#more à la classical music I think but I don’t know enough about classical music to say for sure

[purecommemasolitude]

Asian Paul is such a fun thing to think about for me because I personally am not secured to one version of him and there’s so little on him in regards to race in canon because he’s written as white. So I am truly out here doing Variations on Asian Paul à la classical music à la ballet. Infinite possibilities baby

[esotericerise]

𝐈𝐓𝐙𝐘 있지 <𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄>

Music taste is subjective and my opinions are my own! You do not have to agree with anything that I say.

“put my sneakers on; 하나, 둘, ready, get set, go”

This entire EP is classically ITZY in a tween-ish, speak-sing, polarizing way. 

01. SNEAKERS ☆

The point about this title track being a sneaker advertisement material has already been said and will likely be run into the ground soon enough.

One of my problems with the track is its intensity. After listening to it a few times through, I can say that the song feels flat to me; the attempts to slow down and speed up and add momentum are ineffective. From start to finish, SNEAKERS is running but the path is so flat, it’s a little painful. For a song to stay around the same intensity, it has to be interesting on another front. Take aespa’s Next Level: they play with the idea of song structure and verse. All of the patterns and beat changes, aside from the chorus, are never repeated. It redefines what a song’s structure consists of, while remaining a similar level of intensity throughout the entire piece. Is ITZY playing with anything particularly interesting? No. 

That being said, the girls flow really well on the song and the beat is bouncy and fun.  The prechorus is enjoyable! Though Yuna’s vocal on the final prechorus segment during the bridge is a little painful, every other vocal part is fine. I don’t think I’ll give it a casual listen, though.

02. RAC3R

I do like this one better than SNEAKERS but even with its audibly offensive drop instrumental (à la 4th gen noise music samples) it struggles to do anything inventive or new. That’s okay though! If someone enjoys this and streams or buys it, then it has completed its goal of commercial music. The verses and prechoruses are quite good, a little reminiscent of Bring the Noize by NCT 127 but without its digital feel and enjoyable chorus. I can’t listen to whatever sound that is in the chorus several times over just for the verses though, but if you can, power to you. 

03. WHAT I WANT

This does the 180 degree reversal better than RAC3R does by a long shot. I actually was reminded of CLC’s I Like It a lot with the way it changes from a more hip, dark, trap verse to a lighter, sweeter prechorus, which then returns to its original state. During that prechorus though, I feel like they’re a little out of their comfortable singing range. It’s very girlboss runway VOGUE fashion but also definitely ITZY. 

04. FREE FALL

The verses were fine... but the “weee” is so unserious I don’t know if I can listen to the song with a clear conscience.  The release of the chorus does give the feel of a free fall, especially because of the heaviness of the beat behind the regular verses. I do like the little ITZY chant before the pre-chorus. My mind was blown! By the fact that with their big-budget JYP lyricists, we got a math lyric. I knew we were camping out in the teen sound, but to mention high school math and/or physics? A little too far, in my opinion. 

05. 365

Not even five seconds in and immediately: I know this one. It’s Earthquake by NCT 127. The verses are kinda brain-grating annoying with the metallic, abrasive instrumental. Also, according to Genius, the lyric is “tick-tock, it's time” but in my head, they are referring to the app and I cannot get behind that. This is reinforced by the fact that it is preceded by “Five, five to midnight” and in my head, that’s when teens are stapled to the app. Even without that, I just can’t find the song enjoyable. In the same vein as SNEAKERS, 365 is rather monotone.

06. DOMINO

This song is airy, and reminiscent of a late night summer car drive. Not what I expected from ITZY, even though this song isn’t really that slow or ballad-esque. That being said, nothing about it is very ITZY; it’s generic. Every other song I could probably come to the conclusion through the production that it was made for this group. I can’t say the same for this song. It’s not bad though. 

07. SNEAKERS (Eng. Ver.)

I have the feeling that this song was first written in English. Everything I said about the Korean version applies here. It’s only mildly cringy lyrically, though I wouldn’t listen to it over the Korean version because my lack of understanding allows me to be free of lines like “I'm fly to be straight up” and “Trailer's got you pumped”. (The latter is confusing because what trailers are we referring to? Did you mean trainers? Did you mean the CHECKMATE fake-out teasers?)

Overall, this EP feels like a regression in the quality of ITZY’s music. That take is completely subjective, by the way, but I find that LOCO and its b-sides were enjoyable while still having that ITZY feel to them. This one takes it in a different direction that feels more juvenile than anything else they have come out with and their b-side catalog is still stagnant in quality; that is to say it has one or two good songs for every five. That is not the best ratio. If I had to give SNEAKERS a numerical rating, I’d probably give it a 5/10. Average, at best. For the entire CHECKMATE EP, probably a 4/10 because I only enjoyed 2 b-sides, and even those felt like I was on the struggle bus. 

[rumandtimes]

Does Cultural Appropriation Apply to Natalie Portman?

Sean Ezersky

Assoc. Fantasy Contributor

Does appropriation apply to the worst parts of European cultures?

Today, I want to discuss cultural appropriation. Yes, the issue of the times. But what exactly is cultural appropriation? Well, nobody knows. Starting at the first word, it claims to be some kind of appropriation. And it has something to do with culture.

Firstly, it should be said that this article has nothing to actually do with cultural appropriation. That is because cultural appropriation is essentially defined by racism. The term first appears, so it goes, as a description of how racist citizens of England marginalised and exploited the peoples of the Caribbean, and attacked sections of the working class schtick, for fun. Sounds evil enough.

The term cultural appropriation cannot be used as a mild term or played around with much, because it is by definition a form of misconduct. The term cultural appropriation is defined by the words “inappropriate,” “racist,” and “commercialist.” There is no redeeming quality to cultural appropriation because cultural appropriation is used to describe exclusively irredeemable activity, markedly opposite to cultural exchange or respect.

Consider the worst perpetrator in the United Kingdom and the United States: hip-hop / rap music, curly hair, or a summer tan. Racists always attack these music genres and human characteristics un-European, placing them into the same box on the fringes of their minds, but at the same time view themselves as ‘cultured’ for dipping into the same music, view themselves as ‘interesting’ for factory curling their hair, or view themselves as ‘unique’ for getting a spray-on tan. There is a murderous and delirious sense of bad irony, that racists altogether marginalise, demonise, and lust after perfectly normal traits and human practices, which the racist calls exotic, for fear of being labelled as freaks themselves. That is cultural appropriation.

Another bad actor is the billion-dollar yoga industry in Western nations as well, which attempts at every corner to steal Indian culture then mutilate the original concept, taking the yoga gurus off the cover and planting in some body-bleaching whores, or some wavy Italian guy, to appeal to the racist American, à la youth female target audience. All the while, Hinduism, inextricable from yoga’s origins while not necessarily the same as yoga in any way, is viewed as a false and inexpiable religion by most people in the West. Yoga was not learned from the Hindu, it was looted, and replaced with a shallow, cruel, commercial, and disgraceful attempt to Europeanise and trivialise the hobby while selling it the crude sex markets. That is a form of cultural genocide and religion-sacking. That is cultural appropriation.

But this article is not about cultural appropriation, in a way. The distinction was only added to please those offended by the comparison. This article is about movies, as part of a series of Star Wars critiques, and it’s about Natalie Portman.

Long have I harboured a question about Natalie Portman’s career, as it is so vapid yet so prolific, so vain yet so ubiquitous. This is just the opportunity. Natalie Portman got her start in acting as a 16-year-old leading actress on Star Wars: The Phantom Menace. She returned three years later as a 19-year-old lead on Star Wars: Attack of the Clones, where her character dies. After moving on from the Star Wars prequels, she used that resume to enrol at Harvard University to study psychology.

She has actually commented on this, as all Harvard associates eventually do, saying she and her peers felt she was only enrolled because she was in Star Wars, and this insecurity led her to push harder than her friends in her classes and challenge herself by picking ‘harder-than-necessary’ classes. Still, psychology is the most common undergraduate degree major among women, so hardly original. Whether or not Natalie invites the assessment or feels it is correct, this is undoubtedly true; She, as most people, never would have been looked at by Harvard if she did not have some kind of bank of riches or wealth of limelight that could be mined by the admissions board. Natalie might want to be viewed as a genius of “Hebrew literature” who stood out among the crowd, but that is just impossible parlour speak. Not that she deserves to go to Harvard any less than anyone else, no one deserves to go to Harvard, as Harvard in the 20th Century existed for the sole purpose of excluding people who were not rich, famous, or connected: not academics, so Natalie’s lie to herself merely parrots Harvard’s lie to the world.

But I want to go back just a second. Yes, Natalie Portman said she studied Hebrew at Harvard, even if not intensely enough to double-major in it. That is because her name is not actually Natalie Portman. Her name is Neta-Li Herschlag, and she is Jewish. So, studying Hebrew isn’t impressive knowing she speaks fluent Hebrew at home. That is not to undermine literature, as English-speakers still study English literature, but it’s hardly extraordinary. Hershlag, as I will now be exclusively referring to her, is using her association to Harvard, Judaism, and other, lesser, things to seem smart, yet all of those were gifted to her by either birth or Star Wars.

Now comes the question of cultural appropriation. Neta-Li started her acting footprint as an understudy for the part of Elle Woods in Broadway plays. Yes, that Elle Woods, aside Britney Spears no less. It hardly seems like the right role for a good Jewish girl. But lo, there are some who might point out that Hershlag is an Ashkenazi, and therefore not actually Jewish, that is, not a Semitic person. This is a touchy subject for the Jewish community, particularly since the establishment of Israel: Who actually is Jewish, by means of ethnicity or heritage, and not just language and religion? Is there a meaningful distinction between the Semitic Jewish culture that remained in the Levant, the Sephardic Jewish culture that emigrated to Africa and Iberia, the Mizrahi Jewish culture in Iran and Arabia, the Yiddish Jewish culture that stuck around in Germany, and the Ashkenazi Jewish culture that settled Eastern Europe? Really, who knows, and that is a deeper question; a question, perhaps, for a student of Hebrew literature, wherever we should find one.

Nonetheless, Hershlag is most certainly not British. That Israeli-American nuance is fine for the world of “Naboo” in Star Wars, which ideally would defy every concept of the term “ethnicity,” but works less congruously for Elle Woods. In Star Wars, Hershlag was a doppelganger of Keira Knightly, a dyad which has persisted the entirety of Netali’s 30-year-long career. Here too, we find questions.

Netali gave an interview, which I discuss almost on a daily basis among my social circle, where she firmly wanted to establish herself as a kind of British legacy. She said, of herself, “I iron out my Jew curls” and bleaches/dyes her hair, for no particular reason other than she wants to, and thinks it will make her fit in. Netali also went on to say that no one has naturally yellow hair — which is true, they don’t — implying that a non-Jewish, European actress would not face the same questions about her hair she did. Because the concept of hair straightening and hair bleaching are Nazi holdovers in British and American culture, and as someone who personally hates Nazis, this endlessly infuriates me. All the more so because Hershlag identifies as Jewish!

If Hershlag thinks modifying her hair to make it look ‘more European,’ or, more correctly (since almost all young Europeans have brown hair), to make it look more Hitlerite, more ‘Arianised,’ is acceptable, then she must either view herself as European first and Jewish second, or just care very little about the legacy of antisemitic racism. Why else would a person who calls herself Jewish want to alter her appearance so drastically, in order to look like a posterchild for one of the Hitler Youth?

Many Jewish-Americans feel pressures of Nazi antisemitism and colonial racism in the United States, and many Ashkenazim respond to that by changing their names, Nazifying their looks, and abandoning the Jewish religion. Netali retains a veneer of her Jewishness on the inside, within her own self-perception, while turning into the Arianised version of the Elle Woods archetype on the outside, for the world to see. Is she just playing a part? Is there a real difference in the personality and values of Netali Hershlag vs. Natalie Portman?

People don’t treat her as such. Keira Knightly, for instance, is an Englishwoman. Knightly claims she is ‘British,’ not English, but she is definitely English. Intriguingly, Knightly never went to school, reportedly a dyslexic, while Hershlag, in the Jewish stereotype, went straight to Harvard College. I wouldn’t say Hershlag seems like a nice person, she seems like an ordinary person. Remember that she is part of the Star Wars pantheon of small-time actors who were lifted by George Lucas to notoriety, like Mark Hamill (despite him being my favourite Star Wars actor, I can never remember his name), Harrison Ford, and of course, Sir Alec Guinness CBE.

Jokes aside, with all the classically-trained, upper-class, heavy-hitters from Britain — Peter Cushing OBE, Sir Christopher Lee CBE, and Sir Alec — not to mention the affable nobodies from Hamill to Ford, most Star Wars people are considered likable, especially by fans of nerdom.

That is not to say anyone was struggling, as every lead character in Star Wars was already documented as rich and famous by the time they were cast, but they were “nobodies” in the sense they were not household names until after the film became one of the first Hollywood summer “blockbusters” in history.

Most of all, it is undeniable that, other than Lucas, no one defined the Star Wars films as much as Carrie Fisher, if not for a want of contrast. Fisher was the only female character in all three of the movies, and both the predecessor and counterpart to Hershlag’s character in the Star Wars prequels. Does Hershlag meet the comparison?

The two are very different, both personally and on-screen. Fisher at the age of 19 had sex with numerous middle-aged members of the cast, often the only female and only teenager in a room of dozens of men, forbidden to wear a bra or choose her own hairstyle but allowed to partake in the rumoured plethora of drugs on the set. Hershlag, part of Star Wars from 16 to 19, was entirely unremarkable, both in life and profession, not a very impressive actor or much of a hoot. Again, the good Jewish girl. Some blame Netali’s poorly role on the weakness of the prequels compared to the originals, just as some blame Carrie’s bipolar diagnosis for her eccentricity. Both of these are half-truths, as personality and talent can never be substituted for anything other than what they are. Nonetheless, Fisher and Hershlag were both made rich and famous. While Hershlag is the lesser in terms of her performance, she probably got in the end a much better long-term deal.

A boring role meant Netali would not be immediately typecast, though she went on to play exclusively the girl-next-door leading female interest for a male protagonist, much the same as in Star Wars: Episode II. Coming into acting younger meant she could largely leave acting after childhood, then return to it later as an adult experience. Moreover, we never got to see teenage Netali chained to a bed in a gold bikini.

Our good, Jewish girl.

So, if Hershlag is playing roles given mostly to British, or Hitlerite, actresses, is she not taking away from the British actor? There are too many actors in the world. They are overexposed and over paid, seen too much and given too much, as they are in the same camp as clowns, entertainers, and comedians. But, people like to be entertained, and in the world of capitalism where only money is worship in lapse of dignity, anything people like sells, and anything that sells can make people rich, and riches are a substitute for class, if only a thin one. Just as the weak-minded can be fooled by the Force, so are they easily bought and sold. The British or American actor suffers for nothing, and there are too many of them as it is.

But, does Hershlag have a place in displacing them, or moulding in to become one of them? And would it be cultural appropriation? Undeniably, Netali is conforming to something objectionable when she plays simple roles as sex objects and Hitlerite women, embracing if not embodying the racism and problematic nature of Hollywood casting. But then again, it is with her very body that she represents this trend. One could defend Hershlag, saying she is made to do these things, that she is not so much appropriating Western culture for her ends, but more so that Western culture is stifling her true self, at least if she wants to continue to have a role in acting.

An interesting counter-point, but undermined by Hershlag’s particular brand of coy self-promotion, and eagerness in taking on such roles. And are the Jewish people entirely exploited by Hollywood? In many respects, so-called Europeans are exploited by powerful Jewish moguls in media more often than the other way around, even if they are Jewish Europeans themselves. Harvey Weinstein, a Jewish millionaire who sexually assaulted non-Jewish Western women in order to get them roles, his Jewishness hardly made a ripple.

The biggest names in Hollywood: Steven Spielberg, Gwyneth Paltrow, Jerry Seinfeld, Paul Rudd, Marta Kauffman, J.J. Abrams, Scarlett Johansson, Harrison Ford, John Stewart, Louis Szekely, Mila Kunis, Daniel Radcliffe, Rachel Weisz, Gal Gadot, Roseanne Barr, Judd Apatow, Marcus Loew, Lauren Bacall, Adam Sandler, Amy Schumer, Larry David, Daniel Day-Lewis, Cassidy Freeman, Stanley Kubrick, Jennifer Connelly, Richard Dreyfuss, Samuel Goldwyn, Julia Garner, Elijah Allan-Blitz, Kirk Douglas, Ellen Barkin, Ingrid Pitt, Darren Aronofsky, Eva Green, David Geffen, Lesley Ann Warren, Paul Newman, Sarah Michelle Gellar, Ben Stiller, Louis B. Mayer, Alison Brie, Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Chuck Lorre.

As Conan O’Brien jokingly stated: “The Cash-ews run Hollywood.” Almost every major production in Hollywood has a massive Jewish section of development. The United States, for whatever reason, is a majority “Christian-identifying” country, but Judaism plays a much more massive role in the culture than Islam, Hinduism, and Buddhism combined. Even most of the agnosticism in ‘progressive’ Hollywood values comes largely from material secularism, or Jewish incredulity of Christianity, not an ideological pull towards atheism. Is this cultural reproachment why Jewish people are pulled towards media and entertainment, theatre being a known haven for outcasts and oddballs? The Judeo-Protestant alliance of the Hollywood ilk would seem to disqualify the established Jewish community — rich, interconnected, secular Jewish communities of New York, Los Angeles, and DC — from being an oppressed mass.

An important editor’s note is that the actors listed are: Jewish people who adopt non-Jewish appearances or non-Jewish values to a borderline-racist degree (i.e. Eva Green: Jewish actress who plays roles bookmarked for non-Jewish Europeans), thoroughly Jewish people who refuse to identify as Jewish (i.e. Julia Louis-Dreyfus: Jewish billionaire heiress who plays Jewish characters on TV), or regular observers of Judaism who are really, really famous (i.e. J.J. Abrams: co-director of the controversial Star Wars reboot).

More often behind the scenes than on-screen, but usually leading the show when taking a starring role, the Jewish imprint is inseparable from American movies, media production, television, the comedy scene, finance, and screenwriting. Is Jewish not the ruling order of Hollywood? And then would Europeans be the group on the margins? But why, if Jewish people write, pay for, and put on the shows, are there so few Jewish actors, and of those who are, why do they not look Jewish, or a better question would be, why do they try to avoid looking Jewish, and actively attempt to look Western European? That gives the impression that Jewish people are still marginalised in media, even if they are overrepresented in media, and generally more affluent, interconnected, and educated than those non-Jewish counterparts. Why do Jewish people go out of their way to appeal to racist audiences, and in the process erase their own Jewishness.

Maybe it is because the Hollywood Jewry isn’t actually Jewish. Nothing about their jobs or their behaviours embodies the Jewish religion. Most people in Hollywood in general consider themselves as nonreligious, yet that too, might be an influence of a markedly Jewish trait. Non-Christians in the United States are much more likely to turn to atheism and agnosticism on the one hand or fanatical extremism, likely due to being outcast by the mainstream Protestant dialogue, with liberal Jewish people often going agnostic and conservative Catholics often going supercharged while Muslims live on somewhere off in the shadows of public perception.

Yet nonreligious Jewish people still identify as Jewish, separating the religion of Judaism from the ethnic mark. Faith has nothing to do with appearance, and appearance is the base of antisemitism. Enter non-Jewish-looking Jewish people, usually women with heat-flattened hair, like Netali Hershlag and Gal Greenstein Godot. That is not to say they don’t look Jewish, as in an equal measure they all do and at the same time no one does, since what a Jewish person “looks like” is a narrow heuristic based on problematic cultural expectation. That is not to say they are or aren’t Jewish. But are Jewish people like Natalie Portman being forced to conform to racist society, or are they jumping on the bandwagon of racist society and using it to their advantage? Is there actually a difference between the two?

There is a deeper question lying beneath the surface here: The questions of “Jewish complicity in racism?,” “Jewish participation in neo-Nazism?,” and “If ‘Jew’ is a ‘race’ and ‘White’ is a ‘race’ then why are there ‘White’ and ‘non-White’ Jews?,” which other people have asked before. This article is not to address those questions, but they are acknowledged.

Certainly, there are some Jewish people who attach themselves to racist tendencies and Hitlerite habits out of personal advantage in the racist countries in which they might live. In this narrative, the notional collaborator Jewish community would blame the Europeans for racism and cast themselves as convenient survivors. That is not a uniquely Jewish trait, it is a flawed human trait, bystanderism, which defies religious teachings. Why there is such a prevalence among rich, secular Jewish people, of racism mixed with liberalism, is a concern. It could be as simple that, at a certain point, the trait “rich” might start to cancel out the trait “religious.” Old guard antisemites would be unforgiving regarding hatred towards ‘ethnic Judaism,’ and contemporary racist sentiments would reject Jewish people from the points of heritage and beliefs, but it is not immediately clear if Western neo-Nazis would target non-religious Jewish people who, quote, “pass” as Euro-Christians.

If Ashkenazim, Sephardim, and Mizrahim join Western cultures, ideals, and appearances while abandoning the Jewish religion, are they functionally Jewish at all? In the absence of different brands of generational antisemitism, what is holding back an atheist Ashkenazi from becoming a Nazi themself? The Jewish community and Israel critics have been ablaze with debate about the Eurocentric, Ashkenazim-focused account of Judaism in the West, drawing attention to the issue of inter-Jewish racism and inequality among the diaspora of the Jewish faithful. This question is debated separately for Jewish communities because unity is their faith. Followers of Christianity have always cut one another down over heresies and infidelities, but discourse and diversity have defined the post-Rabbinic tradition. The notion of one Jewish diaspora being more powerful than another, based not even on secularism such as in Christianity, but based solely on racism and adjacency to Christian empires, causes non-Ashkenazi Jewish communities to question that proximity in values and appearance Western Ashkenazi populations have with the goyish counterparts. Even the terms Ashkenazi and Mizrahi have taken fundamentally racist connotations, particularly in the advent of Zionism, to separate the ‘European Jewish’ from the ‘Arabian Jewish,’ in a kind of wartime apartheid of academia; a conflict emblematic of larger paradoxes in modern Israel.

This is not the focus of this article. Obviously, Jewish people living in Western Europe and urban America are more “Western” than people who live somewhere else. And obviously, Western nations have a serious and prolonged issue with racism. However, welding those two facts together, then conflating them with Judaism in some sense, would be a mistake.

There are some racist people in Hollywood who identify as, or are identified as, Jewish. That is not the question. The question is: How does the concept of cultural appropriation contribute to that complex dynamic, of conformity and exploitation in Hollywood, even amongst the big names?

This all comes back to the perceptual balance of power. Just as the term cultural appropriation is defined as a group being in a oppressive position and exploiting something that that group itself has made derogatory.

Is Netali Hershlag appropriating Western culture? In a way, yes. As a rich, powerful Jewish actress, she could hardly be said to be put at a disadvantage to Keira Knightly (Harvard versus dropout, remember), or the millions of aspiring brown-haired actresses who are shunned from Hollywood castings. And yet, she decides to look more like them. Obviously, as an ordinary woman herself, she has been victim to the usual sexism and obsessive demands of producers and directors concerning appearances, but that is hardly so say she is a victim. At any moment, she could deign to take a different part or produce her own movies (I would balk to call them films), rather than be typecast as the sexy and innocent girl-next-door. She lives the life of the good Jewish, girl, but never takes on those types of roles, opting instead for Princess Amidala, ballerina Nina Sayers, valley girl Elle Woods, comic book Jane Foster, or Englishwoman Anne Boleyn. Hershlag could at any moment leave acting to climb the ladder a Harvard A.B. clears the way for. How could Harvard Law School, or subsequently the California Democratic caucus, say no? Who wouldn’t pay for a doctor’s visit with the woman from V For Vendetta?

This is not to say that Jewish people are appropriating or imposing themselves upon Westerners, but it is to say that there is a distinct group of Jewish people who draw from Western or Hitlerite practices while entirely avoiding ‘Juden-haus’ or ‘Euro-trash’ rhetoric that hampers people on both sides of the racist conflict. Portman is Netali’s grandmother’s name, so she does have some kind of loose claim to it, if her cousins are still go by that name and she is close with them, while Natalie is a form of the name Neta-Li, and plenty if not most actors use stage names. Many people do racist or questionable things because they are in fashion. But altogether, one must ask the question why the self ascribed curly-haired Netali Hershlag is appearing is French wig and makeup commercials. Is it raw, unidealistic money? Is it Maybelline? Or it is fake hair, fake lashes, and a fake identity?

Natalie Portman is hardly an inspiring figure for women, playing roles subservient to men, often murdered by her lovers or terribly afflicted herself. This is true in Star Wars, Black Swan, Thor, V For Vendetta, and when she played the wife of wife-killer Henry VIII. Where is the liberty in being bedded by an uxoricidal maniac, be it a tired British period piece, or the obsessive Anakin Skywalker? Body modification of any type is not the product or respect or exchange, and can only be looked down upon as unnecessary and insecure. Acting is lying, but that does not mean the actress must change their looks or change their self to read some lines to a camera.

