-crying was a thing you did and he would bet that you had already have a few breakdowns.

He wanted nothing more than to comfort you. To pull you in a tight hug, kiss your head and tell you that everything will turn out just fine, because you were gorgeous in every way possible. You were intelligent and strong and beautiful – simply amazing. Why did he never ask you out? It was way too late to do it now, wasn't it? You had grown to be something like best friends and best friends don't date each other.

He had shoot his shot.

And you would never be his.

Part two

[celestialvoid-fanfiction]

Afraid of the Dark

Stiles and Derek’s son is afraid of the dark and will only sleep if one of them—usually Stiles—sleeps in his room. Derek is growing increasingly frustrated about waking up alone.

For @kirjastorotta

Stiles jolted awake to the sound of their son’s heart-breaking cry tearing through the house.

Derek stirred beside him, pushing himself up onto his elbows as he weakly tried to get up.

“I’ve got him,” Stiles said, his voice slightly slurred and lethargic as he rubbed at his eyes.

He shoved the blanket aside and kicked his legs free of the sheets. He rose to his feet and shuffled through the darkness to where he knew the door was, shutting the bedroom door behind himself before turning on the hallway light.

He winced as the burst of bright light stung his eyes.

“I’m coming, buddy,” he called out as he made his way across the landing and to their son’s room.

He slowly opened the door, leaving it ajar so that the light filtered into the room.

Jonathan was sitting up in his crib, glistening tears streaming down his cheeks and his face red from crying. His blanket pooled around his waist as his chubby little hands clutched the soft fabric of the plush wolf they’d gotten him when he was born—holding it to his chest.

His cries died away to broken whimpers and quiet babbling as held his arms up, still holding his wolf and sniffing back his sobs as he looked at his dad pleadingly.

Stiles smiled softly as he made his way over to the crib.

“It’s alright,” Stiles said softly, lifting the boy into his arms and holding him close. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Stiles swayed slightly, listening as Jonathan’s sobs grew quiet and his breathing settled. He sat down in the chair in the corner of the room, holding Jonathan against his chest.

Jonathan nuzzled his face into the curve of Stiles’ neck, his free hand clutching at the worn fabric of Stiles’ shirt as he drifted off to sleep in his father’s arms.

Sleep must have caught up with him because the next thing he remembered was Jonathan stirring and Derek gently prying their son from Stiles’ arms—trying not to wake him.

Stiles blinked his eyes open, letting out a weak groan as he squinted against the glaring light which streamed through the window

Derek looked down at him, smiling sweetly.

“I must have drifted off,” Stiles said quietly, rubbing at his eyes.

“Why don’t you go back to bed and sleep properly,” Derek proposed.

“Nah,” Stiles replied, pushing himself up to his feet. “I’m awake now.”

Derek craned his neck, pressing a soft kiss to Stiles’ cheek before carrying Jonathan out of the room and making his way downstairs.

Stiles followed after him, sitting down on the couch as Derek sat Jonathan down in front of the television to watch one of his favourite shows while he made breakfast. He listened as Derek rambled about in the kitchen, making coffee and preparing breakfast.

“I don’t understand,” Stiles muttered as Derek came back into the lounge room, taking the mug of coffee Derek offered him with a tired smile. “He sleeps fine when he has a nap during the day, but every night he has nightmares.”

“Maybe it’s not nightmares,” Derek suggested. “If it were, he’d have them during his naps or while you and I are there with him.”

“Then what is it?” Stiles asked.

“I don’t know,” Derek replied. “Maybe he’s scared of being alone.”

“So, what, we move his crib into our room? Let him sleep in our bed and hope we don’t crush him when we roll over in the middle of the night?”

A small smile played at the corners of Derek’s lips.

“What are you smirking at?” Stiles asked.

“You,” Derek answered. “If only your father could see how worried you are.”

“I know, it’s karma for everything I put my dad through,” Stiles groaned. “If he were a few months older he’d be able to tell us what’s wrong. I hate guessing. I hate that I’m failing him because I don’t understand.”

Stiles let out a dejected sigh, sinking back into the sofa’s cushions as frustrated tears welled in his eyes.

“Hey,” Derek said softly, setting down his coffee and sitting down next to Stiles. He gently pulled his husband into his arms, letting Stiles lay against his side and rest his head on Derek’s shoulder. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll work this out.”

The next morning, Derek rolled over, feeling the bed beside him.

It was cold; empty.

He blinked his eyes open, looking at the pillow next to him. He let out a heavy sig, pushing his face into his pillow and letting out a frustrated groan.

He hated waking up alone. He’d done it for years before he met Stiles, and the first time he woke up next to Stiles he knew that’s what he wanted for the rest of his life. But for months now, he’d woken up alone, finding Stiles in Jonathan’s room, curled up on the chair and comforting him after another restless night.

Derek pushed himself upright.

They’d tried everything, and nothing worked.

“It’s not nightmares and he’s fine sleeping on his own because he sleeps fine during the day,” Derek mused to himself. “So why does he sleep during the day but not at night? What’s different?”

He straightened, realisation hitting him.

He kicked his feet free of the blankets and got out of bed, dressing himself quickly. He shoved his phone and wallet into his pockets before making his way over to Jonathan’s room.

The boy was just beginning to stir when Derek pushed open the door.

Derek carefully untangled him from Stiles’ arms, careful not to wake his husband. He grabbed a change of clothes for Jonathan and his day bag. He made his way downstairs, setting Jonathan down to watch his favourite show as he quickly dressed him and made breakfast.

As soon as the show was finished and they’d eaten breakfast, Derek bundled him into the car and left.

Stiles slowly stirred, blinking his eyes open to the morning light that streamed through the thin fabric of the curtains.

The house was silent.

The usual sounds of the morning—the television with the volume down low but still audible as Jonathan watched his favourite show, the pots and pans in the kitchen as Derek made breakfast, the sound of Derek’s deep voice and Jonathan’s babbling as they talked quietly—weren’t there; the house was silent.

He looked down, his heart skipping a beat as he realised Jonathan wasn’t in his arms.

He bolted upright, his head whipping around as he looked around the nursery.

Jonathan wasn’t there.

He leapt to his feet, running across the landing to his and Derek’s room, frantically searching there before sprinting downstairs and searching the kitchen and the living room.

They weren’t there.

Stiles ran back upstairs, grabbing his phone from the bedside table and dialling Derek’s number.

“Hey,” Derek answered.

“Please tell me you have Jonathan,” Stiles pleaded.

“Yeah, he’s here with me,” Derek replied.

There was a quiet babbling on the other end.

Jonathan.

Stiles let out a heavy sigh, trying to calm his racing heart.

“Did I forget to leave a note?” Derek asked, a hint of worry in his voice.

“Yes,” Stiles said, frustration adding an edge to his voice.

“I’m sorry,” Derek said. “I was so caught up in what I had to do and I left in such a hurry, I forgot.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Stiles asked.

“You were fast asleep,” Derek replied. “I couldn’t wake you.”

“Where are you?”

“We’re in Target,” Derek answered.

Jonathan let out a delighted squeal on the other end, the sound he made when he found something he really liked.

“Can you pick up something for Cora’s birthday while you’re there?”

“Sure,” Derek said. “We’re going to be a few more minutes and then we’ll head home.”

“Okay, I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you,” Derek said softly.

Stiles couldn’t help but smile. “I love you too.”

There was a chorus of babbling on the other end of the phone as Stiles heard Derek ask Jonathan what they should get Aunty Cora for her birthday just before the call ended.

He let out a heavy sigh as he sat down on the edge of the bed, raking his fingers through his hair.

After a while, he made his way into the en suite, showering and getting dressed. As he made his way back downstairs, he heard the front door open.

Derek shuffled into the hallway, balancing Jonathan on one hip as he carried a bunch of bags in the other hand.

“Hey, little man,” Stiles said, holding out his arms and taking Jonathan from Derek. He pressed a kiss against his son’s chubby cheek, his heart melting as a bright smile lit up Jonathan’s face.

He turned to Derek.

“I’m sorry,” Derek said. “I should have left a note or messaged you and just let you know where we were.”

“It’s okay,” Stiles said, reassuringly. He reached out and gently tugged at Derek’s leather jacket, pulling him close and bringing their lips together in a tender kiss.

A soft smile lifted the corners of Derek’s lips as he looked at Stiles lovingly.

“What was so important that you had to rush to the store?” Stiles asked, watching as Derek set one bag—Cora’s present—down on the table and carried two others towards the stairs.

“I think I have a solution,” Derek said as he made his way upstairs to Jonathan’s room. “And this had better work, because I want to sleep with my husband.”

Hours later, as the light of day was fading to dusk, Derek’s voice rang out from upstairs.

“Okay, all done.”

Stiles picked Jonathan up off the floor, carrying him up to his room. He tentatively pushed the door open and stepped into the room.

The walls and ceiling were covered in constellations of plastic stars and a night light that looked like a full moon had been fixed to the wall.

“You ready to see if this works?” Derek asked.

“Yeah,” Stiles said, setting Jonathan down on the floor.

Derek shut the block-out curtains, plunging the room into darkness.

Jonathan let out an uncomfortable whimper, but it died away as he looked up at the glowing stars that covered the walls and ceiling.

Derek reached over and switched on the night light, casting a subtle white glow across the room—bright enough to illuminate everything in the room but dull enough that Jonathan would be able to sleep.

Jonathan let out a delighted giggle.

Derek let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, a relieved smile lighting up his face as he looked at Stiles.

“He’s afraid of the dark,” Stiles realised.

“I think we solved the problem,” Derek said, a bright smile lighting his face.

Derek rolled over, instinctively curling around the warm figure that lay next to him as he stirred from sleep. He let out a heavy sigh and blinked his eyes open.

He looked down at the man curled up against his side, his tousled brown hair messed up and his face softened by sleep.

Stiles stirred, drawing in a deep breath as he opened his dark eyes, looking up at Derek sleepily.

“Hello, stranger,” Derek whispered, pressing a kiss to Stiles’ forehead.

“It worked,” Stiles murmured sleepily, snuggling into Derek’s side more and nuzzling his face into the curve of his husband’s shoulder. Seconds later, he was asleep again.

Derek couldn’t help but smile, resting his cheek atop Stiles’ head.

[AO3]

[starringstjames]

{ facie, 20, aest, she & her } ☆ did you hear the rumor? JESSE ST. JAMES has been spotted in the big apple! HE is TWENTY SIX y-o and works as a BROADWAY ACTOR. some things never change, because HE is still SOCIAL but also NARCISSISTIC. psst! we did our research and found out that HE is a compulsive liar and has driven his siblings away as he’s painted them as jealous and spiteful when that was never the case. i wonder how long JESS will play pretend! ☆ { jonathan groff, glee character }

cw. for mentions of eating disorders & drug use

about.

name: jesse anthony st. james age: 26 date of birth / zodiac: august 1st / leo gender: cismale pronouns: he/him sexual orientation: heterosexual hometown: staten island, new york occupation: currently in rehearsals for the new off-broadway show ‘the princess diaries: the musical’  family: margot st. james (nee. castello) - mother, anthony st. james - father, older sister, younger brother

background.

born in staten island to a pair of local chemists, jesse spent most of his childhood in a run-down house, sharing a bedroom with his sister. the st. james family had never left staten island, they had barely moved from the neighborhood for generation.

as a child, jesse constantly craved attention. he’d do anything if it meant people would praise him, and this usually involved harassing his sister into reenacting episodes of tv shows in living room together. eventually, to save their daughter the torture, the st. james parents enrolled jesse in a local youth theatre, hoping it would give him a place to get all of his energy out.

when jesse was nine, his mother fell pregnant again and gave birth to jesse’s younger brother ( jesse is not 100% convinced that all the st. james childhood share the same father but he has no proof of this ). jesse was immediately threatened by this, viewing his brother has competition and this was when he began taking his performing more seriously. he would not be overshadowed by a baby. 

jesse snagged his first lead role at age thirteen, playing the cat in a production of seussical jr. he spent every waking hour practicing lines and making sure he knew the songs and dances like the back of his hand. why it drove his family crazy, they humored him.

in high school, jesse was far from top of the food chain. being the lanky white boy, with a pretentious vocabulary and a hatred for ‘the ridiculous rap music’ but him at odds with the rest of his peers. but he was okay with his, when he got out of there and became famous they’d feel bad for not wanting to sit with him at lunch.

jesse’s success in performing gained the desired effect, with his parents loving to tell anyone who’d listen about how much of a star their son was going to be. jesse was even able to get his parents to leave his sister’s high school graduation early to come drive him to an audition.

a few weeks before jesse was set to start his senior year, the st. james’ relocated to manhattan. the years of being put on the back burner had done a number to his sister, which everyone else seemed to have notice besides jesse. they had to move so that she could be sent to an eating disorder clinic in manhattan. jesse jumped at the chance to move closer to the great white way, it didn’t matter if his sister had to work her way through a little bulimia in order for him to get that.

after graduation, jesse decided to skip the whole college thing, he wanted to get out into the world and began auditioning whenever he could, earning money on the side by working at his parents’ pharmacy. it was this work on the side that led to finding his eleven year old brother unconscious in the storeroom, having knocked himself out by inhaling a bunch of the cleaning spray. 

