#middle name. middle name is joan. god imagine if my last name was joan. actually i kinda wish my last name sucks.
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faecaribou · 3 years ago
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13, 14, 16, 17, 18, 19, and 20
13. what’s your comfort food?
anything artifical and orange. mac n cheese. orange gatorade. anything artifical orange flavored. caramels. or maybe homemade tacos? omg yeaaasss.... the only way i eat avocados is my own guacamole recipe with lots of garlic powder PLUS you can buy these boxes of taco shells that are those cheese doritos flavor... mmm yeaaassss... with some black beans and the grated cheese and you put them ground beef at the bottom, then the cheese so it melts on the hot meat then tomato then lettuce then guac because the weight of the guac flattens the lettuce so it takes less space... mmmmm you can put the beans wherever but i recommend with the ground beef... warm proteins at the bottom of the taco shell,,,, my family used to own a taco restaurant chain in Virginia called Tippy's tacos and at Tippy's there was this queso with a secret recipe except the queso place stopped making queso and/or were shut down but like. the secret queso recipe... when they shut down we took all the queso mix from the restaurant and our family was like mad fighting over the queso mix because its godly unngngg like i think there was a genuine physical fight but who knows because the guy who owned the restaurant all the kids my age joke hes a murderer and also my family is crazy but talking about my insane family and they shit theyve pulled would be like. a whole nother story. but shout out to my grandma for stealing a cop car when she was 8 and then later marrying a cop. surprisingly the cop is the nicer of the two
14. favorite feel-good show?
Community if its a TV show, I already listed my movies, and to be honest I'm more of a movie person but I think Ive rewatched every Community episode over 3 times. It used to be Malcolm in the Middle but they took that off Netflix like 4 years ago and I'm still mad about that. Also they took BBC Sherlock off Netflix and I was MAD about that. Because I guess Season 1 of BBC Sherlock was also my thing. I have a DVD disk of BBC sherlock season 1. a dvd. im so sorry. i really love S1E3.
16. compliment the person who sent you this number.
I love your art, it's very friend shaped. I am glad we are mutuals. I enjoy seeing you on my dash :)
17. fairy lights or LED lights?
ooh. okay. so at home I have LED lights because I love my blackout curtains and also my desk is beneath my bed, its a loft bed thing except the legs of my loft bed are too long so its like markiplier in college and my face is inches from the ceiling. but in college I have fairy lights because the dorm room light is harsh and evil and my two lamps only provide so much light so I have fairy lights too. must I choose?
18. do you still love stuffed animals?
oh yes yes yes. I still have my lovey (the stuffed animal that you never let go of as a child and definitely chewed on at some point and now it looks like the soul is sucked out of it) except my great grandmother is into sewing so it doesnt look too bad. It gets washed and restuffed and taken care of so it looks worn but good. ive also been like buying WAY too many fruits from Jellycat (look up the website, tumblr has talked about it before but they never drop the name and its like. childrens stuffed animals but also adults stuffed animals.) I have like over 50 webkinz according to my account-WHICH I TOTALLY DONT LOOK AT AHAHAHAHAHAH i mean not NOW that webkinz wants you to have an app plus apparently you need to buy a webkinz each year to keep your account add free which is like woah what- I mean I have a drawer of stuffed animals. it's not bursting at the seams or anything haha : )
19. most important thing in your life?
guy who did my adhd assessment implied that I'm unhealthily codependent on my best friend. but to be fair when i was in middle school I had a reoccurring dream every night for 3 years that she was going to get robbed at gunpoint and I would use myself as a human shield and get shot instead and bleed out in her arms and because it was nearly every night for 3 years I thought it was actually going to happen like a premonition and all it did was cement the idea in my head that she's everything to me. as soon as I accepted my future death the dreams stopped so I guess its not going to happen? but according to the dreams it should happen some time in the next 4? years because the dream said it would happen when im in college. but its fine im fine
20. what do you want most in the world right now?
my best friend- /j um. im not really sure. i dont have anything i ask for for my birthday because im pretty content. I mean sure, the worries of money and also how terribly lonely I am in college because I havent made many new friends in college and also im touchstarved and also my depression aint great and if i could get my adhd meds. but actually i feel pretty content when it comes to needing objects. a tan trenchcoat tho, oh, oh ive been searching for one for 6 years at every goodwill and target i could find. how the FUCK can i not get my hands on a tan trenchcoat in 6 years???? i need to buy online i swear theres a conspiracy against me, i have 3 black trenchcoats, THREE! actually i lost one in color guard but still!! and also a green petticoat that passes as a trenchcoat, but tan?? TAN??? ooh no i cant have that :( ujjuuuuuhghghhnnnnhnn okay replace everything i said before I want a tan trenchcoat and like. a working real iron man suit. also a legal name change to Samuel James Jellison which is neither my legal first, middle, or last name and also apparently like two dudes ever have had this name and theyre both dead so theres no point in looking this name up UNTIL i change my name. But I could be Sammy Jim Jellison, omg,,,
#i do talk about james jellison on my fairyreblogs but a quick recap.#he bought me my lovey. he's my great grandfather.#he died on my 7th birthday.#before he died i used to live with him. actually he died like 2 years after i moved out.#im pretty sure he taught me how to read.#also jim was notoriously grumpy and rude to everything except for his wife his youngest daughter and me so im special <3333#also grandpa cop i love him. he holds so much guilt about whatever he did as an undercover cop that he has never spoken about it#like for years. it has been years. and he wont say a word#also he and gramma are 9/11 first responders because gramma is a transphobic nurse and grandpa is literally like omg <33#you could pour soup in his lap and hed apologize to YOU.#anyway any of you go looking for a Jim Jellison who died November 14th and I may bite you in a nonaffectionate way#its been over a decade and my greatgrandmother STILL hasnt changed her voicemail from 'Jim and Joan'. because its HIS voice.#literally you could hit me with a truck and i'd be fine with it and you could drown my sibling and id be mad but fine with it#but invoke fuckign JIM JELLISON and i will go insane. like thats the only father figure i have who i LIKED. back off#is my dream name literally just my great grandpa with Sammy slapped in front? yes but its more than that.#i lived in their house raised by them i deserve to have the Jellison last name#also Samuel James sounds so cool. also Joan is my last name so if im making a switch I think taking the hubbys name will be okay#middle name. middle name is joan. god imagine if my last name was joan. actually i kinda wish my last name sucks.
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greenninjagal-blog · 4 years ago
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Fool Me Thrice
Hey guys! My three day spoiler free band is up so now you guys get to see what I did immediately after that new video (FwSA) came out! 
Summary: The aftermath of FwSA but Virgil was actually Janus in disguise the whole time. (featuring: Janus breaking down to tears and Roman being really confused.)
Word Count: 4734
Quick Taglist:@alias290 @chelsvans @coyboi300 @dwbh888 @glitchybina @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @harrypotternerdprincess @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @mrbubbajones  @musical-nerd18 @nonasficcollection @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @the-sunshine-dims @themagicheartmailman @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @vianadraws @welovelogansanders  
Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist
“DON’T TELL ME TO RELAX!” Janus yells, but the incessant bubbling in his stomach causes the edges of his lips to quirk up anyway. It’s a ridiculous, intoxicating feeling, and it’s curling around his insides like a snake coiling around its prey. He wants to smile. He wants to jump. He wants to sing.
But Virgil doesn’t do any of those things unless under threat and pressure and Janus has to keep-- he’s still pretending-- Janus is impersonating Virgil.
He’s not doing a very good job of it, and he knows. Ever since that stranger at the food court, that stranger who might be gay, that stranger whose name is Nico Flores and happens to write songs-- Ever since Nico uttered those silly, little words, and Thomas’s Heart and Creativity had swamped the controls, the more….intellectual sides were finding it hard to….think.
Everything’s fuzzy and blurry and Janus keeps trying to hit back that buzzing between his ears that comes every time that Roman and Patton team up and get lost in their contagious excitement. Virgil, certainly, is probably docile by now, flooded with the warm feelings that make it hard to panic over anything for at least another hour because he’s too busy riding that high of the “honeymoon” phase of dating-- before he remembers that it's possible that Nico might be a Serial Killer who lures his victims into relationships before slicing their throats and hiding their bodies in the woods.
He doubts that Logan’s having fun either: he hadn’t even bothered to show up when they had first spotted Nico across the cafeteria, not even to throw out that suggestion of saying “I see from your stickers we have similar interests. Let us discuss the possibility of future copulation now.” Which, of course, spells all sorts of troubles that Janus is going to have to fix later.
Later which seems to be now, because Thomas is jittery from the excitement flowing off of Roman and Patton and he is going to text Joan all about it which requires none of Janus-Virgil’s help.
It’s a flawless escape. Janus smiles inwardly, at the gooey feeling of pride in his stomach. He did it! One whole video, completely undercover! 
It figures that Virgil would be the key. 
Of all of them...well, Janus has always known Virgil the best. Anxiety and Self Preservation have gone hand in hand since Thomas was in diapers still. Janus grew up watching the curve of Virgil’s tense shoulders, watching the flickering of his eyes watching the entry points of the room, watching Virgil’s smirk curl and his eyeshadow bloom and--
And Janus knows Virgil hates him right now, even underneath the gooey layer of good feelings Patton is pumping through all of the Thomasphere. Janus even thinks that if he pops in to check on the little ball of nerves, Virgil will come back to his senses and start a murderous rampage on his way to stop Janus from ever impersonating any of them ever again. Which is definitely what Thomas needs right now. 
Whatever. He can celebrate his victory privately.
Thomas is happy. That’s all that matters right now. The rest can wait until the good emotions in Thomas calm down and Janus can think clearly again: he’ll get out his fermented grape juice and pour it in a glass so he can feel fancy and then he’ll figure out how to deal with Logan, listen to Patton’s emotional-gushing-that-ends-in-overwhelmed-tears, entertain the Duke’s R rated fantasies with a polite smile, congratulate the Prince for his victory, and then after all that he’ll send Virgil a card via messenger dove to thank him for his...bravery.
And then he’ll go to sleep for two hours, and hopefully when he wakes back up Thomas will not be on fire.
That’s… that’s a reasonable hope, right? He’s not asking too much of the other idiot sides, right?
The buzz between his eyes sharpens for a second, as Thomas shakes his hands some more, with a grin that Janus would absolutely die for. It's almost regrettable because if anyone took a moment to look at him, to look at the way he looks at Thomas, they would see immediately what his weakness is: Janus is Self Preservation, Self Importance, Self, self, self. 
He’s weak for Thomas’s smile. The gut force that drives Virgil to do things is protection, so he tries to make Thomas recognize everything as a threat; for Roman its creation, so he tries to push Thomas to achieve all of his dreams. For Janus it's Thomas’s id wants, so he does whatever it takes to keep him happy.
A smile on Thomas’s face means that Janus is doing good, that he’s doing right by Thomas. Who cares if in the end he’s the villain of the story? Who cares about him when there’s Thomas?
Thomas thanks him again-- actually he thanks Virgil, but Janus' face flushes anyway. The feeling in his stomach washes over him, leaving his knees weak and his lips smiling. Is this what being giddy is? He suddenly understands, suddenly, why Patton subscribes to that whole “Thomas is morally and objectively the best” philosophy; It’s a nice feeling, even if it makes it hard for Janus to concentrate on keeping Virgil’s eyeshadow the right color.
Thomas rushes by him-- almost close enough to touch again and wow Janus’ hands were still tingling from that; He forgot that Virgil was always able to touch their host-- and runs up the stairs to go scream in a pillow and text Joan the brilliant news and Janus takes that as his cue.
Time to wrap it up and go. (to sleep. Oh god, he can hear his bed calling for him already.) 
But when he turns back to the last side in the room, Roman is pressing his knuckles to his lips and staring at the blinds in Thomas’s living room like he can set them on fire with his mind.
“Princey?” Janus asks, his own smile slipping. “What’s up?”