[aeide-thea]

tagged by @crushcandles​ in a beautiful circle of reciprocal memery!

birthday: august

zodiac: virgo sun / taurus moon / cancer rising; i don’t, like, Believe in astrology except in the way that some of tumblr did, for a while, which is to say, as a sort of mystical lens through which to focus one’s self-examination, but i’m told the above triad translates into ‘is a perfectionist who tries to hide eir own messiness, values stability and security and beautiful material things, has a lot of Feelings,’ which sounds about right!

last song listened to: i’ve had the amazing devil’s the horror and the wild on repeat for the last... many days, as i know many of us have, but for some reason tonight i got to thinking, all sweetly-nostalgic, about the music an almost-lover shared with me in 2014, and so the answer to this question is actually, a little anachronistically, dave carter & tracy grammer’s ‘tanglewood tree’ (i yearn away, i burn away, i turn away the fairest flower of love, which, oof is that triad painfully on point).

hobbies: …does blogging count as a hobby? i’ve loved and left a lot of art forms in my time, including poetry and classical singing; i really enjoy bicycling, and rock climbing although i haven’t been in ages, and figuring out how to use the largely exorsexist language of fashion to represent my nonbinary gender, which if not a hobby as such is definitely a project! would love to incorporate some more Making of Things into my life, though, particularly in this next housebound stretch of time—might work on turning that fannish ~queer persistence~ design concept into an actual patch or shirt or something, maybe?

last movie you watched: babel (2006), with the fam, which i wouldn’t say was exactly a Representative Viewing Choice—that said, i liked it a little more than i’d necessarily expected, although i kind of felt as though the film, idk, gestured grandly in the direction of some ideas that it wasn’t ultimately quite deep enough to fully encompass?

dream job: lmao that sure is a question! teaching, maybe? i used to tutor and i loved that to bits. previous, mostly-given-up-on answers to this question have included: classics professor; poet (not, as it turns out, actually a Job); carpenter à la @carpentrix​; and just, like, being ian bostridge.

meaning behind url: any classicists reading this have already rolled their eyes and skipped to the next question, because wow did i make a basic-bitch choice of url when i made this blog, but! it’s from the iliad, whose first line in greek is μῆνιν ἄειδε θεὰ Πηληϊάδεω Ἀχιλῆος (mēnin aeide thea pēlēiadeō akhilēos), or in english ‘sing, goddess, the wrath of peleus’ son achilles,’ though why i felt, twelve years ago, that my perblog needed an ~invocation to the muse~ (since the two words i pulled are specifically the ‘sing, goddess’ bit), i cannot for the life of me tell you. tl;dr the sporadic firing of my so-called synapses is actually the ragged fusillade of the western canon.

top 4 ships: god, never ask me my favorite anything, i invariably stall out through a combination of ‘i’ve suddenly blanked on everything i’ve ever liked in my life’ and ‘are these really the most representative options out of Literally Every Possibility Ever, please hold while i do this optimization problem…’ having said that, one possible answer is something like: rms carpathia; the dawn treader; eärendil’s ship vingilótë; and then maybe skíðblaðnir from the eddas, for all your edc needs (since it folds up so it’s pocket-sized)? with honorable mentions going to the argo and to arthur’s ship prydwen from the preiddeu annwn, because i do love me some welsh-flavored arthuriana. but that response is admittedly something of a jade’s trick!

reading: uh, mostly a whole lot of geralt/jaskier fanfiction, lately! and then also the romans: from village to empire, for my sins. (the last Published Fiction i read, since i think that’s what this question is angling for, was ben aaronovitch’s false value, which—spoilers or whatever—i personally found to be much less fun than any of its predecessors, for a number of reasons including (1) insufficient nightingale (and therefore insufficient opportunity for generation gap banter, which has historically been the engine powering these books), not to mention (2) a disconcerting choice wrt how to present a trans character in text, namely ‘having the POV character actively misgender said character in their head until he introduces himself, at which time the narrative switches pronouns’: my personal feeling on this was, why not just skip straight to the introductions, and leave out the mental misgendering altogether? happy to hear out differing reactions, though.)

what food are you craving right now? not super-hungry just at the mo, but i’d take some kind of fancy sweet bun situation—a kardemummabulle, maybe, or else a yeasted bun swirled with, idk, orange and pistachio and some sort of light floral honey? or, ooh, speaking of pistachio, i could totally go for a pistachio financier, maison kayser makes a pretty great one if ‘going outside for frivolities’ is ever a tenable course of action again…

tagging: god, i don’t know, who are new people/people with urls i want explained/people i didn’t tag in the last meme? @oatplant? @giantsquidastern? @the-mirador​? @designatedloveinterest​? @raisedbyhyenas​? @leighway​? @pinehutch​? @reinvent-and-believe​? @obstinatecondolement​? anyway no pressure, obviously, do the thing if you want and don’t if you don’t! <3

[hybridfanfiction]

Heart Hunter - 2

Pairing: Peregrine Falcon hybrid Minseok x  Deer Hybrid Reader

Word Count: 2,585

Summary: The government has officially outlawed prey hybrids, leaving your herd with no choice but to escape into the depths of the forest. Since none of you have been outside of the city before, you soon find yourselves struggling - until you start finding food waiting on your porch every morning. But where is it coming from?

❧

It had been at least an hour since you’d last seen a street light - the road ahead being illuminated by the light of the moon and the soft flash of headlights instead. The roads were getting rougher and the greenery more abundant the further you drove away from home, as Madame had insisted that hiding away in some remote family cabin in the wilderness was your best chance of survival. 

You’d been bundled together in the SUV like sardines for hours; Papa and Madame’s bodyguard Marceau (who you were pretty sure was more than just a bodyguard) were in front, Madame and Mama behind them, and you were in the back next to the peacock hybrid Oh Sehun that Madame had insisted on saving. 

Sehun was alright, alright it was obvious that he was raised to believe very highly of himself. He often spoke of his owner like his word was law, and most of it was about how wonderful he thought Sehun was. It was apparent that he missed his owner, but you personally thought he sounded as stuck up as Sehun acted. You weren’t sure how he was friends with Luhan, because while Lu tended to act tough sometimes, he was never a snob. But evidently, they’d been friends for a while, having met during a modeling gig, and were hanging out together when they’d been caught. Regardless of his current attitude, you were willing to take the hybrid along since he’d basically saved you and your parents. 

 His hair feathers were stark white, which he claimed were rare, although you weren’t so certain about that. He also claimed that his unnaturally complex scent was a medical enhancement that his owner had paid dearly for, and your “basic” cinnamon scent was mingling with it and ruining it. He was handsome, you’d give him that, but it was more the way he held himself rather than his appearance that made you a little wary of him. He tended to sneer at everything like it was below him, despite the fact that your breeding and talent technically made you superior. You weren’t one to throw status around though, so you simply let him complain to his heart’s content. You hoped it was merely his way of dealing with the situation and not the total sum of his personality. 

Marceau had only allowed everyone to stop once, finally giving into bathroom demands when they came across a Walmart several hours away from home. While there, they took the chance to buy cleaning supplies, a few more food items, and some camping supplies just in case. Marceau also made you all ditch your cell phones and purchased a single burner phone for emergencies only. Losing the internet didn’t upset you as much as losing the entire music catalog you had on your phone, so you made do with buying an old school boombox and tons of batteries. The CD selection wasn’t great, but you found a couple of workable classical mixes that you could use to keep up with your training, and a couple more just for fun. 

Madame was also very generous with Sehun and bought him clothes and personal supplies since he’d had to escape with nothing. Surprisingly, he was very polite with her and he genuinely thanked her. Perhaps he wasn’t all bad, just scared. His mood seemed to mellow out a bit after that, even going so far as initiating conversation with you for the rest of the trip. 

After what had felt like an eternity, the car pulled in front of a massive gate just as the sun was beginning to rise, and Marceau got out to swing it open for Papa, then closed it and jumped back into the car. Papa had to drive slowly, as the road was made of dirt and gravel. You were observing the surroundings worriedly, as you saw no sign of civilization anywhere. The last town you could remember seeing was at least four hours away. How were you all going to survive out here? 

At last, you arrived in front of the cabin and your stomach drops. The place looked sturdy enough; no holes or broken steps or windows. And it was very large, with two stories and a few other buildings scattered around that could be garages or workshops. However, it was apparent that it hadn’t been used in many years. The windows were covered in thick layers of grime, the porch and grounds were littered with leaves, sticks, and other debris. You were already scared to see what it looked like inside. 

“Oh my. I’d forgotten how long it’s been since anyone has been here. Probably since I was a little girl at least,” Madame sighs glumly. 

Great, so you were looking at nearly fifty years of damage. 

Papa stops the car and everyone unloads, all wearing matching expressions of trepidation. Even the usually unflappable bodyguard looks worried, enough that he gestures for everyone to follow behind him as he leads everyone inside. 

The ancient door creaks as he swings it open slowly, a gust of wind sending the various debris inside scattering. The inside wasn’t as horrible as it probably could have been. All the windows and doors had remained shut, so it appeared as though no animals or squatters had attempted to live here, besides the cobwebs you could see in various corners. All the furniture was covered in drop cloths to protect it from dust, so you looked forward to seeing if any of it was still hardy enough for use. Thankfully, the whole place just looked like it needed some major dusting and sweeping and it would be alright. 

However, as you looked closer you realized nothing here is electric. There are oil lamps on the end tables and a huge fireplace that seems to be the only source of lighting. You wander into the kitchen, bracing yourself for what you’re about to see. Sure enough, there is a wood stove and a sink with a hand pump. You could tell that everything here was probably the best that money could buy at the time, but still, no electricity? 

Madame eventually enters the kitchen, meeting your gobsmacked expression with a grimace. 

“I know, it’s simply primitive, isn’t it? They had this built as a vacation cabin for my grandparents and their friends; a place to escape the trials of everyday living and pretend they were manly men that could chop wood and the like. I don’t recall Mémère ever coming here, though. She was probably more than happy to stay in the city and send the kids along.” 

You slide into an uncovered dining room chair, uncaring of the dust. None of you could live like this. There was no city to run to for food, no hospital nearby in case someone got hurt. You didn’t know how to do anything, and Mama was such a frail soul. It would be so hard for her. Would it be kinder to just let the government do what they wanted rather than waste away in the woods slowly? 

“I know, ma bichette.” Madame sniffled and pet your hair tenderly.  “This is going to be such a trial for you all, but I don’t know what else to do to keep you alive. Marceau will be back in a week with more supplies since I’m sure I’ll be under watch until they move on to another family. I’ll try to come out myself whenever I think I can safely get away. You have to be strong, my darling. Protect your Mama and help your Papa. I will try my best to get Luhan to you.” 

You grasp Madame’s hand and kiss the back of it as the two of you try to contain your tears. Though she was technically your owner, she was as dear to you as the rest of your family and you’d never been separated from her before. Your entire life until this point had been spent training to make her proud, and now you had no idea what to do with yourself. 

“Please, stay safe,” you whisper, voice cracking with emotion. 

Madame smiles with watery eyes and helps you stand, pulling you into a familiar perfumed hug. You close your eyes and breathe in, trying to memorize the feeling in case the worst should happen. 

“I will, ma bichette. You make sure to do the same. Now,” she clears her throat and pulls away, taking her lace handkerchief out to flutter it around like the drama queen she really was. “Marceau will have brought in the supplies and luggage by now. I wish I could stay and help you put the place together, but I have a meeting with a friend that could help me get into the compound tomorrow and I must get back. The sooner I get to work, the sooner I can free your brother. My poor darling Lulu is probably so scared.” 

She pets your head one last time then goes to the entryway with you following behind her. Your parents are already there waiting, suitcases and bags of supplies stacked nearby. Papa was deep in discussion with Marceau but paused long enough to accept Madame’s light hug before she turned to your weeping mother. The two women clung to each other tightly, whispering and wiping each other’s tears. You didn’t think the two had been separated for very long before. Perhaps your parent's honeymoon was the longest and that had only been a couple of weeks. Finally, Marceau had to separate the two of them and looped his arm with Madame’s as he led her away while she dramatically kissed the air towards all of you. 

“Take care, my loves, and be careful. Remember to use the phone if you need us to come at any time. Sehun, I’ll get in touch with your owner tomorrow. If it’s safe I’ll let him know where you are and we’ll see what he wants to do, but for now I know you’ll be safest here. À la prochaine, my darlings!” 

You follow them outside, waving until the car is out of sight, feeling as though she’d taken your soul along with her, leaving you the empty shell that now had to fight just to survive. 

You sigh, feeling as though the weight of the world had just been settled onto your shoulders. You adored your parents, but you knew they were going to be even worse at this whole rough living thing than you were, having been pampered for twice the amount that you had been. You knew Mama had never had to lift a finger for anything that wasn’t Ballet. You were going to have to be strong for everyone and try to figure out a way to keep you all going out here. At least the view was pretty, you decided as you surveyed your surroundings. 

The “cabin” was basically set in the middle of a vast forest area, huge trees surround you as far as you could see. You didn’t know enough about greenery to tell what kind they were. Pine maybe, judging by the cone looking things on the ground. Marceau had mentioned a map earlier and had said that there was a creek nearby. That was probably where you were going to have to get water since it didn’t seem like there was plumbing here either, or even a well. 

You spot what appears to be a massive blackberry bush on the other side of the yard and decide to distract yourself by gathering some. It would be a nice treat to have and Mama loved berries. You rush inside and pick out one of the mixing bowls that had been packed, deciding it would do for now to hold the berries. Your parents are already at work lifting the drop cloths from the surprisingly pretty furniture, all of it in sort of a rustic art deco vibe and obviously well made. Nothing looked damaged, so you’d all at least have places to sit. The bedrooms were what you were worried about the most, but you’d save that for later. 

You whistle a little as you head towards the bush, hoping that if you force yourself to pretend you’re okay, your brain will start to believe it. The bowl is about halfway full, minus a few that had found their way past your berry-stained lips, when you suddenly heard something. A soft crackle, like someone had stepped on a twig. However, instead of coming from the area behind you where the house was, it was coming from across the bush. 

You clamp your lips and breathe through your nose, trying to scent the area. You could smell dampness from the nearby creek, the squirrels in the tree to your right, and something else...there. 

Predator.

Your gaze pierces the spot where the scent filters through, a little crack in the berry bush a little further down. You freeze as a pair of sharp, catlike eyes fill the space, meeting yours with a curious glint. They appeared to belong to a male, judging by the bits of his face you could make out, though it wasn’t much. Those eyes reminded you of the gaudy ring Madame always wears, a massive thing with a jewel the color of caramel. The man’s eyes were the same color and reflected light like the gemstone, holding an insurmountable depth that dared to drown anyone that met his intense gaze. 

The two of you stared, unmoving, just studying each other. You wished you could see the rest of him; surely with eyes like that, he must be stunning. Nevermind that he smelled like a predator; a bird at that. There was also a slight undertone that smelled almost like fresh coffee beans which you guess was his personal scent. He must have noticed you scenting the air because his eyes crinkled like he was holding back laughter while his scent became stronger, no doubt from him pumping out more to see your reaction. Your scents seemed to mingle all on their own, complementing each other and making your head swim, which was curious for different hybrid types. It was odd to find another hybrid out here no matter what he was. You’d thought your herd was going to be the only ones, at least in this area. You were sure other prey hybrids would run away to the wild eventually. 

Behind you, the front door slammed and startled you as Sehun came out and began yelling.

“Hey, your Mom wants you. Something about water.” 

You glance towards him, annoyed at the interruption. 

“Yeah, I’m coming. Just hold on.” 

You huff and turn back towards the bush, but the eyes are gone and you can smell his scent getting farther away. You debated telling your parents about his existence, but you hadn’t sensed a threat from him, just curiosity. You waited until the last note of his scent became too faint to smell anymore, swallowing your disappointment as you strode towards the house. 

Though the coming days were going to be difficult, at least now you knew you weren’t alone. 

[shewas-agaystripper]

The Clinic: Part 17

The Clinic: Part Seventeen

Brian is sent off to Queen Mary’s Psychiatric Hospital to cure his depression and borderline. His roommates, John in particular, help him push through this difficult time in his life

Hello dear people! I can’t believe it’s actually happening, but here she is �� the final part of The Clinic! (Or that is – the last part of the storyline within Queen Mary’s Psychiatric Hospital. There will be an epilogue coming up in a few weeks, which I think you’ll all enjoy a lot, because it contains good news for all of our boys!) But for now I really hope you’ll enjoy Part 17, and please let me know what you think!

Please feel free to talk to me and shoot me messages/anons! I’m feeling kind of lonely on my new blog still :s

P.s. Normally I’d link all the previous chapters here, but as SOMEONE @staff) deleted my whole entire blog, they’re now gone. If you haven’t read the previous chapters yet, or would like to reread them first, here is the whole thing on my AO3 account!

Have fun reading, and any sort of feedback or suggestions is appreciated!

The two weeks between the nerve-racking meeting during which Brian’s parents had signed the paperwork that secured both his and John’s immediate future after Queen Mary’s and the day of the reassessment judgement passed like a hazy blur in Brian’s experience. It was both the most and the least stressful time he had spent at Queen Mary’s; the most and the least joyful; the fastest and the slowest passing; the most relaxed and the most tensed; the happiest and the saddest weeks in his books of the mental institution. 

The death of Drew seemed to affect everybody present in one way or the other - and for most people it came as a positive change. The removal of arguably Queen Mary’s biggest bully and most violent patient left many feeling safer going out of their room in the evening, and Brian was sure that staff - even though no one openly spoke about the matter - was relieved to no longer have to guard the place as strictly as before, or spend as much time on keeping Drew in check. A bonus was that the murderer, who had been Clyde’s most important right hand, had been delivered to a prison in wait of his judgement - something Brian had heard the family of the guy had made a huge scene over, but Queen Mary’s didn’t budge and refused to take back a murderer in broad daylight. At last a decision Brian could get behind.

However, with the death of Drew and the removal of whoever the guy who had stabbed him into his unfortunate fate was, a shift in power dynamics had taken place at Queen Mary’s. Clyde, although weakened after the expulsion of his right hand, was still the leader of his pack, but Drew’s clan had fallen into disarray like a middle school class when left to vent for their own by their teacher for five minutes. Jake had never been anything more than a puppet that blindly followed all of Drew’s instructions, and he was never going to be the one to be crowned with the questionable honour of being Drew’s successor. There were a few other figures, though, who had all unanimously decided in their mighty wisdom that they would be the best choice to now rule over Drew’s collection of angry adolescents. To prove this point to the population of Queen Mary’s they went around the place slamming doors in people’s faces and shouting abuse at random passers-by, but most of the actual violence they reserved for each other in an attempt to show their strength. It reminded Brian of an anecdote his tenth-grade history teacher had told his class about three early medieval cardinals who had all declared themselves as the pope and excommunicated each other time after time in pursuit of their goal. As long as they left him and his friends alone, Brian didn’t care a straw for these patterers showing off their non-existent strength.

Something that did affect him, however, was the continuing lack of structure, routine, and professional staff around at Queen Mary’s. Things had been tight since the day Brian had been admitted, but with now even less staff around the place - as a result of staff cuts and people leaving the institution because they no longer felt safe at their jobs. Especially the kitchen team was hit hard by the changes, and attempts were made to have patients fill in the spots of the people who had taken their leave. 

Needless to say, this proved to be a disaster; almost nobody voluntarily signed up to peel potatoes or wash the dishes, and absolutely not a soul turned up for the corvee-schedules the head cook fabricated. When eventually random patients around the place were simply rounded up and ushered into the kitchen to help out the remaining staff, they had been creating more troubles than they solved. Food fights were a classic trick at Queen Mary’s, of course, but never before had patients had access to the large variety of kitchen knives. It had taken less than two days before people of Drew’s and Clyde’s gang had winded up in the kitchen together, and the stab accident that followed had made staff decide to just abandon the participation project altogether. Now everyone simply had to either work harder or wait longer, and more pre-made food was bought and prepared. It didn’t exactly taste good, but luckily the patients at Queen Mary’s had never been used to any form of luxury whatsoever anyway. 

A bigger problem was that besides the kitchen staff also the actual medical staff had suffered losses. After Ariel, the group leader of another therapy group had also left the place; the official story was that she suffered from a burnout, but Brian had learned over time not to automatically trust official reports issued by Queen Mary’s. What he did know was that the group this therapist had left behind, had now been mashed up with his own, leaving Jasper on his own to handle twenty-five depressed young men. Nolan, being the hero that he was, often joined his co-worker to help him - but even his presence could not keep the group under control. Group therapy now a mess, personal sessions with psychs now became more important to most people - but just like everyone else at the mental institution, they were busier than ever before also. People who had previously been in touch with their psychs every day now only got to see them every other day, and those people only once a week from now on. This did not matter too much for Brian personally, but he was not too happy about Freddie and Roger seeing their psychologists less than they used to. Of course there was no proof of correlation, but Brian did feel that Roger slipping into taking Valium could be linked to the lack of support and security around the place. 

On the other hand, the all-absorbing chaos of the place did mean more leniency and less people to look over their shoulders at all times - which meant that John had made a run for the kitchen to provide breakfast in bed multiple times, and that no one really said anything about them making music in their bedroom for hours on end. Most of all, it meant that Freddie had managed to have his family either directly give him or smuggle in numerous cosmetic items, which he was now going to put to the test on Brian’s unwilling hair and face. Ushering the half-awake man into the bathroom shared by Rooms 40 through 49 at an ungodly hour in the morning, Freddie put his makeup bag down on the sink and gestured for Brian to come on over.

‘Hop on up, dear! We’ve got no time to lose,’ he declared impatiently yet enthusiastically, landing his hand on the white surface of the sink platform he apparently wished for Brian to perch himself on top of. 

‘It’s barely six o’clock,’ muttered Roger, who followed behind. He had similarly been pulled out of bed by his over-enthusiastic boyfriend a mere five minutes ago, and him rubbing his eyes ever since was a visible testimony of how tired he was.

‘Yes, but there’s a lot to get done! It’s going to take a while,’ Freddie said.

‘You’re saying I look bad?’ Brian lifted an eyebrow.

‘Of course not! You look fine, dear,’ Freddie shushed. ‘But I just want to touch you up a little. Give your face some more colour and make your eyes pop out a little. Maybe define your lips somewhat… And get rid of these blemishes around your nose. Do you think I should line out his jaw some more?’ Freddie now turned to John, who had leaned back against the wall across from the sinks as he regarded the early morning spectacle from as much distance as he could possibly create. 

‘Yes, and maybe also draw out his nose and give him pink coloured lenses,’ John said quasi-thoughtfully. ‘Fake lashes and a forehead high enough to host a picnic on. Cut off all of his hair and give him a wig à la Diana Ross.’

‘Very funny, Deacon,’ Freddie rolled his eyes. ‘But now that we’re talking about his hair anyway… I think it could use some washing, moisturising, and blow-drying. Then afterwards I can properly comb it through and put in the curls again with setting spray.’

‘No brushing!’ Brian protested. ‘Unless you want me to look like a drowned poodle, don’t brush my hair.’

‘I don’t see how that would make you look any different from usual,’ Roger shrugged.

‘Oh, you’re terrible. Go make yourself useful and get me a chair,’ Freddie said to his partner, before he turned back to Brian. ‘And you get on top of this sink now, will you?’ He gave Brian a light smack against his bottom, which, although not at all painful, was unexpected and therefore made Brian yelp awkwardly. 

‘Might I remind you that I am the only one allowed to touch Brian’s ass, or tell him what or whom he is to get on top of?’ John commented from the sideline.

‘As if Brian would ever top. I have to laugh,’ said Freddie - which made Brian sure that if he had not been blushing before, he sure as hell was doing so now. He hoisted up one leg to the fake marble platform, planted his knee on it, withdrew it again, and then put it back again. It was a near military operation to perch himself up there, being all long limbs and of awkward height - not to even mention his fear of breaking down the whole damn construction. If it was of the same quality the average Queen Mary’s furniture was made of, he might end up on the floor with the whole sink platform below him.

‘Don’t worry, you can sit on it,’ said Freddie, as if he could read Brian’s mind. ‘I do it all the time.’

‘Very comforting to hear that a glorified scarecrow can sit on this piece of painted hardwood,’ said John. Brian knocked on the surface of it to find that his boyfriend might not even be far from the truth concerning the material of the thing.

‘I’ve seen Clyde standing right on top of it once,’ Freddie shrugged. This at last restored some faith in the sink to Brian; if a near-bodybuilder like Clyde could stand on it (he decided to not linger for too long on the question of why Clyde had a cause for doing so), then certainly he could sit on it. Placing his hands on the platform for a second time, he again put his knee on the sink, hoisted himself up, and turned around until he sat with his bottom as far back on the platform as possible, with his back leaning half against the wall and his feet dangling over the edge.