after the confrontation that went down between his parents and his brother, jesse decided it was time to get his own place, finding a small (insanely overpriced) apartment in new york city and getting a job as a cater waiter.

this job, however, was only needed for a few weeks before jesse booked his first gig as the gerry understudy in beautiful on broadway. the first night he went on for the role, he invited his whole family, but his parents were the only ones to show up, saying that his brother and sister had been busy. jesse knew that was bullshit and when his cast mates asked him why they hadn’t seen his siblings at stagedoor, jesse told them that they had never come to see him perform, that they had never supported him. which wasn’t true. but it felt it.

the next year, after his contract for beautiful ran out, jesse performed the role of anatole in great comet, unfortunately only for a few weeks before the shows closing. 

during a livestream he did on instagram during his run in great comet, jesse was asked about his family. and he said that he had grown up in poverty - which wasn’t true. staten island wasn’t very pretty, but they weren’t poor. but jesse saw all of the praise he was getting for overcoming adversity, and things only escalated from there.

in 2018, jesse joined the north american tour of waitress as dr. pomatter and the interviews that followed his casting on theatre publications only fueled his fire for making things up. when asked about how he got into theatre, jesse confidently stated that he turned to theatre to get away from his sister’s self-destructive behavior and her rampent jealousy and that he got his first professional role only hours after his little brother overdosed in front of him to get attention because jesse was succeeding. jesse couldn’t help how the way people patted him on the back felt.

as the tour came to a close, jesse got a phone call from his sister. the two hadn’t spoken in months, but she had finally stumbled upon his interview. she accused his of being a liar, stating that she had come to every single show he had done as a kid and even given up her free time to help him with lines, accusing him of using her sickness for his own gain and said that his brother barely touched drugs and that his OD was just a case of peer pressure from some bad eggs at school and that his parents had no clue he had been saying any of this. his family was officially cutting ties with him. jesse didn’t say anything, he just hung up the phone and made a tweet about how his family was toxic. he didn’t need them, people already thought he had gotten this far without them, he could do it for real.

jesse’s 2020 plans include rehearsals for a new musical, the princess diaries: the musical as michael. it’s jesse first time originating a role and his first time off-broadway and he knows it will do leaps and bounds for his career. this will show his family the real jesse, the one everyone else was seeing, the hardworking and driven kid who overcame everything thrown his way.

headcanons.

— jesse’s favorite musical is sunday in the park with george, and is counting down the days until he’s old enough to play george. — jesse has a shellfish allergy, which is a real shame because he loves the idea of being rich enough to order lobster at a fancy hotel restaurant. — besides the girl he went to prom with, jesse’s never had a girlfriend. it’s a lot easier for him to keep up his professional life by sticking to hook ups with people who won’t do harm to his career. — once he earns a tony award for acting, jesse wants to move into directing. and after that, release an album and after that, move into hollywood acting. he wants to be a EGOT winner really badly.  — jesse met patti lupone when he was fifteen on a field trip to look at various new york tourist spots. she was buying a croissant at a local cafe. it was a highlight of the trip.

connections.

(open to any gender unless otherwise specified)

best friend — they’ve known each other for years and jesse always makes sure to get them the best seats when they come see his shows. he’ll even excuse them bootlegging if they really want.  co-star — weather it be a show they did in the past or a cast member in the princess diaries, jesse wants to make the best impression he can and build up a strong connection with his cast. he hates backstage drama. rival — they’ve been stealing roles from each other and jesse doesn’t hide his negative feelings. hook-up — a one night stand, or a repeat offender. let’s just hope no one catches feels ( female or non-binary character ) anything else you can think of!

@pretendinghq​

[karazor--el]

TV Insider

Nicole Maines & 'Supergirl' Take on Violence Against the Trans Community

Supergirl flies into new and socially relevant territory tonight with an hour that explores the impact of violence against members of the trans community.

As the home of TV’s first-ever transgender superhero in Nicole Maines‘s Nia Nal, aka Dreamer, the show has already excelled at raising awareness of matters key to the LGBQT community, but this time, it’s literally a life-altering storyline. Per the Human Rights Campaign’s website, “2020 has already seen at least three transgender or gender non-conforming people fatally shot or killed by other violent means. We say at least because too often these stories go unreported—or misreported.”

A look at stars like Stephen Amell, Ruby Rose, and Melissa Benoist who’ve appeared on the big screen before, during, or after CW superhero gigs.

In the episode, entitled “Reality Bytes,” Nia’s roommate Yvette (Roxy Wood), who is also a trans woman, is brutally attacked by an ignorant stranger who can’t handle Dreamer being a transgender hero. Stunned at first, then shook into action, Nia refuses to stand silent, leading to some serious and important conversations with Kara (Melissa Benoist) and the superfriends about exactly what Nia—and Maines, herself—face on a regular basis.

Here, the always enlightening actress and advocate opens up about the need for TV like this and what can be done to hopefully save lives in the future.

How are you doing? Because you have all done really well by this character.

Nicole Maines: Yes. I’m so happy with how Dreamer has really become her own superhero. I was just looking at her yesterday and she really has kind of become her own unique hero. Dream Girl [the comic-book version] is one hero, but I feel like Dreamer just has such a really different feel from Dream Girl. She’s become, in the past two seasons, her own entity and her own person, and that makes me really happy.

This character showed up with a lot on her shoulders, as far as what she stood for socially and for the trans community. But the writers have given her an entirely fleshed-out life, with romance and personal relationships, all that stuff. It’s really cool that it wasn’t just kind of putting down a flag and making a statement, it was actually creating a character and giving her a life.

Yeah, totally. She is a three-dimensional, fully fleshed-out character, and I have just come to love her so much.

The couple shared the news in fun posts on Instagram.

Now, this episode looks at violence against the trans community, which is a real thing — it’s insane how underreported this is.

Absolutely, and that’s something that we touch on this episode: exactly how common this is and how no one really understands that. And of course Supergirl, as just a beacon of hope, is coming to Nia and saying, “Listen, you know, we do this every week, we’re going to get this guy,” and Nia’s like “No, we don’t do this every week. I do and the community, they do this every day. You do this never.”

So it’s showing Dreamer as a member of the trans community and as a guardian of the trans community that is going through this and understanding exactly what she’s going through. And it shows Yvette knowing what she’s gone through and understanding her situation as a trans woman.

And how does Kara take this attack on Yvette? Because you know Kara always beats herself up for not being Supergirl enough.

Yeah, she’s panicked and worried for Yvette and for Nia. Her first instinct is “Are you okay? I came as soon as I heard!” and then it’s “We’re going to get this guy” and “You take care of Yvette, I’m Supergirl, I’ve got this.” But then Dreamer is saying “No, I’ve got this.” And she’s also working with William (Staz Nair) to make sure that this is reported accurately.

And the attack on Yvette isn’t by a meta, correct?

No, and that’s what’s so scary about it and so different about this. It isn’t some supervillain, this isn’t a metahuman, this isn’t an alien, it’s not someone with a tragic backstory, you know, “a love lost so I have to become a villain.” This is just someone whose narrative we’ve heard a bunch of times before.

L.A. is still the entertainment capital of the world, but a surprising number of TV shows film outside of California, too.

I just saw it the other day…people online were talking about this episode and they were like, “Oh, well Dreamer’s just, you know, tricking dudes into thinking he’s a girl, yadda yadda,” and I’m like, “that is exactly who this supervillain is.” And it just made me laugh so much because they were trying to s**t on this episode and on this storyline and I’m like, “all of the points you’re making are exactly who this villain is and what he says.” And that’s what’s so scary for Dreamer, that this is just a guy who could be anybody, some average—well not average because he’s deranged—but just some physically normal person who is capable of inflicting that much devastation.

I hope that there is a point where you address the fact that Yvette’s attacker represents so many ignorant humans out there whose minds can’t be changed.

Oh, yeah. And that’s really what we talked about [with the writers]. We talked about giving him a backstory, we talked about “Who is this guy?” I pitched making him one of the Agent of Liberty goons and then we decided that it doesn’t really matter who this guy is, it doesn’t matter where he came from, and it doesn’t matter what tragic backstory he has that made him want to attack people.

The point is he set out to attack someone because of who they are. And so it doesn’t really matter who you are, because your actions define who you are and your actions are defining you as a villain. And so Dreamer has this confrontation with him and it is so not what Supergirl normally does. Supergirl is kind of like, “You don’t have to do this, you can still be good.” But this is Dreamer. She is not on a mission to redeem this person.

Dreamer has her powers to help with this situation, but as an advocate for the community, what would you tell members of the trans community facing this? Because they don’t have superpowers.

You have to protect yourself. It is just a matter of caution because it’s scary, especially in the online dating world, which is kind of where this [story] takes place. You do see Yvette in the end trying to take some [precautionary] steps. If you’re going to meet a stranger, bring a friend, go to a public place. But you know it still happens, so it’s about trying to protect yourself, making sure you are surrounded by people you trust, dropping pins on your phone so people know where you are. It’s taking every possible step to try and protect yourself.

Even still, as we see in this episode, bad things do happen. So trans women, we have to protect ourselves because it is a scary world out there and there are so many people who don’t understand and there are so many states where you’re still able to plead “gay panic” in a court of law. It’s almost always thrown out immediately because it’s, pardon my French, a f***ing stupid excuse, but the fact that it is still legally permissible in court is absurd.

So it’s a matter of protecting yourself, but also telling stories like this and doing what we can to try to educate the community about these issues, about the dangers we face. Because one of the other things that I saw people talking about online [is that] they don’t believe the story we’re doing. They were like “This is ridiculous! Who’s attacking trans people because they’re trans?” I’m like “Are you kidding me!?” That’s why this is so important that we’re doing this episode, because people really don’t even comprehend that people are attacking, let alone killing, trans women brutally for who we are.

So you did get to work with the writers to make sure certain points were covered?

Oh yeah. We had a series of points that we made sure were covered and were addressed. Of course, you never know what’s going to wind up on the cutting room floor but we said, “these are the points that we need to make sure are said.”

We made a point to mention the increased risk that trans women of color are at and when we wrote the episode, we talked about how many trans women in 2019 had been the victims of hate-related violence and how many have we lost. And I think at the time of filming it was something like 23 or 24, so we tried to use that actual number and also point out that the real number is actually probably much, much higher because it does go underreported.

Guess Who’s Coming to Dreamer? Nicole Maines Brings ‘Supergirl’ Home for Nia’s Big Episode

Nia and Kara head to a small town where aliens and humans keep it chill.

And how was it for you after the episode wrapped? I imagine this is really close to the bone for you.

It felt good to do. It felt exciting to do this story because, while it is such heart-wrenching material, I was doing it with people who understood, who were excited to be telling this story and to shed some light on this. And of course, getting to do this with Roxy was amazing because just having her on set is always a blessing. And Pierson, despite the character he plays, he’s actually awesome.

And our director, Armen [Kevorkian] was just so… bless him, he and the writers were so open to talking to me. Armen was just so good about talking to me about any little thing and checking with me, making sure I felt like we’re doing things right. And he had the patience of a saint because I had no business, just peering over his shoulder the whole time, especially when they were doing the scene where Yvette gets attacked. I was there right next to the director, I had my headphones on and was like, “What’s going on? How are we doing?” I was so overprotective of this episode. [Laughs]

That’s hilarious. Next thing is you’re going to be directing an episode next season.

Oh god, I don’t think I’m ready for that. I think I’m better at micromanaging people against their will. [Laughs] I say that, but there wasn’t anything to micromanage because Armen totally understood what we were doing, he understood the importance of this episode and he’s just a fabulous director otherwise. So, doing this with him was just phenomenal and he did such an amazing job. We’re all so excited for people to see this episode.

Supergirl, Sundays, 9/8c, The CW

TV Insider.

[andrea-lyn]

Malex fic where they secretly got married at some point in the last ten years so Michael would be told if Alex was injured or killed?

In 2016, Alex comes back to Roswell quietly on the heels of a scare with his health and his first stop is to a trailer in the middle of the junkyard, where he’d found Guerin last time. He’s heard that he’s been hopping around dairy ranches, but the last one went out of business and he’s back with Sanders while he looks for the next gig.

They’d found something when Alex had gone in for his physical and for the scariest few days, Alex had waited for tests to be run. He’d withdrawn from everyone during those days, not knowing what he’d do if he suddenly was given a timer that counted down his last moments.

When the diagnosis had come back benign, it had been like a spotlight.

He’d made a list. It’s not a bucket list, not really, but it’s a list of things that would make his life meaningful. First up, here at this junkyard, a man that may or may not even let them talk.

Michael opens the door and stares at him for a long, uncomfortable moment. The silence draws out to the point that Alex starts fidgeting. He’s about to tell Michael that he’ll leave when Michael steps down to the ground with a heavy landing, his eyes roaming over Alex’s body.

“What are you doing here?” Guerin asks, when he walks into the trailer and Alex is sitting there.

“Can we talk?”

It doesn’t turn out to be much talking. Alex barely tells Michael about the health scare before he’s being lifted onto the counter and Alex is kissing Michael with the kind of angry desperation that he’d felt when he’d been waiting for his test results.

It’s thrown everything into perspective. It’s shown him exactly what he wants.

This. He wants this.