Roman snaps over to look at him-- to look at Virgil, whom he trusts and likes and appreciates and who is definitely not Janus at all. Despite that, the way that Roman is looking at him with furrowed eyebrows that would sing of a scowl if Patton had been doing his job just slightly not as well as he is currently, forces Janus to check to make sure he’s still wearing Virgil’s appearance.
“I can’t figure it out,” Roman says, looking like he just caught his best friends in the middle of decorating for his surprise birthday party. “Why?”
Janus squeezes his eyes closed trying to focus on what Roman was talking about. He knows that he missed at least one thing that was said in the hullabaloo all day, but he didn’t think it was something that Roman of all sides would be upset about. Why, what? Roman got the guy. What was so complicated about that?
Actually asking why is more on brand for Virgil.
For a ridiculous second Janus wonders if that was Virgil wearing Roman’s outfit and pretending to be him the way that Janus was pretending to be Virgil. But Janus is decently sure that Virgil can’t resist insulting Janus for more than five seconds at a time, and they’ve been side by side for hours now.
(And hadn’t that been nice? If Janus had just closed his eyes, he could have imagined the grateful smile Roman had given Virgil had been meant for him.) 
“I don’t know what you’re on about, Ro,” Janus shrugs. “But I’m gonna go. All these good emotions are like...disgusting.” He sticks out his tongue that way that he’s seen Virgil do every time that Thomas has to eat the carrots his mom put on his plate just to sell the act, but Roman’s jaw sets.
“Why did you do that?” Roman bursts out before Janus can get all the way out, “Why? Janus!”
Janus should have run then, should have pretended that Virgil hadn’t heard him at all and let the other sides argue with each other, but his name is so new and shiny and no one ever uses it. The words vibrate through the air like needles and the next thing he knows is that he’s pinned in place, frozen, and Roman is looking very not-happy anymore.
Ha, so he knew. Looks like Janus can’t get through a video without being outed.
“I know it's you, you slimy snake,” Roman says. “Will you stop wearing Virgil’s face already! I want an answer!”
Janus’s tongue flicks in his mouth, rolling over the back of his teeth as he tries to think of the best way to handle this when all of his thoughts have to process through the molasses that is the gooey happiness Thomas is feeling and his own exhaustion.
“I have no idea what you mean,” Janus says, as blase as he can make it.
Which is….maybe not his best idea. The buzzing in his head makes the rest of the room go blurry for a second, in and out of focus and it’s so very helpful. 
Roman’s face goes red, stuck somewhere between being angry and being insulted. He reaches out and Janus’ legs do that thing where they don’t work so when he throws his weight back, away, out of reach, his body goes plummeting to the foot of the stairs as well.
Roman yelps, leaning forward for a moment maybe with the intent to help him back up but Janus throws up a hand to stop him before he knows for sure. His eyelids are heavy, he realizes, and he’s tired and he really doesn’t want to have a fight with Roman right now.
“I had fun, Roman. Thank you for the... entertainment this evening.” He says, dropping the last of his stellar Virgil impression. He wonders how long he had Roman fooled, if he had him fooled at all for any point. Does he dare wonder how many of those smiles were given knowing that it was Deceit in disguise?
(He doesn’t and he resents the implication that he cares what the others think of him.)
“Congrats on wooing the boy or whatever.” Janus climbs back up to his feet and brushes imaginary dust off his tunic. Or it could be real. He’s not sure considering that he’s so tired he can’t see anything in front of him.
“You fiend!” Roman snarls, “What did you do to our Stormcloud?”
“Why don’t you go find out?”Janus suggests, with a half-assed flourish, even by his own standards, “Or better yet, don’t. In the meantime, I’ll be in my room.”
But Roman snags his arm and holds him up and Janus is acutely aware that sinking out with another side is troublesome and takes so, so much focus and energy. (And Romans touch is scalding. It’s burning. It’s white hot and Janus wasn’t aware he had been freezing before.)
“I’m tired of this game, Snakes and Ladders!” Roman says. “Tired of not knowing what you’re up to! Tired of not knowing what Thomas wants! Tired of getting backseat to self care and morality and-- and I’m Tired, Janus! Why do you keep doing this to me?!”
And hooooooo, does that strike something in Janus! The soft feelings in his chest burn right up in an anger he hadn’t even known he had been feeling. But it must have been there for a while because it boils right through him, leaving his chest smoldering and his mouth tasting like ashes.
“You think you’re tired?” He snaps, burns, blazes. There’s something in this throat, and it makes every word catch fire when it comes out of his mouth. And even Roman has enough sense to know that fire is dangerous and that he’s going to be cremated if he doesn’t step back.
“You think you’re tired,” Janus repeats, taking a step forward so that they’re nearly toe-to-toe and he can see the way that Roman’s Adam's apple bobs. “What about me, Roman? Don’t you think I’m tired? That I’m exhausted? That I know I’m going to have to sink back down and figure out what is wrong with Logan and listen to Patton and keep Remus busy and make sure that none of you morons overpower the others and drive Thomas directly into the ground? That I haven’t slept a full night since the whole start of these videos and moral dilemmas and whatever else? Every time I turn around Thomas is making another lie: to his friends, to his family, to himself! Don’t you think that I… that I…”
Roman is staring at him.
Janus’s head pounds. The room around him sways and he thinks that maybe...maybe the reason he can’t think straight right now doesn’t actually have anything to do with Patton’s elation keeping Thomas busy.
“Oh,” Janus says because he blinked and now he’s on the floor. 
He blinks again and Roman is right next to him, looking concerned-- how ridiculous. Roman being concerned for him. Ha.
“Janus…” Roman’s voice is low, which makes Janus aware suddenly that everything else had been so loud all this time. He grits his teeth when Roman waves a hand and magics up… what are those, tissues? Why would he--
Oh.
Janus is crying. He reaches a hand up tentatively rubbing away the tears, and has to swallow a laugh. Oh, he's crying. When was the last time he cried? When was the last time he cried in front of someone else? 
He's so, so tired. And that's the reason-- the only reason, mind you-- that when Roman scooches closer, a centimeter, an inch, a foot, and then rests his hand on Janus' shoulder, Janus doesn't push him off and immediately sink out to his room. It takes too much energy to lock a room, even his, from the others and Roman would surely follow after him and demand answers.
Roman’s touch is a shaky, changing warmth. Janus noticed it earlier when Roman had said the word “Bravery” and Janus hadn’t been able to form an actual response because he was so busy wondering if this was how all touch was supposed to feel. But now he thinks he can count every single atom that is touching him and the awareness hums in his veins in a way that shouldn’t be possible.
He sucks in an equally shaky breath and tries not to look like he’s leaning into the feeling. His stomach rolls around, twisting and churning to the point where it hurts. He might be able to blame this on a stomach bug. The other sides probably wouldn’t look farther than that. They don’t like him enough to look farther than that.
“Janus,” Roman says again, calling him by name and Janus wants to tell him to stop. He sounds like he cares and Janus knows it’s a lie. He thinks it’s a lie. He’s pretty sure it’s a lie.
It’s hard to tell right now, especially when his own inner desire is yearning for it not to be. He can’t trust himself when he’s like this. He always ends up doing something stupid.
Like sitting at the foot of Thomas’s stairs crying in front of Roman.
“Fuck,” Janus says, and laughs, like this was part of his grand master plan that definitely exists. He ignores the tissues Roman places at their knees and uses the back of his palms to get rid of those pesky, unprofessional tears. “My most humble apologies, my dear prince. Too much fun today I suppose--”
“Janus,” Roman cuts him off, and Janus wishes his sharp inhale was a little less noticeable. “Are you… Did….”
Janus can feel how Roman’s thumb is rubbing his shoulder, slow circles like a loading screen while he tries to weave together a sentence that makes coherent sense.
“Why?” Roman decides. “Why are you...why did you help Thomas meet Nico? Why did you force him to do it naturally without any lies? I thought you liked when Thomas tells lies!”
Janus snorts, which is a bad decision because his nose is runny and, god, now there’s snot all over his face, which just makes the lump in the back of his throat grow larger. He snatches up the stupid tissues and tears open the pack.
“I don’t--” Janus wipes away the snot, and tosses the tissue into oblivion. “I don’t want Thomas to lie all the time. Do you think I’m crazy, Roman? I have to manage every lie Thomas tells himself! It’s… It’s… imagine if you had to make a new video script every single day.”
Janus can see Roman’s confused look. It's adorable really, like a puppy that just got told to “Stay.” He recognizes that Janus is saying something, that Janus is talking to him, but the full meaning of the words is lost on him.
“If it's so taxing, why do you do it, then?” He asks, like it's some sort of choice and not his job.
“Why do you make video scripts? Why do you help Thomas practice his lines? Why do you take him on daydreams when he’s bored?” 
“Because he asks me to,” Roman answers without a single hesitation. “Wait….”
Janus leans forward pressing his chin to his knees. His eyes close for a moment, two, three while Roman struggles to understand what Janus isn’t blatantly saying.
“Imagine if Thomas asked you to make a new video script every single day. Do you think you could say no to that?”
Roman makes a wounded noise from deep in the bottom of his soul. It resonates in the air between them, like an elephant neither of them wants to admit is there. Janus breathes in deeply, and wards off the fresh round of lovely wonderful tears that come from his lovely wonderful headache.
“I’m sorry about the court case, Roman,” Janus says. The words feel dangerous, like throwing knives and Roman flinches back, leaving the spot on Janus’s shoulder painfully freezing. “I wanted-- I wanted Thomas to do what he loved. I wanted him to stop lying about wanting to go to the callback and I thought that if I just made it so that only you could make the decision it would be easier! I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Janus breathes in, but somehow it seems that all the oxygen in the room had dissipated without their knowledge. He gasps a few times, trying to get a steady rhythm back but the white noise in his head and the itch behind his eyes keep throwing him off. 
There’s laughter-- it takes him a moment to realize it's his own. Which is just great, just fantastic, just what he needed. He finally got the sordid apology out and now he’s laughing. 
But Roman is looking at him not with a scowl, but with some other emotion Janus can’t quite name through his blurry vision. For a second he thinks it might be fear-- which is even more funny than the idea that Virgil had been pretending to be Roman this whole time. In the safety of Thomas’s apartment, when Thomas had just gotten the boy of his dreams, when Janus was on the ground out of secret agendas to hide, what is there for Roman to fear?
“I just--” Janus gasps one more time, ignoring the sharp pain in his chest. “Thomas deserves a win. You deserve a win. That's why I wanted to help with Nico.” He feels like his head is going to pop right off. Maybe if he asks nicely Roman will get out his sword and do it free of charge and relatively painlessly.
“So I...ha, so I spent all day playing dress up,” Janus hates the wobble in his voice. “And now I’m a day behind on managing all my work and now Patton’s going to want to talk about what happened today, and someone needs to listen to Remus and Logan is obviously not doing too well so I have to check on him-- and Virgil too even though Virgil will probably throw something at me but I have to….And then Thomas is going to need me and I have…. I have to…”
“You really… you really do all that?” Roman says in a small voice that doesn’t suit him at all. “All by yourself?”
“Well, it’s not like there’s anyone else to help, Roman.” Janus says before he can stop himself.
“I’ll help you!”
Janus freezes. Because, well.
He’s heard those words before, hasn’t he? Not all that too long ago. When the divide between dark and light was more defined and Thomas hadn’t started posting videos with them in it and Janus wasn’t afraid of the purple door in the middle of the hall.
He knows how this conversation goes all too well.
But Janus apparently can’t learn any new tricks because he still says, “No, I can do this myself.”
(“You’ll kill yourself from stress, Jan!” Virgil had yelled. “Then where will we be?”
“I have everything under control, Virgil! I don’t need any help! Just drop it, okay?”
“Thomas and the Light sides are running you ragged and you want me to pretend like it isn’t hurting you? Are you crazy? They need to stop lying so much!” 
“No! I can handle this!”
“Janus!”
“Virgil!”
“I can’t let you keep doing this,” Virgil had said, “If you won’t do something I will.”