‘See? Nothing to worry about,’ Freddie said. ‘Now, you’re just gonna have to shift to the light a little - turn to me, dear. Yes, that’s better. Or maybe…’ Freddie stood on his tiptoes to put his hand on Brian’s chin and face it in the correct direction, something that to Brian felt a little strange at the very least. He had never been exactly comfortable with people touching him, and especially not when it was done before notifying him first. On top of that, having someone fiddle around with his appearance was something he was not very used to - especially not when this was at six in the morning in a questioningly clean semi-public bathroom with a range of makeup and grooming supplies he had never seen before. It had been Freddie’s doing, really - if it hadn’t been for his friend having decided that he would make a better impression on the jury if he looked like the Queen of Lombardia, Brian still would have been in bed, arms firmly around John and sleeping in for as long as they could until Nolan would eventually come pick them up for the trial that had been planned for that early afternoon. It certainly would have been better for his skin to have gotten some more sleep, Brian pondered when he got a glance of himself in the mirror; the bags under his eyes were going to take some serious product and talent to fully cover up.

‘You could work at Madame Tussauds with all of that repositioning you’re doing,’ said Roger, who burst through the door with one of the dingy rattan dining chairs he had taken from their bedroom. Freddie was still busy adjusting Brian’s face in the right angle to the light, and did not look up at his boyfriend. 

‘I’d rather become fabulously famous and have my own statue at Madame Tussauds, darling,’ he said haughtily, gesturing towards Roger to move the chair over. Roger planted it down next to Freddie, who took visible trouble to step up on the seating platform. Roger reached out a hand to help him steady and readjust the chair so he was positioned in front of Brian and next to the sink to put down the ungodly amount of items he had brought with him. 

‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’ Roger asked as Freddie balanced unevenly on the chair.

‘My dear, I have nothing but good ideas only,’ smiled Freddie.

‘Then why are we up at six?’

‘Because!’ Freddie squealed loudly enough to make John put a finger across his lips to gesture that he had to be quieter. ‘Because I’m going to make Brian glow, and show all of those dumb judges that he’s doing better than ever and taking good care of himself and ready to leave this place behind.’

‘And that’s going to take seven hours?’ Roger asked.

‘No, it’s not. But we need to practice what to say to the judges and how to answer their questions also.’

‘Brian and I have already done that a hundred times,’ said Roger - and to Brian, this did not even feel like an exaggeration. Since the moment he had been told he would pull through to be reassessed - no, since the moment he had decided to take a reassessment, that was - he had been eager to practice what he should say or do once he was to be faced with the people who were to decide on his fate. He had received a lot of support from the people around him, with John helping him fill out all the paperwork, Freddie helping him with the diary he had been asked to keep, and Roger by preparing him for the questions he was most likely to have to ask during his trial. Nevertheless, he felt the nervousness getting to him now that the day was finally there, and it did not surprise him one bit to hear that Freddie wanted to go over all they had practised from their waking moment to the second the door of the meeting room would close behind them.

‘But there is no such thing as too much preparation,’ Freddie said.

‘And yet that seemed to be exactly what you complained about last night when I wouldn’t get on with it,’ Roger grinned.

Freddie rolled his eyes. ‘Hush, you. Get me a washcloth and the face wash.’

‘I’m your servant now?’ Roger raised his eyebrows.

‘Yes, so maybe you can make yourself somewhat useful still on this trying day,’ Freddie answered with a tired smile that betrayed that there was no real malice behind his words. Roger, surprisingly, did as he was told, and Brian was asked to close his eyes and cant his head back a little. Even though he washed his face at the sink every morning, the coldness of the washcloth as it was brought up to his face was startling still. Freddie wiped his face down with it, covering his whole face with the thinnest layer of moist. The cloth then disappeared and he heard the faint click of a bottle being opened. He opened his eyes to see Freddie rubbing a substance of some kind between his hands, which he then applied to Brian’s facial skin. Seeing the questioning look on Brian’s face, he said: ‘Just a facewash, love. Don’t tell me you never use that.’

‘I just use water,’ Brian shrugged, the movement of which made Freddie’s fingers accidentally rub the facewash on his lips instead of his chin.

‘Same here,’ John said.

‘You’re lucky if I wash my face at all,’ Roger snorted. Freddie sighed deeply.

‘You’re a bunch of barbarians, really. I can’t believe they’re about to let two of you go.’

‘It’s a disgrace, really,’ John said. ‘Brian and I are really going to get out there and do things like washing our face with water only, and not making the bed every morning. Maybe I’ll even wear the same boxers for two days in a row.’

‘I’ll eat fruit without rinsing it off first, and not wash my hands after I sneeze,’ Brian added.

‘You’re driving me crazy,’ Freddie sighed as he wiped the face wash off Brian’s skin. ‘As long as you promise to wash your hands after going to the toilet.’

‘After?’ John asked. ‘I thought one was supposed to do that beforehand. The exact opposite of when you prepare raw meat and then wash your hands after.’ Freddie nearly dropped the washcloth to the floor as he turned to John with a jaw that almost did the same. 

‘Just kidding,’ John grinned after having let Freddie stare at him in disbelief for a handful of seconds.

‘John! You nearly gave me a heart attack!’ Freddie squealed, and he sent the cloth flying into John’s direction. John caught it with ease and buried his face in it, rubbing up and down a few times, before he threw it back into the sink with trained expertise. ‘So, that was my personal hygiene for today.’

‘I’ll refrain from commenting on that,’ Freddie groaned as he dug through his makeup purse and fished out something that looked oddly similar to a razor. He picked up a bottle from the sink platform and squeezed out a foamy substance, but it was only when he started spreading it along the lower side of Brian’s face that the pieces of the puzzle really fell into place for Brian.

‘You’ve got a shaving razor?’ he asked in surprise.

‘Mh. Yes. I got sick and tired of having to shave under the supervision of a staff member,’ Freddie parroted with his nose drawn up to ridicule the average Queen Mary’s employee. ‘So I snuck out to steal a few shaving razors on my own, and had my parents bring me shaving cream during visiting hour.’

‘And no one noticed- of course no one noticed,’ Brian answered his own question. If they had, after all, he would not be sitting here with Freddie spreading shaving foam along his jawline with one hand and the other hand wrapped around a disposable shaving razor.

‘This place is the biggest joke I’ve ever seen,’ Roger snorted.

‘Speaking of which, anyone want some breakfast?’ John asked. ‘If I go now I can get in there before the kitchen staff arrives.’

‘I mean, I could do with a croissant and some coffee,’ Roger said.

‘Same for me, please,’ Brian mumbled as best as he could now that Freddie was covering his lower face in a somewhat excessive layer of shaving cream. 

‘You, Bulsara?’ John asked.

‘If you can get your hands on some cucumber, that’d be great,’ Freddie said without looking up from his subject.

‘If you think I’m gonna let you get away with eating a single slice of cucumber for breakfast then you’re mistaken.’

‘Not to eat, silly. To put on Brian’s face later on.’

‘Scuse me?’

‘To make these bags under his eyes less visible! You really all are the enemies of personal care, are you?’ Freddie asked.

‘No, we have our own methods against bags under our eyes. It’s called sleep,’ John said, after which he flashed Brian a wink, turned on his heel, and paced out of the bathroom. 

Strangely enough, it was after John - usually the quietest of the pack - had left that they fell into a comfortable silence. Brian allowed Freddie to shave him, which he did with a minute precision that made Brian wonder if a single beard hair would ever dare to grow back on his face. Roger was given a reprimand for using the same washcloth to wash his face as Brian and John had previously done, and was then sent away to fetch a clean towel and probably to grant Freddie a second of rest. He returned right in time with John, who provided coffee and croissants and yoghurt for everybody - and who brought a cucumber large enough to supply the entire population of Queen Mary’s, staff and clients, with cucumber slices to put on their eyes.

Roger attacked his croissants with fervour, and John tried to slip Brian pieces of his in between Freddie’s makeover session. They could not tell whether Freddie was too busy with brushing out every single blemish and every possible crease in Brian’s face to think about having breakfast, or if he was actively working to avoid having to eat - but, suspecting that the latter option played at least a factor to some extent in the matter, John took to spoonfeeding Freddie yoghurt in between the acts. Roger willingly posed as Freddie’s assistant and handed him creams, concealers, and brushes when his partner asked him to. Brian just sat back and tried to enjoy - or at least relax - as much as he could this unusual treatment he had been submitted to.

In this fashion, half an hour or so slipped by almost unnoticed, until Freddie suddenly realised that the luxury of having the bathroom all to themselves was soon going to be a thing of the past when the people staying in the other rooms at their wing would wake up and start pouring into their space. Luckily for him, living with an antisocial personality disorder for years on end had taught John all the tricks of the trade. He summoned Roger to get a pen and paper and paper and another chair from their bedroom, and himself he fetched a piece of tape from a broken table in the hallway someone had clumsily tried to fix. He used the paper to write a sign which proudly boasted ‘OUT OF ORDER’, put it on the outside of the door, and then locked it by putting the chair right beneath the handle. Surely enough, not even five minutes later the first people arrived for their morning shower; but, upon trying the door a few times and finding it stuck, they quickly left the place with a string of swear words.

‘Do you think staff will figure us out?’ Brian whispered at Roger when what must have been the fifth person in line was rattling the doorknob.

‘Probably not. They’ve got other things on their mind - and since the door is locked on the inside and has an out-of-order-sign on it, they’ll just let it be.’

Roger was right - a few more frustrated fellow patients tried their luck at opening the door (one of whom almost managed in an outburst of pent-up frustration), but after fifteen minutes or so, the attempts had died out completely. This gave Freddie the opportunity to resume his work on Brian’s face; a thin layer of powdered foundation had been applied, and he now worked away the bags under Brian’s eyes with a concealer. He darkened up his cheekbones a little, and then decided to get started on Brian’s hair, which he declared was going to be ‘quite a task’. Indeed, he worked on it for nearly an hour; washing it and blow drying it, putting God knew what sort of setting sprays and curl definers in it while fluffing it up into a mass of tight, shiny black ringlets that graced Brian’s shoulders and which bounced back when he pulled at them - something Freddie told him not to do, but which Brian could not resist. To prevent the curls from sagging down or falling out of their desired shape, Freddie applied a mist of hairspray to them big enough to keep Mary Antoinette's wig from slipping, after which he told Brian to take a look in the mirror and see what he thought of the result.

Brian was surprised when he looked at his mirror image, and in the positive sense of the word. His face looked young yet masculine, without the usual dark circles around his eyes; similarly, his lips were shiny and the area of his mouth did not show any creases or blemishes. His hair was a vast but glorious mess of curls that shone in the light and fell around his face as a dark halo. He had never known that his hair could look so voluminous, so healthy and shiny and yet so natural and /uncomplicated/. He had always struggled with his hair - both with keeping it decent and with accepting it the way it was - but Freddie really had made him like it for the first time in what must have been years, and possibly could have been for the first time ever.

‘And? What do you think?’ Freddie asked.

‘It’s beautiful. I love it,’ Brian declared with the broadest smile. He leaned forward and caught Freddie in a hug that his friend obviously did not anticipate, for he squealed and clung to the rattan backrest of the chair he was half-standing, half-leaning on. Once he realised Brian had him safely in his grip, however, his terror faded and was replaced by happiness, and Freddie allowed an equally bright smile to shine through on his face.

‘And I’m not even done yet!’ Freddie declared enthusiastically. He carefully detached himself from Brian, and rumbled through his makeup bag until he fished out a small black stick that Brian had to squint at to find out its purpose.

‘Eyeliner?’ he asked.

‘Kohl. Just a little at the outside of your eyes to make them pop out,’ Freddie beamed. Although both Brian and the rest of the men present in the room had their second thoughts on the idea, Freddie talked them into allowing him to try it out anyway - and in the end, a thin layer of it smudged out ever so slightly to the midst of the lower eyelid was met with everyone’s approval.

By the time all the face and hair care had been done, it was past eight o’clock, which meant that virtually all of Queen Mary’s inhabitants were to be expected at breakfast. The four men of Room 41B decided to take a shot for their room; Roger was the one to be brave enough to remove the chair from the door and peek around it, first for a mere second and then for a long enough time to establish that there was nobody to be seen in the hallway. They then took a dash for their door, one by one; Roger and John with a chair under their arm, Freddie with an armful of bottles and tubes, and Brian with the makeup bag and towels which had been left behind. Once they had returned safely to their room Brian ran down the hallway one more time to tear down the homemade out-of-order-sign, which he crumpled up into a ball and threw into the toilet. On his way back to the room he silently prayed that it would not cause a congestion and cause the bathroom to actually be taken out of order for the upcoming time. 

Already having taken breakfast in the form of John having brought them coffee and croissants, once they retreated to their bedroom they unanimously made the decision not to emerge from it again to mingle with the rest of Queen Mary's inhabitants for shared breakfast in the canteen. Rather, they spent the time feeding Freddie small pieces of the croissant John had brought for him (and ignoring the protest Freddie made against taking such a 'calorie bomb', as he called it). They made him comply in the end by promising they would then get down to have Freddie pull off whatever kind of stunts he had in mind with the cucumber he had made John take with him from the kitchen, which sulkily made Freddie swallow the last bites without too much audible gagging. 

John, being the genius that he was, had taken care to take a small potato knife with him from the kitchen. It was large enough to cut the cucumber into slices, but small enough to either hide or dispose of pretty easily. Freddie cut enough slices for everyone to put on closed eyelids, and a few extra for Roger to eat (with a not so subtle comment that he should eat some vegetables at times, which Roger in turn said he did, and which started quite the discussion about vitamins and minerals between the couple). John and Brian, in the meantime, took the moment to appreciate Brian's almost entirely renewed skin and softened curls. They then took to their bed to have a seat again while the others bickered about their eating habits - it was, after all, still early in the morning. They remarked that they might even go to sleep again soon. Nolan would not come to pick them up for another three or so hours, so they might as well get a little more sleep. 

Freddie, on the other hand, clearly had other plans than 'sleeping away these precious hours'. Once he had cut up the cucumbers into the most irregular slices Brian had ever seen, he ordered them to lie down flat on the bed and have him put the items of food on their eyes. This went down with lots of laughter and screeches at the unfamiliar feeling and coldness of the vegetables against their closed eyelids, which in turn evoked Freddie to call them a bunch of barbarians again, although this time he did it with a smile. The singer also started fussing about Brian's hair again now that he was lying flat on the mattress while his hair had been styled with an exorbitant amount of product and care just ten minutes ago. Unfortunately for Freddie, there was little other alternative if he wanted for Brian to have the cucumber slices evening out the by now already non-existent bags under his eyes. Roger's idea of putting the slices on Brian's eyelids and keeping them in place with Freddie's suede sleeping mask was cheered on by everyone apart from the owner of said item, who seemed indignant at the idea that people would even think of putting his precious Japanese suede sleeping mask to that purpose. In the end Freddie won the battle of the suede mask, but was thereby forced to have Brian recline with his head on the pillow. 

To Brian’s surprise, it wasn't even that bad to have Freddie try out his weird homemade remedies for bags under the eyes that would not have been there in the first place if he just would have been allowed to sleep in until a decent time. Maybe it was because he was getting used to the feeling of being pampered, or perhaps because he knew he had the rest of his friends hanging around him looking like clowns just as much as he did. They fell into a short moment of silence upon all having settled down on their respective beds, but it was soon broken up when the sound of crunchy vegetables being torn into pieces reached their ears.

'Roger!' Freddie called out instantly.

'What? What else were you gonna do with half of a cucumber, put it pack into the kitchen fridge again?' Roger around a mouth still half full of remains of the last bite of vegetable.

‘At least he’s eating his veggies,’ John shrugged, the movement of which made a slice of cucumber tumble off his eye and onto Brian’s shirt. It left a somewhat damp spot on Brian’s uniform shirt, and he was glad Freddie hadn’t seen the incident. With his current nervousness which outed itself by striving for absolute perfection, he would probably have a stroke if he noticed a stain on Brian’s clothes.

Speaking of nervousness... Brian had forbidden himself to think about the upcoming trial too much, but he definitely felt an uncomfortable tension in the pit of his stomach - one which had followed him for days in a row by now. Although it must have started as early as the moment he had signed the first official paperwork concerning his wish to leave Queen Mary’s, it had grown gradually worse over time, with the peak of it coming down upon him in these last few days. The last paperwork and diary assignments had needed to be completed the other day, and it had taken his friends an hour of pep-talking him to go down and have his last talk with Sarah and Doctor Fisher concerning the Judgement Day, as it had come to be referred to by now by everyone around the place. Being as rare as it was, his reassessment track and all that came with it had become something of a public spectacle that all people at Queen Mary's, regardless of how close they had been to Brian, were currently engaged with to some level of the other. It was the talk of the town, as a matter of speaking; it was the only topic his by now therapy group of twenty-five people were interested in talking about, and the thing strangers continually tapped him on the shoulder for to either question or advise him about. Even Freddie, Roger, and John were not exempted from this treatment, and especially the former two - who tended to go out more often - returned with stories about random people questioning them about Brian’s reassessment on the daily. All the attention was something Brian could definitely do without; it made him nervous knowing that so many people looked at him as he was trying to fight his sentence at Queen Mary’s. How many people would look down upon him if he failed, how many people would laugh at him and ridicule him if he didn’t succeed?

‘Are you nervous about this afternoon?’ John asked, plucking a strand of hair out of Brian’s face. Brian sighed.

'More than I’d like to admit,' Brian said. 'I’m mainly afraid of having to face all of those staff members and judges and whoever more will be in that room...'

'Would it feel better if we won't be there?' Freddie asked from the sideline. 'You know, having fewer people to worry about...'

'No, I want you to be there,' Brian told him. 'I want people who support me there. I want Sarah and Nolan and Jasper and you guys - I just don't want the other people there. The jury and the people from the medical board and the director of Queen Mary's.'

'I'm afraid you can't exactly have a judgement without a jury, darling,' Freddie said. 'But I understand what you mean. It's never exactly comfortable having to put yourself out there around those people, but we'll be there for you. And your parents will be too, won't they? Or does that just make you nervous?'

'Somewhat,' Brian said with a breathy laugh. 'They support me, but I know that they'd rather have me stay here at Queen Mary’s until my treatment is over. Although… since I’ve told them about the chaos around here, they seem more sceptical about this place. The murder of Drew didn’t seem to sit very comfortably with them when I told them about it on the phone the other day,’ Brian said in what must have been the understatement of the century. His father had been indignant that no police investigation was going on at the place, and his mother had been hysterical at the idea of what could happen to him if people at Queen Mary’s could literally get their hands on knives and commit murders inside its walls in the broad daylight. He did not mean to stress his parents out, but it felt good to know they supported his possible homecoming more whenever they heard of such atrocities. 

‘Well yeah, I should hope that they’re not comfortable with murder,’ Roger snickered. ‘Because regardless of how much we all hated Drew, that really was disgusting.’

Brian nodded weakly; he kept remembering the last words Drew had spoken to John and him. He kept remembering the sincere look on his face as he wished them well; and though it did not in any sense of the word make up for all the pain and hurt he had pulled both them and everyone else at Queen Mary’s through, it had shown the human side that Drew still, deep inside of him, had possessed until the very end of his life. 

‘For how long do I need to keep these soggy cucumbers on my eyelids?’ John interspersed in an attempt to keep up the atmosphere.

‘Another fifteen minutes or so,’ Freddie said.

‘Oh, but then we’ll miss our therapy groups!’ Roger exclaimed with the biggest grin on his face, which told the people around him that he absolutely did not give a straw about his group sessions. None of them did, in all honesty - but as Brian was the only one who had officially been given leave to be absent on that day due to his obligations elsewhere, the others were officially required to show up at their therapy sessions. A short discussion broke loose, which was more of an enumeration of all the reasons why they should not go rather than a real contemplation of the pros and cons of following Queen Mary’s schedule - and unsurprisingly the result of it was that they all decided to stay in to have a chat while plucking some guitar strings. Freddie proposed a classic game of mensch-ärgere-dich-nicht, which they languidly played in between finishing up the last preparations for the judgement that afternoon.

‘You filled in all of your paperwork?’ Freddie asked while rolling the dice.

‘Yes. Mister Fisher collected it all and will bring it with him to the meeting.’

‘Your mental health diary has been filled in for each day?’

‘All covered.’

‘You know where to go and what to do?’

‘Be at the staff room at ten to one, shake hands with the judges, then take a seat next to Mister Fisher, who will make a case for me. I just have to be quiet unless I’m being asked to open my mouth, and appear as strong and mentally stable as possible,’ Brian said with a slight twitch of the lips. 

‘Have you prepared a speech?’ Freddie asked. Brian frowned.

‘Speech? It’s not his graduation, Fred,’ Roger told him. ‘At most they’ll ask him some questions similar to the ones he had to answer for his portfolio of whatever one wants to call it, and we already practised those a hundred times.’

‘Well, but you never know! They might ask him to defend his case in a beautiful, heart-felt soliloquy…’ Freddie clearly poured out his heart into this idea, but Roger just snorted.

‘This is not a business pitch where you try to receive a million-dollar loan from some kind of business magnate,’ Roger laughed. Freddie joined him, and even John gave them a grin - but Brian himself could not treat the idea as a laughing matter. Ten minutes later, when Freddie won the board game with a glorious victory over all of his roommates, Brian still found himself caught up with the possibility that he might actually have to explain his case in detail to all of the people present in the room who were ready to judge his every word. Of course he had prepared answers to short and basic questions - such as why he thought he was ready to leave, what he had learned at Queen Mary’s, or which plans he had made to prevent a fall-back in the future. But what if he could not provide such a deep-going speech that combined high levels of emotional security with lessons from the past and promises for the future? What if despite all of the paperwork provided which all professionals who had helped him on his journey here told him would almost surely free him from Queen Mary’s, the jury would turn him down for his own clumsiness with words? What if Doctor Sumner saw it as his window of opportunity to put him down and keep him at Queen Mary’s for as long as he could?

This question - and others concerning the nature of the judgement and the personality of the judges - continued to bother Brian over the course of the hours the group spent in each other’s presence. By the time lunch rolled around, he found himself having too little appetite and too many worries to get out of the room and go downstairs to the dining hall. The prospect of being flooded with glances and questions and tips and tricks from people who had never shown a single interest in him until the moment his attempt at reassessment was made public upon presenting himself in the canteen did not exactly encourage him any more. John was not very much in the mood to suffer the same treatment, so in the end it was Roger who dragged Freddie down to the canteen and promised to stuff some sandwiches in his pockets for the roommates they left behind. The idea of this did not sound too appetising to Brian, but he decided not to dwell onto this fact for too long. Instead, he gestured for John to come join him on his bed again. While he continued to pluck at the strings of his guitar, John settled down next to him and started carding a hand through Brian’s curls, then quickly moved downwards to stroke his arm when he realised Freddie would probably kill him if he put a single lock of hair out of its original place. 

‘What are you thinking about?’ John asked when the silence turned a little too long even for his liking.

‘I wish it would all be over,’ Brian sighed. ‘This entire circus show around my trial. It’s no one else’s business apart from ours.’

‘I know, honey. Soon it will be over, and it will be all between the two of us again.’ Brian received a kiss on his jawbone, and a string of promises of how good it would be when they’d both get released from the institution. The smaller the gap between the present and the hour of confrontation grew, the larger Brian’s feeling of insecurity and doubt became. What if he could not deliver the version of himself the judges wanted to see? What if he would disappoint everyone after so much work they had all put into his revaluation?

Freddie and Roger returned to the room after less than fifteen minutes, and - true to his word - Roger had taken two splashed sandwiches with him. They looked flat and soggy as they emerged from his trouser pockets, but Brian was coaxed into eating his anyway by John, who insisted that he could not go down to the judgement without having eaten something first. The mere mentioning of the word ‘judgement’ made Brian’s stomach turn. 

Between the bites of his soggy peanut butter and jam sandwich - a culinary decision he would not have made on his own, but which turned out not to even be that bad at second thought - Brian was bombarded by questions from Freddie, who asked him if he had all the papers, documents, and answers ready for everything the judges might possibly ask from him. After all, the meeting was going to be in less than fifteen minutes - a fact that Brian started to realise he could not change with every one of these minutes passing by on the round clock hanging above the door of their dorm room. 

It was a quarter to one, and Brian had just finished the last bite of his sandwich, when a knock on the door caught them all off guard - and, as seemed to have become tradition overtime, Freddie was the one who hoisted himself off the bed and flung himself at the door. He opened it with his usual enthusiasm to reveal not only Nolan, whom they had expected, but Jasper and Sarah on top of that.

'Guys! We didn't know you were all coming down here?' Freddie said as he gestured to the staff members to come in. Brian could see from his corner of the room how Jasper made an attempt at entering, but Sarah pulled him back by grabbing his arm, reminding him of the limited time they had until they were expected to show their faces at the meeting. 