“How long are you here?” Michael asks, stroking his fingers over Alex’s bare chest when they’re collapsed on the shitty bed in the trailer and Alex has caught him up on the test, on the scare, and how he’s absolutely fine.

Alex rests his chin on Michael’s collarbone, hating that his answer won’t make anyone happy. “I have a week of leave,” he says, the next words stuck in his throat. “Listen, I didn’t just come to see you.”

“You kind of came all over mmfhf…”

Alex claps his hand over Michael’s mouth, because this is serious.

“I’m serious. I’m here because I don’t want to put off what I want just because my father scared me out of it, because I was young and stupid.” Michael doesn’t say anything, but then again, Alex is still covering his mouth. Eventually, he hears a muffled sound, something like ‘what do you want, Alex?’ He takes in a deep breath and decides that the worst that can happen is Michael kicks him out of the trailer naked.

It’s the junkyard. He’s sure stranger things have happened here.

“Marry me.”

Michael squints at him, prying the hand off his mouth. “I think you fucked me into a coma, because I could swear you just proposed to me.”

“Yeah.” Alex lets out a breathless laugh. “Yeah, I did.” And, also, “You haven’t said anything yet.”

“I mean, you show up out of nowhere eight years later, worried about your health, and now you’re proposing. You’re sure that test was fine, you don’t have a weird tumor…”

Alex shoves Michael back down to the bed and crawls on top of him with a disbelieving look.

“Marry me,” he says again. “If something did happen to me, I’d want you to know.” And there’s something more than that. “And, I realized that if I was facing down death, my life’s got a bunch of regrets, but the biggest one is walking away from you.”

Michael stares at him, reverently in awe.

Oh god, he’s still not saying anything and it’s killing him.

“Guerin,” he pleads.

“Yeah,” Michael finally says, like he can’t believe he’s hearing the word. It’s soft, touched, and filled with fondness. “Yes.”

It’s not much. They have to grab a stranger milling around outside city hall and the rings are things that Michael’s found over the years in old cars. They sign papers and Alex knows that no matter what happens, at least they can’t cut Michael completely out of his life.

Unfortunately, their joy, their giddiness, this brief respite in a sea of despairs only lasts so long, because Alex only has a week of leave and that means six days later, he’s at the local air base with Michael, saying his goodbyes.

“You don’t have to go,” Michael says, a desperate last minute plea.

The trouble is that Alex hasn’t come around to the idea that the air force isn’t an integral part of his life. There’s a family name to live up to and even if his father is terrible, that doesn’t mean Alex isn’t striving to make him proud.

Maybe, just maybe, he can have Michael and he can earn his father’s affection.

“Yeah. I do.” They’re words that he said a week ago, but this time instead of making Michael light up like the night sky, they leave him standing on the tarmac looking like Alex has broken his heart.

The entire flight back, he feels awful that he’d left the way he had. The image of his father in his mind had scared him again, reminded him of all the things he had the power to do, and how Alex had to get back to his duty. He knows Michael may hate him for it, especially after he reads the letter Alex had left for him. It talks about wanting to live up to his family’s legacy (when really, he means he just wants to survive it), but there’s also something hopeful in his words, talking about a future where they can be together and Alex is done with all of this. When Michael finds the letter in his trailer, Alex suspects there might be divorce papers waiting for him on the other end, but he has to think about the part where he’s hoping for an after to his service.

Alex is choosing to focus on the hope.

It’s the connection that he and Michael have, even if Alex has ruined things for now by leaving. It’s the piece of paper sitting in Michael’s trailer that binds them together as husbands, it’s the rings he’s entrusted in Michael’s care, and it’s the knowing that if anything happens to him, then Michael is going to be the very first phone call.

Maybe when his enlistment period is over, maybe he can explain it to Michael and they can get past this. Maybe Alex won’t be so indebted to his dad.

For now, he’ll have to live on the memories of the scant brush with happiness they’d managed to steal.

*

He calls Michael after the drugs are flushed out of his system, feeling scared and tired and alone. “You didn’t come.”

“No passport,” Michael replies, sounding hollow and exhausted. “Funny how your military guys didn’t take my breakdown on the tarmac as a signal to let me on their plane so I could come see my husband.”

Alex knows this is a legitimate reason for Michael to not be there, at his side.

And yet, without his leg and without Michael, the loss seems to compound.

“I wish you were here.”

“Yeah,” Michael’s voice is quiet and given that the only other sound is the heart monitor attached to him, Alex doesn’t want him to hang up.

“Talk to me,” he pleads.

“Why’d you have to go back?” Michael demands, the pain digging new wounds into Alex’s skin for all the pain that’s in his voice. “Why, Alex? Why did you have to…”

He doesn’t hang up, but Alex almost wishes he had, because the sound of Michael’s breath hitching on the line is more than he can take. “Michael,” he breathes, finger hovering on the ‘disconnect’ button, but he doesn’t press it. He can’t bring himself to, even as much as this hurts. “Please, just talk to me. Tell me about your day, about Roswell, please…”

It takes Michael a long, shuddering moment, but eventually, he complies and Alex lets himself drift off to sleep fighting off the worst pain of his life, but with a shred of hope on the horizon.

*

It’s months later and Alex has been doing his best to avoid Michael in a small town like Roswell. What the hell else are you supposed to do after you basically tell your husband that you don’t think it’s going to work out, all the while the town eavesdrops?

He’s in the middle of his PT exercises when his phone rings. Leaning over, Alex checks the caller ID, sending it straight to speaker since it’s only Kyle.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Alex,” Kyle says, “I need you to come to the hospital.”

“If this is about my prosthetic, I’m coming in…”

“It’s Guerin.”

That stops him in his tracks. Michael kind of hates Kyle, so why the hell would Kyle be the one calling him about his husband?

“What do you mean? What about Michael?”

“He had you listed as his next of kin, even if I had to go digging for it,” Kyle says, with a tone that says he has the feeling that he knows why the information had been so hard to find. “Funny how I managed to dig up a marriage record from 2016. All this time…?”

“It was so that we had a connection, so if something bad happened…”

Alex stares down to his bad leg, where the prosthetic lies beneath his pants.

It turns out that something bad had happened and even their plan hadn’t been able to get Michael to him, but at least it had kept him in the loop. “Look, just, keep him sedated and calm, I’ll be there soon.”

He books it to the hospital, not sure that Michael will want to see him, though maybe he’ll be a lot more willing to see Alex when he realizes that he’s the jailbreak about to happen. He’s never known why Michael hates hospitals so much, but when he’d been insistent about not going after the incident with his hand, Alex had respected him enough to let it go.

“What happened?” Alex demands, when he finds Kyle.

“Sanders brought him in, which is dangerous in itself, the man really shouldn’t be driving,” Kyle scoffs. He hasn’t got a chart, which is strange, but he seems to know the case. “Guerin was helping with some of the gutters on the roof and the wood collapsed. He fell two stories, broke his leg in a few places. I’ve got him in a cast, but he can’t stay here.”

“Why not?” Alex demands.

“Get me out of here!” Michael shouts from inside the room. “Valenti, I swear to god, I’m gonna wedgie you from here if you don’t get me a wheelchair and…”

Kyle points to the room as if proof, opening the door enough that he can show off Alex. “Look who I found. Your husband,” he says sarcastically, giving Alex a light push inside. “You deal with him.”

Michael’s gone completely blank and quiet, gaping at Alex, like he’s embarrassed with the fact that Kyle knows what they did. That shock lasts about two seconds before Michael shifts in the hospital bed, fumbling to grab at the covers, his clothes, pretty much anything he can.

“Good, you’re here, help get me discharged,” Michael says.

Alex can’t do that just yet because he’s too busy being so angry.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he hisses, storming towards Michael, heart pounding with fear. They’d gotten married because they’d always been worried about what might happen to Alex. Michael’s the one in Roswell. Michael’s the one who should be taking care of himself.

He’s not the one who should be lying in a hospital bed, bringing back awful memories to Alex. And yet, Michael’s staring at him with that fondness, that I never look away smile on his lips, like he knows a stupid secret that Alex doesn’t and he kind of hates it, so he’s going to stay mad.

“Next time you decide to do something stupid like try to get something from Sanders’ roof without someone steadying the ladder, I’m going to…” Alex doesn’t finish his warning, because Michael leans up to kiss him, shutting him up. Alex flushes, but he’s not deterred. “You broke your leg! You fell from two stories up, Michael, how could you be so reckless! Now who’s going to help you with your trailer and getting around and showering and…”

Michael is giving him an amused look.

“What?” Alex demands.

“If only I had a husband who could help me out, in sickness and health.”

Alex stares at the ground, wishing he didn’t feel like it was about to swallow him whole. “Even after all that crap I said at the drive-in?”

“I know when it’s your Dad’s voice,” Michael promises. “You can tell me I’m wrong, but I don’t think I am. I think you still love me. I think you’re gonna find me a wheelchair and you’re gonna take me back to your place and we can commiserate about only having two good legs between us.”

Alex tips his head to the side, eyebrows furrowed together.

“All right, too soon,” Michael grumbles, but he’s swinging to the side of the bed, so clearly he’s not joking about getting out of here. “I’m not saying we’re gonna go find ourselves a white picket fence house and I know things are strained and shitty, but…” He trails off, reaching for Alex’s hand to slide it between his own, the scarring and the mangled skin on the bad hand on the bottom, still strong in its own ways. “There’s a reason I never wanted a divorce. I know we can do this.”

“Please tell me you didn’t break your leg just so you could see me again,” Alex jokes.

It’s Michael’s turn to glare at him. “Get me home,” he says. “And let’s work on figuring out what ‘for better’ looks like, because I don’t know about you, but aren’t you getting so tired of ‘for worse’?”

Alex really, really is.

“Fine,” he relents, and he knows that things are definitely far from perfect, but at least he can feel that hope back in him, with the potential to blossom into something stronger.

*

It’s 2019 and they’re out at the Wild Pony. Alex is at the bar to order their drinks and the rings have made it out of storage and back onto their hands. Alex’s bucket list has fewer items than it ever did before and while Make Peace With My Husband hadn’t been on there, Alex feels pretty comfortable in crossing it off.

“Two beers for the asshole who got married and didn’t tell us,” Maria says, with the sweetness that’s really not hiding how annoyed she is.

Alex takes them and salutes her with it, deciding to put something straight. “If that’s what you’re mad about, you’ve got three years to make up for.” Probably the wrong thing to say if he wants her to not be mad, but he heads back to the table and hands Michael his beer, all while Maria probably plots her revenge.

“Everything good?” Michael asks, as Alex reaches in and slides their hands together, hearing the soft clink of their rings as he rests his hand on top of Michael’s, closing his eyes to let that settled feeling wash over him.

He nods, and he knows down in his heart that he means this completely, “Yeah. Everything’s perfect.”

[rejects-mania]

From Pepper, With Love

Well, it’s been a minute hasn’t it? About four years? I think it’s safe to say that a lot has happened, not all of it good. So buckle in because as usual I’ve got a story to tell.

I’m 33 now. Hard to believe I’ve actually survived this long honestly. But here we are, alive, surviving, and most importantly living a very simple life now. No frills or crazy adventures, and that’s ok. Actually its exactly what I never knew I always wanted.

I haven’t seen the Rejects since that last show with Sayre. I haven’t picked up the records or listened to their music in years. I’ll get into why in a second. However, today, today was different. Today I listened to their music on my drive to work. Those haunting first cords of Another Heart Calls washed over me as I’d always remembered them and brought with them a chill of a past story that never got told. I’ve tried to write it before but couldn’t find the words, but today I feel like it needs to be told.

I hadn’t talked to Merch Mike in a couple years. Not since his last shows with the guys. I was married, miserable, and truth be told somewhere a long the way following the Rejects had become less about the Rejects and more about their merch guy. Truth? I’d fallen in love with Merch Mike. Take it how you will, but it happened, it was one sided, I was young, and I’m not ashamed.

Anyway, I found out Merch Mike was going out on the Cher tour which was starting in Albany. I was elated. I hadn’t seen him in two years, I still had the same feelings and so I reached out and asked if we could go for a drink. He actually responded, a big surprise to me honestly. Turns out Albany was the start of the tour so he was going to be there for a few days and could actually use a hand taking inventory. I jumped at the chance and offered to pick him up at the airport.

I’ll never forget that day. I showed up at the airport and stood anxiously waited for him to get off the plane and walk to the greetingg area. My heart stopped when I saw him. Same old Merch Mike. That big smile, those shining green eyes, the same man I had remembered. I don’t think I’ve ever hugged a person so tight. I hadn’t realized how much I had missed him or how much I still cared about him. As we walked down to baggage claim we began to chat.

“So how’ve ya been?” I asked casually mostly expecting to hear stories about his kids.

“Getting divorced, actually.” He replied. My heart practically left my chest. I’ve never felt anything quite like that before in my life. It was as if suddenly this person who I never in a million years would ever have even a glimmer of hope to be with was standing there telling me there was hope. There was hope.

We spend days together, mostly on the back of a truck going through tons of Cher merchandise, and talking. So much talking. The talking didn’t end at the truck, it carried to his hotel room. God, I have never wanted to fuck a man so badly in all my life. You. Have. No. Idea. But nothing happened. We just laid on that hotel bed and we talked. We talked about our lives, about dreams, and memories. Finally, one night at dinner he looked at me, his green eyes the most serious I had ever seen them.