“Don’t you dare!”
But he had. And now he was a light side, an accepted side, everyone’s favorite side. And he was slowly convincing Thomas to stop lying by turning Janus into something to be feared and avoided. How quaint. How trademark.)
Roman is staring at him. Janus can feel the weight of his eyes on him, and somehow that's worse than his hand on Janus’ shoulder. It’s heavier. It’s harder to just shrug off. It means something more.
Because Roman isn’t talking. And Janus isn’t hiding.
And if the words weren’t so hard to say, he thinks that maybe Virgil was right, and he should apologize.
“Huh,” Roman says after the silence threatens to swallow them both. He clears his throat and mercifully looks away, staring at that painting over Thomas’s couch. “I didn’t think you were stupid.”
Janus hisses at him, at the idea of him. But Roman flicks his fingers.
“Oh come on, Ouroboros,” Roman says. “You handle all of Thomas’s lies, and then you’re out there looking after each of us sides as well? I think after 31 videos we can all agree that one side being entire in control of Thomas is a bad thing! So why are you still trying to do everything?”
Janus has a very good answer. The best answer. 
But Roman’s elbow reaches out and nudges him and all his thoughts scatter into the air. Maybe that was intentional, but Janus can’t find the energy in himself to really be angry about it. 
“I…” Janus says, “I just want Thomas to be happy.”
“So do the rest of us too, Snakecrates!-- Get it? Like Socrates?-- Not gonna lie, your way to make him happy is truly… the foulest of methods, but at the end of the day we’re all a part of him.” Roman says. “Maybe instead of trying to puppet master this you could...try working with us? Like showing up as yourself instead of using Virgil’s or Logan’s face again?”
Janus snorts again. The backs of his eyelids shoot bright red stars across his vision. “As if. None of you would listen if I did things that way.”
Roman nudges him again. “It's just a suggestion, Slitherous Snape.”
“How many of those do you have?”
“Nicknames?” Roman pauses, and Janus guesses that he’s counting on his hand. “Dunno. A lot. I never get to use them because you show up in someone else’s clothes and I don’t realize it’s you. All the more reason you should listen to me and just show up as your usual self!”
Janus must have made a noise, but his brain is too preoccupied with the fact that the carpet in Thomas’s apartment is actually really comfy and if he buries his head in his knees the room is actually dark. His headache is a dull repetitive thob, like a drum beat that if he doesn’t focus too much on becomes a noise he can fall asleep to.
“I thought you hated me.” He admits, in a quiet tone and only partially hopes that it was too low for Roman to hear.
“Fool me once,” Roman says in a soft tone, humming like it's a melody. “Shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me thrice…”
He sighs deeply.
“And I think that means we need to actually think about talking out things like adults.” Roman nudges him again, and then places his arm around Janus’s shoulders. “But not right now, when you’re half dead from exhaustion. Let’s get you to your room, Jan.”
There’s a cold feeling around both of them, washing over Janus’s muscles like a flood, as they sink down. His eyes open briefly just in time to make out his own room surroundings before Roman drops him on his bed.
Oh, it’s really comfortable. Has his body always sunk into his mattress like this?
“Get some sleep, Deceit,” Roman says.
“Wait... Logan…” Janus definitely does not whine.
“I’ll handle the nerd.” 
There are so many reasons why that’s a bad idea-- Janus knows there are a bunch of reasons because he wrote them down on flashcards to study in between grieving Virgil leaving the dark sides and managing the lies Thomas tells day to day and the ones he had going on forever and the ones that sides told each other and--.
But before he can say any of that, Roman sifts a gentle hand through his hair and Janus loses the ability to think again.
(Janus really doesn’t remember when Roman gained that power.)
He curls up almost unintentionally on his bed, and Roman makes a noise that could have been a laugh, if Janus cared enough to check.
“Sweet dreams,” Roman says softly.
“W…wait!” Janus gathers the last bit of his energy, the residue from the gooey feelings Thomas was harboring, and surges after Roman before he can leave all the way. “How did you... know it was me? And not…”
“Virgil?” Roman offered. “You kept messing with the eyeshadow, Janus. He has that angsty charcoal color on twenty-four-seven. You kept changing it to purple. I mean I liked it, but that’s not his style.”
Janus frowns. “No….he has the purple when he’s happy. I know he has the purple… He only started wearing the black...when he was trying to freak out Thomas.” He sighs and settles back into his pillow. “It glows...when he’s happy…”
Janus has plenty of memories about that, too. They were some of his favorites: Virgil on Christmas morning when the prospect of presents was more scary than the idea of all Thomas’s relatives coming over, Virgil on late nights watching cryptid history shows with Remus and talking about marrying Mothman when Thomas got older, Virgil right after he first appeared to Thomas, glowing in all senses of the word because their host knew who he was. 
Janus remembers being a little upset when Virgil covered it up, because it was another lie then: Virgil was hiding part of who he was and the three of them had always agreed on no lies between them. 
Besides Virgil had always looked younger with the purple, looked more happy, looked more approachable. He looked like he was excited to see Janus and not like he would rip out his throat if they ended up in a room alone together. 
Virgil was purple long before he had been black, and Janus thinks he might have been in love with him even before that too.
Who had he been talking to, again?
Janus gets the distinct feeling something is wrong, but his pillows are comfy, and his mattress is soft and he’s been running on fumes for far too long. He’s fast asleep before he realizes that Roman is still in his room, frowning, and wondering if that meant Virgil had never actually been happy around the Light Sides at all. 
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mieteve-minijoma · 5 years ago
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Songfic Day 18: Bad Reputation
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Day 18: A song from the year you were born: Bad Reputation - Joan Jett
Part Four: (3 months later)
Archie Andrews hasn’t heard from his best friend Betty in three months and no one else seems to be worried. When he finds out that his friends had been to him about knowing where she is. Concerned for Betty’s safety and worried that the Serpents have hurt her, Archie drags Kevin and Veronica with him to storm the Whyte Worm looking for answers. 
When they hear what sounds like Betty’s muffled screams coming from a back room, they rush in only to get more than they bargained for.
Archie thinks Betty needs to get away from the influence of the Serpents but Betty has other plans.
*****
"I'm telling you Ronnie, something is seriously wrong. Why haven't we heard from her?" Archie asked as he paced nervously back and forth in front of his fiance.
"Arch, Betty is a big girl. She knew what she was doing when she started this, you have to trust that she knows what she's doing by not telling us anything," Veronica tried her best to calm him, but he wasn't having any it.
"It's been three months Veronica! Three fucking months and no one has heard anything. No calls, no messages! How are you not worried?!" Archie shouted, throwing his hands in the air for emphasis. 
One look at Veronica's sympathetic expression had him breaking down, crumbling into her arms, "Something happened to her, I know it. She would never disappear like this, not without telling me something. Where would she even go?"
"Archie, look. There is something I need to tell you but you have to promise not to freak out,” Veronica paused to take a deep breathe before she continued, “I know where B is.”
*****
“I can’t believe you guys! How could you know where she’s been this whole time and not tell me? You knew how worried I was about her and you still didn’t tell me? Why?” Archie exclaimed from the passenger seat of Kevin’s car as they drove further into the southside. Veronica leaned forward in the backseat to look at him.
“Because Archie, things got really scary for her before she left. The Ghoulies were looking for her, Sheriff Minetta was just looking the other way on the threats against her life, and she was terrified and needed protection. This was her last resort,” She placed her hand on Archie’s shoulder, rubbing soothingly, “B made us promise not to say a word to anyone, especially to you.”
“But why? She’s been my best friend since we were in diapers, did she not trust me enough to tell me?” Archie's broken voice tore at Veronica’s heart.
“No, Archikins, that isn’t it at all. She was trying to keep us all out of harm's way, she was protecting you. Plus,-” Veronica was cut off when Kevin finally spoke up.
“Plus she knew you’d do exactly what you are doing right now: dragging us out to a biker bar without a plan to mount sort of heroic rescue effort,” Kevin pointed out, turning towards their destination.
“Kev is right Archie, we really should think this through a little better than to just bust in there in the middle of the afternoon. God only knows how many Serpents are there right now,” Veronica said, trying to talk some sense into him. 
She knew he was worried about Betty but she was giving them weekly check-in’s and she sounded fine and, most importantly, she was safe. To Veronica, that was good enough. 
“I just have to know she’s ok, Ronnie.” Archie sighed as they pulled up to the Whyte Worm, nervous about what they would find.
“Ok guys, let me do all the talking. I met some of these guys through Joaquin, so they might be a bit more open about talking to me about Betty then some northside strangers. Just act natural and try not to draw too much attention to yourselves, ok?” Kevin said, his voice serious as they stepped towards the door.
When they entered the bar, all eyes were on them. There weren't very many Serpents present at the moment but it was enough to where they’d be easily outnumbered. 
The three northsiders stood just inside the doorway, waiting to see what would happen next. A voice behind the bar broke the silence that had filled the room.
“Kevin Keller. Long time no see, boy. How've you been?” FP walked out from behind the bar and stepped up to give Kevin a friendly hug, “I didn’t ever expect to see you again after- well, yeah. What can I do for you?” 
“We came to-,” Kevin started but was interrupted by a very agitated Archie.
“Where’s Betty, Snake?” Archie stepped between the older man and Kevin, narrowing his eyes. FP looked from Kevin to Archie, trying to figure out if the ginger was serious right now.
“Listen here Red. Since I knew your old man before he passed, I’m gonna let that remark slide. But you are in my bar asking me questions, so you better damn well be respectful, got it?” Archie only scheduled further, puffing his chest in a sign of dominance.
FP chuckled slightly at Archie’s cockiness, scratching his chin. “What makes you think I know anyone by that name huh?” He challenged.
“I know she’s here! Now tell me where she is or I swear to Christ I’ll-,” the quiet bar was suddenly filled with a females screams, effectively stopping all discussion. 
“Betty!” Archie screamed, tearing past FP, with Kevin and Veronica following closely behind.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Red,” FP laughed as he raised his hand to halt the Serpents around them from stopping the trio. They all watched the northsiders race towards the room where the screams were continuing, shaking their heads. 
Once they made it down the hall and found the door, Archie tried the knob but it was locked. He knew that those were screams from Betty and in his panic, he decided to kick the door in.
Imagine his shock when the image they were met with was not one of torture but of Betty Cooper -sweet innocent Betty Cooper- bent over a large mahgony desk, breasts spilling out of her bra, while a dark haired man in nothing but a Serpent jacket pounded into her from behind. 
The door flew open, slamming against the wall and startling the couple. The unknown male covered Betty’s body with his own to keep prying eyes off of her and yelled, "Get the fuck out!"
“Oh God!” Veronica and Kevin shouted in unison, covering their eyes to avoid the sight and dragging a shocked Archie out the door. “We are so so sorry, B! We will just- yeah, we’ll be out here when you, um, finish,” Veronica shouted over her shoulder as she pushed them all towards the bar where the Serpents had all burst into a fit of laughter.
“I tried to warn you,” FP shrugged, chuckling as he poured them all shots.
*****
“Friends of yours?” Jughead asked, panting while still leaning over her body, too afraid to move for the moment.
“Oh my God. Yeah, they are. But I don’t know why they're here, I just checked in the other night,” Betty sighed, aggravated that their special time had been interrupted. Of all days, really? She thought.
"Well, I guess let's go see what they want, baby," Jughead kissed her shoulder, pulling out of her and putting on his jeans. Betty pouted as she pushed her skirt back down, fixing her bra and pulling on her halter top.
"You owe me, Jones," she teased, pulling him in for a kiss, her tongue snaking into his mouth and mingling with his.
"Oh don't worry Princess, I'll make this up to you tonight," he whispered into her ear as he pulled away, "Come on now, let's not leave the Scooby Gang waiting."
*****
"Was she? I mean, that was Betty, right? Was- was she getting-" Archie stuttered, trying to wrap his mind around what he just saw. He definitely never wanted to see that image ever again.