'Emotional support, we thought,’ Jasper smiled, and Brian, although he was not always too sure of having too many people around him, appreciated how they had all come down to meet up with him here. Unfortunately for him, it turned out that the staff members involved in the process were not the only ones who had made the journey to Room 41B - when he followed John’s example of standing up from the bed, he could make out the figures of a few other men over Sarah’s shoulder. Judging by their grey t-shirts, they were neither part of the jury nor did they belong to the staff of the institution, and must thus simply be guys with a sense of morbid curiosity trying to get a view of the unusual scene that was about to go down.

Luckily, it was Nolan who addressed the bunch. ‘Jack, Paul, Eli, and all the rest of you - please leave us some space, will you? You can go downstairs to watch the whole thing and you know that.’

You can go downstairs to watch the whole thing and you know that. The words hit Brian like a baseball bat, even though he did not know for sure what Nolan meant with this. Did he simply say this to get everyone out of their way, or was he referring to how downstairs they could see the entire party descend into the meeting room? Or was there perhaps a literal meaning to the words Nolan had used to shoo away the unwanted spectators?

Freddie was quicker to pull himself together than Brian was. ‘Excuse me? Go downstairs and see what?’ 

‘Why, the meeting, of course,’ Jasper answered without batting an eye. 

‘The meeting? It’s public?’ Roger now mingled himself into the discussion. 

‘They always are. Just like court cases - they’re public unless stated otherwise. I thought you knew that.’ 

Brian felt John’s eyes travelling travelling over to meet his, but he could not look back at his partner. In fact, he could not look at anything apart from the doorknob his gaze had fallen onto since the second the possibility of an open judgement had dawned on him - something that was now confirmed by a single careless sentence falling from Jasper’s lips.

‘Oh, well, excuse us for not knowing the practices and traditions of the English legal system by heart-’ Freddie started off bitchily, but Jasper interrupted him.

‘No, what I meant was - I thought you’d been told this. They were supposed to tell you this. They didn’t tell you?’ Six pairs of eyes flung back to look at Brian, who feebly shook his head in a form of response. 

‘I don’t think any of us knew this,’ John spoke on behalf of his partner. ‘Who exactly are ‘they’ when they’re at home?’

At the question of this, Jasper turned to look at Nolan and Sarah. ‘I thought you were going to tell Brian this, Nole.’

Nolan in turn shook his head. ‘No, Sarah was going to. She’s his psychiatrist and leads this process of reassessment.’

‘No, Mister Fisher does. He’s supposed to be in charge, and I thought he was the one to tell Brian?’ The audible question mark at the end of Sarah’s sentence revealed that she, just like her male co-workers, had no idea of how exactly things had been arranged concerning who was responsible for passing on which part of information to Brian. The person affected decided not to dwell on for too long on the possibility of the staff having forgotten more than just this one not entirely trivial fact, which might in turn be detrimental to his chances of leaving Queen Mary’s.

‘Okay, so basically this was communication at its finest,’ Sarah said with a breathy half-giggle, but she checked herself in time, probably understanding that as typical and non-surprising it was that such a thing happened at Queen Mary’s, it was not exactly funny to Brian, who would now be given exactly thirteen minutes to prepare himself for the idea of having to submit to his ordeal in a room filled with God knew how many nosy men who came to watch how he kept himself standing in front of the judges, hoping for juicy details or a nervous breakdown or whatever it was that they were after.

‘And now? Brian is supposed to just accept that there’s going to be a flood of nosy bastards snooping around during the trial because no one here talks to each other?’ Freddie asked crankily. He was obviously not happy about it, and neither was Brian himself - but, knowing that making a scene about the matter now would only make things worse and might even affect his chances of getting out if word of it reached the judges. Better buckle up and keep his calm as much as he could.

‘It’s fine,’ Brian mustered. ‘I can deal with it.’

‘You sure?’ Roger sounded a tad worried.

‘Yeah, sure. I won’t have to talk to any of them anyway,’ Brian said, a lot braver than he felt inside. 

‘You won’t even have to look at them. They’ll all be sitting behind you anyway,’ Jasper said in what must have been an attempt at comfort. It served the exact opposite in Brian’s mind. He knew it was irrational, but somehow the idea of a sea of people being able to view him from behind while he could not look back at him made him nervous.

‘Shall we go, then?’ Sarah proposed. ‘The sooner we get there, the more time you’ll have to get yourself settled.’ Everyone turned to Brian, who simply nodded. He reached out a hand for John to help him get up from the bed, and he followed his friends out of the room. John stayed behind him with a hand on his back, as a silent force; a silent way of telling him that he was there to usher him through the hallways that turned out to hold even more nosy fellow clients than Brian at first had been able to see from his view in the bedroom.

'Everyone out of the way, please,' Nolan said with a fierceness that one would not normally attribute to him.. 'You can go downstairs to watch it all - leave Brian to have some peace now. You would want the same if you were in his place.' 

Part of the audience obeyed Nolan's speech and got out of the way, part of them did not. Brian decided not to pay too much attention to them. How could he anyway, now that he was caught up in a whirlwind of thoughts about the upcoming process? How would the judges react to him, how would their first impression of him influence their judgement of him? What would his parents do when they saw him from their view in the meeting room? Would they smile, cry, would they be proud of him? Or would they still keep to their previous judgement that he should stay here and finish his treatment?

‘So are there any more surprises we should keep in mind?’ Freddie asked while the party clattered down the stairs. ‘Are there going to be journalists to report the whole thing? Cameras and microphones? A press conference afterwards?’ 

‘None of that, no,’ Nolan answered. ‘Only a registrar to take notes for future reference, and to allow the board to see if the judgement was carried out according to the protocols.’

‘What, so they can overturn the sentence if they feel like it?’ Freddie asked in the same sarcastic tone he had been using ever since the forgotten clause of the apparently public meeting had come to light. 

‘No, that won’t happen. Just to reflect on the judges’ work. See if no favouritism or prejudice was used to come to a conclusion,’ Nolan said. This last sentence, Brian had to admit, made him feel a little better - apparently there were rules in place which would prevent Doctor Sumner from blatantly turning his case down just because he could. Then again, if the decision made today was to be final, nothing could be done if Sumner decided to sabotage the judgement anyway. Brian was unsure if he should feel comforted or alarmed.

They continued the way downstairs in silence - or that was, silence from their part. The men who had gathered around them and who had been waiting for the caravan to descend the stairs made enough noise to make it nearly impossible for Brian to hear his own thoughts. Maybe this was a good thing, though - his mind was racing and he could not find a single positive or uplifting thought among the whirlwind in his head. 

‘Brian, good luck!’

‘Tell them what we think of this place!’

‘Flip the judges off on my behalf!’

The things people around him shouted at him - some of which were genuine wishes, others just hopes to make him stick it to Queen Mary’s and the mental health care system in general - reached Brian’s ears as a slow-motioned hurricane. He felt queasy, but with the help of John’s hand on the small of his back to guide him, he managed to keep his eyes straight on the figures of Freddie and Nolan, who led the way to the meeting room. 

Brian had never been to the meeting room before. He had been vaguely aware of its presence, and had heard his caretakers speak of meeting up at the place. He had not previously known where exactly it was located in the staff wing, but it became clear to him soon enough when he saw hordes of people moving around one particular room all the way down the corridor. Some of them pointed upon his arrival, others clapped; some took it as a sign to go in and take a seat, others remained in an attempt to catch another look at him. Brian felt like a celebrity who had fallen from grace through a scandalous sex offence, and who now had to answer for his actions in front of an audience already bent on judging him for his crimes.

‘Out of the way, please,’ Nolan called out - and, when people only partially listened to this wish, he simply pushed his way through the crowd. It was not the behaviour Brian would normally expect from his cool, calm, and collected mentor, but he did not blame Nolan even one bit for his no-nonsense approach to the dozens who had gathered outside the meeting room. In fact, he was rather grateful that Nolan showed the men that he was not to be messed with for the time being - it certainly made part of them scatter and disappear into the meeting room.

A downside to having these people leave the hallway and claiming a spot in the meeting room, however, was that now a pathway to the door emerged - a pathway through which Brian could cast a glance into the room in which he was to present himself in a few minutes. It was not a pretty sight, to say the very least. The room, although he could only see the back of it through the limited sight he could catch of it through the door, seemed absolutely packed with people. They were sitting on rows of chairs provided, leaning against the walls, sitting on the floor in front of the chairs - they were everywhere. It was as if the entire population of Queen Mary’s had come out to see the trial. It would not surprise Brian if this was actually the truth: with no institution-wide activities going on at the moment, and little else to do around the place anyway, a public meeting in which a client tried to defy the judgement of his own mental health caretakers could be viewed as a spectacle on its own. 

‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ Freddie all but exclaimed at the sight of the crowds. ‘And everyone just conveniently forgot to tell us this? That the entire fucking place would come out to have a look?’

‘It really was an accident,’ Sarah said feebly, before being pushed aside by someone rushing into the room in an attempt to get a seat still. 

‘Thanks, that really helps,’ Freddie grumbled. ‘So we’re not gonna be able to be by Brian’s side? Sit somewhere close and be there in case he needs us?’

‘I’m sure Brian is gonna be alright,’ Jasper said. ‘He’ll have to do this on his own anyway.’

Even though Brian realised that Jasper meant these words as a comfort, it really hit him hard that he did, in fact, have to do this on his own. He did ae to go in there and have unironically two hundred people look down upon him while a jury compiled of undoubtedly mental health experts who nevertheless knew nothing about him were going to decide on his fate. If he had Even though Brian realised that Jasper meant these words as a form of comfort, it really hit him hard that he did, in fact, have to do this on his own. He did have to go in there and have unironically two hundred people look down upon him while a jury compiled of undoubtedly mental health experts who nevertheless knew nothing about him were going to decide on his fate. If he had been nervous before about this latter fact, the presence of the entire institution on top of that made him break out in cold sweat. He could not do this - not in front of all of these people. The image of all the people rushing in and out of the room, the sound of their chatter and laughter and screaming - it all mashed together in a blur of sound and visual that reached Brian as in slow motion. He could not do this.

‘Brian?’ It was John’s voice that spoke to him somewhere in the distance. ‘You’re quiet. Are you holding out?’ He turned his face to look at John. His eyes were too intense and too prying, and Brian took a step back from him. He bumped into someone behind him, who seemed to verbally lash out at him but who fell into muttering apologies when they saw who he was. None of the words reached Brian in any intelligible form, and as John approached him, he stepped further back until his shoulder blades bumped into the wall behind him. The people he’d come to the meeting with now all gathered around him, seemed to ask questions, but none of them reached him. Someone - presumably Freddie, judging by the black-tipped fingernails - put his cold hand across his forehead, and someone else pushed a plastic cup of water in his hands. He did not drink of it, however; and the next thing he knew was the cup being taken away from him and its contents being splashed in his face. This sobered him up enough to hear Freddie squeal something about being careful with his makeup, but most of all, as he blinked a few times he could make out the image of John standing in front of him with a now empty cup and an expression that told him he was not to be messed with.

‘John…’ Brian managed feebly. John pushed the empty cup into someone’s palm so he had free range of his hands. He placed them firmly on Brian’s shoulders.

‘Look, Brian. I know this is overwhelming but you have to pull yourself together. The judges are ready to see you. It’s time to step up and do this.’

‘But all… all these people,’ Brian brought in.

‘I know. I know you don’t want all of these people here, and neither do I or Jasper or Nolan or anyone else. But you know what? All of those people are here because they support you.’

Brian blinked at his partner, only to discover that John seemed to be serious about this claim. He huffed out a laugh. ‘They’re just here for some free entertainment.’

‘Maybe some of them are. Some might have nothing else to do on a regular Wednesday afternoon. But literally everyone seems to be here. I’ve seen Sebastian and Lester and Bill and Andrew, and other people from both our depression talk group and other groups. The ones who never go anywhere. Who wouldn’t show up to breakfast or even to get their fucking medicines in the morning if their mentor wouldn’t come over and drag them there? Do you think they’re here to be entertained?’

Brian shrugged. ‘Why else would they be here?’

‘To support you!’ John repeated. ‘To show that they’re on your side. To see Queen Mary’s authority and judgement being challenged for once. All of these people here - even if they’re just here because they have nothing else to do, they dragged themselves out of bed and out of their rooms to be here. Do you think they would have been here if they did not care?’

Brian was quiet for a moment. ‘Do you?’ John asked again.

‘Maybe not,’ Brian shrugged.

‘Most definitely not. They care about this trial, because it’s more than just your trial, Brian. This has become everyone’s trial in a sense. It’s a protest against Queen Mary’s and their judgements and authority. This trial is showing people that there’s hope, and that we can be our own person and lead our own lives even while in here. We’re not their puppets, Brian, and whether you win or not, this trial is proof of that.’ John paused for a second to take a breath of air, and so did Brian. It was not often that his partner got so passionate about something, but when it happened, he was sure to put your worldview upside down. Maybe the people here had not come out to jeer or taunt or laugh at him - maybe they were here to show their support. To show they believed in their own authority regardless of what Queen Mary’s tried to mould them into. 

To give his most recent words a little more power, John took up the conversation again by asking: ‘Remember what Drew said the other day?’

Brian cast his eyes down at the mention of the murdered patient whom John brought up without a warning, but he was told off for doing so. ‘Look at me. Do you remember?’

‘Yes,’ Brian whispered. John’s grip on his shoulders had tightened, which felt both suppressing and safe at the same time. He knew he was not going to escape whatever John was about to tell him, but at the same time, John was not going to let anyone come in and make matters harder for him. John was here to protect him, keep the world at a distance now that Brian needed it most. 

‘Tell me what he said.’

‘He said that… he wished I would get out of here.’

‘Exactly,’ John nodded. ‘He wanted you to get out of here because you deserved better. Drew, the most hated person in this entire Godforsaken place, stood behind your cause. No matter how hard he’s made things for us at times, in the end he wanted you to win this. And fuck, I didn’t think I’d ever say this, but let’s go out there and do it for Drew. As some weird kind of last honour, or whatever people call that.’ A small, crooked smile appeared on John’s lips, and Brian let out a breathy sigh.

‘I want to,’ Brian admitted. ‘I do want to, and maybe- probably all those people are on our side. But they are so many-’

‘You’ve fought too hard and too long for this process to let this slide because other people showed up,’ John interrupted him, with power to his words but a gentleness to his tone. ‘And besides, since when do you care for other people? Have we ever cared for other people while in here? During all those late nights of playing music and talking during group discussions and locking ourselves in my hiding place during drug raids, did we ever give a single fuck about other people?’ The crooked smile on John’s face was back - more sincere and inviting this time, and Brian could not help but copy it.

‘We didn’t,’ he smiled.

‘God knows we didn’t,’ John agreed. ‘And right now is not the time that we are going to give a damn about other people either.’ The twinkle in his eyes and the confidence of his voice made Brian realise that John was right about all he just told him - the majority of the people here today had come out to support him, or at any rate to support him showing Queen Mary’s he was taking his own say in his life back, everyone wanted him to win, and even though the presence of two hundred uninvited clients made him nervous, he had never let other people around Queen Mary’s from doing what he wanted to do before. More than that, it made him wish he could kiss him right in the middle of the hallway - something he might actually have done if in that exact moment they would not have been pulled aside by Sarah to enter the room. 

‘Brian, Doctor Fisher is here to take you in and introduce you. Are you ready to go?’

Brian shared one look with John, who let go of his shoulders and gave him a comforting nod. ‘Absolutely,’ he answered, and he stepped away from the wall he no longer needed for either mental or physical support by now. He was ushered to the door opening, right in front of which he was reunited with the psychiatrist who had gone through the process of reassessment with him. Brian hadn’t seen him for a week or so now that the therapy sessions were over, but the smile on the man’s face and the firm handshake he received made him happy to see him back and be supported by him today.

‘I’ve worked day and night on these files, I’ll have you know,’ Fisher said with a nearly loving pat on the folder of documents he carried under his arm. ‘If this doesn’t bail you out, it won’t be for my lack of effort.’ Brian smiled and thanked him - even though he had not yet seen or heard a letter of the words Doctor Fisher had prepared for today, he knew he was in good hands with his help.

Upon stepping over the threshold of the door, Brian was blinded and deafened by the noise the people inside of it made. It was as if he was the defender of the world title at the Australian Open, the continent’s favourite act at the Eurovision, the Beatles upon first arriving at JFK airport - there was applause and screaming and all other sorts of noise coming from the left side of the room, which was densely packed with people in every single corner. A quick glance around told him that he did not know half of the audience, but the many smiling faces, the thumbs-up, and the applause they offered made knowing them unnecessary. It was the vibe of positivity and support they radiated that did it for Brian./

‘They’re here for you.’ For a moment Brian thought that he was imagining John saying these words to him, but he soon found that he was not - he turned around to find his boyfriend smiling up at him, grabbing his hand and give him a quick squeeze. ‘We’ll be in the audience. Whatever happens, know that I love you.’

‘I love you too,’ Brian beamed, giving his friends a quick wave before being taken up by Fisher and Queen Mary’s staff to ascend the three steps of the stage-like platform on the right side of the room, on which several desks had been pushed together to create the illusion of one long table in the style of a law court. It looked improvisational at best, as everything at Queen Mary’s did. Brian tried to prevent a chuckle as he followed Mister Fisher upstairs and faced the three-headed jury, which had gathered in front of their seats for the time being. A lady, perhaps in her late thirties or early forties, was the first member of the jury they came across.

Mister Fisher took it upon him to familiarise the entire crew to one another. ‘Miss Gerald, I’d like to introduce you to today’s client, Brian May.’ Brian felt like he was being presented as if he was the latest vacuum cleaner to be launched into the market, and tried not to laugh. He shook hands with the one that was extended towards him, and politely repeated his name to the woman.

‘Please allow any signs of nervousness he shows today,’ Nolan spoke on his behalf. ‘Due to - eh, communication errors, he was not aware that today was to be an open trial.’

Miss Gerald was nice enough about the matter, and told Brian (surprise surprise) that there was no need to be nervous, but that it was a very natural feeling to deal with in such a high profile situation. She also remarked that he did not seem all too nervous to her eyes; Brian was afraid that he was not doing too good of a job keeping his nervous giggles under control. Luckily it was Jasper who pointed out on his behalf that his jittery laughter was most likely to be a result of his nerves playing up. Nolan, Sarah, and Jasper were then properly introduced to Miss Gerald; Mister Fisher took his chance to take Brian to the second stop along the road of meeting the judges. 

Brian was introduced to a balding, spectacled man of near-retirement age with a low voice and stern expression, but his face became more friendly as he spoke up and smiled at Brian. His surname - Carlston or Carlman or something the like - did not stick with Brian for too long; which might be a result of the guy’s monotonous, slow way of speaking, or of the fact that he could see his third and biggest obstacle standing no more than five feet away from him. Doctor Sumner side-eyed him every so many seconds, but Brian ignored him for the time being. He was determined not to give his former psychiatrist a single indication of his nervousness concerning the power he possibly held over him - if anything, Brian had made up his mind, both for the sake of John and himself and everyone present in the room, that he was going to show him he was over him, and was no longer going to allow himself to be intimidated by the man who had put him here. It was his turn to triumph now. 

The talk with Carlston or Carlman over, Fisher took Brian to speak to Doctor Sumner, and leave the rest of his team to move on and speak to the second person in line. Brian felt his knees weakening a bit as he stepped towards Sumner, but he tried to make up for this by straightening his back and pulling the straightest, most no-nonsense (and perhaps somewhat bitchy) face he could produce.

‘And this man right here, Professor Sumner, I’ve been told you’ve met before,’ Mister Fisher said, obviously not aware of the tension between the two. Then again, no one standing on this platform apart from Sumner and Brian himself was aware of that, and he preferred to keep things that way for the time being. Something that did catch his attention, though, was the fact that his old psych was not addressed as a doctor anymore, but as a professor – something he quickly realised must have been an effect of him having promoted himself in scientific circles through his discovery of borderline personality disorder – at the cost of him and God knew how many more of his other patients. Brian felt his blood starting to boil, but he worked hard to keep his anger to himself.

‘I have indeed. Back when he was still a doctor and not a professor,’ Brian said with a perfectly cold civility. Copying Sumner’s behaviour, Brian’s eyes travelled up and down Sumner’s somewhat shorter frame, and eventually lingered on his face. It took a handful of seconds of tensed silence before Sumner was eventually the first to remove his hands from his back and reach one towards Brian. Brian reluctantly yet firmly gripped it. 

‘Brian May. I never thought we would meet each other so soon again,’ Sumner said with the fakest smile Brian had seen in a while. ‘Or at all, if I may be so honest.’

Brian knew all too well what he meant by this - that if it was up to him, Sumner would have him placed in a long-stay hospital to prevent him ever being able to convincingly tell his story of how Sumner had abused his power to make a living out of the suffering of Brian and undoubtedly more of his patients. The idea of countering Sumner and his wishes by going for a reassessment and pulling so far as to actually land himself into this trial gave Brian the last of determination he had been in need of to pull through today and give both Sumner and the entirety of Queen Mary’s the finger. 

‘Doctor Sumner,’ Brian said steadfastly, refusing to acknowledge the new title that had been acquired at the cost of him and others. ‘How delighted I am that you were able to spare us some of your time,’ Brian smiled icily. ‘You must be rather sought after the launch of your research papers these days.’ He could see Sumner tensing at the mention of the research papers of which he knew damn well he could be blacklisted for if the truth about them came out, but Brian’s enemy was quick to pull himself together. 

‘I am. But that does not prevent me from devoting some time to an old acquaintance who has played such a vital role in the making of said papers,’ he said easily. Brian, however, was even quicker to give his former psychiatrist an even easier yet snarkier answer. 

‘And who can similarly play a vital role in tearing them straight down again.’ It was a good thing that the crowd around them was still making such noise, and that Mister fisher seemed to have gone off to speak to the registrar sitting at the far end of the table, because Brian was unsure what would happen if any outsider was to overhear the obviously somewhat threatening conversation they were having. 

Sumner’s jaw clenched at hearing these words, and Brian could almost see the radars inside his brain spinning for an answer. He did not seem to be able to come up with anything, though, because after five seconds or so he simply asked: ‘What do you want?’

‘Nothing extraordinary,’ Brian shrugged. ‘But how about you let me go and I let you go?’

Sumner’s face remained unreadable. He was obviously unhappy with the direction this discussion was heading into, but had little to say to defend himself - as was made obvious by his bland try at countering Brian.

‘I haven’t even heard your case yet.’

‘Don’t worry about it. I promise you that if anything, it’ll make you look suspicious if you don’t let me go,’ Brian said with more confidence than he felt inside. To prevent Sumner from being able to say anything that would bring him down again, Brian gave him an uncharacteristic and intimidating pat on the shoulder, spoke a nearly cruel ‘you know what to do’, and moved along to give his regards to the registrar. He left a bedazzled Sumner to greet his defence and figure out what to do with the part-promise, part-threat he had been dished out on his own. 

When the last of his entourage had shaken hands and exchanged words of welcome with the judges, Brian was guided down the steps again and given leave to sit down on one of the chairs facing the judges. As he turned his back on the jury and was faced with the audience, his eyes quickly darted around the room to locate the places where his friends and his parents had settled themselves. It was hard to spot them in the tumultuous scene in front of him, but he detected the pink sleeve of his mother’s dress as she held up her hand to wave at him soon enough. His father, sitting in a black suit next to her, also caught sight of him. Brian gave a bit of a smile and waved back at them, and the gesture was answered by a lot more people than just his parents. These people really are on my side, Brian thought to himself as he gave a wave directed at the other side of the room, which again was met with unbound enthusiasm. 

In fact, Brian did not make his regards to everyone because he was so pleased to have the entire population of the institution there, but because he hoped he could win some time to figure out the location of his friends also. They were a little harder to spot, given that they dressed in the same dark trousers and grey shirts as all the other clients, but they would not have been his friends had they not tried their very best to show themselves.

‘Briiiian! Honey, we’re here!’ Freddie’s voice was loud and bordered on obnoxiousness while Roger and he waved both their hands above their heads to attract Brian’s attention. It did work, though - and Brian felt a wave of relief passing through him when he found his three roommates sitting in the middle of the front row of the audience. He was unsure how they had found themselves such a desirable spot in the room, seeing as they had made their entrance rather late, but he figured that Freddie and Roger might have used their status as his best friends to persuade people to give them the best spot available. John sat beside them in a much more quiet fashion, and he smiled up at Brian and send a kissy hand his way. Brian, a bit too overwhelmed with the entire situation, clutched a hand against his heart to indicate that he had received the imaginary kiss.

Jasper, Nolan, and Sarah ascended the stairs, too, and took their seats on one of the five chairs across the judges’ table. Brian waved at his friends one more time, before he turned around and lowered himself in his chair. The plain wooden chair he was sitting on made him feel small when compared to the judges and their more luxurious leather desk chairs, but the presence of two of his supporters at either side of him - not to even mention a sea of people, including his parents, best friends, and his boyfriend behind him - made him feel a little stronger.