“Are you happy?” He asked. He was asking something literally no one else in my life had bothered to ask for fear of the answer. It took me a few minutes to answer, the question catching me off guard.

“Of course I’m not happy. I hate my life.” I replied. He looked at me, that glorious twinkle coming back in his eyes as if it hadn’t ever left.

“Then why don’t you change it.” He stated before eating another piece of sushi. As if it was so simple. It wasn’t meant as an invitation but I’ll be damned if I didn’t take it as one.

I dropped Merch Mike at the airport that cool Friday morning at the crack of dawn. Actually it was well before that. I drove back to my apartment, crashed for an hour, then went to work at my new job at the DMV. At about seven that night I asked my husband one simple favor, please don’t drink tonite. He was instantly angry, instantly pissed off. He was angry I hadn’t brought Merch Mike to see him, angry I’d been gone for two and a half days with another man. Finally, he agreed and I fell asleep dreaming about a life I wasn’t allowed to have.

You see it’s the things we don’t tell people that cause the most problems. My husband, he was abusive and an alcoholic. Verbally abusive, I should clarify, but it was escalating, as these things often do. That night as I lay peacefully in bed, sound asleep from exhaustion suddenly all the lights flew on, the blankets were ripped off the bed, and yelling immediately started. My husband was standing there screaming at me for no apparent reason other then just to torture me. I was sobbing, my anxiety taking full control after having been scared awake and having literally every sense go from zero to sixty in a split second. Finally I was able to compose myself just enough to yell at him to leave the room. He stared for a minute then left to sleep it off on the couch.

I woke that next morning eerily calm. Calm as I have never been before (or after) in my life. I had this strangest sense of complete clarity. I walked out of the bedroom, woke my husband, told him to go in the bedroom to finish sleeping, and he did. I made myself breakfast and a cup of tea. I sat on the couch in silence, simply listening to the birds outside while I ate. Then I sat and just sipped my tea. I was serene. My husband walked out of the bedroom and took one look at me.

“Do you want a divorce?” He asked meekly.

“Actually, yes, yes I do.” I replied. He tried everything to get me to agree to stay. I wouldn’t budge. And then I sent one text.

Hey, Mike, I’m getting divorced.

The next six months were somewhat of a tearfilled blur, but a few things stood out. The first, my weekly conversations with Merch Mike. We would be on the phone for hours, talking about nothing really. He had been kind enough to have given me the contact info for my local arena and I actually got a job as a merch girl. We talked a lot about the business, a whole lot. I can not fully express how much those conversations meant to me.

I had moved myself into the spare bedroom of my soon to be ex husband’s and my apartment. I had exactly two feet around the bed of walking space and since he refused to allow me the larger bedroom and made sure every second he was home to be in the shared space I was confined to my room. I only left that room to use the bathroom and quickly cook food in the very short window between when I got home and whne he did. I lived like that for six months, unable financially to leave any sooner. I spent the first few pouring over divorce papers, unable to afford an attorney. My family still doesn’t know how bad it got, this is the first I’m actually putting it all to paper. There was one time my ex actually faked an emotional break down, had to be rushed to the er via ambulance, and from the hospital bed actually told me he had faked it. Yea, abusive. The only thing I had during that time was my friend Rae in DC and my weekly phone call with Merch Mike. They saved my life. Its that simple. They saved my life. That birthday I spent completely alone, my ex having used all our phone minutes so I couldn’t even talk to my family.

After months of looking for an apartment that was safe and cheap (a feat believe me) I signed the papers for one in a neighboring town. I was thrilled, but I had no one to help me move. My parents decided to come up and help me. It had been easier to sort of agree to be friends with my ex in order to get divorced and stay living there, so the day I got my apartment keys my ex offered to help me move some things. Nothing could possibly go wrong right? It’s laughable now really. He was sober when he got in the car, but by the time we got to my apartment he was drunk. I emptied out my car locked my new place and he and I got back in. I was furious, but he was getting violent as we neared the old apartment. It was the first real time I was scared for my life. He went inside. I stayed in my car. I couldn’t get ahold of Rae. I texted Merch Mike. In less then ten minutes he was on the phone with me. He stayed on the other end of the line until I was calm and over and over he asked me to please call the cops. He asked if I had the keys to the new place and could stay there. He was so concerned. I don’t know that I ever thanked him for that. I suppose this will have to do. Finally, I got my courage back and told Mike I was ok. The next day he checked on me to make sure I was ok. I was.

In my new apartment I thrived. I was saving to buy a house. I was working two jobs. I had left the DMV and moved to the OMIG. Merch life was incredible. I was travelling and making amazing new friends. I was still talking to Merch Mike every week, even after he landed the Rolling Stones gig. It was shortly there after I asked a simple question.

“Do you want me to come and see you in Buffalo? I got offered to work the show and can come out early and hang out or whatever. But only if you want me to.” I stated smiling the whole time. We hadn’t seen each other since before we both got divorced.

“I’m gonna be so busy during the day and you’d have to find something to do.” He replied.

“That wasn’t the question. Do you want me to be there?” I asked again.

“Yes.” He finally answered. I was thrilled. In my defense I was also still very much not ok. I started calling it my workcation and my excitement bordered on seriously ridiculous. But can you blame me? We were both single. We were staying in the same hotel room. I had lost a bunch of weight. I was stoked as fuck.

The trip was a bust. Right before I left for Buffalo Mikey (yes guitarist of the Rejects) had messaged Merch Mike asking if he and I were dating. We were not. I’m not sure of all the details, but whatever else happened in that conversation ruined everything. The trip was awkward and weird. Something didn’t seem right which only made me introvert worse then normal. But the worst would happen when I got back. Merch Mike and I had casually talked about me going on the road with him because he had been offered Alice in Chains again. A formal offer had not been given to me, but it was talked about. But after Buffalo, after he got spooked, I didn’t hear from him for months. Not a text. Not a FB message. Not a call. I went from talking to that wonderful man once a week for hours to complete radio silence. And it was all beacuse the Rejects who up and down claimed to give zero fucks about me got involved in my life. Its taken me years to forgive them and until this morning I hadn’t listened, watched, or even talked of them.

Months went by, I got worse in my mental illness. I started sexting with a guy from work who was very much not single. In fact his other half worked in our office. I was a wreck. I was having multiple anxiety attacks a day. I felt like this huge part of me was just gone. No Rejects, no Merch Mike, just this new weird world that I had to shape for myself, all over from nothing. But with that came a new hope. Its interesting to me that hope can do so much. I remember sitting on my couch watching that movie View From The Top. I sat after it was over just staring at the sun coming through my window. Peaceful and somehow content when I felt my phone go off. I looked down, just expecting it to be another gig offer as I’d been getting them frequently. It was Merch Mike. After months of complete silence he was calling me. He was calling me. I picked up the phone. He started talking and I cried. He apoligized I don’t know how many times. And then he asked me to come work a string of shows with him, Ringo Starr. He was even going to stop a night in Albany just to see me.

It was a nice visit. We talked and we planned the next trip where he was actually going to pay me to help him out. I was a real merch girl in that moment. I got to show him my shitty apartment and he was kind about it. I smile while I write this because god that apartment was awful and small and he was so nice about it. Then I went on the road with him for a few days working for Ringo Starr. We were in Philly when I finally asked him why he ghosted me. His answer was simple. He cared too much to hurt me and didn’t know how to handle it. Turns out not a week before Buffalo he’d hooked up with some other girl out on the road and he didn’t want me to be just some road whore. I’m certainly paraphrasing, but that’s what I got out of the conversation. We were just friends, and that was perfectly ok. Oddly the thing I had missed most was just us goofing off and talking. I realized I still loved him but that love had shifted. It was an amazing trip. I haven’t seen him in person since, but we still check in with each other. If I message him, he responds, keeping his promise to never ignore me again.

I went back to therapy after that. It was long since time. I’d remembered all sorts of awful things about life with my ex, things I pushed down and forgotten, buried amoung the concerts and the numbing vibes of those blissful shows. Including but not limited to being raped by my ex in a hotel room before we got married. Worst part is I didn’t even know thats what it was called. But you bet your ass it was. Real shitty what mind games our own mind plays on us to keep us alive. But I’m still going to therapy. The help is needed.

Then my grandmother passed away. Going through her jewelry I found a ring which had an inscription, ‘I love you Andy’. Not two weeks later I was supposed to be working a merch gig at a theater in poughkeepsie but was able to grab the second Albany theater. I met Andrew that night at the opening of Captain America: Civil War. I knew as soon as he touched my hand that was it. We forgot to exchange numbers. I hunted for him. I wrote to Craigs List missed connections. That crap got read on air on the radio (not kidding). All that and Andrew (Cap) came back the next day. We’ve been together since. He calls me Peggy I call him Cap. Avengers End Game just gave us our wedding song.

I say all this today because I go to therapy today. Its the first session after my cousin committed suicide. Of all the times I didn’t, of all the times it easily could have been me. His death hit me in ways I was not prepared for. I wish beyond anything he had had what I did. A Merch Mike to get him through the darkest days so he could find his Andrew. I share this story now because this morning I put on the Rejects music and I just listened and I smiled while I drove. Smiled at all the times their music saved my life. The roads we take, they lead us in crazy ways. At 17 I found a band. At 25 I followed them and met an amazing older man who asked the simpliest of questions that made me change my entire life view. At 30 I met my soul mate. At 33 I am going through a lot of shit, but I’m alive. I’m fucking alive and I’m unbelievably grateful for all the wonderful things I’ve been given.

Not many people can say they lived their dreams and get to make new ones. I can. So let this be my love letter, to whom I’m not quite sure. A fitting one full of hope and potential. One with ups and downs and wild rides and almosts but not quites. Let this be both a thank you and an apology. Listening to that one song this morning I remembered a little piece of myself I though I didn’t need. I hope there’s a fifth record now. Now I’m ready for one. Now I want one. Now I’m ready to see the boys again, this time from the back of the venue, probably the bar, in comfortable shoes and with my Cap. So please come to Albany gentlemen. Let’s have one more party. I need your music again. Really I always have. But now more then ever I need just one more show. You have no idea what your music did for me. It kept me alive for a long time. Y’all plan a show I’ll bring the cupcakes. We’ll have a blast.

From Pepper, with love always.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

More Than You Bargained For (Part 3)

Summary: Jensen tries to prove to the reader why she needs him around...

Masterlist

Pairing: Bodyguard!Jensen x reader

Word Count: 2,400ish

Warnings: language, stalking

A/N: Someday these two will stop fighting...probably...

You had changed into a tighter tank top, less for Jensen to try and grab hold of during your sparring match, Jensen standing with his arms crossed in the middle of your padded gym when you got there. You made sure to keep the smile off your face. Sure, this guy had a shit ton of training you assumed.

But he didn’t know you did too.

When your stunt woman broke her arm on your very first gig, you learned how to do the stunt yourself. When you got your first action role, you had to learn boxing. When you got your current job where most days you were fighting off some evil monster or bad guy, you learned a whole bunch of crap most people didn’t even know existed.

Being in a fight with a guy Jensen’s size didn’t scare you one bit.

“You don’t think you need a bodyguard,” he said flatly.

“No,” you said, Jensen walking in a circle, your feet taking you away from him until you’d swapped positions. He smiled darkly, almost laughing when he stopped. “You just put me between you and the only exit to this room. Not doing much in the convincing department, princess.”

“Are we going to start or-”

Jensen was already moving forward before you realized, your body ducking out of the way just before he tackled you. You went for the door, a hand catching your arm and throwing you to the ground. You gasped as the wind got knocked out of you, trying to roll when he straddled your torso but already too late. He had his long legs digging into yours, keeping your lower half firmly in place. You went for his face but he caught your wrist in his hand easily, pinning it down, capturing the other before he forced them together, both locked under his large hand. You squirmed but his free hand found your throat, giving it a gentle threatening squeeze.

“Looks like I won,” he said, smirking as he moved the hand on your throat to your face, patting your cheek a bit too harsh. 

“Idiot,” you said, seeing the look of confusion on his face before you whipped your head up, the hand around your wrists squeezing until you whimpered under the pain and backed up. His free hand came back to your face, cradling your chin as you panted up at him.

“Were you going to fucking bite me?” he asked, eyes dark, angry and if you didn’t know better, a little turned on.

“Why? Is that a kink for you?” you asked, the fingers under your jaw tightening.

“You’re sloppy and unaware of your surroundings,” he said, releasing both his hands at once. “You will listen to what I say from now on, understand?”

“Yes,” you grumbled, Jensen sitting up and rolling off of you, letting you stand on your own.

“Yes what?” he barked, looking down at you when he was back at full height.

“Yes sir,” you said, Jensen nodding. “You’re still a fucking asshole.”

“You’re still a spoiled princess. Glad we got that straightened out.”

“Alex,” you said, rattling your knuckles on his office door later that day. “I’d like a word about my bodyguard.”

“He’s in the room but feel free to go ahead anyways,” said Jensen, your head poking in to see him in the far corner, going through something with your new head of security, Padaleski you thought his name was.

“I don’t like him,” you said, Alex rolling his eyes behind his desk. “Ale...”

“You didn’t tell her she got another letter in the mail today, did you,” said Jensen, your stomach turning. “It’s on the coffee table if you’d like to read it.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” you said, snatching the sheet in a clear plastic bag up, staring at it stone faced.