"Getting drilled by a devilishly handsome male specimen and loving every second of it? Yeah, I'd say that's what we just saw," Kevin said, staring down at his drink in shock.
A deep voice chuckling behind them had them all jumping, "Aww Kev, I wouldn't say 'devilishly' handsome but thanks for the compliment."
The trio turned to see Betty and the raven haired man walking towards them, hand in hand and decidedly more clothed, both of them grinning like fools. 
Her friends were shocked even more to see Betty's appearance. Betty, the girl who normally wore pastels and jeans with her iconic ponytail, was wearing an emerald green halter top paired with a black gypsy skirt and her hair down in messy curls. She looked like a completely different person.
"Jug? I didn't realize it was you in there, um, assisting our Betty," Kevin smiled and winked at Betty, standing up to hug the Serpent Prince. 
Kevin had gotten to know Jughead fairly well when he dated Jughead's best friend, Joaquin. He hasn't seen him since the funeral but they tried to stay in touch.
"It's good to see you Keller. We miss you around here, you need to come out more. Quin would have wanted us to look after you. Besides, I know Princess would be happy," Jughead smirked, looking over at a blushing Betty.
"Princess? Who's that?" Archie asked, more to himself than anyone else in particular. 
Betty rolled her eyes, knowing that this was gonna turn heated once they found out the truth. She cleared her throat and spoke, "I am, Arch." She watched as Archie looked her over, finally snapping out of his shocked state. 
"Why did he call you Princess?" Archie asked, confused.
"Because she is. She's my girl and since I'm the Serpent Prince that makes her the Serpent Princess by default," Jughead answered, ignoring the fact that he wasn't actually the one being addressed.
Archie looked at him, "How would that even work? She's not a Serpent." 
Betty cleared her throat, looking to Jughead as he squeezed her hand showing his support, "Actually guys, I am a Serpent. I officially became a Serpent last night in fact."
They all seemed to be shocked to the core at her revelation, not sure what they were expecting but that definitely wasn't it. "What do you mean, you're a Serpent?" Archie asked, his hands trembling.
"Just what she said, Red. She's one of us, you got a problem with that?" Jughead challenged. He wasn't going to let some pretty boy from the northside judge her for her decision to be in his life and join his gang.
"Yeah I do, she's better than that, she wouldn't do something so stupid as to join a gang full of thugs! For all we know, she is being held against her will!" Archie yelled, stepping forward and attempting to grab her arm.
Jughead stepped in front of her, scowling at Archie, "Fucking touch her and I'll break that hand."
"Oh yeah, what the hell are you gonna do? I got a good 60 pounds on you so if you wanna go, I think I can handle it," Archie got in Jughead's face, the two men standing toe to toe and breathing heavily with anger.
"Back down Jug," Jughead froze at her voice. He turned to look into Betty's eyes and nodded, stepping back to stand beside her. She reached up, placing her hand on his cheek gently and gave him a quick kiss.
She looked back towards her friends, focusing on Archie as she spoke, "Archie, it's time for you to leave. You've seen me, I'm doing fine so I think it's better for everyone if you guys go back home and wait for my next check in."
"No! Betty this isn't you- I mean, this is a gang, Betty! I don't care what kind of mind games these people played to get you to join but it's over. You need to come home. Now." Archie argued. Betty narrowed her eyes at him, her fists curling in on themselves.
"Now you listen here, Archie Andrews. You are not my parent nor are you my keeper. I made the decision all on my own to join the Serpents, Jug was against it but ultimately left the decision up to me. And do you want to know why?" she asked angrily before stepping closer to him.
"It's because I'm a big girl who can make my own decisions without anyone telling me what to do. If he can respect my decision after only knowing me a few months, I would hope you could do it after knowing me my whole life," she said sadly. Archie's anger dissipated, his head falling in shame.
"I'm sorry Betty, I have just been going crazy the last few months worrying about you. I don't know what to do. I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you," Betty stepped in to hug Archie, rubbing his back comfortingly.
"I promise Arch, I'm ok. Juggie is making sure that I am safe and taken care of. But I need you to go and stay on the northside until this blows over. I couldn't live with myself if the Ghoulies did something to you too get to me," Betty whispered, hugging him tighter.
"We will do that B," Veronica assured her, "Now that we know you are ok, we can all rest easier. Just stay safe, ok?" Betty nodded, moving to hug her other two best friends.
"I love you guys, please stay safe. I will check in with you guys next week, ok?" They all nodded before saying goodbye to Betty and heading out the door.
"You ok, Princess?" Jughead asked, stepping behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close.
"Yeah, I'm just worried about them now. I didn't want to put them in danger and I can't help feeling like by not telling them everything, I've done just that," Betty sighed, chewing her lip nervously.
"I know baby, but once this is over, we can tell them everything. For right now, this is better," Jughead said, kissing the crown of her head, "Now, what would my beautiful wife like to do this afternoon?"
"Hmmm, I think she would like to continue what her husband started before we were so rudely interrupted," Betty turned in Jughead's arms, standing on her tiptoes to kiss her husband.
"I can do that, Mrs. Jones." Jughead picked Betty up bridal style, carrying her upstairs to continue their honeymoon activities.
*****
"Hey boss, we got some intel from our guys sitting on the snakepit," the man threw down a stack of photographs on his bosses desk, "Looks like Blondie had some visitors today. Might be useful to take a closer look at them, maybe use them for leverage."
Malachi grinned sadistically while looking over the photos, "Syn, I think you might be right about that."
To Be Continued...
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How to Survive a Factory Tour - Chapter 5
A Sanders Sides / Charlie and the Chocolate Factory FanFiction
PREVIOUS
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I am so fucking exhausted. And hungry. Well, I always am, but recently I’ve been more so than usual.
For the past few days, a lot of my co-workers have been off for Christmas. This meant little old me had to pick up god knows how many extra shifts. For the past few days, I’ve had to skip out on proper meals, only having a quick snack when I got home.
And, no, by snack, I do not mean the Wonka bar. Still haven’t eaten it. No one has.
Two days after Roman Prince won a ticket, I expect Remy to say the fourth ticket’s been won. You know, since there’s been a pattern of them being found every two days. However, when Remy comes in, he simply orders his drink, chats a bit and leaves. It’s honestly surprising, especially with the tour being in five days.
Anyway, I continue working for the next few hours, praying the tips at the end will be worth it. Then, finally, my manager comes out and dismisses me, but not before dividing my share of the money in the tip jar. I hang up my apron, pull on my hoodie and leave the shop.
If there’s one good thing about being poor in Florida, it’s that you never have to worry about freezing. With winters of 75°F, it doesn’t matter that my thin, patched-up hoodie is the warmest thing I own.
It doesn’t mean the walk home is perfect, however. My stomach’s being as loud as an earthquake. Shut up, will you. Just wait until Mom comes home and hopefully she brings some dinner.
I soon arrive at our little shack, gently opening the front door and stepping inside. “Thomas, I’m home!”
I pause, waiting for my brother to reply. There’s no response. “Thomas? Hello?” Nothing. “Thomathy? Thomas the dank engine?”
Still nothing. I feel my heart rate picking up. Oh god, what if part of the ceiling collapsed on him... o-or the lack of food in the house caught up on him and he starved...
All the worst possibilities come to mind. Thomas is supposed to be here, he always is when I come home. Something’s wrong, he’s hurt, I just know it. I can’t breathe. Everything’s going blurry. My heart’s thudding too hard.
Suddenly, everything’s black.
...
”Virgil! Virgil, wake up!”
I come back to my senses to find myself led on our lumpy couch, and someone leaning over me.
”Th-Thomas...? You’re okay?”
”Virge! Thank god you’re awake! I was so worried... What happened?”
I sit up, Thomas helping me adjust. “I... You weren’t home. I got scared something had happened, and...”
”Panic attack, huh?” Thomas asks. I nod. “I’m really sorry, Virge, I should’ve left a note so you knew I was heading out...”
It was only then I notice a shopping bag at Thomas’ feet. “What’s that?”
Thomas takes a deep breath. “I have a confession. While I have put most of the money you earned for me towards college, I’ve also been saving up for something else.” He reaches down into the bag and pulls out...
”A video camera? What do you need a camera for?”
”I felt bad that you and Mom were doing so much for me but I wasn’t doing anything in return. I’ve wanted to get a job for a while, but I didn’t know how to get one that fit around my school schedule. I decided I needed to do something where I can organise my own hours and I didn’t need to get a whole lot, so I figured maybe...I could do YouTube. I’ve got the camera, and Remy said I could record at his and edit and upload on his computer. Hopefully, I’ll get enough viewers to monetize and get some money to help us, all the while making fun content.”
”Thomas... that is fucking brilliant.”
Thomas smiles. “Thanks. But none of that matters right now. You literally just passed out, you need to get your strength back.” He gets up and leaves the room, heading to the kitchen. A few moments later, he comes back and pushes something into my hand. “Eat.”
I look down at the bar. “I... I can’t.”
”Why not?”
”The money was meant to be for you...”
Thomas rolls his eyes. “It’s okay! It was only a dollar or so for this. You deserve a reward for everything you’ve done for me. Now, open it and eat.”
I sigh, knowing Thomas won’t give in. He can be really stubborn if he needs to be. I start peeling back the wrapper.
HO. LY. SHIT.
GOLD. FUCKING GOLD.
Thomas and I both stare at the ticket. He breaks the silence.
”This is gonna make a great first video.”
I pause before holding it out to him. “You have it.”
”What?! No way in hell! You won it and bought it with your own money. And as I said, you deserve a reward.” Thomas pushes the ticket back into my hands. “Virgil, you’re going to Willy Wonka’s factory.”
-
”FOURTH TICKET!”
I practically slide into the room upon hearing Emile’s yell. I plop next to him on the sofa and watch the TV screen.
There are three guys there, and I can’t tell which the winner is. One is wearing sunglasses, a white t-shirt, a black jacket, black jeans, and has an arm around the shoulders of the person in the middle.
The one in the middle has brown hair, and is wearing a purple shirt, ripped black skinny jeans and a patched black and purple hoodie. He looks pretty uncomfortable at all the attention.
The third looks identical to the second. He looks more comfortable on camera than who I presume is his twin brother. He was wearing a grey shirt, an old brown jacket, and jeans.
As I watch, they’re revealed to be called Remy Sleep, and Virgil and Thomas Sanders. Virgil’s the one who won the ticket. He seems so shy! Well, I’ll make sure to make him feel welcome during the tour.
Speaking of the tour, Virgil lives in Florida, and in the same town as the Wonka factory! That’s awesome! He’s sooooo lucky. Imagine being able to buy Wonka bars nice and fresh. I bet they’d be even more delicious then.
Oh boy, four out of five tickets have already been won with five days to go! I can’t wait to find out who wins the last one!
-
It seems my predictions have been proven right yet again. The next ticket was found in Florida. Just the one in Australia left now.
There’s not much else to say about the ticket being won, really. Nothing worth saying. Robert still blames me, so some things never change.
Joan and Talyn have been trying to find a way to hide a camera on my person so they can see the factory for themselves. It’s rather funny to hear their extravagant ideas, though I doubt I’ll try any. They’ll have to settle with my explanation.
They’re going to be coming with me to Florida, though. Of course my family aren’t, but Joan and Talyn didn’t want me to be alone, so got tickets for the flight too.
I totally didn’t beg them to come because I have a fear of flying...
Okay, I watch Air Crash Investigation too much. It’s educational and very intriguing, if slightly anxiety inducing.
But the point is, they’re coming with me. We’re arriving the day before the tour and leaving the day after. Joan and Talyn are going to be heading up to Orlando the day of the tour to go to Universal Studios. They’re going to meet up with me once the tour’s over. Everything’s arranged, and I’ve even written up schedules for us all so no one will be at the wrong place at the wrong time.
Some may call it excessive, I call it efficient.
But I digress. The point is I’m fully ready and prepared...
To wipe this in my brother’s face.