The noise in the room had not ceased in time with the key figures of the trial sitting down, so Miss Gerald made a point of clapping in her hands a number of times in a row in an attempt to quiet down the multitude. Not everyone seemed to either hear this or listen to it, so her efforts were joined by those of Doctor Sumner, who slammed a fist down on the desk in front of him. This at last seemed to have some effect.

‘Ladies and gentlemen! We’d like to start this session!’ he thundered in a voice louder than any of the ones Brian had heard in the meeting room, and the last of noise seemed to quiet down at this statement. Miss Gerald took the opportunity to stand up from her chair and wasted no time in opening the meeting.

‘Welcome everybody - my name is Edna Gerald, and together with my colleagues Professor Sumner and Mister Carlston, I seek to come to a verdict regarding a client of Queen Mary’s Psychiatric Institution’s appeal for a reassessment. Can Mister Brian May stand up, please?’

Brian, a little taken aback by the suddenness with which the introduction morphed into serious business, took a second before he pushed himself up on his somewhat wobbly legs - a feeling that did not pass at all when Miss Gerald went straight to making him promise a testimony of truth.

‘Do you confirm that all you tell us today will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?’

‘I promise. I mean- I confirm,’ Brian corrected himself clumsily. Off to a good start, he thought to himself, but the judges seemed not to mind or even notice. 

‘Thank you. We will start with the technical part of the process. Please state your full name and date of birth for the record,’ Miss Gerald ordered.

Brian cleared his throat. ‘My name is Brian Harold May and I was born on July 19, 1947.’

‘Place of birth?’

‘Homerton University Hospital in London.’

‘Names of your parents?’

‘Harold May and Ruth May-Irving.’

‘Correct,’ Miss Gerald stated after a look at the paper in front of her, as if she had been contemplating the possibility that Brian would be lying about his mother’s maiden name. ‘Now you, Brian Harold May, stand before a selection of members of the South East England Mental Health Facilitation, which is an independent organisation that oversees the working of Queen Mary’s Psychiatric Institution and similar places. You are here today, on September 15, 1971, because you filed for a reassessment which, in case it is approved, will grant you leave from the aforementioned institution.’ The formal way of talking made Brian feel more than just a little out of place, but he refused to show a sign of discomfort.

‘That is correct.’

Miss Gerald dived back into the files in front of her, scribbled something down, and took a moment to read. ‘According to the data provided to me, you were admitted into Queen Mary’s Psychiatric Institution on March 13, 1971. Is this correct?’

‘Yes.’ It took little time for Brian to establish this as being a fact. He still remembered the day and the week previous to it vividly - the establishment of the date he was to be taken in, his father allowing no backchat on the subject, his mum packing his back the night before as he could not be convinced to get up from his bed, being dragged out of the house and into the car, and being left behind at the institution. It was a date he would never be able to forget, whether he wanted to do so or not. 

‘And you have remained on the property of Queen Mary’s Psychiatric Institution ever since, without any breaks or intermissions?’ Miss Gerald went on to ask. 

‘Yes.’

‘Very good. Now is it true that you filed for a reassessment August 24, 1971, with the interference of a certain Nolan Ferrier?’

Brian gave a small glance at Nolan, who was sitting on his right side. It was true indeed that Nolan had applied for a reassessment on his behalf, but whether this had been on August 24, 25, or 29, was something Brian could not tell to save his life. Nolan gave a small nod, and Brian faced Miss Gerald again.

‘Correct.’

‘Can you describe what position Nolan Ferrier holds towards you?’

‘He is my mentor, and has been so from the day I was admitted into Queen Mary’s.’

‘Has Nolan Ferrier, or any other staff member of Queen Mary’s Psychiatric Institution, in any shape or form influenced you in your decision to go for a reassessment?’

‘He has not. None of them have,’ Brian said firmly, as to put this idea out of the way. 

‘Do you confirm that the reassessment that was filed on your behalf was filed through your own desire, as a result of your own wishes, that it was a decision made in a rational moment, and moreover is a decision which you still stand by?’

The first time I am to experience a rational moment has yet to happen, Brian thought to himself, but he decided that right now was not the proper moment for jokes. ‘I confirm all of this,’ he said with a straight face.

‘Very well,’ Miss Gerald shortly comment. ‘Now, lastly, you must confirm that you agree with and consent to the rules and regulations that apply to every reassessment appeal - which state that the decision to be made today is final, that an approval can be overturned if evidence surfaces which shows you deliberately forsook the truth at any point of this reassessment process; and that, in case of dismissal, a new reassessment will not be allowed to be filed for the upcoming 120 days. Do you agree with and consent to all of these regulations?’

Brian swallowed thickly - there were quite some rules he was submitting himself to that he did not feel entirely comfortable with. He knew that the decision today was final, but the idea that it could later be overturned if it turned out he had not told the truth entirely to the wishes of the jury made him nervous. Who was to decide what was the truth, or that he had deliberately made up his mind to withhold the truth from the judges? And what would happen if they caught him doing so - would he be chased down and dropped off behind the gates of Queen Mary’s again?

‘None of this will apply to you,’ Nolan whispered beside him, probably understanding the tension he found himself under. ‘You will get out today for once and for all.’

‘I agree with and consent to these regulations,’ Brian managed.

‘Thank you. You are excused for now.’ Brian gave a weak nod and allowed himself to sit back in his chair again. He was still a little fazed by all he had just been made to solemnly swear, even though all information he had been made to confirm or deny had been purely factual, and was just the start of the session. God knew what else he might be made to say later, God knew how long this meeting was going to last - maybe he should have practised more, maybe he should have prepared a speech as to the hows and whys of his reassessment-

‘We shall now bring forwards the first speaker on behalf of Mister May. Sarah Gaskell may step forwards, please.’

Sarah, who was seated next to Nolan, all but jumped up from her spot.

‘Miss Gaskell, you are likewise asked state your full name, date of birth, and to confirm that all you tell us today will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,’ Miss Gerald proceeded.

‘My name is Sarah Marie Gaskell, born on October 29 1942, and I confirm that all I will tell you today will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.’ Sarah did not falter a single time, as she was asked about her position concerning Brian, the sessions they had sat through together, and Brian’s overall mental health. Brian felt himself growing somewhat uncomfortable as his psychiatrist spoke of the impact Jimmy’s death had had on him - not just because he did not enjoy having the deepest pits he had fallen into discussed so openly, but also because the judges seemed altogether surprised at the mentioning of a suicide by hanging at Queen Mary’s mere months ago. Miss Gerald and Mister Carlston bowed their heads together, and Sumner brought out a folder through which he started flicking with earnest. It suddenly dawned on Brian that the ‘incident’ might very well never have been reported to the healthcare inspection, and that Sarah had, unbeknownst to herself, exposed a secret that Queen Mary’s had been eager to keep. 

Good for them, Brian thought dimly. Let them try to talk themselves out of sweeping a suicide-leaning-on-murder case under the carpet.

After a minute or so of hushed conversation, the matter was dropped - for the time being - and Sarah was again questioned about her contact with Brian and the progress she thought her client had made. She answered all the questions with enthusiasm, and stood proud and confident before the judges. Brian wondered if she had practised her speech - because with this being the first case of reassessment to pull through to the final trial, she could not have had a lot of practice beforehand. 

‘Miss Gaskell, in your professional opinion, do you think your client is ready to be released from Queen Mary’s and return to society?’ the main judge eventually asked in quite a straightforward fashion.

‘I do,’ Sarah smiled.

‘Why then, miss Gaskell, did you not propose the idea of letting him go yourself?’ Miss Gerald asked her critically. ‘You, after all, are his psychiatrist. If you thought him to be ready to be released from Queen Mary’s Psychiatric Institution, then why did you not propose this yourself and followed the standard procedure of dismissing a client once their trial is completed?’ It was a tough question - one Brian personally would not know how to answer convincingly if he had been in his psychiatrist’s place. Luckily, Sarah seemed to know exactly what she was doing, as her smile did not falter for a split second when she answered.

‘I understand your concern for Brian having come up with the idea of a reassessment on his own, rather than waiting until we as his caretakers filed for him to be dismissed,’ Sarah acknowledged. ‘And whereas I will admit that upon first hearing about his reassessment I was surprised, as his trial - as I had planned it out on paper - had not been finished yet. But when I thought about it a little more, it dawned on me that the trial I had planned out, was not at all linked to the progress Brian had made. In fact, his progress during the past few months has been so rapid that the psychiatric sessions I had planned out for him lag behind tremendously. My plans do not correspond to his current needs anymore.’ Sarah paused for a second. ‘In fact, as I’ve come to think of it, I think all that Queen Mary’s has to offer simply does not correspond to Mister May’s needs anymore. He has made such progress and gained such mental stability over the period of his stay here at Queen Mary’s, that I am afraid there is little to nothing more we can offer him here.’

‘I see,’ Mister Carlston took over from his colleague when Miss Gerald simply looked at him. ‘And do you not think that his progress could be carried even further if he was to remain at Queen Mary’s for, let’s say, the duration your original planning for him therapy-wise would have lasted?’

Sarah was quick to tear down this idea before it was able to plant its roots into anyone’s mind. ‘Quite the opposite. I’m afraid that keeping Mister May here, against his own wishes, would have a negative effect rather than a positive one on him and his condition.’

‘Thank you, miss Gaskell. You can sit down again.’ Sarah gave a small nod and settled next to Nolan again. Brian tried to catch a glimpse of her to shoot her a grateful smile for the words she had given in defence of his wishes, but as the judges wasted no time in moving on, Brian pulled his eyes into the direction of the jury again.

‘Now we would like to have Nolan Ferrier come forward to inform us on Brian’s behaviour according to the official records that have been kept during his stay at Queen Mary’s Psychiatric Hospital until this day.’ 

Nolan got up from his chair, repeated his name and date of birth for the record, swore the same oath that Brian and Sarah had done before him - and started on an anthology of Brian’s good behaviour, which included acts of generosity towards fellow patients and kindness and obedience to the staff of Queen Mary’s. The sheer act of listening to it made Brian cringe a little - it was awkward to have to sit by and listen to Nolan praising him as if he was Jesus Christ incarnated. Besides, Brian realised all too well that he was no saint. He had had his fair share of missing mealtimes to go outside with John, skipping drug tests by finding shelter in John’s hiding place, paying zero attention during group therapy, running out of Sarah’s office or plainly not talking to her for an entire session in the aftermath of Jimmy’s death, and getting wound up in a fight with Drew within days of being admitted into Queen Mary’s. Luckily, Nolan mentioned none of these events - and when asked to explain Brian’s absence during perhaps three or four breakfast- and lunch moments, he was able to explain them away with illness, obligations elsewhere, and similar excuses. The questions from the judge were few, as the official records showed little accounts of Brian having disobeyed the rules and regulations - and within five minutes, Nolan was thanked and invited to sit down again to make room for Jasper.

Jasper’s session was even shorter, if still possible. Despite getting to see Brian nearly every day, he was not able to say too much about him personally, as he had always experienced Brian in the context of a group only. Brian was relieved, though, that Jasper described him as respectful and cooperative, and did not mention any of the countless times when Brian had drifted off, usually with the help of John, to topics they found to be more interesting than the thought schemes or positive thinking assignments or whatever it had been that Jasper had prepared for the therapy sessions.

Mister Fisher was then addressed and asked to share his experiences of Brian’s illness, behaviour, and capability of returning to society already. He gave his report of the weeks he’d spend examining Brian and his motives for leaving Queen Mary’s - the ones on paper, that was. Brian had decided it was probably not the best of ideas to tell them he wanted to leave this shithole behind in time with his boyfriend, because something told him that the judges might not see this as a valid reason to be excused from a mental health clinic at all, even though matters were of course a little more complicated than Brian just wanting to leave and be with John for the hell of it. They needed each other - but that was not something he expected random strangers to understand. 

Luckily, Fisher did not speak of John other than mentioning him, together with Freddie and Roger, as being the closest friends his client had made while at Queen Mary’s. This in turn seemed to be meant to convince the jury of Brian’s improved social skills and capabilities, but besides this, Brian was not too sure what they spoke about. As soon as they brought up the DSM and it’s technical medical terms - boundary conditions and parthopsychological processes and cluster symptoms and similar phrases - he found himself zooming out somewhat. He forced himself to keep his gaze in front of him, afraid that any sort of sign of disinterest might later be held against him. Still, he was relieved when the judges thanked Mister Fisher for his input and allowed him to sit back down again.

Although… Now that everyone around him had been questioned apart from he himself, Brian had a feeling that he was going to be the next victim of the judges.

‘Lastly we will hear the client himself. Mister May?’

Oh, Lord. Here we go.

Suppressing the tendency to first have a look at the people sitting around him to check their reactions, see if they had any comforting words or gestures for him before he stood up for his ordeal, Brian got up, straightened the least faded grey shirt Freddie had been able to pluck from the laundry room, and faced up to the judges. There was some applause and cheering behind him, but the guards quickly managed to calm everyone down again - which was a first by Queen Mary’s standards, Brian thought dimly. 

‘Now, we’ve heard everyone speak so positively about your progress here at Queen Mary’s, we’ve read your statements and your motivation for leaving Queen Mary’s early, and your plans for picking up your life again after you return to society…’ Miss Gerald summed up, and Brian instinctively felt that, despite this not sounding too bad, a but to all of this was going to come up. 

He turned out to be right. 

‘But what I’m really interested in is your diary segments,’ Miss Gerald said as she flicked through the notebook Mister Fisher must have handed over to her during a prior contact with the judges. ‘In particular the mentioning of a certain individual who goes by the name John, and who seems to pop up in every single diary segment.’

John. Oh God, this really could go in any possible direction from this point onward.

‘Yes,’ Brian said sheepishly, not knowing what exactly would be a meaningful reply to this statement.

Miss Gerald pushed her glasses a little higher up her nose. ‘Now, I’ve been informed by Mister Fisher that this refers to a fellow client at Queen Mary’s whose name is John Deacon. Is this correct?’

‘That is correct.’ So far so good. 

‘I’ve also been told that this John Deacon has recently been given leave from Queen Mary’s,’ Miss Gerald read from the paper in front of her. ‘And that you, in fact, asked for a reassessment from Queen Mary’s the day you heard about his dismissal.’ Miss Gerald looked up at Brian with stern eyes, and Brian, even though he knew he should look back at her, could not muster the courage to do so. It was time to say goodbye to so far so good - this question was turning the session straight into the conversation he had been fearing for all along. And it was not because he was afraid of talking about what John meant to him and the role he played in his life - hell, he would proudly talk of his love, affection, trust, and friendship with John until the cows came home. 

The only problem was that he was afraid the judges would see it as a sign of weakness to depend on one person so much, and more than that, that they would flatly turn down his appeal for reassessment if they found out that it was largely based on wanting to follow his boyfriend outside of Queen Mary’s. Besides, he had not at all forgotten that even though homosexuality had been legalised back when he had been in his second year of university, it still very much was classified as a mental illness. He knew there were progressive psychiatrists out there, but with an old and possibly conservative man like Mister Carlston, and Sumner probably still wanting to keep him behind the bars of Queen Mary’s if so possible, Brian did not dare risk it.

Still, he had a feeling he could not hide the truth for much longer - because there was the voice of miss Gaskell again, urging him to answer her questions.

‘Is this correct?’

‘Yes,’ Brian confirmed in the smallest voice.

‘Would you say that your wish to leave Queen Mary’s is in any way related to John Deacon’s dismissal of the place?’

‘Yes,’ Brian said.

‘To what extent?’ 

Brian felt his heart starting to beat faster. He knew that on the one hand he could make up a story around the importance John had played in his filing for a reassessment, but he was terrified of being found out (hell, the evidence that John meant the world to him was easily to be discovered in that diary for everyone who could somewhat read between the lines). He had never been good at lying, and especially not under pressure, especially not in the presence of so many people, and with the prospect of ruining such important chances. To tell the truth about John, however, might be the equivalent of digging his own grave.

‘Mister May?’ The voice, this time of Mister Carlston, was kind but demanding. The judges wanted an answer, an honest answer, and Brian could no longer withhold it from them.

‘To the extent that... I would not have left if he had not been dismissed,’ Brian admitted. He himself had thought his voice to be quite soft, but it had obviously been loud enough for a substantial amount of people sitting behind him to comment on this to their neighbours. Brian could not overhear their words, but he had a feeling that people were not exactly supportive of what he had just admitted.

The judges, despite sending each other some sideways glances, remained neutral and professional - which, Brian decided, was worse in some ways, as he could not at all make up from their reactions what they were thinking. ‘So you want to leave largely, if not solely, because John Deacon is leaving.’

‘Yes.’

‘You previously said, though, that your decision to leave Queen Mary’s was not influenced by anyone else,’ Miss Gerald said. ‘You said that after having sworn testimony.’

‘That is incorrect,’ Brian said, facing the judge at last now that he had found a loophole in her own words. ‘I swore testimony, and denied that any of the staff members had in any way influenced my decision to file for a reassessment. That is what you said, madam.’ Excited mumbling arose from the room behind him, and Miss Gerald looked from her left to her right as to find the answer in one of her male co-workers. Neither of them seemed to be able to offer her any help in the matter, so she turned to the registrar at the separate table on the left side of the stage. 

‘Can the registrar please go over the notes to recall what was said?’

The man, who seemed a little uneasy now that a room full of people shifted their focus to him all of the sudden, started looking over pages of notes. He eventually coughed and answered: ‘The client is right, Miss Gerald. Following your question, Mister May denied that any staff member had played a role in his decision.’

More noise behind him, and the hand of Nolan on his shoulder as a sign of support. Brian felt his heart beating faster, even though he knew it was irrational to be so excited over a small win like this. True, he had beaten the judge with her own words and was not guilty of having lied to her - but as soon as she went back to the discussion of him wanting to leave because of someone else, Brian knew he would be royally fucked again.

‘Alright. My mistake - I apologise,’ Miss Gerald said a little coolly, obviously not happy about having to admit her wrong publicly. ‘Nevertheless, the point still stands. Your decision to leave Queen Mary’s is thus not solely based on your firm belief you are ready to return to society, but also on the fact that Mister Deacon is leaving.’

‘Correct,’ Brian said. 

‘We have a lot to unpack here,’ the woman said, took a clean sheet of paper from her notebook, and asked: ‘How would you describe your relationship towards Mister Deacon?’

Alright. Your relationship with John. Let’s be careful now, but make them understand how much he means to you nevertheless. If they do want to lead you down this path, better make them understand how important John is to you and to your healing process. ‘He’s my roommate. My therapy partner. My best friend - my better half,’ Brian summed up.

‘Your most intimate friend, one could say?’ Doctor Sumner asked.

Brian stifled the little smile that tugged at his lips at this word choice that was not as innocent in his ears as it must be to the rest of the judges. ‘One could certainly say that.’

‘And you met Mister Deacon here at Queen Mary’s, without having any prior knowledge of his existence?’ Sumner asked.

‘Indeed.’

‘What role has he played in your life here at Queen Mary’s since you met him?’ Miss Gerald asked him.

Brian smiled. ‘Even though I was hesitant upon first meeting him, because he was rather reserved and snobby towards our other roommates, I knew right from the start that he was the one. The one I’d get on with best, and the one who would drag me through my time here at Queen Mary’s. You see, I was in a bad place, and so was he - we both weren’t keen on social contact, or going out and showing our face to anyone, but we found comfort in each other. We shared the same room and the same therapy group, so we spent a lot of time together automatically. And that time… made us realise we wanted to be together in the remainder of the time also. During mealtimes, and in the medicine queue, going outside - we went everywhere together. We still do.’

There was silence for a moment after this report; Mister Carlston broke it eventually. ‘So you could say John Deacon has played a large role in your daily life here?’

‘Absolutely. The largest role of all the people here at Queen Mary’s.’

‘The largest role, you say?’ Sumner asked. ‘Do you mean that to be understood in a social context?’

‘I mean it in every context,’ Brian said. ‘In a social context, leisure time-wise, but also support-wise and coping-wise. Healing wise.’

‘Should it not be your psychiatrist, or therapy leader, or even your mentor, to have the largest role in your mental state?’ Sumner sounded sceptical and a bit intimidating, as if he was not hearing the answers he wanted to hear. Brian, however, was not going to let Sumner get to him the way he had previously managed to do.

‘Perhaps it should have been,’ Brian shrugged. ‘But apart from the fact that I only got to see them a handful of hours a week, they just never could have done what John has done for me. In fact, I’m sure I could have been shackled to my psychiatrist during my entire stay at Queen Mary’s, and still she could not have had the same influence on me as John has had. They never could have lifted me up and comfort me and help me the way John has done.’

‘And what- how could it be that John could have this influence on you if the professional staff could not?’ Miss Gerald asked him. The question made Brian smile a little - because it was such a typical question someone who had never reached the lows he had done himself would ask. People who had never been down and out the way he had been, would not understand the importance a friend who was there with you, really with you both mentally and physically, could have on you. 

‘Because they never would have understood me the way John did,’ Brian said. ‘I’m sure my psychiatrists trained for years to learn every disorder out there, and know the entire DSM by heart, but they cannot teach themselves an understanding of mental illness the way someone experiences it. The only one to understand the loneliness and the feeling of being inadequate and the depths of depression, is the one who has been there themselves.’

‘But John is not the only one with depressive symptoms around at Queen Mary’s,’ Sumner remarked. ‘Why is it him specifically that you turned to?’

‘Because… John was so different from me, and yet I could see so much of myself in him. Unlike me he needed no validation from others at all, but we could both do with someone to either talk to or be completely quiet and just be there when we needed it. He told everyone exactly what he thought of them when I would let everyone walk right over me, but we both knew what sort of support the other needed and when they needed it. It just became clear to me within a few days that we would understand each other always. Which we did, and do, to this point and onwards,’ Brian took a second of rest and waited for the judges to pick up the cross-examination again. When they didn’t, however, he added to his statement: ‘You know, chemistry between people is hard to explain. But when it’s there, you will feel it, and you act accordingly.’

‘I guess one does,’ Miss Gerald repeated, a furrow on her forehead which Brian did not know if it was one of deep understanding or utter miscomprehension of all he had just said. ‘So… Mister Deacon and you, you have always been this close while at Queen Mary’s?’

‘We have been.’

‘So when you heard that he was to leave…’ 

‘I was heartbroken,’ Brian finished the sentence. ‘Devastated, really. Well, both of us were - especially him. He wouldn’t just have to leave behind me, but the entire life he had built up around Queen Mary’s in the past two years.’

‘And that’s when you decided, let’s go for it, let me file for a reassessment and get out of here together?’ Doctor Sumner said with a waving hand gesture, as to denote the suddenness and shallowness with which he assumed the decision has been made. Brian felt his face retort at the probably deliberate attempt of Sumner at making him look like a rash teenager, but he kept his cool and faced him with a stone-cold expression as he re-explained the matter in more detail. 

‘It was when I, after having thought a good deal about the… rather precarious situation John would find himself in once he would be dismissed from Queen Mary’s - you see, he has no family ties he can rely on, no close friends outside of this place after years of social isolation, no funds to rely on of places to go to - it was then that I decided that it would be in the best interest for the both of us if I would leave with John.’

Sumner did not seem to back away from his antics, unfortunately. ‘How exactly is it the best for the both of us, when you seem to discard your own mental needs completely for the sake of someone who was testified to be ready to stand on his own legs again?’ 

‘Funny you should ask that,’ Brian smiled. ‘Because I know that you see this reassessment as being all about me and all about what’s best for me - and that it’s hard to imagine that the influence of a person besides myself can play a large role in that. But the truth is that the individuals surrounding one, and their well-being, do have a large impact on the well-being of the person who cares about them. Would you agree with me on this, Doctor Sumner?’ Brian posed the question right back at Sumner, who seemed a bit taken aback. ‘Would you agree that the happiness of your loved ones have an impact on your own happiness, Doctor Sumner?’ he clarified - not just to make things a bit clearer for his audience, but also to make Sumner look just a little stupid for not following at once, and, in case he would deny this statement, make him look like a cold-blooded person.

‘I would agree,’ Sumner eventually said, although not with much enthusiasm.

‘Great. Then you might see how John, who is my best friend, and his well-being, is… is crucial to me. Absolutely crucial. I could not imagine being happy without knowing that John is happy - or at least to have them there with me so I can be with him if he is not. John has come to mean so much to me that I… could not do without him, and the same applies to him. Our state of mind is irrevocably linked - we could not be happy if we knew the other lived in misery.’ Brian’s heart was thundering away in his chest by the time he had spoken all of this, but it had been worth it - Sumner seemed to have been silenced, even if it was just for the time being. Sumner opened his mouth, then closed it again. He eyed Brian for a handful of intense seconds, but it was Sumner himself who eventually lost the staring battle as he looked for aid in his co-workers.

Miss Gerald was quick to compose herself. ‘This is interesting, Mister May. Were you not diagnosed with borderline personality disorder? Which - correct me if I’m wrong - is characterised by an immense dependency on- and idolisation of people around the afflicted?’