I miss your runs by yourself. You look so nice when you’re lost in your own little world. Cute blue shirt yesterday by the way.

“So...what was that about you being perfectly fine to go running around here by yourself?” asked Jensen without ever lifting his head.

“Fuck off,” you said, storming out of there, Alex following you out to the family room where you proceeded to vent at him for an hour.

“Okay, maybe the guy’s an ass but Y/N, you have been acting like a brat lately,” he said, your jaw falling open.

“How exactly have-“

“Oh come on,” he said, tilting his head. “You give Jensen just as much shit back if not worse. It’s his job to watch you and you make that super hard when you take off on your own or don’t listen to him. Why do you think he gets pissed off with you all the time?”

“I don’t want him! Can you, one of the few people that knows about all the crap that went down when I was a kid, even take one little guess why I don’t want him near me?” you barked. Alex retreated back into his spot, eyes flickering behind you. “Let me guess…”

“Mr. Padalecki and I have completed security install if you would like to have a final review Mr. Calvert,” said Jensen, voice as stiff and hard as ever.

“Y/N, we good?” asked Alex, knowing perfectly well you had reasons for how you acted at times, reason he’d never quite understand.

“Perfect. Go ahead. I have to get ready for work anyways because everyone loves night shoots,” you said, grumbling as you stood up, bumping into Jensen. “Might want to bring a rain coat, pretty boy. It’s supposed to pour later.”

“The car will be ready in ten minutes, Ms. Y/L/N.”

Normally, you loved your writers. The stories they came up with, the time they took to go over all the nitty gritty of the plot that no one ever asked them about or even made it to the page. Your Thursday meeting phone call with them to go over scripts was normally one of your favorite parts of the week.

Now you were convinced Jensen had threatened them all overnight to write the worst episode they could think of for you.

It was a night shoot which meant your sleep schedule would be screwed up for days. Your wardrobe sucked, barely any clothing on apart from the flimsy tank and shorts you wore. It was unseasonably cold and pouring, all the crew in thick warm jackets with hoods while you froze to death.

Then there was Jensen where he normally was, standing near the camera, his eyes darting even more than usual at the dark wooded location. He’d worn the rain coat to your surprise. His suit pants were obnoxiously wet at this point but his hood was down, damping down his normally spiky hair and sticking it up in other places. His ears perked every once in awhile as he heard something but you figured that was the point of putting himself through that.

Or maybe he just hated himself.

“Cut,” yelled your director, your arms instantly wrapping around yourself. “Freezing enough yet, Y/L/N?”

“Let’s just f-finish it,” you said, catching Jensen staring behind you. You whipped your head around, Jensen seeming indifferent all of a sudden. You nodded at him, his head shaking as he twirled one of his fingers.

False alarm.

The scene fighting out in a storm, bearing your heart out to your big bad after he’d betrayed your partner and was holding him until you did what he wanted was intense enough on it’s own. The normally playful mood on set was downright grisly this week and tonight wasn’t helping. But Jensen had set you on edge and you knew you’d never get through the next take the way you needed to. You screwed up your next line on purpose, the director blaming it on you pushing too far, ordering you into the heat tent for ten minutes before they’d try again to wrap it up.

“Thank you,” you said to one of the runners that threw a heavy coat over you, sticking a hot cup of coffee in your hands. Jensen stood off to the side when the runner left, your body in front of one of the heat fans to try and warm up. “What was it? In the woods?”

“Deer,” he said, inspecting the plastic tent flaps. “Surprised you understood.”

“I didn’t pay attention in your lecture. Doesn’t mean I didn’t do the homework,” you said.

“Didn’t read your contract. Didn’t figure you for the homework type,” he said with a scoff.

“Why do you even want this job?” you asked. “You hate me but you’re willing to take a bullet for me? I don’t get it.”

“You don’t have to get it,” he said, spinning to face you. “You pay me to protect your life. That’s it.”

“Yeah, okay but you gotta have some other reason. In the words of my brother, I’ve been a brat the past week. A brat when we met. I-“

“I told you Ms. Y/L/N, we are not talking about protection for protections sake. There is a viable threat against your life,” he said.

“My name is Y/N. I get that this is a big deal and all but that doesn’t explain why you are still here. I’m sure you know plenty of other assholes that can do this crap too,” you said.

“You are very much like a child, do you know that?” he asked.

“Takes one to know one,” you said, pouring your coffee on the ground. “Wouldn’t want to get poisoned, would I?”

“I made that cup. It was safe,” he said.

“You couldn’t have told me that before?” you said, ignoring how his clenched jaw. “You said no drinks from anyone.”

“If I don’t say anything, it’s safe,” he growled.

“Whatever. I need to finish this scene,” you said, skirting past him, bumping into someone walking by. “Sorry.”

“I wasn’t done talking to you,” said Jensen, everyone in the vicinity clearing out.

“Sounded like we were done to me,” you said, tossing the jacket on the back of your chair, poking your big bad in the arm. “Want to go finish this Greggy?”

“Sure. You alright kid?” he asked, glancing back at a fuming Jensen. “He’s more murderous looking than usual.”

“Yeah. I just want to get tonight over with,” you said, Greggy doing that eyebrow raise you’d grown accustom to. “What?”

“Okay, you realize you need to be scared shitless of me, right? You’re way too pissed to shove it down,” he said. “I’ve been working with you for four years, trust me, I know.”

“Blame him,” you said, walking back out from under the cover of the tents to your marker. “Let’s do this already.”

It didn’t take you long to shove aside how fired up Jensen had gotten you, despite what Greggy said. Thinking about the brief moment of controlled panic you saw in Jensen’s eyes earlier brought you back to it easy enough.

You’d been doing stunts with Greggy for years now, the man nearly twenty five years older than yourself always making sure he didn’t actually hurt you. The entire second arc of last season had to change because he let his arm get broken so it wasn’t your head cracking on the pavement. If there was anyone you trusted doing stunts with, it was him.

The second his blade pressed into your shoulder and didn’t stop, you both froze, his eyes wide as he quickly pulled it away. There was a little blood on your shirt from where it’s cut through but it wasn’t a deep cut thanks to his fast reaction.

“Back up! Now,” shouted Jensen, Greggy dropping the blade and holding up his hands, backing away from you quickly.

“It was an accident,” you said, bending down to grab the blade, poking the tip with your finger. “The rubber plastic got bent so it gets sharper. It retracts. All I was ever going to get was a scratch.”

“It does occasionally happen,” said the director. “They get bent during fights a lot. Y/N’s had this happen probably twice already this season.”

“Don’t care,” said Jensen, grabbing the knife out of your hand. “I give anyone doing a scene with her all props from now on. Clear?”

“Yes Mr. Ackles,” said the director, rolling his eyes behind Jensen’s back, making you laugh.

“What the hell is so funny?” spat Jensen, shoving the blade back in Greggy’s hands.

“That guy needs to get laid,” said Greggy, Jensen muttering to himself before going stoic by the camera once more.

“That would require him actually getting a person in bed. Not sure he’s capable of that.”

You’d worked until nine in the morning, your brain shot after a long ass fourteen hour shoot. Jensen seemed content to leave your side the second the front door opened. You were more than happy to get away from him and his always watching eyes.

After a hot shower you went to bed, waking up around five that night, doing a few things until you decided Greggy had a point.

Maybe you were the one in need of getting laid. You knew exactly where to go for that too.

“I’m going out tonight,” you said to Jensen, poking your head in his room around ten, his body in a heavy sigh as he dropped his pajamas back in the drawer.

“Where are we going?” he asked, catching your smile.

“A club. Ellie’s dad owns it. I’m sure whatever security things you want to do he’s cool with,” you said. Jensen was quiet for a moment before he shook his head.

“No. You are staying in tonight. No arguing,” he said.

“Last I checked, I still could go wherever the fuck I wanted and I’m going out. It’s up to you if you want to stay here. I don’t care one way or the other,” you said, Jensen hissing as he grabbed your arm.

“You’re not a brat. You’re a bitch,” he said.

“Aw, you hurt my feelings,” you said, looking him up and down. “Not. I’m leaving in ten minutes. Be downstairs if you’re coming. Oh and Jens? It is a club. Leave your hitman suit at home.”

“I really should have listened to mom and been a teacher.”

A/N: Read Part 4 here!

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[technicolorfamiliar]

Global Spirit Tour: 2017 - 2018

Prologue:

Something weird happened early in 2017.

I was looking for a song to lip synch to. In drag.

This was for a one-off performance with the improv group I was part of at the time. We had a string of a few LGBTQ events, and drag lip synchs were becoming a regular part of our season. I needed a song, and I needed to pick something I knew no one else in the group would choose. As someone who is secretly very competitive (and someone who knows I perform on stage better as a man anyway), finding the perfect song and perfect character to fit the song was stressing me out. So I turned to my beloved 80's New Wave station on Pandora for inspiration.

Eventually, the inspiration I desperately needed presented itself (this is the Weird Thing). It was, of all things, Depeche Mode's "Stories of Old" from Some Great Reward, a song I knew and loved deeply as a teenager but hadn't actually heard or really listened to in years. And with the inspiration from the song came the core inspiration for my character. Suddenly, everything locked into place - the look, the hair, the clothes, the physicality (read: how provocative I could get away with being at what was technically a family friendly event). And with that perfect vision for my character, all thing things I loved about Depeche Mode when I was in high school came flooding back to me. Wave after wave of nostalgia, the kind that makes you realize, "this is why I am the way I am."

And so I was forcibly dragged back into all things Depeche Mode by one song, one incredibly underrated song stuck somewhere in the middle of what isn't even my favorite DM album.

(I ended up using a different song by a different band for the drag improv thing, at the directors' request, they thought something more well-known would be more appropriate, and at the time I agreed. But my character mood board was still very much focused on DM in the mid-80s.)

Funnily enough, at that same time, DM were about to release a new album and announce dates for their Global Spirit Tour. So the timing on my part worked out perfectly. I have a habit of rediscovering the music I loved in high school just as a bunch of new content is about to hit the internet (one day I'll write about how Danny Elfman and Oingo Boingo saved my life more than once).

For a little background, when I say I loved DM in high school, I mean that's when I first heard of them. I didn't grow up on Depeche Mode, as my parents - who were my major source of music recs until I was 15 - absolutely hated anything that had to do with 1980s synthpop, post-punk, or any other new wave music. But someone much older and much cooler than me gave me a mix tape with "In Your Room" on it and I was intrigued. That wasn't the DM song that sealed my fate as a fan. That was 100% "Never Let Me Down Again", but a nudge in the right direction was all I needed, and for that honest to god actual mix tape cassette, I am eternally grateful.

I was a teenager during the era of Playing The Angel, and I was lucky enough to see them on that tour with my best friend at the time. The tickets were my high school graduation present. Our seats were at the very back of what used to be the Nissan Pavilion in VA. I hardly remember anything about the show itself, and any pictures I must have taken on my old pocket digital camera are sadly lost.

Washington, DC:

It was 2017 before I managed to see another DM tour. For whatever reason, whether it was my busy work schedule, being broke, or waiting until shows were already sold out to look for tickets, I missed both the Sounds of the Universe and Delta Machine tours. So when the Spirit tour was announced, I was poised and ready to make what some people might consider irrational financial choices in order to see three separate shows between September 2017 and June 2018.

The lead-up to the September 7th show in DC was a lot of fun. I was going with my two close friends, so we enjoyed some additional bonding as we eagerly anticipated the show together. This was the only gig on the tour I saw with people I knew, and I have nothing against going to concerts by myself -- and sometimes traveling great distances to do so. But getting to share the excitement leading up to the actual day and at the event itself with two of my very good friends was really special. I'm really glad I got to share that experience with them, and have their positive, enthusiastic energy to draw on.

This is the part of the post where I go on a brief tangent about superfan elitism, bear with me: The hardcore DM fans would say, "Three shows? That's nothing." And I would say they're right, but that doesn’t make me any less of a fan. I could have gone to more shows, probably, but my bank account, my job security, and my sanity required that three be the maximum amount of shows I got to see on this specific tour. There are numerous ways a person can express their love of a band, a tv show, a piece of immersive theatre, or whatever. The level of insane superfan I am or am not does not mean that their music is any less important to me as an artist and as person. HOWEVER, the people who I encountered at these three DM shows who were on their phones the entire concert, people who had better seats than me who sat down completely unengaged the whole time, and the people making disrespectful and unrelated comments about the audience and the band themselves can go fuck themselves. That negative, attention seeking, distracting bullshit has no place down in the floor seats in front of the stage, they can go be terrible up in the mezzanine levels.

Which is exactly where my first show was spent.

Second or third tier seats for big arena shows are 1000% not worth whatever money you spend on them. They're too far away, and you're surrounded by people who act like they've never heard of the band they paid actual money to see. The only reason my friends and I were up there in the first place was because of how absurd the US ticket queueing system was for the first North American leg of the GST. I, like many others, have a lot of issues with how that was handled and am glad they scrapped it for the second round of US shows.