-
Oh, how perfect! An emo nightmare just won the final ticket and is coming with us on the tour! How wonderful!
That was sarcasm, in case you couldn’t tell.
Call me quick to judge, but I’m not too fond of those edgy, melodramatic, dark emo types. They just seem to always bring down the mood. I’d rather my time at the greatest factory in the entire world didn’t be ruined by some moody, angsty, and by the looks of it, very socially awkward guy.
But I guess it’s too late now. He’s got a ticket, he’s going. Fun.
However, lets brush that aside for now. There’s more interesting stuff than ‘Virgil’ or whatever his name was winning a ticket.
The day after I’d won my ticket, my dads were out so I hosted a party at my place to celebrate my victory. It was great. We played spin the bottle and I got to kiss none other than school heartthrob Nate Christopher. It was probably one of the greatest moments of my life. Valerie even took a picture and sent it to me so I could “treasure the moment I could pretend Nate was gay and into me”.
Why are all the best guys straight? Let’s hope I’ll find the one in Florida and he’ll actually be gay, or bi, or pan, or just likes dudes in general.
Anyway, in the middle of the party, I got a call from Pa. He said he and dad had arranged, not just flights and hotels, but a two-week holiday in America. First, a week and two days in Florida, two days in the town with the factory, then the morning after the tour we’ll drive up to Orlando to go to Disney World. Then, we’ll fly up to New York, which is where we’ll spend the rest pf the two weeks, because Dad managed to get us all tickets to see Be More Chill on Broadway! I’m so excited, it’s going to be the best two weeks of my life.
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NEXT
Tags: @clone-number-1, @pumpkinminette, @i-have-n0-idea-what-im-d0ing
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secretcinema3 · 7 years ago
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Ten Thoughts Inspired By: A Bout de Souffle
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1. Before I ever saw the film I saw this poster. As soon as I laid eyes on it I knew I had to see the film. It radiated cool energy. And that title. At once a declaration of the film’s style and the viewer’s response to it. A promise and a boast. Stylish. Sexy. Breathless. But its original title, A Bout de Souffle, translates as Out Of Breath. That’s a B-movie title, slang for death, like Chandler’s The Big Sleep. Consider if they’d used that as the English title instead. Would the film have attained such a cool reputation? Just imagine it on the poster. Stylish. Sexy. Out Of Breath. Suddenly it’s not so much an intimation of awed wonder as middle-aged decline. My younger self probably wouldn’t have been so impressed, but so what? Does it matter? A title’s just a title, after all, a way of identifying one film from another. Sure, mostly, but it’s not always that simple. Consider these titles for example: Stranger Than Paradise. Some Like It Hot. White Heat. Touch of Evil. Now each of these could, at a push, describe what happens in their respective films, but I don’t think that’s what’s going on when we read them. They’re not merely labels, they’re suggestive, free-floating, haikus of compressed mood. Yes, a good title can define a film, capture its essence, but it can also add to it, deepen it, complicate it. It’s a chemical reaction. Just think of the mysterious, symbiotic relationship we have with names and they have with us. Do they shape us, do we grow into them? If you don’t believe this then consider these possible alternative titles for the films above; Losers. TransAmerica. Mother Love. The Mexican. Does it make a difference? It’s hard to say, but this much is clear, the anonymous translator tasked with finding an English version for A Bout de Souffle clearly thought so.
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2. The film of tomorrow will not be directed by civil servants of the camera, but by artists for whom shooting a film constitutes a wonderful and thrilling adventure. – Francois Truffaut
The famous dedication is to Monogram Pictures. Monogram were a poverty row studio specialising in cheap genre flicks, serials and westerns. So what was the attraction for serious French cinephiles like Truffaut and Godard? Well, for starters, because they were largely ignored they were an undiscovered continent, ripe for reappraisal. They often relied on genre conventions, offering rich ground for theorising, for detecting encoded meanings, hidden ideas, themes build up across a body of work. Also because they had less to lose they could show the seemier side of existence more freely than bigger studio productions, the kind of exploitation subjects considered beneath proper art. Some French critics saw passed all that bourgeois respectability, understood that the life of a petty thief could be as worthy of great art as the noblest king, that an absence of craft or style might represent a film’s psychological meaning, its hard indifference to the lies of romance. They understood serious artists could exist outside the mainstream, might find the fertile confines of genre more to their liking, might prefer playful indifference to highbrow pretension. But even the worst of these films taught them about innocent enjoyment, the pleasure of transformation, how much easier it was to bring the moves, clothes and dialogue into your life when they were ritualised, repeated, how cliches spoke to the yearnings inside ordinary people. By dedicating his film to Monogram Godard was sticking two fingers up at the industry, rejecting its middlebrow concerns with craft and rules, aligning himself with the outsiders, the dreamers, with those great American values of outrage, adventure and play. This is a game, he’s telling us. We’re playing here. So can you.
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3. The famous opening line is: I’m an asshole, a provocation from the start, followed by a close up of a scantily clad girl on the front of a newspaper, lowered to reveal our hero, Michel, hat over his eyes, puffing on an enormous cigarette. He’s cool, but posing too, a kid playing dress-up. Then he runs the side of his thumb across his lips. It’s a signal. To us. Thumb across lips. That’s all it takes. Your Bogie. Your life is a movie. It’s hard to appreciate now the impact of this message. A Bout de Souffle was one of the first films to acknowledge people’s desire for movie grace in their lives, wanting their everyday existence transfigured by it, blessed with purpose and shape, ordinary personas imbued with unified glamour. You don’t need to be famous, a star. The magic isn’t out there somewhere, owned by producers, studios, agents, fans. It’s in you now, once you’ve seen the film, it’s yours, a gift, not a privilege. This is what cinema is, the democratisation of play. It’s an evolutionary tool, teaching poor regional kids moves and gestures to help them escape impoverished lives, to face the twin terrors of adolescence and neighbourhood streets. After all, when you live in a non-verbal environment knowing how to stand on corners with cool indifference is a vital art. This is another thing the film is already telling us. The street is a movie set too.
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4. We first see Patricia ambling down the Champ-Elysees in her flat shoes, sweetly calling ‘New York Herald Tribune!‘ She’s played by Jean Seberg, proof that nationality is a notional concept at best. She’s supposed to be the American chick but comes across, in her clothes, her manner, her cropped hair, as ineffably French. It’s hard to imagine any other contemporary American actress playing the part, actually American but spiritually in tune with the Frenchness of the whole enterprise. (The film too is at once American in its conventions and French in its style and ideas.) It was that way from the start. Her screen debut was as Saint Joan (1957), hand-picked from 18,000 hopefuls by Otto Preminger. It was Preminger again who brought her to France the following year to play the spoiled Celine in Bonjour Tristesse. The same year she married film director Francois Moreuil. By the time of A Bout de Souffle they were divorced and she’d taken up with French author Romain Gary, marrying him in 1962. Was it fate or inclination that drew her to the French and them to her? Or was it the hair? The gamine prettiness? Whatever it was, it went on, until her tragic, mysterious death in 1979, found dead in her car on the same Parisienne streets she’d watched Belmondo play dead on all those years before, back when they were all young enough to think of death as a romantic game, something to be bargained with.
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5. Leaving Patricia behind Michel passes a poster for a film called Ten Seconds To Hell (1959), its tagline proclaiming ‘Live dangerously till the end!’ It’s a lovely moment, not just for the renegade cheek of using the poster without permission, but for the serendipity of it being there in the first place, articulating the film’s key theme – defying death. (You know you’re in the zone when the world starts to speak to you like this, send you secret messages, when you see connections everywhere, when you start to believe there’s no such thing as a coincidence, that luck, in fact, is just fate in disguise).
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6. Once you accept the rule of death thou shalt not kill is an easily and naturally obeyed commandment. But when a man is still in rebellion against death he has pleasure in taking to himself one of the Godlike attributes, that of giving it. This is one of the most profound feelings in those men who enjoy killing. – Ernest Hemingway, ‘Death in the Afternoon’
‘It is solely by risking life that freedom is obtained,’ Hegel wrote, somehow defining the essence of A Bout de Souffle over a century before it was made. The spirit of the film may be its exhilarating sense of freedom, it’s jazzy liberation from social, artistic and cinematic conventions, but it’s also obsessed with death, from its title to its conclusion. Or rather, with invoking it in order to feel more alive. If the taking of life could, as Hemingway suggests, ward off your own death, than so could acting it out. In this sense, the film is as ritualistic as a bullfight, a bloodless rebellion against death. Just as ancient Greek rites evolved into formalised drama, the death of a tragic hero offered to the gods rather than the sacrifice of a goat, so too with cinema. It may be a game, Godard suggests, but it isn’t frivolous. It’s as serious as any religion, as vital to our happiness as freedom itself. It was a message that hit the new decade like a Molotov cocktail, starting a creative blaze that lasted twenty years and engulfed the old Hollywood studio system in its wake.
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7. ‘What is your greatest ambition?’ Patricia asks the novelist (played by director Jean-Pierre Melville) at the kind of pretentious press conference only the French would have. ‘To become immortal‘, he replies, looking straight into the camera, ‘and then to die‘. It’s a joke, a contradiction. He might as well have said his ambition was ‘to wake and then to dream’. It’s an impossibility, mutually exclusive states, waking/dreaming, immortality/death. Except, of course, there is one place where the impossible can happen. When we watch a film, especially in the dark of a cinema, what else are we doing but dreaming while still awake? And when we watch the great stars of the silver screen like James Cagney, Bette Davis or Steve McQueen, what else are we doing but watching the dead walk again, forever alive in their films, made immortal by them?
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8. Which is what Bogart represents in the film, not just a role model but an icon of immortality. Dead only three years when A Bout de Souffle was made, already he’s becoming a cult, his moves, clothes and dialogue remembered, repeated and fetishised. But why Bogie? What was it about him that so obsessed the French? Maybe he was, in some way, more French than other Hollywood stars, more ironic, fatalistic, ugly? Maybe the characters he played, men with secrets, with shadowy pasts, were more in keeping with a nation haunted by defeat, collaboration and existential dread? Whatever it was it went deep, just think of the hats and coats in Melville’s own films like Le Samourai.
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Of course, the Bogart of The Maltese Falcon, Casablanca and The Big Sleep was also the coolest man on the planet, a dream of tough grace under pressure. He crystallised the essence of cool long before Brando and Dean turned up, a man’s cool, not a grumpy adolescent’s, someone who’s lived, seen things, been betrayed by events, by his own heart, hides his honour like a dirty secret. But we know it’s there, we know he does care, does know which side is right, he just won’t be played for a sap any more. Being a man, he seems to say, is a moral act. If you don’t know how to read people, if you don’t know when to keep quiet, if you don’t understand that sometimes cynicism is just the truth no one wants to hear, then you deserve what you get, you leave yourself wide open, cannon fodder for con men, Nazis and certain kinds of women.
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9. Then there’s the lovely extended scene in Patricia’s apartment. She arrives home to find Michel in her bed. What follows is spontaneity, calculation and natural light, cultural allusions everywhere. She poses before a poster of Renoir’s Mlle Irene Cahen d’Anvers and asks who’s the prettier. He caresses her bum and asks can he piss in her sink. She washes her feet and tell him she’s pregnant. He sits beneath a Picasso figure wearing a mask. She quotes from The Wild Palms by William Faulkner: ‘Between grief and nothing, I will take grief.’ Michel says he’d choose nothing. ‘Grief‘, he adds, ‘is a compromise‘. They talk, flirt, test each other and eventually make love, fumbling under the covers like kids, not sure what their parents really do under there. The claim that capturing Seberg’s beauty on film matches Renoir’s achievement on canvass is hardly worth noting now. But it’s a reminder of a time before the triumph of popular culture when film was considered an upstart medium, devoid of true craft, a nickelodeon distraction for immigrant hordes and over-excited housewives, not something to be taken seriously as high art. This was the fight Godard, Truffaut and the rest of the Cahiers du Cinéma critics were waging in the late 50s, rescuing great artists like Hitchcock and Hawks from the neglect this pompous snobbery had consigned them to.