‘That is correct,’ Brian confirmed. ‘And I do not rule out the possibility that part of my dependency on John might be caused by my mental affliction. But against that, I would like to raise the argument that on the one hand, I have been in a close but very stable friendship with John over a period of more than six months - which, as Doctor Sumner can tell you, denotes a bond deeper and more stable than connections typically formed with underlying borderline patterns do.’ Brian could practically feel Sumner’s eyes glaring right through him, but he ignored the stares - or perhaps even took them as an encouragement. ‘And on the other hand, I have no tendency to idolise John, and can see his faults fairly as far as he has

 been nervous before about this latter fact, the presence of the entire institution on top of that

them. We’ve had an… incident concerning a diary at one point, and I also was not entirely happy when he used force to distance himself from me during a very tensed moment,’ Brian admitted, even though it hurt a little to share these moments with the entire room. ’Besides, I have no desire to push him away and pull him back, to test his loyalty as a friend, I do not react with jealousy when other people claim his attention, and am not afraid he will desert me if he leaves my side for whatever reason. We can talk about so much, and I am not afraid of telling him my opinion. Does that not sound like a healthy friendship, Doctor Sumner?’ Brian tried his best not to cock his head daringly into the direction of the psychiatrist, who he could see clench- and unclench his jaw even through the distance between them. 

‘That’s… That sounds like a healthy friendship,’ Doctor Sumner allowed. ‘Nevertheless I am sceptical of you being able to fully understand the implications of leaving Queen Mary’s permanently over someone else.’

‘Just like I am sceptical of you being able to fully understand the consequences of me having to live here, against my will, while knowing that my best friend is out there without the help he needs and deserves,’ Brian shot right back at Sumner. Then, in a tone more approachable to the jury in its entirety, he said: ‘No one else can help me the way John can. I know it’s hard to believe as an outsider, but I know I would not be doing as great as I am doing right now if it had not been for John, and that my progress will take a huge beating if I cannot continue to have him in my life. He is the best thing Queen Mary’s has brought me. By choosing for John I am choosing for myself - going through life with him by my side. He does more for me and my healing process than any medicine or therapist could ever accomplish.’ 

‘That is a bold statement to make,’ Sumner said, but his voice sounded weak and defenceless. Brian therefore did not doubt a second to tear it down again.

‘The truth can be bold at times, but that does not mean I should not speak it,’ Brian replied. ‘But here’s the thing. Medication is temporary, therapists work with you for a number of sessions, but in the end you will have to design your life yourself - you have to make yourself happy, and make the choices that enable you to be happy. And for me, this is John. He enables me to be happy and to live my life the way I never thought I’d ever be able to live it again in the midst of my depression. John is the best thing Queen Mary’s has brought me, the best choice I’ve made in my life, and I know he will support me long after my time at Queen Mary’s, whether that ends after today or later down the line, is over.’ 

Silence again - for a few seconds, before the first claps of applause landed behind him. A guard tried to shush it, but this only seemed to encourage more people to join in on the applause, until eventually whistles and shouts of support filled the room on top of this. Brian could tell by the gestures the judges and the staff around him made towards the audience that they were not exactly pleased with the behaviour of the crowd, but he personally felt too much of a rush of relief and ecstasy to really mind. In fact, he even allowed himself to turn his head around and catch a glimpse at the audience - or, more specifically - catch a glimpse at John. Their eyes locked for a second, and their smiles grew wider.

These people are here to support you. Brian could see it in John’s eyes, and he believed him.

Eventually the guards managed to calm everyone down again by threatening to throw out the people who would not listen to the order of being quiet, and the attention was focussed on the judges again.’

‘Thank you for your report, Mister May,’ Miss Gerald said, obviously not too pleased that she had been interrupted in her previous attempts of acknowledging her client’s contribution to the case. ‘We would not like to retreat shortly to discuss our judgement.’ Brian nodded, and the judges stood up from their chairs - but as this invited everyone in the audience to do so, too, Miss Gerald held up her hand and said, rather loudly to make sure she would be heard: ‘We will be back soon, and we would like to ask everyone to remain in their seat and be quiet.’ With this, she followed her co-workers and descended the stairs. They disappeared through the door with a bundle of paperwork under their arms, to be seen back in what could not have been more than five minutes.

How he managed to keep his cool during these five minutes, however, was something which Brian could not figure out when he would later look back on it. All the tension of having to listen to speeches about himself, having other people answer questions on his behalf, being cross-examined by three people… It all disappeared from his body and mind the second the judges left the room - only to be replaced by the stress of now having to await the judgement. 

And boy, it was as if he was the only one nervous about the judgement. Nolan and Jasper enthusiastically started chatting both to him and to each other to talk about how well the meeting had gone down, and Sarah stood up to enthusiastically share some words with Mister Fisher. They all seemed completely convinced that the jury was going to judge in his advantage, but Brian himself was not too sure about it as of yet. He had managed to deliver some pretty strong answers, yes, but to questions that he had been hoping would not be posed. He had also been able to quiet down the judges in their doubts about him leaving for the right reasons, but would they take this as a sign of strength, or as plain rudeness and dislike for authority? What if they’d publicly declare him to be an insolent, insane adolescent, who had a whole lot to learn still before he’d ever be allowed to walk through the gates of Queen Mary’s?

‘Brian?’ 

A hand continuously poking his shoulder brought Brian back to the present, where Jasper was trying to catch his attention. ‘Brian? Freddie is trying to get your attention. I think he wants to congratulate you on how well you did.’ There was a broad smile on Jasper’s face, but all Brian could do was stare back blankly and wonder how anyone could be so optimistic about a judgement that had not been made public yet. 

‘Brian, turn around! Come ooon!’ It was Roger’s quasi-annoyed voice that eventually made Brian lull his head around, but he did not dare turn around in his seat, just in case the jury would return early. He knew it was irrational, but for some reason he felt that they might alter their judgement of him if they walked back into the room to find him having moved in his seat when they had been told to stay where they were. Then again, if they were to return now, Brian looking over his shoulder was likely to not even catch their eye. With the chaos around him - people standing up, walking around, talking and yelling and making noise even louder than that - it seemed unlikely that Miss Gerald would even notice his small deed of disobedience. Not now that guards were literally trying to prevent people from going up to him or singing loud songs he vaguely remembered from football games, at any rate.

‘You did so well, darling!’ Freddie beamed upon having Brian face his way, and Brian gave him the smallest of a smile. 

‘You totally killed those judges. They’re currently out there trying to repair whatever’s left of their ego!’ Roger laughed and Freddie joined him, but Brian felt his smile fade a bit. He knew Roger meant it as a compliment, to help him feel better, but Brian interpreted it as further proof that he might have offended the judges with his fierceness to protect his case. 

Between the laughter and the triumph of the couple, however, was one face that remained still, just like Brian’s - and that was John, who looked at his partner in quiet admiration.

‘You did better than I ever could have hoped for,’ John said. ‘I’m so proud of you.’

Brian swallowed, and just nodded in response. He had no words to match these sentences that were so much meaningful than Freddie’s and Roger’s attempts at boosting his pride, or Jasper’s and Nolan’s easy confidence towards the judgement. What he could do, however, was turn around in his chair just a little more, and reach out a hand towards his boyfriend. While Freddie and Roger - and seemingly the rest of the room, too - amused themselves with loud chatter and easy jokes, John and he entangled their fingers in mid-air, and looked at each other with a fondness Brian had not believed was possible had he not witnessed it himself at that moment.

He did not know for how long they stayed like that, or how many people saw them share this moment - Brian just remembered the sound of the door opening, and swiftly letting go of John’s hand to settle down in his chair again. Whether the judges saw him in his hurry to comply to the rules again, he guessed he’d never find out; by the time they were in sight they looked positively annoyed by the mayhem in which they arrived. Brian saw Sumner call for a guard and admonish him for being unable to keep the peace, and Carlston gestured to the crowd to behave themselves - to little or no avail, that was. In the end, it took Miss Gerald repeatedly smashing a folder of papers against the desktop before people looked her way and possibly even realised the judges had returned in the first place.

‘So, now that we have your attention...’ There was an unmistakable hint of irritation in her voice. ‘We would like to move on to the judgement of this trial. So if everyone could sit back down and be silent, it’d be much appreciated.’ Despite the biting sarcasm of Miss Gerald’s voice, people did listen to her - and her wish for order was granted in what seemed like a heartbeat. It was perhaps a bit too fast for Brian’s liking; the conclusion of this trial was coming upon him so soon all of a sudden, and he was unsure if he could deal with it. He had no choice, though - not when he was asked to stand up from his chair to hear the judgement that the three people currently in charge of his fate had come to. 

Feeling that everyone in the world was looking at him, Brian stood up on wobbly knees. Nolan made an offer of standing up with him, but Brian politely brushed it off - this was something he had to do on his own. 

‘Brian May,’ Miss Gerald started, which made the last of voices even out into the all-surrounding silence. ‘On August 24, 1971, you filed for a reassessment of your stay at Queen Mary’s Psychiatric Institution until your psychiatrist would dismiss you. Today on September 24, we - Professor Sumner, Mister Carlston, and I myself, Edna Gerald - were sent on behalf of the South East England Mental Health Facilitation to reassess your case.’ Miss Gaskell paused for a second, which gave Brian the opportunity to wonder if repeating the entire setting was part of an official protocol, or if she just enjoyed making him more nervous than he was already. ‘With the help of both written and spoken statements of Sarah Gaskell, clinical psychiatrist; Nolan Ferrier, client mentor and qualified nurse; Jasper Vee, therapist; Jim Fisher, independent psychiatrist; and the client himself, we were able to come to a final judgement in line with the protocol regarding early dismissal of mentally afflicted persons.’

Come on! Hurry up! Brian was rather sure he could hear some people voicing their impatience with the endless taunting of the head of the committee representants in the back of the room. He felt a surge of relief that someone was finally saying what had been on his mind ever since the judges had returned to the meeting room, but at the same time he heavily disagreed, since he was not at all ready to receive the final note to this judgement. He knew he could not stop the tide, and while he was aching to finally hear what the judges had to say, he at the same time wished it had been socially acceptable to cover his ears with his hands and run out of the room. He performed neither of these actions, of course, and instead took to chewing on his lower lip while Miss Gerald covered some more factual trivialities while actively ignoring the sighs and protests from the crowd.

‘... and we have tried our utmost to adhere to all the rules and regulations, both from our employer, from the British Mental Health Association, and from the law of the kingdom under which we operate. Then, as for our judgement,’ Miss Gerald switched to the topic everyone had been waiting for, and Brian, although he could not see what was happening either next to or behind him, could swear he could sense everyone moving to sit on the tip of their chair. 

Miss Gerald opened yet another folder and addressed Brian by his full name. ‘Brian Harold May… Upon first receiving your case we felt sceptical, as we, if my co-workers allow me to speak on behalf of all of us, always do. You see, there is a reason why psychiatrists are the ones to dismiss their patients from their care, and not the patients themselves. Psychiatrists studied to understand mental progress and regress, they know the difference between having a good mental state or simply having a good mental day, they can calculate the risks and advantages of releasing their patients, which is something the patient, being obsessed only with being released from the grips of mental health care, does not see.’ Brian was not entirely sure how happy he was with this condescending, prejudiced outlook on mentally ill people, but it did not seem like he would be was given the chance of objecting, for Miss Gerald blabbered on. 

‘Reassessment is meant for people who fear they are being kept in mental health facilities for too long, because their caretakers mistreat them and disregard their freedom. But as Queen Mary’s has never been known as a place of malpractices, we found it unlikely that you would have a fair point. Nevertheless, as our position required us to treat every appeal for reassessment without prejudice, we looked into it - after all, we would not have been here if we hadn’t.’ Miss Gaskell flashed Brian a smile as if it was somehow funny that her precalculated opinions on mentally ill people and her opinion of when reassessment was valid potentially could have cost him his chance of leaving early, if it had not been for the official policy of her position.

‘We then found that the case you submitted, together with the motivation from your psychiatrist, mentor, and therapist made sense - especially because your caretakers supported you,’ Miss Gerald told the audience, which again did not give Brian the best of feelings. ‘Mister Fisher’s report, and the diary segments and everything you submitted, all convinced us you were a strong and largely recovered individual ready to be released and pick up your life again outside of Queen Mary’s.’ Miss Gerald smiled, so Brian smiled back at her - but he regretted it instantly when she dropped the next line. ‘You can imagine what a disappointment it was to us when, upon hearing you out today, we discovered that you’d gone for a reassessment simply because your best friend was going to leave.’

Brian felt his heart sink in his chest, could hear his pulse in the complete silence the room fell into. This was what he had been afraid of all along - that the judges were going to use his arguments of wanting to leave for the sake of both John and himself against him now that they had found out about it and had made him open up about the topic. They found him weak, clingy, dependent; all a borderline sufferer was supposed to be according to the books so conveniently largely written by Doctor Sumner. 

All the reasons why he should stay at Queen Mary’s for as long as possible. 

As Brian brought up one hand to wipe at the suddenly moist area around his eyes, he suddenly noticed that the silence around him had broken up. There was no more soundlessness in the meeting room - sound of protest and outright booing were aimed at the judges, who Brian could see from the corners of his eyes tried to hush people with hand gestures of some sort, to little avail.

‘However,’ Miss Gerald started, but she dropped her sentence when the booing got louder the second she opened her mouth. ‘I’m not done talking yet!’ she all but exclaimed, and crossed her arms over her chest as to demonstrate her refusal to speak up until the crowd had calmed down again. Brian heard the guards behind him urging people to be quiet, which they eventually did when they were reminded they were making tension worse for Brian. Even if the judges did not, the audience supported his case still, apparently.

‘As I wanted to say - however, whereas my co-workers and I were at first sceptical of your dependency on Mister John Deacon, you convinced us through your well-founded rhetoric that you are not just a puppet clinging to someone else, but that your best friend is- an extension of all you have to offer, and the other way around.’ At these carefully positive words, Brian allowed himself to look up at the judges - at least two of which now bore a kinder look on their face than they had before. ‘We have come to see that you do not simply lean on John Deacon for all you do, but that he is there to lend you a hand when you need one, and vice versa. In your time together at Queen Mary’s you have formed a friendship founded on mutual love and trust that we hope will last a lifetime.’ As Miss Gerald smiled at him, Brian returned the favour - and this time, he was not let down as soon as he did so.

‘A bond like the one you built up with John Deacon is one to be cherished, and one to continue building upon. Even though we have never met him in person, we can tell through your stories and descriptions that Mister Deacon brought you to the point where you are today. And the point where you are today… seems to us as a point where it would be in your favour to follow Mister Deacon in his journey of establishing his life again.’

Miss Gerald’s voice died out for a moment, and left Brian with a lingering buzz in his ears. He tried to comprehend all that he had just been told, but he could not make sense of it - the overwhelmingly positive vibe of the speech had excited him, and the praise in which John’s and his ‘friendship’ had been showered had made him hopeful. But what exactly did Miss Gerald just tell him? Following Mister Deacon in his journey of establishing his life again?

Did that mean…?

Brian turned to Nolan, then back to the judges, and then to Nolan again. ‘Does that-’ he squeaked rather helplessly, making a vague gesture of the hand which he could not make out the meaning of himself.

‘So what- what is your final judgement on the client’s- this reassessment case, Miss Gerald?’ Nolan asked. He tried hard not to stumble over his own words, but in his current fit of enthusiasm, he didn’t succeed - not that anyone cared as they heard the reply of the judge.

‘Our unanimous judgement is that if Mister May promises to continue his medication and weekly therapy sessions to help him beat his depression and manage his borderline, we approve of his reassessment, and of him being put in the accelerated dismissal trajectory that will allow him to return home anywhere between seven to fourteen days from today.’ 

All of the words related to protocols, trajectories, and conditions completely missed Brian - all he could hear were those five words, that one little sentence that set him free.

We approve of his reassessment.

We approve of his reassessment!

Brian clamped a hand over his mouth and sank back into his chair as the meaning of these words reached him. All of these last few weeks, all of the effort, the diaries, the forms, the therapy sessions, the tension, the stress, the hope and the despair - it all amounted to this one moment, this one sentence that would release both him and John from a foreseeable future without each other. This was the moment that set them both free from all their anxieties, their fears, and their desperation.

This was the moment their real life together could begin.

The crowd behind Brian had erupted in noise - yelling, clapping, cheering, the sound of chairs scratching the carpeted surface of the floor, people high fiving and walking around and congratulating each other. He felt the hands of people on his back to give him a pat on the shoulder or to full-on hug him from the back in an attempt to congratulate him on the outcome of his case. He heard Jasper telling people to keep their distance, and most of all, their calm - one when neither of those worked, it was Nolan who pulled him to his feet to go and thank the judges. 

It was at this exact moment that he was half-dragged towards the podia that Brian realised that he had not gotten to hug or even share a word with his friends yet - or, even more scandalous, he had not even been able to look at his boyfriend. Brian thus made quick work of treading up the few steps of stairs and shake hands with the three people behind the desk, who had stood up for the occasion.

‘Thank you- thank you so much, thank you,’ Brian said, his right hand moving quickly to accept the outstretched arms of the judges, while his left continued to wipe at his wet cheeks. Tears of relief and all the weight suddenly falling off his shoulders just kept coming, slowly but surely, but luckily none of the judges seemed to mind specifically. Even Sumner gave him a smile and wished him well in a voice as genuine as Brian had ever heard it sound. It was not enough to prevent Brian from determinedly calling him Doctor Sumner one more time, but it did make him feel on top of the world.

Now having fulfilled his formal obligations, there was only one thing on Brian’s mind, and that was to reach his friends and his partner as soon as he could. The room had been transformed into chaos in a matter of the half-minute during which he had been occupied, but he could detect Roger’s messy blond hair from the same spot where they had been sitting during the hearing - and from there, he soon faced up with John himself. A smile spread out over John’s face, the sight of which made Brian tear up just a little more than he had done before. He regretted every second he had spent away from the moment the veil had been lifted, even if this could not have been more than a few minutes. He was going to make it up to John right then. 

Brian stepped one foot into the direction of the stairs, then another, and the first one again - until he passed down the stairs with a speed he could not remember having attained. John, who seemed to understand his intentions, broke away from the small group of people that had gathered around him and his friends, lightly yet determinedly pushed someone out of his way, and quite literally broke through the row of chairs Brian and the staff previously had been sitting on. 

The noise which the chair clattering to the floor produced attracted the attention of some people across the room, but neither Brian nor John particularly cared; all they aimed for was to reach each other as soon as they could, a goal which they would not put on hold because some bystanders had seen them making a run for each other. If anything, it made them more determined to be close to each other soon - which they did a mere second later, meeting in a clash of chests pressing against each other and arms reaching out to wrap themselves around backs, not to let go again anywhere soon. 

The mere act of being reunited with John, this time while knowing for a fact that they would leave Queen Mary’s and start their new lives together soon, was enough to bring tears to Brian’s eyes for a second time. Burying his face in the crook between John’s neck and shoulder, Brian allowed the tears to run free. He vaguely noticed the presence of new people around them - quite literally around them, as two pairs of arms joined around the embrace John and he had previously established. Judging by the soreness of one and the boniness of the other, they had to be Freddie and Roger. 

‘It’s alright. It’s all fine,’ John told him. ‘Everything’s going to be alright from now off.’ Brian weakly nodded against his shoulder, and let out a shaky sigh of relief. It was as if hearing John say that all was going to be fine was the thing that really convinced Brian that this was real, that the entire reassessment had been real, and that having been dismissed was real.

‘We’re so proud of you.’ In the midst of tears and smiles Brian could not tell which one of the three people currently hanging all over him said this, but he appreciated it nonetheless. Cheered on by what sounded like the majority of the audience, he allowed all three of his friends to hold him and to celebrate their win for a minute or so, until eventually Brian carefully detached himself from everyone around him and took a step back.

‘John?’ he called to further clarify that he needed a word with his partner only. Freddie and Roger took a step back to a place Brian could not make out right away, and neither did he exactly care about where they went to. All that mattered in that exact moment was John, who was standing before him and who looked more radiant than a thousand shining stars. 

‘John…’ Brian whispered, a broken smile on his still tearstained face. There was so much he wanted to say to him - that he loved him, that he never could have done this, any of this - both Queen Mary’s and the reassessment process - without him. That he looked forward so much to living with him, going back to university with him, making music with him, building up his life with him outside of the walls inside which all of their current memories together lay. He wanted to say so much, but could not utter more than a choked-up ‘thank you’. 

‘I want to thank you. Because you did this - you did all of this,’ John told him, wiping a line of tears from Brian’s cheek with his thumb.

‘I know,’ Brian choked out. ‘I’m- we’re gonna get out of here.’

The smile on John’s lips grew wider, and he took a step forwards so that Brian was in reach for him to bring on a hand and put it on Brian’s shoulder. Through a haze of lingering tears, Brian could swear he could see John coming closer, his lips no longer in a smile but slightly pursed - as if to kiss him. 

Caught off guard by this action Brian had not foreseen, Brian said: ‘Are you- are you sure?’

John opened his eyes at this and blinked. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ he asked gently. 

‘I mean- er, my parents are here,’ Brian blurted out. ‘Everyone’s here?’ It was not even a criticism - it were not reasons why he would not want to kiss, at any rate, and apparently those factors also hadn’t stopped John from leaning in for a kiss. In all honesty, Brian had no idea why he had bought up the question of John being sure. He supposed it was because he was still overwhelmed and emotional from all that had happened during the span of about an hour, because now that he was thinking about it, he really, really did want to kiss John. Currently having John blink at him, and then glance around to look at a multitude of people - many of whom were still talking and rushing around excitedly, but some of which had fallen quiet as the scene unfolded before them - was counterproductive to this pursuit. It took away from previous time that could be spent kissing, pressing his lips together with John’s to claim his mouth and wordlessly show him how much he loved him.

Luckily, after having looked around at the spectators, John came to the same conclusion Brian had reached. ‘I don’t care,’ John whispered when he locked eyes with him.

Brian let out a breathy laugh, then found himself drowning in those seas of grey. ‘Me neither.’

So while Sarah and Nolan were called over to sign the papers that would irrevocably set Brian free from the responsibility and care of Queen Mary’s Psychiatric Institution, Brian’s arm found itself its way around John’s neck, and he kissed John with a passion he hoped to maintain forevermore now that they had been set free to build up one life together. 

That was Part 17, and with that, the main line for The Clinic! It’s been a wild ride, and I want to thank you all for sticking with me – it means a lot, and I could not have done it without you! I’d like to invite you all to stick around for a little longer for the epilogue, which I hope will kind of make up for the angst and cliff hangers I’ve pulled you all through. I’m not giving away spoilers, but I promise to leave them all in the best place possible! ^^

Again, please tell me what you thought of this part (or some detail, or the Clinic in general, or whatever) and I hope to see you around for the epilogue!

[hellaephemeral]

thoughts on stranger things 3×08

• it's the last ep guuuys

• i am not ready for it to end

• somebody help el already, i am serious, i am

crying, help her

• i love el, i love her, i love her

• millie bobbie brown is a fucking amazing

actress, i am emotional

• papa hopper is here!!!! and here to fucking

kill everybody who hurt his daughter

• ...this series makes me curse too much

• aww hopper is holding his baby girl

• "excuse me why is this four year old talking

to me" "i am ten you bald bastard"

• best interaction of the entire season hands

down

• don't say goodbye like you're going to die!!

• aww the el and hopper hug

• i am so emo rn

• oh fucking billy

• there is so much sexual tension here, just

stop fighting and kiss already

• hopper has zero amount of patience, he just

shoots, no regrets

• i bet we're gonna see suzie in the end and

everyone will regret doubting my boy dustin

• i am so afraid of the main character death

• i hope it's billy

• like no shade, but this boi had it coming

• really another coke can? this ad is getting

too obvious

• is el okay? she is not dying is she???

• because if she is i am fighting somebody

• it's the summer of love guys, kiss already

• kiss! now!

• A DATE! THEY'RE GONNA HAVE A DATE

• my baaaaabies

• THIS IS SO NERVE WRECKING

• erica, shut up, we all know you are a nerd

• steve really just did that

• my man is awesome

• OMG IT'S SUZY, WE'RE GONNA SEE SUZY

• she is so adorable :')

• awww suzy poo and dusty bun :')

• are they really singing rn???

• i mean this is cute but kind of inappropriate

rn...still is this available somewhere? i really

want this track

• is stranger things a musical now?

• billy just stay down already, don't pull a

steve rogers à la "mhh i could do this all day"

• again, hopper has zero patience

• stop hurting my babies already

• wtf don't touch el

• put her down! put her the fuck down

• terminator is back

• yes hopper destroy him, he hurt your wife

and ... alexei :'(

• nonono

• no sacrificing el here, pick her up again!

• somebody save my child already

• all my other children are protecting my child

and i am here for it

• i love how they are destroying the monster

with fireworks on the fourth of july

• iconic TM

• el bringing billy back with making him

remember his mum :'''')

• i am not crying, this is sweat okay

• now i don't want billy to die anymore

• the terminator is dead, hasta la vista baby

• oh no, billy will sacrifice himself, won't he?