I'm glad I had my two friends with me at the DC show, though. The three of us were maybe the only people having a genuinely fun time in our section. This first show for me was the only one where I cried. I wasn't expecting to, but hearing and seeing Martin sing "Home" struck something in me. And then "Heroes". I knew it was coming, but it still managed to really resonate on a deep emotional level. I love David Bowie as much as they do, but knowing that "Heroes" was how Dave was initially asked to be in the band, and my own personal feelings and connections to Bowie, hearing Dave sing it as well as he did was everything in that moment.

I have a number of issues with that show in DC, but none of them have anything to do with DM or the show itself. They played more songs from Spirit at this show than at any of the others I attended, but there was also "Corrupt" and "Wrong", "A Question of Lust" and "Somebody". It was also the longest set list of out of the three shows, with 22 songs total, which is rare for them, from what I understand, because of how intense their live shows are, especially for Dave (which I got to experience more closely at the other two shows). His presence on stage radiates to the rafters of huge venues like the Capital One Arena -- but more about Dave in a minute. I can talk about how good they sounded in DC, and how much hearing those songs live meant to me on that night during that time in my life, how I felt the synths and bass and percussion in my bone marrow and in my soul, but I can't really talk about the all-consuming, sweaty frenzy of experiencing a show like theirs from the floor. For that, I need to talk about Berlin and Philadelphia.

Berlin:

So DM announced more dates in Europe. And, because I'm insane I guess, was online at some ungodly hour when tickets went on sale for the two shows in Berlin, Germany in January. I was able to get an early entry ticket for the January 19th show in BERLIN where I would be surrounded by other people who were actually genuinely excited to be there, which would be a huge improvement after the lackluster crowds in DC.

Am I glad I did it? Yes. Would I do it exactly the same way ever again? Probably not. Because queueing overnight outside the arena was worth it for the concert experience itself, but it's not necessarily something I need to do again any time soon. I'm a weak, American fan, and I own that. The German DM fans go so fucking hard and I am absolutely terrified of them.

Somehow, I managed to get a spot on the barrier without any pushing or shoving. I wound up in the pocket where the main stage becomes turns into the catwalk, right in front of where Andy Fletcher has his set-up. On either side of me were two other women who also were there by themselves. They were nice enough to talk to me and keep me company while we waited.

The show, though.

My consciousness went… somewhere else. I can’t really compare the feeling to anything else I've experienced. I've been to some other really singularly wonderful concerts, to see bands and musicians that I have deep emotional ties to, but none of them have been like this. It's the combination of being part of the masses down on the floor, on the barrier, exhausted and sweating and euphoric, with the power and intensity of hearing and seeing Depeche Mode perform live. I was hyper-aware of everything happening in front of me. Time did something strange, it crawled by so slowly and yet it was over before I could register what happened. I was an outsider there, but I felt like I was part of this massive collective, all connected by our desire to be there, our love of the music, united for a few hours, and I was so aware that everything that was happening on stage and around us was happening to eary one of the people in that arena at once.

The sound of the ignition at the beginning of "Stripped" reverberating in your rib cage, the driving, head-banging riffs in "I Feel You," the cosmic outro of "Cover Me," the field of wheat arm-waving during "Never Let Me Down Again" -- having it all happen to you, at that volume, at that frequency and intensity, is like having your soul yanked from your body and cast into decadent oblivion.

Honestly, it was a blur. But as far as I can remember, highlights included:

The additional songs from Ultra! Unexpected, but very much appreciated.

Experiencing Andy Fletcher's ridiculous awkward dad dancing up close and in person. There's a lot of hype about Fletch's moves, but let me tell you, they exceed any expectation.

Martin. Martin sang "Sister of Night" AND "Judas". I was overcome. People talk about singers sounding like an angel, but Martin L. Gore is the only person in the history of music that saying actually applies to in full.

And Dave. If he was anything like he was at this show when they were at the DC show, I missed the fuck out. Because yes, he performs to the whole arena, even to the people in the very back, but it's altogether something else to watch someone that animated up close. He's tapping into some energy and fire to fuel his work that I've only rarely seen in other artists. Dave Gahan never phones it in, he always performs like he's got jet fuel for blood and like every show really means something. He is outrageous on stage, in every sense of the word. He is endlessly inspiring, and deserves so much recognition and respect.

Philadelphia:

That said… to me, it seemed like the band as a whole was having way more fun at the Philly show than they did in Berlin. I can't put my finger on the specific differences, but they seemed lighter, more pleased with their work, and maybe genuinely surprised at the warmth of their audience in Philly. Martin smiled a lot more at the Philadelphia show, and Dave seemed looser, maybe less tired after a double in Germany.

The Philly gig on June 3rd was the best, by far, out of the three. The second US leg of the GST was announced and I, of course, being the way that I am, thought, "FUCK IT WHY NOT" and magically got a floor seat ticket right in front of Martin's side of the stage after the general tickets went on sale. And it was worth every penny and a short train ride from Baltimore.

I met a few more very nice people, a couple from Florida (whose first show had been cancelled due to the major hurricane last year) and a solo lady sitting behind me who let me join their conversation. And the man sitting to my left was British? European? So he also knew all the things the audience is supposed to do during specific songs that I learned when I was in Berlin. There were definitely some bastard people in the crowd, even down on the floor, terrible people who clearly weren't enjoying themselves, but the high energy of everyone else made it easy to shift focus to the band.

The set list was very similar to the one I heard in Germany, with the exception of two of Martin's songs from Music For The Masses and "A Question of Time" right before their closer -- "Personal Jesus." But again, the performances and mood behind most of the songs at the Philly show seemed lighter, more playful and mischievous (on Dave's part). And the time really flew by. I missed "I Feel You" in the set list, but that's a very minor criticism of what was, over all, a miraculous third show out of three very powerful concerts.

Epilogue:

The general consensus among fans is that this may have been the last big tour Depeche Mode have. They may keep recording together and separately, but another tour on this massive scale is unlikely. If that's the case, I'm so glad I found a way to see three very different shows on the Global Spirit Tour. I can’t imagine experiencing the same exact feeling these shows gave me; I certainly didn't feel the same at David Byrne's awesome American Utopia tour show this summer, and I don't expect the feel the same when I see Nick Cave in October.

Depeche Mode, especially now, at this stage in their careers, during this time in American and world history, and for me personally at this specific point in my life as I age out of my 20s, have been a source of sanity and compassion, of deep feeling and social commentary. Their music touches maybe the parts of myself I'm too scared to look at head on. After going through some of the things that have happened to me as an adult, and as I figure out the kind of person I want to be in the coming decade, obviously there are certain themes resonate with me more than they did when I first discovered DM as a teen. I am grateful to have had circumstances happen the way they did to lead me back to Depeche Mode, to delve deep into their music and history.

Those three shows changed the my standards for seeing live music. After being front row for the Berlin concert, how could I ever go back to being content sitting up in the second or third tier for any arena show? I've been spoiled.

And after a few months have passed, when I think about my experiences over the course of the Global Spirit Tour, it doesn't quite feel real. There are a few other concerts I've been to where when I think about it, I think, "Did that actually happen??" (Namely seeing Danny Elfman in Los Angeles on Halloween, 2014. Absolutely bonkers.) Seeing DM in Berlin is definitely one of those moments already, not even a year later.

I look forward to the future of their music. If Depeche Mode tour again, and that's a big if, the furthest I would travel to see them is maybe the UK, but hopefully that won’t be necessary! However, I absolutely would go see a solo show, if Martin or Dave ever had shows anywhere even remotely close by. I would absolutely travel to New York or LA to see a solo Martin show or Dave with Soulsavers. From what I can tell those venues are usually smaller, so it would be easier to have a more enjoyable, intimate experience.

But that's all there is. Nothing more than you can feel now, that's all there is.

Until next time.

Photo by me, Jan 19, 2018

[spaceorphan18]

Finding Kurt Hummel: Puppet Master

Masterpost

5x07: Puppet Master

Just when you thought season 5 couldn’t get any weirder - they decided to throw in drug-related hallucinations and puppets.  Because why not.  I actually love this episode, but, I mean, can you imagine the writers room discussion about early season 5? They just lost a castmate and friend - so they decide to go take the show in kind of a crazy direction (which also, let’s be honest, feels a little like vamping until they get to their 100th episode).  

Anyway - there’s a ton of Blaine meta here - which I’ll mostly be ignoring! It’s just interesting to me that I always think the Kurt story line in this episode is a lot bigger than it actually is.  And yeah, I’ll say this early on - Kurt is a puppet master just as much as Blaine is (they both have issues with control) - they just took Kurt’s story in a different direction.  Actually, I think it would have been interesting to see fallout of Kurt not having things work out for him, but Glee seems to have forgotten how to do its infamous parallels at this point. 

A Puppet Master

Kurt bounces into the episode on a high - he just booked Pamela Lansbury’s first gig -- at a Broadway hangout.  (Which also happens to be the place where his fiance sang a broken down version of their love song - so I don’t know, I’m torn between Kurt having sentimentality towards Callbacks and never wanting to set foot back in there again.  The show, meanwhile, didn’t seem like they wanted to create somewhere new, so Callbacks it is.)  

Rachel’s on board, but Elliott, Dani and Santana are not.  And in a scene much like the previous Blaine with the choir room scene, they proceed to tell Kurt that Callbacks isn’t such a great idea.  I tend to agree, for marketing purposes, probably best to find some place that’ll get you the right audience, but this is Glee, land of magic where the plot needs it.  (I say in loving jest) 

Kurt’s astounded they’re not on board with this (he looks to Rachel, who looks sad for him - it’s an interesting little moment of subtly in an otherwise kind of over the top scene).  And he insists that Callbacks is a funky place (why does the writing for Kurt sound like a 50yo trying to reclaim his youth? Was Ryan Murphy 50 at this point?).  And that they should trust his instinct and go with him on it.  

I love the little moment where Dani says she doesn’t think anyone else will come and Kurt says he disagrees (Dan-ni!).  Demi Lovato’s reaction is priceless.  She was so under used in this show.  

Anyway, Kurt has a vision of his band playing Madonna songs.  When has Kurt ever had rock star ambitions? Well, now apparently.  (Though - I will say, while not pronounced, Kurt does love and appreciate the attention from performing nearly as much as Rachel and Blaine.)  

So -- we get Madonna’s Into the Groove.  Hm.  

On the con side: I wish they had gone full on 80s.  I mean the clothes are there, but the hairstyles are not.  The juxtaposition feels a little weird to me.  I also wish it wasn’t so autotuned.  It’s nice that Kurt gets a fun, upbeat number, but it’s almost entirely electronic sounding.  I realize that’s supposed to match an 80s synth sound, but I guess it doesn’t work for me.  Also I don’t have a lot of meta for it.  It’s a fun dance number.  I suppose - for all of you complaining that Kurt doesn’t have enough lack of meaning songs - well here you go. 

On the pro side: Kurt’s having so much fun - he’s taking the lead on this one (I can barely hear anyone else on it), and his dancing is adorable and flirty.  It’s great that they let him relax in his own fantasy.  You work that crowd (and those hips)!!  

The intensity at the end cracks me up.  Even in Kurt’s fantasy - Rachel is way super intense.  

Does this sequence remind anyone else of Saved By the Bell’s Rocumentary episode where they sing Friends Forever? Just me? Okay moving on.... 

Oh - Kurt’s getting a call from his fiance - talk among yourselves.  

On close inspection, this scene is hilariously ridiculous.  I mean, I love that the show remembered the two of them were in a committed relationship.  I love that they’re making an effort to show them talking with each other on a pretty regular basis.  (And interestingly, the Klaine stuff has been consistent on the NYC side, though more so absent on the Lima said.  Weird? I know but true.)  

Let’s recap the episode so far: 

Blaine: I have awesome ideas for the direction of our musical group.  Everyone else: Yeah, we think your ideas are dumb  Kurt: I have an awesome idea for the direction of our musical group. Everyone else: Yeah we think it’s a dumb idea.  

Then this scene: 

Blaine: People think my ideas are dumb.  Kurt: Instead of letting you know I understand exactly what you’re talking about, I’m going to remind you that people don’t like it when you try to tell them to do things they don’t want to do - even though I’m going through the same thing at the moment.  

Okay Kurt - a) why the revisionist history considering the glee club.  no one ever had an equal vote on anything and b) hello pot, meet kettle.  Show, I mean what even?!? 

Okay, you know what though, I think this scene is hilarious though.  As it continues - Kurt’s all excited about his news and asks Blaine to come see him.  Blaine is like, yeah whatever.  Kurt’s thrilled about Blaine coming to see him again but Blaine is like KURT WE HAVE TO TALK ABOUT THIS PUPPET MASTER THING!!  

No, they aren’t really listening to each other in this scene.  I don’t really care.  It’s comedically satisfying.  

Oh - and can we take a moment to see that Blaine’s inbetween classes at the moment.  I wonder how many times Blaine texts or calls Kurt during his school day.  Idk - that cracked me up too for some reason. 

Kurt Puppet.  Okay, I’m not talking about Blaine’s stuff really - but can I just say I think the Kurt puppet is adorable, even if oh Blaine - you’ve got some issues.  However, I just need to throw out there that Sue doesn’t want to catch Blaine with his hand up the anything that isn’t human.  Uh...Sue? Does that mean you’re open to...oh never mind.  Oh - and I do kind of love that the Kurt Puppet comes alive after Sue confiscates it.  