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And what about Michel’s claim that grief is a compromise? Is it an existential statement, like Beckett’s ‘every word is like an unnecessary stain on silence and nothingness‘, or is he just trying to sound cool. Is he suggesting that emotions are a refuge, a refusal to accept the truth? It’s an interesting idea in an age when personal grief has become everyday currency. Would Bogie give in to grief, cry and wail, take to his bed, sell his story to the tabloids? No, he wouldn’t. He’d take it inside him, order a drink, light a cigarette, another lesson learned, another test passed. The cigarette is vital of course. Just consider how important they were in all this. Michel smokes non-stop throughout the film. Even his dying breath is a puff of smoke. Can you imagine a time when smoking was this cool? When things weren’t ghosted by consequences, by health warnings, when people drank at work and smoked in cinemas, weren’t constantly fretting about their health, short-changing their youth for a few extra years at the end? When looking cool now was more important than being alive then? It’s all about how you look, y’see, masks, uniforms, encoded signs, the transformative power of objects and faces. ‘The mystery of the world is in the visible, not the invisible,’ as Oscar Wilde rightly pointed out. Open your eyes (and dream). We’re being movie stars here. They’re immortal. They never die of cancer or liver failure.
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10. ‘The film of tomorrow will be an act of love...’ – Truffaut
Above all it’s a film about love, love of cinema, love of life through cinema. There really was no difference to these young men. Cinema was life. Watching a beautiful woman and capturing her on film was the same thing to them. It was very chauvinistic, of course, but very romantic too (essentially the same thing). Romance has no time for feminist aspirations. It wants to be taken out of this crappy world, wants to idealise, heighten, improve. It’s foolish, a youthful folly, but where would we be without it? For a few brief years, as the world woke up from it’s post-war slumber, a handful of young men believed that cinema was the new language of happiness and truth. A Bout de Souffle bottled that moment. It’s a time machine. The spirit and energy of that moment can be revisited every time you watch it. You could even say it’s immortal. Or to put it another way: Devil in the Flesh. Rififi. And God Created Woman. Scarface. A Bout de Souffle. The best film around.
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linoholic · 7 years ago
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Get to know me tag
The amazing @basketcase789 tagged me, so thank you very much pumpkin 💖
rules: tag people you want to get to know better!
tagging: oh god I have a fear of tagging people but here I go @wanna1things @onejunns @slutdropjin that's enough. If I tag any more I think I'll have a heart attack. (By the way it's me @ttelesilla on my side blog. I swear I am not some weird random person.....I take that back..that is exactly what I am)
Name: Stephanie
Gender: Female
Star Sign: Cancer
Height: 171cm / 5'7 something I think. I haven't checked in a while (accidentally wrote 176 at first. I swear I am not that tall)
What’s your middle name? Susan Joan
Put your music library on shuffle. What are the first 6 songs that popped up?
Hold Me Tight - BTS
Fantasy - JBJ
Pray (I'll Be Your Man) - BtoB
Free Somebody - Luna
Why - Taeyeon
In Time - Monsta X
Grab a book nearest you and turn to page 23. What is the 17th line? "..but it isn't always affordable or practical." Story of my life. (It's a yoga book lol)
Ever had a poem/song written about you? Ha ha nope
When was the last time you played air guitar? I'm more of an air drum person honestly
Who is your celebrity crush? Outside of kpop; it's probably Margot Robbie or Orlando Bloom; within Kpop I have way too many, though Park Jimin aka Jamie of ASC and 15& is definitely one of them
What is a sound you hate? Love? I hate the sound of nails scratching against almost anything, especially fabrics and leathers. As for sounds I love, the sound of rain or wind, or even better, both. I am in love with storms.
Do you believe in ghosts and/or aliens? Our universe is way too vast to be able to dismiss anything. Now, whether I believe the people that claim to have seen/had experiences with either is a totally different matter.
Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed? I have never even driven a go kart. I'm 19, can drive if I wanted to actually bother to learn but laziness and being broke is a thing and I am the queen of both
Do you like the smell of gasoline? 👍👍
What’s the last movie you saw? Memphis Belle technically. I mean, it is on the TV as we speak. My mum left it on after going to bed and I am too lazy to turn it over and am not actually watching it. Other it would be Battle of Five Armies
What’s the worst injury you’ve had? I've never really been injured. My sister is the clumsy one, not me. Though once when I was like 5 I was in ballet class and got this massive splinter in my foot. To this day I hate touching wooden things, unless they have been glossed or varnished or something.
Do you have any obsessions right now? I love watching public dance covers if that counts. My YouTube history is full of them. And the colour yellow. I love yellow. Ooh and trying to get my bloody computer fixed. All I want to do is play some Sims and use my drawing tablet, is that too much to ask? ....and I am also obsessed with trying to finish these bloody aus. I have procrastinated for too long a dam paying the price.
Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong? I am too nice to hold grudges openly, though in my head you can bet I am imagining scenarios where I confront people and all that jazz ten years after the event
Are you in a relationship? Job position available: Stephanie's significant other. Must be soft and likesnuggles and jaw kisses. No preferred gender. Apply at @ttelesilla or @newsunnyd
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fireinclined · 7 years ago
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mutant apocalypse headcanons
paola winding up with raph and donnie
ok so i’m gonna do a slight au of my verse for cassandra where paola ends up with donnie and raph instead of ending up with cassandra.
paola likes to pretend she’s salty that robo-donnie’s so much taller than she is, but she’s really not. more than anything, she feels bad for donnie for being trapped in a robot body.
and paola does minimal repairs to herself- any spare parts are saved for donnie. this means paola’s arms are prone to falling off, and she might glitch in the middle of her sentences. raph knows that she’s not using any new parts, but paola has sworn him to secrecy. i can imagine donnie’s figured it out, but just…doesn’t say anything. 
loss of cassandra’s ship
cassandra’s ship is incredibly dear to her and was her home for over two decades, was the birthplace of her best friend, and connects her to her lost planet more than anything else. With losing her ship, even if she’s able to repurpose the pieces of it, is a devastating blow to a woman who has lost her husband, her sons, her other adopted children, and her best friend. and, with the loss of her ship, is now essentially stranded on earth.
turtle mutants
despite maximus having killed off most turtle mutants, cassandra was able to save three, and keeps them hidden from the rest of the world for fear that word would get back to maximus. their names are cosimo, jean, and paolo, and cassandra loves them very much.
how cassandra is able to care for the mutants she takes in
it took cassandra over six months to completely repurpose her ship into the mobile fortress. and when i say mobile fortress..i do mean mobile fortress. her ship was designed to comfortably fit crews of 50+ grown capellans, so the mobile fortress is h u g e.
now, the only town near paola’s cabin is an itty bitty town, and it wouldn’t be too far-fetched to say they all either died or became feral mutants. cassandra essentially looted the entire town and stocked up her fortress. she usually scavenged the shit out of wherever she goes- and that works, but she’s well aware that it’s not sustainable.
she starts a garden in the mobile fortress, and has the kids help her take care of it. i was wondering about what they’d do for meat considering most if not all animals were mutated and i’m going with : not everyone became sentient. some just got huge and that’s it.
it’s not like cassandra said “fuck you” to all the adults- she did take in confused and disorientated adults ( i mean everyone was confused and disoriented but You Know What I Mean). so long as they helped, they were welcome. but cassandra’s main priority is these kids.
ANYWAY. MY POINT BEING: at first, cassandra had the mutants that knew how to hunt, either from human life or from being a predator animal, hunt for meat for the rest of the group. and cassandra also has these adults help take care of the kids- the LAST thing cassandra wants is kids having to raise other kids. she wants to give them some semblance of a childhood.
in summary!
cassandra stocked up on food early on and continues to scavenge wherever possible
she started a rather large garden in the fortress
she has the adults that can hunt do so to get meat for the group
yeah basically it’s like a tribe of a mishmash of mutants
mutant kids growing up and cassandra’s role as ‘goddess’
as the kids grow up, they are given the option to leave, of course, but few want to, mostly because..you know, it’s the apocalypse. so over the years, the children that have grown up have built their own vehicles and basically created this…fleet that goes everywhere with the mobile fortress.
as for what they do when attacked…well, the fortress certainly isn’t defenseless, and neither are the, uh, mini-fortresses that travel with it. in fact, most people know to just fuck off and not bother cassandra’s tribe…which is in part also due to the myth and mystery surrounding her.
cassandra reveals to very, very few people that she’s an alien, and…doesn’t discourage people thinking she’s some sort of mother goddess.
the main belief is that cassandra was created as a result of the m-bomb, and ascended to become a fire wielding, clairvoyant mother goddess. only a select few are privy to cassandra’s actual life story.
some tribes do worship cassandra, which…is extremely uncomfortable for her. she can’t stand it. but it’s far safer and better for her children if she plays this part out. she ESPECIALLY plays up the goddess aspect in an au where there’s a fragment of atlas left inside her, since she will live for centuries and whatnot.
one unfortunate side effect is that parents will sometimes leave their children in the desert at night if they can’t take care of them, completely believing that the goddess will come take them into her care.
not long after this started, cassandra visited the tribes doing this and said that they could only do this on certain dates- that, powerful as she was, she could not be everywhere at once. now, on those dates, cassandra and a small number of her inner circle go out with her to find these children.
short list of the mutants cassandra’s taken in
patches, a mutated kitten and a former pet. the first mutant cassandra takes in. patches is mutated to be roughly 8 years old and grows up to be cassandra’s right hand woman.
peaches, a parakeet who joins her on the way out of new york city. she’s roughly 15 after mutation and wears an aviator’s cap she found
cosimo, paolo, and jean, a trio of turtle mutants who were left in the desert for cassandra to take into her care, because the tribe knew maximus was coming. cassandra does admittedly favor these three, and names them after renaissance artists. 
paolo is partially named after paola though.
jean is also partially named after joan of arc  (jeanne d’arc)
cassandra picked cosimo because it looks like cosmos
patches
patches, an orange tabby kitten, didn’t know what to do when her human family was mutated. but she did remember the parents of her owner, a little boy named francis, talking about what francis should do in an emergency. so, patches searched for days for a human adult when she finally stumbled on a tall, blonde haired woman who was frantically searching through the rubble.
patches stopped the human, and asked her, if she would, please come help her family. they were all strange looking now, and wouldn’t move no matter what she did. the human looked distraught- and for a moment, patches was certain that she was going to say no. but the human came with her anyway, all the way back to their tiny apartment.
when the woman, who eventually revealed that her name was cassandra, saw patches’s family, she immediately looked sad. patches didn’t understand it at first- didn’t understand what “dead” meant, didn’t understand why her family wouldn’t wake up.
cassandra was so patient with her, even when patches began to understand and started sobbing into her shirt. when patches had calmed down, cassandra offered to take care of patches from now on, if she wanted. the kitten had nowhere else to go, knew no one else…of course she said yes.
over days, then months, then years, patches grew to be a strong, competent young woman, who never forget her first human family, but swore to protect her mishmashed mutant one.
the night of the goddess’ children
the night where tribes will leave the children for cassandra to take into her care is formally called the night of the goddess’ children.
cassandra, having been abandoned and given the -ndra suffix on capella herself, wants these children to feel loved and accepted from the moment they board the mobile fortress. that’s why they have something akin to a birthday party awaiting the new children when they come back. no one outside cassandra’s tribe knows about it, so it’s a surprise party, and it’s always a lot of fun
the m bomb
cassandra honest to god thought that the m-bomb was gonna be no big deal. they’d been through so much, so many world ending threats and come out on top almost every time. she was blinded by her confidence in her boys, and when the bomb did drop? it was like the ground gave way underneath her. for a long time, she wondered when she was going to wake up from this nightmare. when splinter was going to shake her awake and reveal everything - splinter’s death, the m-bomb, her boys going missing- it was all a bad dream. a possible future, yes, but one she could work around.
sometimes she’ll still get that feeling of it all being a dream.
hellion
hellion only adopts like 7 kids but she has an army of like 70 extremely dangerous mutants who tried to kill her and joined her after she beat the shit out of them. they protect the wasteland as best they can, frequently going up against maximus kong’s underlings. her army loves how nuts she is, doing shit like taking on huge armies all at once and by herself, challenging maximus kong in front of his rig, with no escape plan, and in general throwing herself into ultra dangerous situations.