• this is actually sad

• no i don't want him to die anymore!!

• wait what no

• hopper don't even think about it

• no no no

• no

• FUCK NO

• STOP SMILING NO

• HOPPER NO YOU WON'T DIE

• DON'T YOU DARE DIE ON ME AND MY

GIRL EL

• COME ON GET UP GET THE FUCK UP

• I DON'T SEE A CORPSE OKAY, HE CAN'T

BE DEAD IF THERE ISN'T A BODY

• i think billy actually really cared for max, and

max really cared for billy, since when tho?

• i am depressed

• where the fuck is hopper

• no he is not dead

• he is not

• DON'T TOUCH ME

• el can't lose the only (real) father she ever

had, he's her family

• i don't want to live anymore

• okay there is twenty minutes left, enough

time for hopper to be resurrected

• noooo el is looking for hopper

• NO

• my baby nooo, somebody hold her

• (somebody hold me, too)

• DON'T GIVE ME A THREE MONTHS LATER

• FUCK EVERYTHING

• it's robin! in normal clothes. look at her :')

• also steve watch more movies tf

• no family byers are actually moving

• max and lucas teasing dustin is classic

• i want to see my babe el now

• where is she gonna live now, with joyce?

• she's gonna live with joooyce :')

• say the damn l-word already jeez

• my ship is dead, my heart is dead

• sorry i was thinking about hopper again

• build up build up build up

• AWWWWWWWW

• they looove each other

• no don't pull the fucking letter from a dead

one, read by one of the main characters

trope on me

• aww they gave erica d&d so she can

embrace her nerdiness

• stop making me cry, stop it tf now!

• i am choking up

• they really tried to make 3 inches the new i

love you 3000

• and it kind of worked cuz i am crying

• demogorgon 2.0??? wtf is up with russians?

• like do they want everyone and themselves

to die?

• i've just watched 8 episodes without one

single break and now i feel numb and dead

inside

• i need to sleep

[esthersnippe]

In Brussels? Here are my top picks on what to do, see, drink, and eat

I am not going to claim to be an expert, but this winter I will be celebrating my 7th year in Europe’s Captial City—and I adore this city. 

I have gone to hundreds of cities, I believe there is nothing quite like Brussels. 

But it took me years to get here, and many tourists don’t immediately find it charming. And that’s ok. Because Brussels is small and too many tourists is not super good...and I am only partially joking. 

It is a secret city. Non-obvious and full of delights.

Over the years, I have learned one or two things about Brussels, and today I present you with my list of top things to do, see, drink and eat. You can do all of this in 24hours. 

My 10 favourite things to do in Brussels

Here we go! 

1. Eat a waffle in the Grand Place. 

It is best to see the Grand Place at night first, then in the day after.

For my vegan friends: Go to The Sister’s Cafe for vegan waffles WITH vegan ice cream.

For my non-vegan friends: Go to Maison Dandoy—they are simply the best waffles in the city. There are two kinds Brussels (light and airy) and Leige (thick and cakey) so if you are with someone else, get one of each, and if you are alone, choose wisely! 

Once, Victor Hugo, who wrote Les Miserables, lived in an apartment in the place. He said it is “a dazzling fantasy dreamed up by a poet, and realized by an architect.”.  There is so much history I would love to share with you about it, but I’ll save that for another time. Just go an enjoy it. It is truly spectacular. 

2. Walk from Park Royal to Park Cinquantenaire. The whole walk takes about 35 minutes, and you will see three beautiful parks: Park Royal, Park Leopold, and Park Cinquantenaire, as well as the Royal Palace, the European Parliament, and the Triumphal Arch.

Its a much better way to spend your time than going to the Atomium—which will take 2-3 hours minimum and is ok, but really rather touristy. 

3. Go and see the Palace of Justice at sunset Or any time, but it is the best at sunset. You can go to the grocery store and buy some drinks and snacks and sit up there to watch the sunset, it is chill and has a great view of the city skyline.

4. Eat chocolate at the Grand Sablon: My top picks are

Frederic Blondeel

Wittamer

Pierre Marcolini

How it works: you buy the chocolate by weight, so choose 2-3 different pieces from each place. 3-4 chocolates should cost between €4-€7.  Usually, the people behind the counter are not very helpful, but I still ask for personal favourites and recommendations anyway. Either way, you should always try the “Grand Cru”, this is the best the chocolatier thinks they can do. Yum is usually the result. Plant-based buddies: most of the dark chocolate is vegan! But make sure you double check, because some of the other ingredients might not be, like caramel being made with butter, etc.

5. Go to the European History Museum in Park Leopold 

It is free. And amazing. One of the best and most interactive museums I have been to: it has great tech, tons of ways to get involved with the exhibits, and tells a fascinating story. 

6. Go see our national monument, the Manneken Pis Also... the Manneken Pis Museum. It is just up the street and guaranteed a right giggle.

7. Sit at the top of Mont des Art. Best in the early evening. then walk through the garden. There is always a lot of animation and things going on, but it is also very relaxed. 

Make sure you check out the architecture on Rue Montagne de la Cour, like the Musical Instruments Museum and the Old English Pharmacy. 

8. Do some unique shopping/browsing. I am not personally big on buying loads of stuff, but these little streets are jammed packed with the unique and wonderful. Here are my top picks:

Rue de Rollerbeek

Rue du Haute

the Royal Galleries (Actually, I have never bought anything here, but the buildings are amazing.)  

9. Eat some fries.

I might be plant-based but I make an exception for the occasional frites treats, because they are the best in the world. There is no contest.

For the sauce: you can go:

Traditional with a dollop of Mayonnaise

Spicy with the Pili-pili (less spicy) or my favourite Samurai (more spicy).

Not spicy, but with a burst of flavour go with the Andalouse (which is kind of mayonnaise with tomato and basil) or Curry Ketchup (which is exactly what it sounds like.) 

Aioli is another very popular sauce, but I find it too garlicky (but if you are into garlic, try it out. Just don’t try and kiss me after.)

Vegans + vegetarians: the frites definitely contain animal fat.

My top picks

Fritland right by the Grand Place

Friterie Saint-Josse

Frit Flagey

Which brings me to number 10! They are related. 

In Brussels, there is a local phrase which goes “faire du gras” which translates to something like “lay down the fat” and means “eat something heavy”—and is good advice before you start drinking in Brussels. 2 strong beers on an empty stomach is almost a guarantee you will end up tripping on one of our many uneven, cobblestone roads. 

10. Drink beer. 

Also—the best in the world (Yes Germany, I have tried your beers, and I am sticking to what I said.) God, this needs a whole other post. But you are only here for a short time, so let’s get into it.

First: where to drink.

These are my favourite watering holes and their locations.

Le Coq in front of Beurs: Classic Belgian pub, and very fairly priced. (ie. cheap) 

Zebra in St.Gery: This old island is the best spot to drink and people watch after work and on the weekend. 

Bar Llanes or Café Charbon on Marche du Charbon in front of the Notre-Dame de Bon Secours. They are beside each other. 

Monks in Saint Catharine: a bit overpriced, but great selection and cool ambience. 

The Brussels Beer Project Brewery by the canal: They are constantly creating new brews, and you can test out the new flavours, then vote on them, which is fun. 

Le Barboteur Bierothèque in St.Josse: Amazing selection and very unpretentious. (But only good if you are in the neighbourhood, because it is pretty far from the city centre.)

Le Verschueren in St.Gilles: Sit with the cool, Belgian artists. Great people and good prices, but also only good if you are in the neighbourhood.) 

Café Belga and L'Amère à Boire in Place Flagey: Really different atmospheres, but both are fun, although a little hipstery. Don’t make a special trip out to see them, but if you are in Flagey, they are great. 

If you want to see some breathtaking architecture from the turn of the century and drink some rather overpriced beer, visit:

Le Cirio

Cafe Metropole

Mort Subite

There are 1150 Belgian beers, which is an overwhelming number. Even if I had drank a new beer every other day since arriving, I still wouldn’t have tried them all. So don’t feel bad if you don’t know where to start. Here is a quick and dirty guide to some of my favourites. For something heavy that will get you drunk almost immediately, try the Trappist beers. There are only 6 breweries in the world, and the beer is brewed in the traditional style by monks! (Note: Proceed with caution) 

Rochefort 10: Hold on to your hats, you are heading to drunk town on a smooth chocolate river.

Westmalle Tripel: This is a very good, bitter, mega strong beer.

Chimay Bleu: A sweet, dark, internationally-known bestseller! Stop at one though, it gives a vicious hangover after you’ve had 3. 

For something unique only to Belgium, and is stupidly delicious, like a refreshing beer-lemonade, try the gueuze:

Gueuze Boon: This is my all time favourite drink in Belgium. Possibly the world.

Oud Beersel: Also a hella delicious gueuze, but brewed in the old style, without wheat. 

Mort Subite Kriek: a gueuze sweetened with cherries. I can only have one of these at a time because they are intense, but a good occasional treat.

If you are not even sure you like beer, but are in Brussels so what the hell:

Faro Lambic: light and sweet and way too drinkable. Like juice.

Tripel Karmeliet: a delicious, well-balanced crowd pleaser

Chouffe: very light tasting, but watch out! Strong in effect. 

Saison Dupont: a very popular, classic Belgian beer. 

You are not a fan of stong or heavy beers, and really want a pils (once again Germans, I am looking at you.) we have three very popular pilsner brands that you’ll be able to get just about anywhere. 

Jupiler: mildly sweet, and the most popular beer in Belgium (especially with sports fans). 

Maes: a little closer to a lager than a pils, but if I am going to drink a pils, I choose this one. 

Stella Artois: This is Belgian, not Italian beer! It is a pretty easy drinking beer and also available just about everywhere....including the country you are coming from.

Like Stella Artois, I have a tendency to tell guests to avoid Duvel and Leffe—while they are fine beer brands, they are available around the world, and you will probably be able to find them in your home country, although perhaps for a much higher price. 

There is a lot more I could say about Brussels, but I hope this is enough to get you started! See you soon. 

Want to read stuff I’ve written about Belgium? 

Here are a few other posts about life in Europe’s Capital. 

21 Reasons to love Belgium

20 Canadian/British Habits I Lost When I Moved To Brussels

An Adult Tour of the Beaux Art Museum Part 1: The history of Belgium Part 2: Because art is awesome

I am safe: A post about what it felt like to be in Brussels after the Brussels Attacks. 

[acquagalaxies]

Top 5 musicals?

If you don’t mind, I’ll answer here both your asks!

Top 5 musicals:

- “Notre Dame de Paris” by Riccardo Cocciante, the italian version with Giò di Tonno as Quasimodo.- “Sunday in the park with George” by Stephen Sondheim, I fell in love with the original version of 1986. It’s a musical about the famous painter Georges Seurat while he was realizing his masterpiece Un dimanche après-midi à l'Île de la Grande Jatte.- “Rebecca”: a german musical based on Daphne du Maurier’s novel (already on my list of books that I need to read), my favorite version is the original one, with the 2006′s Wien Cast, in which there’s Carsten Lepper, a.k.a. my musical crush (God I love his voice, I would totally die for him).- “Mozart, l’Opera Rock”: this time a French production, in which they mixed Mozart’s classic music with pieces of rock music. I really recommend this musical, it’s very awesome!- “Monte Cristo” the 2009 russian one (which is really amazing??? They made changes, of course, from the original source, but there’re also good and interesting ones, for example the characterization of Fernand and Villefort, which is very good ahguikwhdsfb, or Bendetto/Andrea’s character, who gets his happy ending by finally being reunited with his mother Hermine, ecc. I’ll stop here bc otherwise this post will never see an end :p)

+ bonus: Frank Wildhorn’s “Count of Monte Cristo” with the amazing Thomas Borchert as Edmond/the Count (the german premiere at Theatre S.Gallen in 2009): I didn’t put it on the list because I don’t like how they simplified the plot at all but it’s worth to be mentioned because the acting (I love this cast, all of them are great, from the main actors to the ensemble), the dresses (Mercédès’ red dress fight me, but also her light blue one from the beginning is very cute and I want it), the songs are so perfect (+ the russian version performed in 2017 in St.Petersburg has even better settings and some nice additions too).

Top 5 books:

- “The Count of Monte Cristo” by Alexandre Dumas- “Tutti i racconti del mistero, dell’incubo e del terrore”, a book in which are gathered all Edgar A. Poe’s stories, divided by theme (”Death”, “murder/vengeange”, “imaginary”, “terror” and “mystery”) it’s a bit old edition (the price is still in lire) but a very good one!- “the tale of Eros and Psyche” by Apuleio- “Apology of Socrates  / Symposium” by Plato (I have an edition which has both in one single volume)- Shakespeare’s “sonnets” and “Macbeth”.

Top 5 songs (I have a lot of them, so it’ll be more than just five lmao):

- “Il potere” from the musical Romeo & Giulietta: ama e cambia il mondo, perfomed by The Prince of Verona (Leonardo di Minno)- “Кто ты“ (”Who are you?” sung by Valeria Lanskayaas Mercédès) and “Таков наш век” (”This is our century” performed by Fernand and Villefort - MaximNovikovand AlexanderMarakulin) from Monte Cristo’s russian musical.- “Hasta mi final” and “Por ti seré” by the spanish band Il Divo.- “Diary of Jane” by Breaking Benjamin- “Lacrimosa” by Kalafina-”Rebecca” + its reprise from, guess where, the Rebecca musical, I love both the original german version sung by Susan Rigvava-Dumas(coincidence???) and the english one sung by Carolee Carmello.-Shingeki no Bahamut’s ending theme “Promised Land” sung by Risa Shimizu-“October and April” by Rasmus ft. Anette Olzon-”When I look at you” from The Scarlet Pimpernel‘s musical-“Warriors” by Freedom Call- literally every song from the Count of Monte Cristo’s musical by Wildhorn, both from the english concept album and from the german performance, especially “I know those eyes/this man is dead”, “When the world was mine”, “Too much is never enough” (still thinking they made the conspirator’s downfall too quickly despite being a very important part of the plot)

[teacusp]

Saw a mutual on twitter doing this and it looked like fun.

I tried to just choose what first came to mind, so we’ll have to see!

(I also made a spotify playlist with all of them) (under the cut)

https://open.spotify.com/user/sgtbumblebee/playlist/3HP4GawtrjxEdU93rtkfJq?si=4gjgqQYaSeCa6wgaUVwYmw

1. A song you like with a color in the title

The Dave Brubeck Quartet - Blue Rondo à la Turk

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vKNZqM0d-xo

2. A song you like with a number in the title

FKA twigs - Two Weeks

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3yDP9MKVhZc

3. A song that reminds you of summertime

Corinne Bailey Rae - Put Your Records On

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rjOhZZyn30k

4. A song that reminds you of someone you’d rather forget

(I don’t really have any of those but....also i’m not including this on the playlist so i don’t have to hear it)

Savoy Truffle - The Beatles

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LVfiA9QGAg0

5. A song that needs to be played loud

The Veronicas - Untouched

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ykW4rtW2eu0

6. A song that makes you want to dance

Eddy Kenzo - Zigido

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=74SdfbozCVw

7. A song to drive to

Andrew Bird - Eyeoneye

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DJkv_gCdRSw

8. A song about drugs or alcohol

The Velvet Underground - Heroin

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qFLw26BjDZs

9. A song that makes you happy

Janelle Monáe - Tightrope [feat. Big Boi]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pwnefUaKCbc

10. A song that makes you sad

Sabbath Prayer (Fiddler On The Roof)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=618IKgQ2wys

11. A song you never get tired of

Mountain Goats - Color in Your Cheeks

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E3_7mXVRL0M

12. A song from your preteen years

Dashboard Confessional - Vindicated

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yf5qrVdD9E0

13. A song you like from the 70′s

(most of them on this list haha but)

Dionne Warwick and The Spinners - Then Came You

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uOViqvRsIgo

14. A song you’d love to be played at your wedding

Andy Grammer - Fresh Eyes

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5bgemCaaQkU

15. A song you like thats a cover by another artist

Frank Ocean - Close to You 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O15e_ktO2-4

16. A song that’s a classic favorite

(I can’t tell what classic is supposed to mean so....Blondie?)

Blondie - Heart Of Glass

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WGU_4-5RaxU

17. A song you’d sing a duet with someone on karaoke

Ain't No Mountain High Enough - Marvin Gaye & Tammi Terrell

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IC5PL0XImjw

18. A song from the year you were born

The Cranberries - Zombie

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Ejga4kJUts

19. A song that makes you think about life

Sleeping At Last - Saturn

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dzNvk80XY9s

20. A song that has many meanings to you

The Shins - New Slang

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zYwCmcB0XMw

21. A song with a person’s name in the title

Ramones - Sheena Is A Punk Rocker

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yCW7Aw8ugOI

22. A song that moves you forward

Paul Simon - Obvious Child

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9HKNAhAxMAk

23. A song you think everyone should listen to

(I recognize that my music tastes are extremely specific, but have a bonus)

José Gonzales - Heartbeats

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HxJhYpTIrl8

24. A song by a band you wish were still together

Fleetwood Mac - Never Going Back Again

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sKj1EFeU-cM

25. A song you like by an artist no longer living

(A lot of them. Most of the ones on this list. Try someone semi-modern.)

Amy Winehouse - You Know I'm No Good

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b-I2s5zRbHg

26. A song that makes you want to fall in love

Talking Heads - This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pVrVY540xdc

27. A song that breaks your heart

Chance the Rapper - Same Drugs

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=be37-T72DNk

28. A song by an artist whose voice you love

Etta James - At Last

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z5dpYDTEMRU

29. A song you remember from your childhood

Cat Stevens - Moonshadow 

(my father sang this to me before bed)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ag4NhsfemvE

30. A song that reminds you of yourself

(more as a cornerstone to a portion of my musical tastes.)

Laura Marling - Blackberry Stone

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FVv_luSygQQ

[jgroffdaily]

From Charlize Theron and David Fincher, 'Mindhunter' delves into the darker corners of the criminal mind

To meet Jonathan Groff and Holt McCallany, stars of the Netflix series “Mindhunter,” you’d never suspect they recently spent 10 long months consumed with the darkest reaches of the human psyche.

Groff, a charmer known for playing the lead in HBO’s “Looking” and King George in the original Broadway version of “Hamilton,” laughs generously as McCallany, a seasoned character actor and gabby raconteur with a booming voice, shares a story about training to throw out the first pitch at a Mets game.

Yet given their obvious rapport, it’s easy to see why they were cast as the leads in “Mindhunter,” which debuts Friday. The psychological drama, executive produced by David Fincher and Charlize Theron, follows a pair of trailblazing FBI agents as they interrogate notorious real-life murderers in an effort to understand — and maybe prevent — the senseless urge to kill.

Groff stars as Holden Ford, a clean-cut but open-minded young agent intent on shaking up the hidebound agency, while McCallany plays Bill Tench, a cynical veteran who asks what might be the series’ central question: “How do we get ahead of crazy if we don’t know how crazy thinks?”

In 2017, when criminal profiling has long since become standard practice — and spawned an entire pop culture subgenre in the process — the need to understand the origins of violent behavior seems obvious.

But “Mindhunter” is set in the 1970s, an era when the starchy culture of the FBI still reflected the narrow worldview of longtime director J. Edgar Hoover, says McCallany.

“The FBI was one of the most conservative law enforcement agencies in the world, so empathizing with killers to try to understand the traumas they experienced in their childhoods and how that gives us insight into their behavior was not something Hoover was interested in.”

Yet the nature of crime itself seemed to be changing radically at the time. The social turmoil of the ’60s and ’70s also brought with it what appeared to be a terrifying new breed of criminal — brutal murderers like David Berkowitz (a.k.a. “Son of Sam”), Ted Bundy and Richard Speck who killed repeatedly and without apparent motive other than bloodlust. Establishing “means, motive and opportunity,” as law enforcement officers had been trained to do, was no longer enough.

The series is based on the book “Mind Hunter: Inside the FBI’s Elite Serial Crime Unit,” a nonfiction account written by John E. Douglas, a pioneering FBI profiler who interviewed and studied some of the country’s most notorious violent offenders over the course of a 25-year career. (Groff plays a fictionalized version of Douglas, who’s also said to have inspired characters in “The Silence of the Lambs” and “Criminal Minds.” McCallany is a fictionalized version of FBI agent Robert Ressler, believed to have coined the term “serial killer.” )

Theron became familiar with Douglas’ writing when she was researching serial killer Aileen Wuornos for her Oscar-winning role in Patty Jenkins’ 2003 film “Monster.”

A few years later, she optioned “Mind Hunter,” envisioning it from the beginning as a five-season television series, one that would take a more unsettling view of criminality and human nature than your standard catch-the-bad-guy-in-an-hour procedural.

Douglas and his colleagues were “really climbing an uphill battle with the FBI at that time, which just really did not function on any kind of empathy or understanding of these people,” Theron says by telephone. “I think a huge part of where we are in understanding aberrant behavior is because of his work.”

The “Mad Max: Fury Road” star, who says she’s fascinated by “any kind of severe behavior,” was drawn to the material despite its disturbing nature.

“I always want to know why. Why is it that somebody has the need to control in the ultimate way like Berkowitz did or [so-called ‘Co-ed Killer’] Ed Kemper did? A lot of people think it’s really strange, my mother included, but I think it’s healthy to want to turn the light on and want to understand something that’s scary.”

She immediately brought the project to Fincher, a storyteller known for delving into the homicidal mind in such films as “Se7en” and “Zodiac.”

“I just thought he must be somewhat obsessed with serial killers the way that I am, and I was happy to find out that he was,” she says with a note of self-deprecation.

Theron and Fincher spent several years developing the project with writers Joe Penhall and Jennifer Haley, putting together 10 scripts and a series bible and formulating an approach that blends fact and fiction. The decision was made to take creative license with Groff and McCallany’s characters, while adhering scrupulously to the real-life biographies of the killers portrayed in the series, such as Kemper.

Eventually they brought the project to Netflix, which had successfully partnered with Fincher on “House of Cards.” Fincher directed four episodes of “Mindhunter” and is, by all accounts, very much its creative leader.

“One of the amazing things about this experience is that finally a TV show that is director-friendly,” says McCallany, who was eager to work with Fincher again after small parts in “Fight Club” and “Alien 3.” “When a director is empowered on a television set the same way he would be on a film set, it's an incredible thing.”

Groff, a Fincher newbie, says the director has “no blind spots.” “Some directors are good with writers, and some directors are good with cameras, and some are good with actors. The sort of chilling thing about David is he can do everybody's job better than they can do it, so there's this immediate level of respect and hard work.”

Unlike some of his collaborators, Groff says he was “not a serial killer person. When I first picked up the book, it took me a long time to get through it because I found it so disturbing.”

Groff recalls that, from the outset, Fincher “wanted to blow up the comic-book villain idea of a serial killer” — the notion of an urbane evil genius à la Hannibal Lecter who drinks fine wine and listens to classical music.

“One of the things that is so chilling about ‘Mindhunter’ is that it humanizes the serial killlers, these sad, [messed-up] guys with damaged pasts and mental problems. It's so much scarier to look at them as human beings,” he adds.

For a show about serial killers, “Mindhunter” is a psychological deep-dive that features a lot more talking than gore — as Theron puts it, “there is nothing about this that is fast-burning.” One of its most riveting early scenes features two men conversing over egg-salad sandwiches in a prison cafeteria.

“We'll be the only two FBI agents in TV history to go multiple seasons without pulling out our guns and going ‘Stop!’” jokes McCallany. “People looking for gunfights and car chases gotta look elsewhere.”

But for anyone interested in psychology rather than splatter, “Mindhunter” may prove to be highly binge-able.

“Selfishly, I just really forced David to make me my own TV show that I, as a viewer, would want to watch,” says Theron, who is nevertheless confident there are many out there like her. “I can’t be the only freak.”

‘MINDHUNTER’

Where: Netflix When: Anytime, starting Friday Rating: TV-MA (may be unsuitable for children under the age of 17)

[impressivepress]

Félicia Atkinson reflects on her latest album ‘The Flower And The Vessel’ for Shelter Press

Navigating her way across ASMR reflexivity, vaporous atmospherics, spoken word, neo-classical and some prog-rock-infused sense of spacious abstraction, French producer Félicia Atkinson has been laying the foundations to a body of work unlike any other in the current landscape of electronic music, distinguished by its unique approach to melodies and textures, as much as its vivid interdisciplinarity.

Félicia just recently resurfaced with her tenth album, ‘The Flower And The Vessel‘, issued like all her latest long-players via Shelter Press – the multi-faceted label she co-operates alongside her life and art alter-ego Bartolomé Sanson. Keen to learn more about the roots and shoots of her subtle craft, recording methods and matters such as the sacred in art, we caught up with Félicia for an in-depth chat.

Your tenth album ‘The Flower And The Vessel’ is due for release imminently. It was recorded during a particular period for you, as you were pregnant and on tour. How did this pregnancy effect your creative and existential vision of things?