Crushing Disappointment

Okay - so twenty minutes and a bunch of hallucinations later - Kurt’s chilling waiting for Blaine in the back room of Callbacks.  Kurt’s not gonna like the news.  Dude - you really need to stop inviting Blaine to Callbacks - it’s never gonna end well.  

Anyway - Blaine’s been putting this off (oh Blaine) but he tells Kurt he’s not there.  And Kurt’s first reaction - concern! It’s not until puppet Kurt appears that the anger is apparent.  

And so we get the shift from real Kurt to puppet Kurt.  How much of this conversation is real? How much a fantasy? (caught in a land slide - no escape from reality...)  

I’ve seen this scene be debated quite a bit - and to be honest, I can go either way on whether it’s real or not - so I like to take the happy medium approach.  I do think Kurt was frustrated (as evident as he throws his phone down after the conversation) -  that Blaine not only couldn’t make it, but that Blaine avoided talking to him about it until the last moment, too.  It is interesting, too, to note that Blaine being there for Kurt is really important to him.  

Meanwhile, I think a lot of the anger going on in the scene is Blaine’s own internalization of the situation - and the disappointment he keeps finding in himself.  Puppet Kurt’s reaction is a reflection of how he’s feeling with himself at the moment, and not necessarily a true representation of Kurt’s feelings on what’s going on.  

Still - I wish there had been a clearer resolution to the Klaine conflict (?) than how the episode ends.  (I hesitate to even call it a real conflict, tbh - more so a frustration on Kurt’s end and Blaine issues on the other.) Idk - I still think it feels a little unresolved.  

Meanwhile, Kurt’s got other problems as there’s only one person waiting to see Pamela Lansbury perform - and it’s not even a real fan.  (Dude - are there no other people in that bar?  Seriously on a Thursday in NYC?)  

What does a fox say?

It really is tragic that I can’t get a full shot of this outfit.  What even are those pants Kurt?  

Okay, so let’s recap the second half of the episode: 

Blaine: **has extensional crisis about being called a puppet master, has extensive hallucinations, plays with puppets, but at least gets some character development** Everyone else: Hey Blaine, we talked it over - and your ideas aren’t so bad.  Bonus - you get to be the star!  Kurt: **gets absolutely no development** Everyone else: Hey Kurt, we talked it over - and your idea wasn’t that bad.  Bonus - You get a second gig due to a ridiculously contrived plot point (that will be used again in a few episodes with Mercedes).  

Idk - I love this episode, but I could have done without the the Sue plot in favor of letting Kurt’s band be more than showcasing Adam Lambert and Demi Lovato.  

Meanwhile, the semi-ish conclusion to the Klaine stuff??  Blaine sends an “I’m sorry” box.  (How often does that happen?)  Kurt looks pretty pleased...until he opens it and seems really confused.  Kurt - I really think you may want to call Blaine and see if he’s okay.... 

Oh What Does the Fox Say.  Some people hate it (Lea Michele - it’s her least favorite Glee song apparently), some people love it (My 5yo niece thinks it’s the greatest thing ever), I’m cool with it.  It is super weird - but so is the rest of the episode.  

I’ve seen some interesting meta floating around about how Kurt is the fox because he does not sing in the song (he doesn’t even lip sync the back up vocals - he’s pretty silent).  I wish I remembered what people had said about that.  It was kind of interesting, even if I think this episode is purely a ‘for fun’ number.  

Fun fact: Originally Miley Cyrus’s We Can’t Stop was supposed to be the ending number.  No idea why it changed - but that would have been interesting to see, actually.  Probably makes more sense with the episode than The Fox, lol.  

[dropintomanga]

Post Anime NYC – On Women and Their Impact on My Life

2017 is a year I will always remember with regards to anime conventions. The Bay Area finally received an anime convention in Crunchyroll Expo, that looks to spearhead the next generation of anime fans. And finally after 7 long years, New York has a new place to call home for many anime fans in the form of Anime NYC. After going through 3 days of non-stop walking, talking, & hanging out, I had a blast being around friends (old and new). But it was also one of the most emotionally exhaustive experiences in my life. It brings me back 6 years ago when a certain someone came into my life and how my blogging life suddenly became quite a journey that went beyond blogging.

Around late summer 2011, I tweeted at a random Twitter user who loved Tiger & Bunny. She happened to be a Japanese woman who lived in New York. We actually chatted online for a bit. One day, we decided to meet up in person. A date was scheduled and it was after her trip to Comiket, as she liked to draw doujinshi. Before the meetup, she said she would get me Gintama merchandise from Japan for me. I said "Sure." We met for lunch at Kinokuniya NYC and we hit it off right away.  The two of us fangirled/fanboyed over anime/manga series that had huge homoerotic undertones. I even introduced her to a few of my friends. All of this was really unexpected and I felt lucky. We then started going to NYCC and other conventions together and grew closer as the years went on. We always texted each other every day. I never thought I would have a close friend/companion that listened to me a lot during that time and vice versa.

That big old post I made about the power of fujoshi back in 2012. That was largely inspired by her.

Around 2015, things changed slowly. I think I was starting to have feelings for her, but I was so confused over what to do. We were at Otakon that year and things felt off. She then said she felt guilty for bringing me with her because I looked depressed out in Baltimore like I didn't want to be there. She also said she wanted to do separate hotel rooms if Otakon 2016 was a possibility as we always shared a room together. I was confused and told her that I was happy to be at Otakon with her. Later around October 2015, I was physically harassed by a male employee because I made his job more complicated than it needed to be. He pushed me aside, thought I was trying to make his life miserable, and threatened to watch over me. I reported the incident to my supervisor and the president. They didn't punish him since no one saw what happened. I quit about a week later because I didn't feel safe there.

My relationship with my friend slowly deteriorated. She said she wanted a time out early summer. I said sure and that she can talk if anything. She said that it wasn't what I was thinking. Around that time, I was unemployed. I mostly did a volunteer gig, helping out NAMI. I slowly began to think that she wanted me to die because I was an annoyance in her life. One night, I had enough and wanted to kill myself. I put up a tweet saying that I had enough. I couldn't take it anymore, yet I didn't do anything. A fellow fan on Twitter actually called the cops for me and they came over to my house after midnight. I felt so stupid afterwards. I actually told my friend what I tried to do and she told me that she felt that she was in the way of me developing new relationships with other people. She didn't want me to like her romantically. I called her on the phone to talk and we made up. I thought we were good again.

She wanted a time out a couple of months later. I agreed. Then the big U.S. Presidential election came and I wanted to talk. She said to not talk to her unless I wanted her to say something harsh. I then made the big mistake of contacting her with a large email about a whole bunch of things and she replied back saying that she wasn't my mom and that I was a crybaby who blames everything and needs to grow up. She did tell me to take care of myself more. I wanted to say more, but she didn't want any of it. I left it as is. However, I was so angry that she called me a crybaby. I never asked to be that way because of my mental illness. I didn't know how to process her not being in my life and I made another mistake in continuing to bother her around early January. She then blocked me.

Around that time, I bought a Humble Bundle PC game set that included the game VA-11 Hall-A. For anyone who's played the game, you know it's a bartender-simulation game. Behind it was a story about life and reconciliation. The story behind the main character, Jill, got to me as she broke it off with her ex-girlfriend, Lenore, years ago before her bartender job. Lenore's sister, Gabriella, came by after 3 years of no contact to let Jill know that Lenore was dead. She blamed Jill for everything. One night, Jill gets a letter from Gabriella saying that she wanted to talk in person to clear things up. Jill becomes hesistant to talk, but one of her friends said to her that the fact that Gabriella wants to talk means she's trying to give Jill a chance and that if Jill avoided her, Gabriella would hate her for life. The game got to me.

I wrote an apology email to my now-ex-friend, saying that I wanted to work things out. She replied by saying that friendships all end at some point and she didn't want me to contact her in any way, shape, or form. She also said that if I try to see her, she would call for legal protection. This was back in January of this year.

This ex-friend was at Anime NYC, working at Artists' Alley. I was up there with a female friend, saw her, and told my friend to go somewhere alongside Artists' Alley. She got the message since she knew my situation. She encouraged me to be in a good mood since I suddenly felt like I had an anxiety attack. I knew that there was a chance of seeing her since we both loved anime and manga a lot. I thought I was ready, but I wasn't. I did go back to Artists' Alley by myself to buy stuff, but I just avoided her because of the threat. The female friend who was there for me at Anime NYC texted me throughout the con asking if I was okay when we weren't together because she sensed how fragile I looked.

To tell you the truth, after that January, I thought about quitting the entire anime/manga community entirely. I had enough. Was it really worth it going through all this pain for fandom? I realized that I was trying to chase my own happiness at the cost of someone else's. I know people get told that everyone should strive for their own happiness, but I think some of that advice is a big fucking pile of horse shit because most people decide to hurt others without thinking about them by chasing after happiness. That's why I cut off my social media accounts for a while, but slowly came back. Going to Crunchyroll Expo was a big life saver for me since I didn't have to deal with potential East Coast drama. It was a new and different environment that I needed to be in.

At Anime NYC, I went to a panel called "Cosplay with Disabilities" on Saturday. It was very heavy as you can guess. They talked about not being judged by those who will never get you. I was going to bawl because there's a part of me that felt I was being judged all those months ago. But I was conflicted because I know I messed up the friendship. Some of my friends that knew about my ex-friend asked "Why would you still to talk to someone who indirectly made you want to kill yourself?" I wonder that myself. But I believe in the potential of people to redeem themselves, including myself.

I could avoid her, yeah. But I've come to realize that to avoid her is to basically get rid of a huge part of me that she helped unleash – my interest in embracing my love for 2D men, being sexually ambiguous, and wanting to do cosplay of female characters that I like. Around her, I was the real me. I was truly myself around her.  A "me" that I've been accepting more and more over the years. She did something that I wish I can pay her back in some way. I still treasure the memories we had together over the years.

I'm a beta male deep down. I didn't mind girly things when I was little. I recalled watching The Little Mermaid on CBS in junior high with no worries, but when I told one boy that I liked it, he was like "Really?" with a look of disgust. I think that made me want to keep my feminine interests hidden in order not to be teased. Almost all of my best friends are women. Some of the current ones I have are all in the anime/manga fandom. I never found myself comfortable among alpha males. I had an alpha colleague who was always talking about Japanese prostitutes because I follow the adult film industry sometimes, but I found his talk so uncomfortable because I just absolutely hate talking about porn with most men. I actually like talking about it with women and they in return tell me some really dirty (and good) jokes, even better than men's.

I've been so influenced by the women that it's not even funny. My mother influenced me to learn how to cook, a woman influenced me to cosplay, a woman influenced me to do blogging, etc. I get harem jokes and sometimes I get flustered, but I've always felt that I'm a girl deep down inside a man's body.

That's why it's really hard for me to move on because this is happening in the community where I call my safe haven. I later read up on relationship loss/grief and how to deal with it. A lot of people don't know how to handle loss of anyone important to them. Another thing is that even the losses that seem insignificant can have a detrimental effect on someone's psyche. The most important lesson I learned from that research is that you may never fully move on. The pain will always be there. It will always hurt. You can do whatever you can to avoid it, but when it comes every now and then, you won't escape it. You can learn to let it go instead.

Because I fully accepted letting go, for the 1st time ever, I don't hate myself. I picked up on what flaws I had and addressed them. I read up on books about the flaws of "positive psychology" because that line of thinking was making me worse. Although it did cost me anime-viewing time, I made up for it by still reading a crap ton of manga. At the same time, I still want to be the kind person who still places others before himself (though more calmed down) that my old friend and many others like. It's scary when people tell you that you're different in a good way.

Though because of my ex-friend, I am now using the kindness & wisdom she's given me all those years towards me as a catalyst in what I'm secretly planning for the anime/manga community. I think now is the time to give back to the community in a way that goes beyond fandom drama. I want to let you all know that it's okay to cry over lost relationships even if you can't get over them. Take all the time you need and if anyone tells you otherwise, that's their opinion. If you've expanded your worldview in a productive manner like I have, you're trying and you're a winner to me.

I just want to say to my ex-friend when we ever run into each other again at next year's Anime NYC that I felt scared from her "legal protection" comment because I would rather grovel into a corner than go after someone. I would also forgive her because I know it's hard to handle certain kinds of people. I would also say that we don't need to be friends anymore, but if she knows someone who's an anime fan and has mental health troubles, that she can always point them towards me.

I would finally say that I will always, always love and respect her, no matter what.

[[UPDATE: I spoke to her recently via email. She said that I’m free to do what I like to. We’ll probably run into each other again some day. We may ignore each other, but I still want to be there for her if she asks for my help.]]

To all the women that I talk to in my life, I'm glad I'm friends/acquaintances with you all. Also, I'm so sorry for my actions regarding suicide and the ones taken on one of your own.

Thank you to anyone who’s read this far. I know it was heavy, but I felt this was something I want everyone to know about me going forward.

I will keep on observing and trying for everyone. If you have anything you want to say, you can email/message me. Comments are closed for this post.

[secretblog1212]

DJ Reddie; The lucky seven

Words-1846

Warnings- character death, suicide at the optional ending

“Hello my sunny list’ners, how are y’all doin’ this here lovely morn’n?” Richie asked when the green light blinked. “Tuh-days mix is gunna be a throwback to this herey boys childhood. Back tuh the eighties we go. An’ Remember, I will take calls starting at Seven Thirty.”