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popliar · 7 years ago
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quick thoughts on the bts spotify mixtapes - part ii
Previously on BTS mixtapes… 
And here I am back again with some more nonsense thoughts on the updated BTS Spotify playlists.
Jungkook showing character development, yeahhh. This is still the softest playlist of the lot and personally it's not what I'm into, but compare it to his previous (not bad, but overlong and samey-sounding) one - look at this growth, look at this near-adherence to the form, look at how far he's come! This self-improvement meta-narrative is very JK and I'm into it. Also way to go including your new bros Khalid and Marshmello.
Jungkook: I am Listening to It Right Now [M] Sunburn - DROELOE - Sunburn Leaving - Illenium - Awake Beautiful Creatures (feat. MAX) - Illenium, MAX - Awake Bedroom Floor - Liam Payne - Bedroom Floor do re mi - blackbear - digital druglord I Miss You (feat. Julia Michaels) - Clean Bandit, Julia Michaels - I Miss You (feat. Julia Michaels) New - Daya - New Silence - Marshmello, Khalid - Silence Crime (with Skott) - Grey, Skott - Chameleon Wolves - Selena Gomez, Marshmello - Wolves
Jin’s is once again the most middle of the road. I think it's too harsh to say it's actually bad - yeah there's some meh, but there’s some great songs on here. Like I'd probably put Humble on my own playlist for 2017, despite it being too obvious, because sometimes the obvious is just the right thing, you know? The problem is there’s too much of that - I can't endorse this because it's all so safe. And for goodness' sake, Black Skinhead and Rap God were on his PREVIOUS playlist too, that's not on bro! (Gotta respect the perfectly in-character self-promo tho. You do you, bb!)
Jin's GA CHI DEUL EUL LAE? [I] Best of Me - BTS - Love Yourself: Her Work Hard, Play Hard - Wiz Khalifa - O.N.I.F.C. Black Skinhead - Kanye West - Yeezus Rap God - Eminem - The Marshall Mathers LP2 HUMBLE. - Kendrick Lamar - DAMN. Mercy - Shawn Mendes - Illuminate (Deluxe) 7 Years - Lukas Graham - Lukas Graham Strip That Down - Liam Payne, Quavo - Strip That Down Bad and Boujee (feat. Lil Uzi Vert) - Migos, Lil Uzi Vert - Culture Chandelier - Sia - 1000 Forms of Fear
Jimin - Oh my god Jimin what are you -- How are you -- Why???? Last time you were fine and this time it's like????? IDK????? [speechless for several minutes] If this reminds me of anything, it's the quote from Catch-22 about the man named Major who could've named his child Drum Major, Minor Major, Sergeant Major, or C Sharp Major, but instead went for Major Major Major. Well I think Jimin went full Major Major Major and I'm weeping.
Jimin’s Joah? JOAH! [C] Save Me - BTS - The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Young Forever Not Today - BTS - You Never Walk Alone No Limit - Usher, Young Thug - Hard II Love I Need A Girl - Trey Songz - Ready (international) Best of Me - BTS - Love Yourself: Her I Don't Wanna Life Forever (Fifty Shades Darker) - Zayn, Taylor Swift - Fifty Shades Darker Say It - Tory Lanez - I Told You Outro: Her - BTS - Love Yourself: Her Intro: Serendipity - BTS - Love Yourself: Her Young - The Chainsmokers - Memories...Do Not Open
Suga - After the disaster of Jimin's, I nearly cried with relief. A very solid playlist! Rap fan Yoongi COMING THRU AGAIN with something focused, succinct, and on theme. An enjoyable mixtape, would hit repeat. (Do you think Hobi was mad he sniped Gucci Gang?) (Do you think Namjoon was mad he sniped Havana?)
Suga's Hip-Hop Replay [D] goosebumps - Travis Scott - Birds in the Trap Sing McKnight Havana - Camila Cabello, Young Thug - Havana Diego - Tory Lanez - Diego Gucci Gang - Lil Pump - Lil Pump rockstar - Post Malone, 21 Savage - rockstar Unforgettable - French Montana, Swae Lee - Jungle Rules The Don - Nas - Life is Good Ali Bomaye - The Game, 2 Chainz, Rick Ross - Jesus Piece What You Know - T.I. - King
RM - NAMJOOOOOOON wow wow wow. This is it. This is #peak mixtape. Look at this handsome nerd's great taste! This is eclectic and personal and it WORKS. His first mixtape was good but this is BETTER, tighter and more focused while not losing his individuality. I like the inclusion of Kendrick's DNA which is both entirely in keeping with his hiphop tastes but also works like a little inside joke; I'm very into the 2Pac and Eminem, both songs I loved so much when I was younger; and I'm emotional about Dead! Also the inclusion of MCR and Lil Peep make me think that I'm not imagining the emo/post-punk influence on "Sea" and I'm into it. tl;dr I love this mixtape and I love RM.
RM's Heavy Rotations [R] Ghostface Killers - 21 Savage, Offset, Metro Boomin, Travis Scott - Without Warning No No No - GASHI - No No No Havana - Camila Cabello, Young Thug - Havana Dead! - My Chemical Romance - The Black Parade Lose Yourself - Eminem - Curtain Call September - Earth, Wind & Fire - The Eternal Dance DNA. - Kendrick Lamar - DAMN. Awful Things - Lil Peep, Lil Tracy - Come Over When You're Sober, Pt. 1 Stay (with Alessia Cara) - Zedd, Alessia Cara - Stay California Love - 2Pac, Roger, Dr Dre - 2Pac Greatest Hits
J-Hope - Ooh, this feels very Jay-Hope! Quality-wise this feels on par with Yoongi's, and like Yoongi's I'd say it's a bit less personal and more consciously thematic. I kinda miss the quirkiness of his previous playlist, but this is a good mix anyway and I'd play this at your summer party. (If this is a pointer towards what hixxtape will sound like then… I'm ready.)
J-Hope's JAM [O] Drop It Like It's Hot - Snoop Dogg, Pharrell Williams - R&G (Rhythm & Gangsta): The Masterpiece Gucci Gang - Lil Pump - Lil Pump B Boy (feat. Big Sean & A$AP Ferg) - Meek Mill, Big Sean, A$AP Ferg - Dream Chaser 4 GUMMY - BROCKHAMPTON - SATURATION II Energy - Drake - If You're Reading This It's Too Late Kokamoe Freestyle - GoldLink - At What Cost Los Awesome - ScHoolboy Q, Jay Rock - Oxymoron All Hands on Deck - Tinashe - Aquarius ROCKABYE BABY (feat. ScHoolboy Q) - Joey Bada$$, ScHoolboy Q - ALL-AMERIKKAN BADA$$
V - Look, I remember the previous one (AND HOW), so this - this is fine. I'll fucking take it.
V's Join Me [P] Every Kind of Way - H.E.R. - H.E.R. Volume 2 Get You (feat. Kali Uchis) - Daniel Caesar, Kali Uchis - Freudian Best Part (feat. H.E.R.) - Daniel Caesar, Kali Uchis - Freudian I Am A Fool To Want You - Chet Baker - Finest Blue room - Chet Baker - Touch of Your Lips I've Never Been In Love Before (vocal) - Chet Baker - Chet Baker Sings Lullaby of Birdland - Sarah Vaughan - Sarah Vaughan A Kiss To Build A Dream On - Louis Armstrong - Hello, Dolly! Hello in There - Joan Baez - Diamonds & Rust Motorsport - Migos, Nicki Minaj, Cardi B - Motorsport
In conclusion: rap line slays again, with the greatest of ease, and Namjoon is clearly the MVP. 
I know it's not a competition but I find it pretty interesting that rap line came up with 3 very good mixtapes, which perfectly adhere to the rules; and vocal line (minus JK) just… did their own post-mixtape thing. By 'post-mixtape' I mean, we're not limited anymore by format and time, or access to material, thanks to digital formats and streaming libraries. Vocal line reflects that freedom, with all the good and bad that comes with it - whereas rap line shows what you can do, how you can be creative within the restriction of the form.
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stevedonnellyfaith-blog · 5 years ago
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An Abnormal Job Search (Post 79) 3-11-15
The Friday before last my job search took an unexpected turn as my employer offered me a severance package, which I accepted.  It has been a difficult workplace since last August when the plant manager resigned and was initially not replaced, then later replaced by a contract employee. The plant performance began to drift and communication has remained poor.  I was distracted by Nicholas’ health issues and couldn’t seem to find the right recipe for our team’s success.  My employer came to the same conclusion and we parted ways amicably.
Their decision came at an opportune time for our family as Nick’s health is now good.  His doctors have told him to return to normal life. I had already made the decision to look for another job as my current work hours and conditions would not have cooperated with Natalie’s return at the end of the summer.  I had been praying for help in finding a new position. God answered my prayers with an intensity that surprised and disconcerted me.
Job loss triggered an emotional jambalaya of fear, confusion, depression, relief and embarrassment.  I had not been unemployed since I resigned my military commission and entered the private sector decades ago.  As plant superintendent, I had done all the hiring for the plant last year, so I had interviewed close to a hundred unemployed people recently.  Now I knew I would be in the candidate’s chair across the interview table, an uncomfortable thought.
The strangest emotions in the stew were relief and peace. I had evidently been carrying a heavy burden of worry about both the overall plant performance and each individual detail for which I had been responsible.  If you notice a knock in your car’s engine and your tires are bald, driving can become a stressful experience … until your vehicle is totaled.  Other worries invade, but the burdens about the engine knock and bald tires are suddenly released and there is a peaceful feeling too. I felt an almost disconcerting feeling of peace during my exit interview.  I knew at that moment that the work I had done at the plant was completed and no further adjustments, phone calls, calculations or discussions would be required or desired.  It was done. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief and then all the other bad emotions began a fist fight in my stomach.
The interview process has been up and down over the last week.  I had two interviews for consultant jobs that don’t look like they are a fit for me.  They were both very similar to work that I had done in my previous position, but I was unable to convince either potential employer that I actually enjoy flying around the country to interact with clients.  Doing the actual work would have been fine, I am sure, but considering the hotel rooms and car travel gave me an empty feeling … kind of the same feeling that I had been suffering with during my year as plant superintendent.  Still, having interviews not work out is disheartening even when it is for the best.
Part of my issue seemed to be a prayer that I had offered back in February when I was on vacation in Ohio.  I knew then that I would be seeking greener pastures, but I was worried that I might make the wrong decision.  I prayed that Jesus would select the opportunity for me that would best fit my needs.  I prayed that he would prevent me from being offered any job that wasn’t the best one so that I wasn’t tempted by pride or the chance to amass material possessions. Essentially, I asked him to lock all the doors but the one He selected for me.  It seemed at the time to be a safe strategy because I already had a good job. I wanted to make sure that if I chose to leave my employer, it would only be for the right opportunity.
Retrospectively, praying for a chorus of slamming doors seems to have been a pretty ill-advised prayer strategy.  I expected to reach for Jesus’s hand from safely inside the boat, but instead, my shipmates unexpectedly tossed me overboard.  Now I would really like for Jesus to give me a hand, really soon if he can oblige.  Did I say that I could use a hand from Jesus?  I imagine that Peter felt pretty nervous when the waves reached his armpits. I definitely would not have climbed out of the boat myself, but I believe that Jesus intends something good for me that requires this particular experience.  Endure it I will.
The job search continues to be the oddest I have ever experienced.  One of the potential employers is a company that I have an odd connection to.  Here is the story:
The group of consultants that I was working with about four years ago knew that I was interested in moving back to Ohio if an opportunity presented itself.  Whenever they would run across something that they thought I could do, they would give me a call.  One of the consultants named Jonathan had a distinctly British accent, because he was, in fact, British.  One day on my commute home I thought I heard him call Catholic Answers Live and ask a question.  It surprised me that a British Jonathan might have been the first caller I ever recognized on a Catholic Answers – I expected to hear Rene Solorzano, Rudy Adames, or another one of the Men of St Joseph.
Anyway, in the same time period Pam was having trouble with her chemo and difficulty sleeping.  She was waking up each night at about 4 AM after dreaming vividly about, Jesus, Mary or purgatory.  I was on my commute by that time, so she would call me on the phone and relay her nightly dream.  They were puzzling and I looked forward to them.  Usually they involved her being asked to pray for some unknown person who had been robbed, shamed or killed.  I would often arrive at work and later discover another staff member had been robbed during the night or had a family member die.  It was oddly coincidental how Pam’s dream would predict some circumstance that I would later discover.
This went on for several weeks, until finally Pam called me with a dream so odd that I couldn’t puzzle through it at all.  She said that I was supposed to go to Ohio to help a man with his pool and that another man needed help with his roof and windows.  I was disappointed.  Her dreams had seemed to be leading me towards opportunities to pray for my coworkers who needed help.  This one just seemed silly.
I arrived at work and noticed an email from Jonathan the British guy asking me to give him a call. I usually would have put off calling him until later, but I wanted to ask him about whether he had called Catholic Answers.  I picked up the phone and dialed his number on the east coast.  “No,” Jonathan informed me, I had heard a different British bloke.  Jonathan was not a Catholic.  I was disappointed for a second time that morning.
Jonathan then went on to explain that he had called about two companies in Ohio that might be a fit for me: one was a small manufacturer of pool products and the other company was maker of roofing material and windows.  I was stunned.  I expressed my appreciation to Jonathan and explained that my wife had a serious medical condition that would prevent me from interviewing for the foreseeable future. We hung up.  
I put my head down on my desk and teared up.  Jonathan had described two opportunities to me that perfectly matched the puzzling dream that Pam had described not two hours earlier.  Yet, I was in a situation where I could not act on her dream. Still, the match between the dream and the phone call was too close; coincidence was not a possibility.  I had been communicated to in such a way that could serve no purpose other than to emphatically confirm for me that God exists. That confirmation was very helpful on the journey that I still had ahead of me.
Within two months of the phone call, Pam would suffer a stroke during her second brain surgery.  After the operation, she needed extensive rehab and something in her spiritual consciousness shifted.  Pam’s morning dreams ceased, and she instead developed a fascination with the television show Big Bang Theory. Life changes that way. I got no more looks into the mystical universe, but Sheldon was pretty funny.  Pam passed away about six months after her second craniotomy as her tumor grew back unchecked.
We flew Pam’s remains for burial in Maryland, where my journey began with her.  I was surprised at who attended the service.  While we were dating, Pam and I had had a falling out with the couple, Jim and Joan, who introduced us.  We reconciled with them after about a decade later, but were never as close.  They attended the service. Joan died two months later of a brain tumor.
Terry, my oldest friend from childhood, also showed up.  He was in our wedding party, and then fell off the face of the earth. He drove down in the middle of the night to attend the funeral and surprised us.  Nobody recognized him after a quarter century. His father had died of a brain tumor when we were about ten years old.  Pam’s death brought the pain back for him, but it reignited our friendship as well.  
We got together several months later when I dropped Natalie off for the summer.  He hadn’t been to my folk’s house in 23 years.  We watched the Indians play and talked about our lives. He mentioned his employer and my jaw hit the floor.  Terry worked for the pool manufacturer from Jonathan’s call and Pam’s dream.  Life is funny that way.  Terry began to text me late at night when he was feeling down.
Life got pretty busy again with Stephen and then Nick’s illnesses.  I made a few trips East but didn’t run into Terry.  Finally, when Nick got healthy again, I was ready to find a new job.  I started lining things up including two interviews with consultants that were interested in my background.  Neither one would get me to Ohio but each would get me away from the bad work situation I was in.  Maybe Jesus’s path included a way station on the way to wherever I was headed.
Then Terry texted me in the middle of the workday which he had never done. He had noticed that his company was trying to hire for the position in which I am most comfortable and for which I am most qualified.  Did I have a resume?  I forwarded mine immediately, but was sort of disappointed.  I was sure the opportunity would come to fruition after I would already have other offers.  I didn’t think I could turn down an opportunity to safely escape the bad employment situation that I was currently enduring.  Shortly, thereafter I was called to the Plant Manger’s office and let go.
All in all, my situation is very strange.  Whenever I am waiting for news from one of my interviews, I hear from Terry’s company instead.  Things move forward in that one direction and backward with regard to all other opportunities.  Terry’s boss is flying me out on Saturday for a week get a feel for their business. There is a portion of my personality in open rebellion against anything with the aroma of good news, but it is the company from Pam’s dream.  In a way the whole situation appears to have climbed out of the pages of a Narnia book. Still, the question remains:  do I trust and submit to Jesus?  Yes, I think I do.
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Note to the young – this is not how normal job searches work.
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hermanwatts · 5 years ago
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Sensor Sweep: Dragon Awards, Conan and the Living Plague, Atari, Farmer in the Sky, Obscure RPG
Conventions (PulpFest): PulpFest has become a top venue for writers and publishers to roll out their newest titles. Following are some of the books that will be premiering at our 2019 convention . . .
Age of Aces Books is a publisher of pulp fiction treasures with a keen eye for design. At this year’s PulpFest, Chris and David Kalb will be releasing two thrilling collections from the tattered pages of the air war pulps.
  Pulp Fiction (DMR Books): The sixth installment in the serialized version of Tros of Samothrace is titled “The Dancing Girl of Gades” and consists of what would become chapters 67 – 81 of the novel published in 1934. Set in the late spring of the year 54 B.C., this story tells of the aftermath of Julius Caesar’s first invasion of Britain and was first published in the December 10th 1925 issue of Adventure magazine.
  Awards (Larry Correia): One awesome thing about the Dragon Awards is that they are an actual popularity contest for all of fandom. They want authors to spread the word and get their fans excited. DragonCon wants as many fans as possible involved and participating. So please tell your friends. They aren’t an elitist clique, and one look at this list of nominees demonstrates that they are actually inclusive, with big names, new names, large publishing houses, small houses, indy, and everything in between.
    Conan (Rough Edges): John C. Hocking is the author of CONAN AND THE EMERALD LOTUS, a novel which is widely regarded as the best of the Conan pastiches published by Tor in the Eighties and Nineties. I finally got around to reading it several years ago and agree that it’s easily the best of those pastiches. Hocking wrote a sequel to that book called CONAN AND THE LIVING PLAGUE, but unfortunately, Tor cancelled the Conan pastiche program and Hocking’s second novel was left languishing in limbo.
      Fiction (DMR Books): Coming hot on the heels of the action-packed sword and sorcery anthology Death Dealers & Diabolists is its companion volume, Warlords, Warlocks & Witches. Like its predecessor, WW&W contains eight tales of magic and mayhem.
            Fiction (Peter Grant): A year or so ago, I was pondering the idea of writing another fantasy novel. I mulled over several potential scenarios, plots, and so on, but couldn’t find one that really caught my imagination. Then, one night, I woke up unexpectedly in the small hours of the morning, thinking, “What would the Middle East have been like if Mohammed had never lived, and Islam had never arisen?”
  Culture Wars (Jon del Arroz): Over the weekend, I was pronounced banned from SFWA, an act which is both a heavy blow to me as a professional writer trying to make a name for myself, and an atrocious act as standards are applied to me, a Hispanic author, which are not applied to many of their white members.
  Edgar Rice Burroughs (Recoverings): In September, after Bandit came out, McClurg forwarded Ed a letter from the prestigious agricultural magazine The Country Gentleman,owned by Curtis Publishing Company. Curtis had Ladies Home Journal and The Saturday Evening Post,magazines firmly in the “slick” category of the newsstand. Ed had long hoped to make a sale in that market, a lot more lucrative than the pulps. This could be his chance.
  Robert Heinlein (Tip the Wink): This, the fourth of Heinlein’s YA (juvenile) novels, is about a teenaged boy and his family who emigrates to Jupiter’s moon Ganymede, which is in the process of being terraformed. A condensed version of the novel was published in serial form in Boys’ Lifemagazine (August, September, October, November 1950), under the title “Satellite Scout”. The novel was awarded a Retro Hugo in 2001.
      Art (Don Herron): Gallery of Paul Stahr art.
          Comic Books (Paint the Monk): When confronted with adapting this to comics, Thomas chose to expand the story, developing the background characters and bringing the crew of the Tigress to life. It was an ambitious move, made all the more real by John Buscema and Ernie Chan’s dynamic illustrations.
      Pulp Fiction (M Porcius): One of the first hardcover SF books, a volume printed before the Campbellian revolution and the publication of the first SF stories by Robert Heinlein, Isaac Asimov and A. E. van Vogt in 1939, was the 1936 Edmond Hamilton collection The Horror on the Asteroid.  The Horror on the Asteroid contains six stories first published in Weird Tales, Wonder Stories, and Astounding.
        Gaming (Future War Stories): A few days ago, a video popped up on my YouTube feed concerning the failed 8-bit ATARI 7800 and a connection between it and a well-known military sci-fi franchise: Battlestar Galactica. While there are other 8-bit system are far more worshiped and discussed than the failed and forgotten 7800 system in the retrogaming community, it was important to me. That is because I was one of those kids that got a ATARI 7800 over the beloved Nintendo Entertainment System…yeah…that was a good decision by the 10 year old me. For those who do not know, the ATARI 7800 Prosystem was the iconic ATARI company’s second-to-last great attempt at recapturing the home video market back in 1983 when the “ATARI 3800” project was undertaken.
  RPG (Swords and Stitchery): Conan always seems to get more attention then Kull in my humble opinion but Kull has a charm all his own in the annals of Sword and Sorcery. There is lots to use including the best depictions of the serpent men outside of their mention in Lovecraft. Then there is the entire depiction of Kull’s Atlantis and all of its environs.
  RPG (Goblin Stomper): he idea, I think, is that the RPG is ultimately about the long game.  Even rolling back to the early days of Basic & Expert, the goal of the player was to keep the character alive for as long as possible.  For many DM’s, new and old, it’s tough to keep a game on track in order to fulfill this desire.  With character death hanging over the party like a never-ending storm cloud, getting the player character to the next adventure was (and is) key.
  Cinema (Brain Leakage): The film opens on a desert vista, with a rough-looking group of wanderers approaching a small town. These wanderers are Juggers, players of a savage sport known only as The Game. At their head is veteran player Sallow (Hauer).
Excitement in the village mounts at the strangers’ arrival. The local team of Juggers quickly assembles, prepared to play off against the newcomers. The rest of the villagers gather to watch. Among the observers is Kidda (Joan Chen), a talented and eager young player who apparently serves as part of her home team’s second string.
  RPG (RPG Confessions): As a first generation gamer, I didn’t know how good I had it. Especially since I didn’t have ready access to Lake Geneva, WI, or GenCon, or even the means to do that if I were so inclined. Later, in my late teens, I finally went to a convention by just, you know, going. But in the early 1980s, there wasn’t a map for me to follow. There were two areas of the gaming world; over there, where all of the good stuff was happening; and right here, in Abilene, Texas, which was the middle of By God Nowhere.
  RPG/Culture Wars (Breitbart.com): A professor of education at Stanford University argues in a recent academic journal article that the tabletop game Dungeons & Dragons perpetuates white privilege.
Standford University Professor Antero Garcia argues in an academic journal article that the popular game Dungeons and Dragons perpetuates systems of privilege.
  Sensor Sweep: Dragon Awards, Conan and the Living Plague, Atari, Farmer in the Sky, Obscure RPG published first on https://sixchexus.weebly.com/
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