    Richie sat back in his chair and put his head in his hands. He had felt off since he had woken up that morning. He couldn’t tell you what it was but it was making him nostalgic and he didn’t much appreciate it.

    His morning continued to go slowly and it got closer and closer to him taking his thirty minutes of requests. He would periodically stop the playlist and talk for a while before putting it back on. He couldn’t really get into character today and was feeling more than a little lost.

    As a song Richie couldn’t even remember the name of finished he prepared to start answering calls, it was seven twenty eight after all.

    He put his headphones on during the last verse and when the green light flicked back on her wasn’t fully prepared. “And that wraps up our eighties throwback. Now let’s talk about and appreciate just how interesting the eighties were for all different types of music. Of course not all of it is really rock like my taste now but i will admit to knowing most of the lyrics to some of those songs.” He leaned up closer to the mike and dropped his voice so it went gravely and deep. Sensual some would describe it as. “Now let’s get those calls coming in ladies and gentlemen. I can’t wait to hear what you have to say.”

    Of course the call lights started to flicker on. Most were teenage and young men and women who were getting ready for their day or driving to work. He wasn’t said to be popular for nothing.

    “Okay, first caller of the day. Who will it be? Who will have the honor?” Richie swirled his finger in a spiral before pressing a random number. “Name age and such sweetie.”

    A gruff manly voice answered which wasn’t exactly what Richie was Expecting. His face flushed with color before he could get over his shock. He wasn’t expecting a forty something lumberjack to be his first caller.

    “My name is Joe Wachum and I’m callin’ here to say that you’re content is hilarious and your playlist reminded me of my earlier years. Have to also say that your voices are amazing and I was wondering how you could switch em’ so fast?”

    Richie switched through a few of his best voices while explaining that he wasn’t sure ow  but he just could before Mr.Lumberjack had to say goodbye. He answered a few more calls that weren’t anything special.

    “Almost out of time already. Only a few more callers then I’ll have to say goodbye and see you tomorrow.”

    He chose another number at random. “Hullo darllin’ what can I do for ya’.” He said switching into his southern bell accent easily.

    “Um… Hey Richie? It’s Eddie, Eddie Kaspbrak. We were friends in school and I heard from Mike that your made it onto radio so I… Um… Yeah.” Said the small timid sounding voice on the other line.

    Richie’s face went white as a sheet. He could remember an Eddie from a long time ago but was this really his Eds after all these years. His boyfriend who he had to leave behind when his mom and dad moved out of Derry. The same Eddie who was the reasoning he never could keep a relationship and had made his standards so high and being honest… so male. His little germophobic little Eddie Spaghetti. His loser? His lover? No. It must be fake.

    “Listen here, I don’t know if you’re someone I used to know or how you know that name but if this is some kind of a prank then it really isn’t funny.” Richie’s voice had come out flat and monotone with out his meaning too. He was supposed to be the happy go lucky bubbly radio host. He couldn’t find a way to force any emotion in his voice though.

    “Listen here. It’s me Trashmouth. In was talking to Mike and he mentioned your gig and I told him I would give you a call. I tried your personal line but it was down or something. How am i supposed to prove to you this isn’t some stupid prank? How can I prove that?”

    Richie shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know where you are getting all these names but it you really are who you say you are then tell me something only Eddie would know. And when i say that I mean ONLY Eddie.”

    There was a moment of silence where Richie could see gestures of the crew behind the glass windows. He ignored them.

    “Once” The voice started suddenly. “You tried to climb through my window but you were dizzy and hallucinating with a high fever and you fell on your face and broke your glasses trying to get through the window frame. Your state of mind wasn’t much better than your physical.”

    Richie could feel his face heating up. He remembered blurrily Eddie taking care of him when he had a really high fever and was seeing a bunch of shit. At least he hadn’t mentioned that Richie had been really clingy and once he was better wanted to cuddle and kiss Eddie constantly. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of their dating or his bisexuality but it would be best not to bring that up live for both of them. Last Richie heard his gay little Eds had gotten a fiance anyway.

    “Well you definitely are my Eds but I do have to say that of course you would need to bring up me in a near hysterical state of mind. Thanks for that.” Richie had forgot they were on air. It was just him and Eddie now.

    “Oh!” Richie could practically see Eddie blushing and covering his face with his hands. “Sorry! That was just the first thing that came to mind since you used to crawl through my window all the time and i’m just going to stop talking before I make the situation worse.”

    Richie doubted it was the first thing, probably the first thing that came to mind that wasn’t about them dating. “Okay, well my people are telling me that it is time to end the broadcast so I will call you tomorrow unless my phones gets fixed tonight and I’m sure I can find your name in my phone book so that should work. Oh and-”

“Beep beep Richie. Yeah, just call me when your phone gets fixed. Bye!”

And with that the call was over, Richie got his phone fixed and Richie avoided the cast for nearly a full week until their questions died down. He and Eddie had a lot to catch up on.

Three years later

Richie and Eddie had kept in contact since the call on that fateful day. In fact he and Eddie had been dating for just over two years now. Richie had found out that Eddie couldn’t go through with the marriage and hadn’t had a relationship since.

Richie was kind of forced to come out to his audience not long after the call when he was asked directly by a fan. Like he said, he wasn’t ashamed.

Of course he had gotten some hate but overall it was a happy response.

Eddie had moved to Cali to be with Richie after a year of them talking, he moved to a different branch of his driving business and controlled it from there. Everything was good.

They shared Richie’s house for two years now and though some might say they were moving too fast they had been pining after each other and dating for a grand total of, if you included their childhood, nearly eight years.

Things were going very well. They had gotten in contact with the rest of the losers and now they all tried to meet up as much as possible. Things were still fuzzy even after all this time but they knew that if in upcoming years they wanted to defeat It they would need to be strong and bonded like they were in their childhood.

Richie had been busy lately though. He was planning a special surprise for his dear boyfriend, hopefully soon to be fiance.

He had asked Eddie to call him at “Exactly seven fifty seven babe. It’s really important.” so he would still be on air when he popped the question. He had even asked the losers to listen in if they could.

Eddie figured it would be something stupid Richie wanted to do again. He had no idea Richie had already bought a ring to give to him later that day if he said yes.

At exactly seven fifty six he cleared all the calls on the board. When the clock struck seven fifty seven a single light turned on.

Richie chose the line and began before Eddie could even say anything.

“Eddie i know this might make you hate me for not doing this in person but whenever I tried I would get really nervous and so I thought this would be the next best option.” He paused taking a big breath before starting again as to not ruin his momentum. “I’ve loved you since we were thirteen. We’ve been through a whole lot of shit but I want to continue to go through that shit with you by my side. Would you do little ole me the honor of giving me your hand in marriage?

There was a traumatizing, pregnant pause before a  small pinched voice came through on the line. “Yes you fuck face. Get your ass home so i can hug you you asshole.” Before hanging up. Richie smiled, the people behind the glass were clapping. The losers were each in their own corner of the world with mouths agape in shock, but Richie Tozier couldn’t of been happier.

Four years later (Sad ending but true)

After a scheduled week off of work he and Eddie visited Derry to defeat It Richie came home mentally, physically and emotionally exhausted.

He tried and tried and tried all for nothing. Eddie was gone and he was never coming back. Stan was gone and never coming back. The losers had broken back into their corners of the world like a puzzle with missing pieces. First Stan, then Eddie? It liked to work in cruel ways, it It couldn’t get rid of you the it got rid of everything you cared for.

After a week of depressingly going about his routine Richie knew he wouldn’t be able to return like things were normal again.

He guessed it was true about the lucky number seven.

Seven friends who made the oath originally.

Seven years with Eddie.

Seven days before Richie would join his two friends in death leaving only four left to grieve for their dead.

@richietoaster because you asked where the fic was… im sorry.

[artificialqueens]

Kik (Biadore) Chapter One - Duhlano

A/N - hi guys! Duhlano here, this is just a short lil thing. I hope to make an appearance of Trixya and/or Witney. Any requests PLEASE ask! Thank you. P.S This is set during the release of All Stars 2

Conversation stared with Bianca

and Adore

at Tuesday 5.41pm

Adore

:

Hi grandma! You finally got Kik, after 54 years

Bianca

:

Shut the fuck up queen, you’re just JEALOUS.

Adore

:

Jealous of what? My talent?

Bianca

:

That I won Season 6 bitch

Adore

:

Bianca

:

Talking about winning… You still getting backlash… I seen episode 2 of All Stars yesterday.

Adore

:

Yeah.. It helped that you called me though. I’m sure it’ll cool down.

Adore

:

Michelle had got the biggest backlash… Just wait till they find out who is top 3…

Bianca

:

Bianca

:

The bitch deserved it!

Bianca

:

If she knew it was me that picked out your dress in the first episode she wouldn’t have said shit!

Bianca

: FACT!

Adore

:

Teach me your wisdom and intelligence.

Bianca

:

Perhaps one day. Wuu2?

Adore

:

Writing a bunch of shit.. Inspiration will just NOT come to me!

Bianca

:

Put yourself into a clear mind and state. Bring yourself to a peaceful place and have lots of fresh air. Not too much air, we all know you a gassy queen.

Adore

:

EW! Am not!

Bianca

:

Do what I said. It usually helps me.

Adore

:

I like to think about the people I love, and talk about their lives. Sometimes past experiences.

Bianca

:

And who do you love?

Adore

:

You’ll never find out! MWUHAHA.

Bianca

:

Bitch I could probably tell across the phone screen because you are too easy to read.

Adore

:

Go on then.

Adore

:

“Read me”

Bianca

:

You love that old twink Courtney!

Adore

:

Ok. 1. You gave me a reason in that sentence why not to love her, key word being “twink” and 2. Nah, good guess though.

Bianca

:

So I’m warm?

Adore

:

You’re cold as ice. Like your soul.

Bianca

:

Bitch i’ll get you for that!

Adore

:

Go on, old man

Bianca

:

I really hate you sometimes

Adore

:

I really hate you more

Wednesday 9.25pm

Bianca

:

How are you feeling today chola?

Adore

:

Like shit…

Adore

:

I just need a hug from my grandma 

Bianca. I miss her

Bianca

:

HA! bitch.

Bianca

:

What city you in atm?

Adore

:

Oh look at my willow using terminology and shit

Adore

:

And Seattle

Bianca

:

I’ll be at Seattle tomorrow if you wanna meet up?

Adore

:

Yes totally!

Adore

:

Sorry if I don’t talk on this much tonight. Clubs n shit.

Bianca

:

Okay.

Bianca

:

Busy night?

Adore

:

You have no idea.

Adore

:

It is just a little mini gig in a small club. Nice people here in Seattle.

Bianca

:

Why not move?

Adore

:

Because in the queens words, “Seattle has the most highest suicidal rate”

Bianca

:

HAHAH! So you DO listen to me!

Adore

:

Just sometimes.

Bianca

:

We already got a comedy queen here slut, we don’t need another.

Bianca

:

You can continue doing what every other Drag Queen does. Release an album.

Adore

:

Stfu bitch

Bianca

:

I really do like your music better though.

Adore

:

Aww! She has a heart!

Bianca

:

Just as long as you dont tell anyone🖕

Bianca

:

Oh and Adore?

Adore

:

Yeah?

Bianca

:

I’ve missed you more.

Adore is typing…

Read 9.42pm.

Thursday 12.14 noon

Bianca

:

Meet at “Tony’s Beer Garden” at 1?? We don’t have to get drunk, they do good pizza.

Adore

:

Fuck yes! PIZZAAAAA!

Bianca

:

Shouldn’t have even mentioned Pizza.

Adore

: Why

Bianca

:

Cos “Pizza slut” over here won’t stop talkin about it until we are there.

Adore

:

I can’t help it, It’s tastyyyyyy

Bianca

:

See you there queen.

Adore

: S

ee ya, yanx.

Thursday 1.03pm

Adore

:

You’re late…

Adore

:

Three damn minutes of awkward stares from the worried waitresses and jocks staring at my ass.

Adore

:

Help. ASAP!!

Adore

:

Bitch I know you’re a New Yorker, hard-worker and all but, hurry. It’s still been 3 minutes.

Bianca

:

Shut up! Sounds like a damn vibrator in my pocket. My uber was late. Sorry, I’m around the corner.

Adore

:

Heheh. I’m not a vibrator.

“I know you’re not because you don’t know how to pleasure any one. Never mind of male origin,”

Adore looked up from her bright phone to look at Bianca’s short, sharp hair and clean look. Bianca smiled down at Adore as she sat down.

“Now, wheres my hug, chola?”

Friday 4.20am

Adore

:

THAT,, was sSo funn!!1

Bianca

:

Adore you’re drunk out your tits and I’m just next door if you need anything, come in. If not, piss off and go to sleep, I’ve got shit to do.

Adore

:

Whuat shit?

Bianca

:

Busy shit, just like a typical New Yorker, now sleep child.

Adore

:

But Biancs,, you not even a New Yorkker. You’re from Neww Orleans! Whichh is the same! But differentt.

Bianca

:

Goodnight stupid, have a good sleep.

Adore

:

I love you. I MEAN it. MHh nighht.

Bianca

:

I love you too. Get a good sleep. Night chola.