I was feeling happy and never felt lonely during that time. I enjoyed recording whilst travelling a lot, it was a conscious choice. I felt I was playing for my baby. All three of us were travelling together; Bartolomé, me and the baby in my belly and the way we were traveling was very contemplative and mellow.

The way I am touring is also a bit special: a book fair, a couple of exhibitions, research time in a library, a few shows. It’s not a typical way to tour. We can allow ourselves to stay a few days in the same place. Visit national parks. It’s not very interesting economically wise but I always have a lot of work done through those journeys.

For example we were in the Olympic National Park in April 2018 and I would record lying in the bed while watching the rain falling on the Douglas Fir. The smell was incredible. I love to use smells as possible scores. I wrote poetry there as well and made some drawings. Those travelling moments are very creative.

What about the title – ‘The Flower And The Vessel’ – it sounds quite mysterious…

In an act of creation, be it ceramics, flower arrangement, philosophy or painting there is always this dialogue between idea and form, between support and surface, or even, if you dance or sing, between the breath and the body…

How do you make room for something? What’s a vessel? What is it to hold something and release it? What’s a record? An imprint? What is it to leave a trace? What is it to carry a new life form inside of you?

Ten albums in 10 years is quite the accomplishment. What would you say is the biggest difference between the 2008 version of you and your contemporary self, both as an artist and person?

I feel I know a bit more what I am looking for, and therefore how to surround myself with people, places and things that give me joy and inspiration. I feel thankful for that. I also feel more confident with my tools in a way. But on the other hand, I feel I have much more to discover and work for. The journey is not over!

Music seems to be a means for you to question the idea of belonging and connection to the natural order. Is the inclusion of field recordings and organic samples for you the way to re-connect musically; to maintain that subtle balance between your imaginary world and the reality of our surroundings?

Maybe… field recordings are a way to sketch what is surrounding me in everyday life, but it also brings me in an everyday state of deep listening. I spend a lot of time listening without recording. I feel touched by those sounds, and recording them sometimes is a way to acknowledge them and archive them, get into a relationship with them. Care about them.

I remember a little owl I recorded in the south of France or a piece of ice melting in the Alps – I used those recordings on my albums with Jefre Cantu. All of a sudden this little piece of ice and this little owl were invited at the table.

They become part of an imaginary community of sounds. Right now the sound of the rain in the Swiss Jura is melting with the sound of a shower and little noises of my baby sleeping but also the keyboard of my computer. It’s already music!

You said you managed connect yourself to the world “with small gestures: recording my voice, recording birds, a simple melody”. It all feels like delimitating a territory through repetition, a concept such as the one Deleuze explored in his interpretation of the lullaby. Was it this kind of process you went through?

“La Ritournelle” is a beautiful concept. I enjoy reading Deleuze for his way of drawing space inside concepts, in making philosophical ideas more visual. In my case, I am not sure I am using repetitions that much, I never use loops, only delays, my time is pretty linear, rather than circular in the way I am building music.

Layers of linearities, like different layers of perspective in a painting. But I think and hear music as a space indeed, as a territory. I hear distances, levels, depths, volumes.

Actually, I am interested in lullabies nowadays also because I deal with the fact of putting my child to sleep and it’s always a challenge and a knowledge to get there, but I learn a lot from him. I learn about repetition, rhythm and how to draw a space with sound that he feels comfortable enough to fall asleep in.

I am very interested in another Deleuzian concept which is the one of “becoming” (“Devenir” in French). The ability to shift, evolve, transform and acknowledge that stage of transformation as something itself.

Music is also about time and time moves things, makes them different, makes them shrink or get bigger. It’s interesting in a sound perspective. Nothing is permanent. Some people say that time doesn’t exist though. It’s a vast question.

The press release speaks of your interest in exploring the gap between micro and macro-cosmic scales, and throughout the album there’s indeed moments of intense focus and sudden distancing, acute close-ups and ample zoom-outs. How do you create this effect of space-time distortion?

As I stated previously, I think sound as a matter, the same way I do a sculpture for a painting or an installation. I use Logic Pro and basically cut, paste and stretch my sound like it was something flexible and soft.

I had “revelations” about micro and macro while living in the Alps surrounded by the mountains, wayyy older and bigger than me, and also after visiting the desert in Arizona several times, California, Utah and New Mexico.

I am fascinated by the Petrified Forest in Arizona and this gigantic delay it offers: a tree turned into a stone, gently washed by years of time. It makes me dizzy and happy at the same time.

You seem to have used a wealth of instruments on this album, both emulated and not. How large was your palette?

I wanted to bring in the same “real” instruments and digital instruments, so I went into two studios and recorded there, and also used midi instruments. Each time it’s an encounter.

The instruments are kind of a friend with whom you are playing ball and try to find a harmony between what you want to make and what the instrument can offer. I enjoy very much this dialectic. And also, I have a strong sentimental relationship with Fender Rhodes, vibraphones and Wurlitzer. They are good with me.

Your  new album gives further space to silence and pauses, allowing more magnitude to listening appropriation I think. Whilst Satie, Ravel and Debussy are quoted as influences, I also felt some artistic lineage with the more minimal side of Arvö Part’s work. Is it something you relate to?

Thank you for mentioning it. I really admire his work and his relationship to the sacred. His music could totally play a fatherly role to me even it’s not. And of course his piano pieces are important for me. But his music has a total absence of humour, which makes sense with his music of course and the context he writes it in, but it also shows that we are not addressing the same kind of contexts.

My music is more “minor” and less serious in a way. Maybe more feminine and pagan also? Animistic? I don’t know… I have a personal relationship with the sacred and the invisible and for sure it infuses in my compositions. But also, I feel I am way more superficial.

I wish my music could be be played in a supermarket or in a dive bar. You know, in the daytime I listen mostly to Neil Young or Springsteen’s Nebraska.

On ‘Des Pierres’ you collaborated with SUNN O))) guitarist Stephen O’Malley. Can you tell us more about the making of this track in particular?

Stephen invited me to do a session for his radio show Acid Quarry at Music Unit Studio. We recorded a whole day and he produced and mixed the track with Martin Antiphon. He just brought this book by Roger Caillois that is actually one of my favourite books and we used it a score, full of serendipity. I played different keyboards and used my voice and Stephen played the guitar. It was very natural, spontaneous and “à propos”.

You co-run Shelter Press with your partner Bartolomé Sanson, a label that doesn’t only release music but also books, zines and more. How important is this interdisciplinary format to you?

I guess it’s natural since I am a visual artist and a musician and we have a lot of books and records in the house. It’s a bit crazy also because it means it’s way much more work to do.

Is it safe to say self-releasing your music makes the making-to-issuing process “purer” and less of a hassle?

My music was shaped by the fact that I would release it on Shelter Press. It’s an everyday dialogue with Bartolomé. I can talk and think about what I want to do for my releases all the time, it allows me so much comfort, support and care that it’s difficult to imagine leaving this kind of super fitted context.

What’s coming up next on the label?

We’ll announce soon!

What values do you particularly cherish?

Care, freedom, positive energy, peace. I believe we have to care about the nature that surrounds us, the animals; the people and the variety of ideas. I believe in the power of imagination and I don’t think poetry or abstraction are superficial.

I believe in education and I feel children and babies should be more at the center of society because they give us a lot to think about through their new eyes; and because they are the future.

What faults do you least forgive?

This is a very strange question. I feel it’s a bit too moral and personal at the same time. I would ask to yourself in return: what faults do you least forgive?

What are your plans for the summer?

I am playing at Musica Sanae Festival in Sokolowsko in Poland and at Atonal in Berlin with two new commission works. Right now I am in a mountain in Switzerland looking at the clouds, after having played in Bern two days ago at Damfzentral (great people) and on my way to play a show at Ooor Records in Zurich (great people as well). We’re gonna take a walk in the forest under the rain in a few.

~

by Baptiste Girou · July 30, 2019

[discogs]

model of youth: the argument for shivers as a timeless classic

( outdated, has since been rewritten, please don’t read this - it is very bad. )

 A timeless classic, as defined by someone who has no business defining it, is a song which can be sung over and over, recreated and expanded upon countless times, covered relentlessly, occasionally even rewritten, and never loose it’s charm. A song that sticks in the consciousness of the listener for days, weeks, months, even years after. A song which, when it comes on ages after your previous hearing of it, still shoots a bullet against your heart and fills your veins with an excitement similar to the first hearing.

 Be it on a jukebox in a desolate diner at midnight, or a genius DJ spins it coincidentally while you’re at a retro night. This song is vicarious, it exists within all listeners without them even realising it. These songs become the anthems of many people’s youths, the rallying cry of the peaks of hundreds of lives, and on many an unfortunate circumstance they can also become reminders of the most miserable of moments and heartbreaks. Timeless classics follow you throughout your entire life and, generally speaking, they get twenty four seven radio play.

 You find yourself mumbling along to songs like ‘Hotel California’ in the grocery line on an average Tuesday afternoon, and you think to yourself; “not this shit again.” And once more on the car ride home, and then again from your obnoxious neighbour some time in the middle of the night. What I’m saying is, these tracks are inescapable.

 Yet one of the remaining mysteries of these songs, is what truly makes them ? What arrangement of chords, what series of notes, which mixture of syllables construct such an ageless song ? Must you be a relative of Christ ? Or a martyr ? Or a starving artist ?  Or a Kerouac-like, perpetual escapist, constantly down-on-their-luck sporadic potential lunatic raving on the side of the road ? Or do must you be simply a fragile sixteen year old, on the edge of the rest of your life, glancing over a crowd of your peers with a shield of cynicism over your judgemental eye ?

  There’s a connotation to the underdog superstar case that implies you rise against the muck and reach the heights of The Eagles and Queen in the array of singles known by millions. You scrape off your shabby exterior for a new, cover of Rolling Stone magazine look.

 The closest thing to this phenomena I can think of is Nirvana's 1991 ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit,’ which effectively ruined the careers of hundreds of up and coming (and significantly better) acts, but nonetheless gave voice to America’s newfound league of self professed rejects. This track, the main hallmark of grunge, gave rise to an influx of copycats and remained as such forever. This song must play on every alternative radio station in the world at least three times a day, and it never leaves. À la the underground rises to the pop. Naturally, this is the way of not only bands like Nirvana and Queen, who have produced numerous hits, but also the way of many one hit wonders. Mainly hailing from the 1980s, bands like A Flock of Seagulls, Dexys Midnight Runners, and The Vapors find themselves being known only by one song. But these are songs they collect royalties on for ages to come. These one hit wonders still benefit, our narcotic expression of heartbreak and sarcasm, does not.

 Unless you are an avid consumer of “obscure” of music or lived through it yourself, our subject is more than likely unknown to you. But I’m here to make the case for it, the case that it belongs not just in the ranks of these timeless classics, but far above them in a personal luminescent garland hung up by the edges of the stars which surround it. It is today we discuss Rowland S. Howard’s seminal and deathless 1976 masterpiece ‘Shivers.’

There are many songs worth boasting about and there are many songs that I have heard that have taken me aback growing up, having been raised on the likes of Bauhaus and the Damned I found myself in quite a stir of eclectic individuals. As a child I idolised Dave Vanian for his looks, Peter Murphy for his voice and theatrics, fell head over heels for Stiv Bators (though at the time I had no idea who he was), and by the age of ten was certain I’d heard it all. An arrogant thought to hold, I know, but we all think these things at some point in time in our lives.

I had only known of Nick Cave as a figure who I had been described to me as simultaneously on top of the world and beneath it as well. Although intrigued by the notion of living a dual life, I had no interest in delving into his career. At the time I was too transfixed by Jarvis Cocker to care for much else and was in a state of rejection towards anything that was considered to be “gothic rock” and had recognised “Release the Bats” as the anthem of  the Batcave era. Needless to say, being raised by an original new waver and a death rocker, I didn’t care.

 I wish I could describe to you an idyllic scenario, perhaps one in which I happened past a cracked window blasting the song, or a miraculous vinyl find, but my discovery of Rowland S. Howard was fairly typical. I had been lying in my father’s bed, staring up at the off grey ceiling and ignoring his musical choice until the distinct sound of a piano had caught my attention. Due to this instrument being an unusual occurrence in my father’s selection, I immediately ripped out my headphones to listen.

Now I must make an important distinction here. It was not the voice of Nick Cave that drew me in, nor was it really the instrumentation of the track, but the first lyric. “I’ve been contemplating suicide / But it really doesn’t suit my style.” I had propped myself up on my elbows, a smile spreading across my lips, and peered over my father’s shoulder at the computer screen displaying a pale man of puppet-like features forcing out lyrics he didn’t seem to gather. It was evident from the get go that this song was not nearly as emotional as it was being portrayed, and for this I adored it. I’d had enough of love songs, I practically adamantly rejected love songs with my every move. So this beautiful expression of sarcasm was right up my alley.

I had jumped to my feet, now standing directly behind my father who knowingly smiled up at me. My question of “Who did this?” was not answered adequately, as he responded simply with “Nick Cave.” I had taken another look at the singer, who looked like a Nick, and then took note of the name. “Boys Next Door, Shivers.”

This lyric stayed with me for weeks, eating me up like a parasite. It was all I needed to hear, and in such a ballroom manner as well. When I close my eyes and look past the iconic music video, I always envision a darkened high school gym during prom, couples awkwardly embracing each other for a slow dance they’ll regret immediately after. I was out for blood with this one, and made it my main directive to know about every aspect of it.

As I had assumed, the song was written by the guitar who was carrying the track (I say guitar as Howard and his Jaguar may as well be one being), the pale bird-like figure who was only shown briefly. With just a few searches, I’d come across the original recording of the song with Howard on vocals by the Young Charlatans.

Upon first listen I couldn’t wipe the smirk off of my face. This was the delivery I had been searching for, a voice with a vaguely quivering edge to it to accentuate the obvious derisiveness of the lyrics. I adored it, and furthermore I adored the brittle looking boy who sung it. This would lead to finding my first true inspiration in Rowland, but that is a tale for another rant.

What strikes me so much about ‘Shivers’ is its malleability. This is evident in the contrast between the original Young Charlatans version and the more popular Boys Next Door version. Though Howard would later confess to having never exactly perfected the track the way he desired, to a loving fan like myself, it is more than immaculate, especially the original which stays more true to its initial intent.

Rowland asserts his outlook with just enough versatility that at first glance one could assume the sentiments written to be genuine, but he sings much how he speaks in this version with a sense of sarcasm which gives the version more character. In Cave’s version, he belts the lyrics out in a heart wrenching manner which implies nothing short of pure devastation. But it is this difference in interpretation with highlights the reason this song is everlasting.

In order for a song to reach a large portion of people’s hearts, it needs to voice a passion powerful enough to mean something but vague enough to be seen through any man’s eyes. These kinds of songs are difficult to make to stand the test of time. Many fall on one end of the spectrum or the other, either too specific therefore dating it or too vague therefore rendering it void.

Shivers, however, rests itself perfectly in the in between. It hits the sweet spot, to put it simply. Though it may not have been Rowland’s intention to create something which could be made into anything other than what it is, one must admit that art is nothing without subjectivity. The beauty of this song is that it can fit you, it can fit me, it can fit your neighbor, in any way possible. It is endless in its outreach to others. As perhaps Warhol would argue, it is perfect in it’s ability to be recreated. So many of the songs you think of as classics have been covered innumerably, despite their interpreted worth or quality, and yet still stand as an individual piece separate from not only the entirety of the artist’s discography - but from the rest of the musical realm itself.

Shivers does this impeccably. It is everything you want it to be, all whilst remaining so much more. And though to many it may be seen as hard to swallow, it settles inside you despite an initial shock. Shivers glides through perception with ease, aided by many beautiful voices which has carried it throughout the years, and was born exquisite.

- LM

[inqua]

Sooo I beat Echoes and it is my favourite 3DS FE game by far.

Extended thoughts under the cut! (no spoilers)

Uhhh I should note that I have never played Gaiden, so this game was completely new to me. And what was also extremely helpful is that aside from what we saw in trailers and character portraits, nothing had been leaked to me like with Fates, which I got spoiled on pretty hard due to it releasing way earlier in JP and US than in PAL regions. Hope western releases will remain like this in the future. I’m no pro or anything, this is just me praising this game, lol.

So the story I’m gonna glance over since the game has only been out for like a week. All I’ll say is that I enjoyed it a lot. It was a classic hero story, which is exactly what I expected given its source material. Slightly predictable? Yes, but executed extremely well. This is showing the perspective of two protagonists with different ideologies done right, unlike in another certain FE game.

The characters are extremely loveable in this one. I love that it wasn’t just about Alm or Celica- the story always managed to involve their closest friends as well, which is great because I usually feel like FE tends to alienate a large amount of its cast. I really do think the voice acting is to thank for bringing the characters to life so well. Gray and Tobin are a perfect example of this: they always comment on Alm’s choices, mention what their stance is on the matter, and bringing up actual good points on why we should choose to take certain actions or not. Of course, they also joke around and bicker a lot and the VA’s seem to have a lot of fun with that, making the characters all the more lovable. So the character interaction is great, but I do have to say I was disappointed by the lack of support conversations? I surely thought Alm would be able to support with all his childhood friends from Ram village at least, or Celica with other important units from her original crew, like Boey, Genny and Saber. Instead, most characters only have the option to support with one or two other units. In the end I don’t mind too much though, because the quality of the voice acting was surprisingly good for the most part and somewhat makes up for it, imo. The main cast usually nailed the dialogue with the right intonation. The voice performance that left me most impressed was actually Berkut’s though; this dude got so into it, it terrified the shit out of me at times, lmao.

Gameplay-wise this game also killed it. I have to admit I played on Normal Classic like the fucking casual filth I am, but I swear, it was only because I didn’t know how much the format would differ from what I’m used to. Also I figured since there are only two difficulty options for this one, I would have a good reason to replay it on Hard soon. Anyway, first of all: thank fucking god, the world map is back. I really like having the option to switch between armies whenever you please and doing things in your own pace, it’s refreshing and motivates you to keep playing. Having Alm and Celica as two lords is fun enough and I’m glad they didn’t force in an avatar character and a marriage system, it really doesn’t need it. Battles are just your classic FE combat, well, Gaiden style of course, but familiar enough nonetheless. I don’t mind the absence of the weapon triangle, as the game still offers enough strategic options with characters only being able to carry one weapon/item at a time and them possessing over several skills depending on the unit/class/weapon. I also like how magic/healing/skills occur in exchange for HP. It forces the player to choose carefully and prevents magic users from becoming too OP. At first I had to suppress the urge to max units’ levels before promoting, but I got used to it fairly quickly, lol. The dungeons are also pretty fun, if not a bit clunky. Idk, to me it was very apparent that this was their first try on this format. I felt like the empty spaces weren’t filled up very well, and moving your character around didn’t always go too smoothly either. I do like the talking/examining à la Ace Attorney thing they added, it allows you to take a break after a long battle.

Y’all have seen the art for this game, it’s fucking gorgeous. I definitely prefer Hidari’s character designs over Kozaki’s for FE, though they’re both great artists. Hidari’s soft and dreamy style seems to really fit Valentia for some reason. The in-game visuals were fantastic too, with the accurate zoom-ins on specific parts of the map returning. But I personally loved the villages especially- they were just really nice and peaceful safe havens showing the beautiful types of environment in Valentia, as well as the differences between Zofia and Rigel. It really helped with the world building of Valentia for me.

Guys, the soundtrack made this game for me. The OST on this game is just so fucking phenomenal, I can’t even describe it. I’m constantly listening to it, even as I write this. The violin game in Celica’s path is so sick; Radiant Ark and With Mila’s Divine Protection never fail to hype me the fuck up to go on an adventure. In Alm’s route it also perfectly nails those triumphant fanfare type tracks you expect in an FE game. Just fires you up to mow down an entire army of big armour clad dudes. But then there’s also these tranquil and nostalgic themes to accompany the villages and touching moments. Also very notable: great usage of vocals in the tracks. I could go on forever, but honestly it has a great variety of tracks just very well done and fitting for whatever their setting is. I had listened to the Gaiden soundtrack (which is also fantastic in its own right) before too, so it was fun hearing all those tunes revitalised. Once again, I feel like FE music just keeps improving consistently. With every instalment I think it can’t get any better, but then I’m proven wrong every time and I love it. God. I just have so much love for this soundtrack. Fuck.

Idk, overall Echoes just feels like one huge comeback to me. Like IntSys proving our elitist asses that yes, they are still capable of making “real” FE games, now shut up and spend the entire game’s worth on DLC, you nerds. No but honestly, I sincerely hope they will continue the trend of remaking older games in this fashion. I’m really liking where we’re heading with this.

On a final note… A moment of silence for my boy Boey… He took one for the team and died in the final battle. Now I have a save slot with all characters alive and well except for him, and it goes against my perfectionist urges, cri. :(

[dweemeister]

My alternative 89th Academy Awards

And so here, as I do every year, is my alternative Oscars ceremony. This is what would happen tonight if I - and I alone - stuffed the ballots and decided on all of the nomination and all of the winners. Non-English language films are accompanied by their nation of origin (in FIFA three-letter code).

89th Academy Awards – February 26, 2017 Dolby Theatre – Hollywood, Los Angeles, California Host: Jimmy Kimmel Broadcaster: ABC

Best Picture: LA LA LAND

Arrival, Shawn Levy, Dan Levine, Aaron Ryder, and David Linde (Paramount)

Fences, Todd Black, Scott Rudin, and Denzel Washington (Paramount)

Hell or High Water, Carla Hacken and Julie Yorn (CBS Films/Lionsgate)

La La Land, Fred Berger, Jordan Horowitz, and Marc Platt (Summit)

Moonlight, Adele Romanski, Dede Gardner, and Jeremy Kleiner (A24)

O.J.: Made in America, Ezra Edelman (ESPN)

Our Little Sister (JPN), Kaoru Matsuzaki and Hijiri Taguchi (Toho Company)

The Red Turtle (FRA/BEL/JPN), Toshio Suzuki, Vincent Maraval, Pascal Caucheteux, Grégoire Sorlat, and Léon Perahia (Wild Bunch/Toho Company/ Lumière/Sony Pictures Classics)

The Salesman (IRN), Alexandre Mallet-Guy and Asghar Farhadi (Filmiran/Cohen Media Group)

Toni Erdmann (GER), Maren Ade, Jonas Dornbach, Janine Jackowski, and Michael Merkt (Komplizen Film/Sony Pictures Classics)

It’s a little disconcerting that only two major studio films are here. The mid-budget drama used to be the major studios’ bread-and-butter, and now that is gravitating ever more to the mini-majors and smaller studios. La La Land, Moonlight, O.J.: Made in America, and The Red Turtle all received 9/10 ratings from me. We essentially have a four-way tie for first, and I have to elevate one above the rest.

Some of my followers are gonna fume at my decision, but it’s La La Land for me. I approached that decision from a well-documented bias for musicals - fully aware of the film’s artistic, technical, and societal problems - the fact of the film’s cultural impact (I sometimes have a populist streak in how I see film history, and that’s a part of my personality), and personal taste (it came down to Moonlight and La La Land for me... I love both, but which movie would I not mind to waste 30 minutes on if nothing was on?).

If you ask me this question again in ten years’ time, my answer might very well change. I don’t have the luxury of hindsight right now.

Best Director

Damien Chazelle, La La Land

Michael Dudok de Wit, The Red Turtle

Ezra Edelman, O.J.: Made in America

Barry Jenkins, Moonlight

Hirokazu Koreeda, Our Little Sister

In my alternative Oscar universe, Koreeda nabs the latest of several nominations for Director, but he just can’t manage to break through in this category. It’s Jenkins for me, for crafting a story that I could not imagine having been filmed even five years ago.

Best Actor

Joel Edgerton, Loving

Andrew Garfield, Hacksaw Ridge

Ryan Gosling, La La Land

Sunny Pawar, Lion

Denzel Washington, Fences                                 

Sunny Pawar has to hold up that first half of Lion, and he does so spectacularly. I also introduce Edgerton here as well. Garfield had a career performance in Hacksaw Ridge, and Gosling is a bit underrated. But it’s the one fellow nominated here who I would call a genuine movie star - a term that is thrown about too often these days, but I think he embodies it - in Denzel Washington. It’s a difficult performance, that, and he has perfected it to a tee.

Best Actress

Taraji P. Henson, Hidden Figures

Isabelle Huppert, Elle

Lâm Thanh Mỹ, Yellow Flowers on the Green Grass (VIE)

Ruth Negga, Loving

Emma Stone, La La Land

You’re scratching your heads on that nomination for Lâm Thanh Mỹ, I know. She gave the child performance of the year for me in a dizzying display of a range of emotions. But in the end, it’s Huppert. I sneak in Henson and Negga as well.

Best Supporting Actor

Mahershala Ali, Moonlight

Jeff Bridges, Hell or High Water

John Goodman, 10 Cloverfield Lane

Lucas Hedges, Manchester by the Sea

Issey Ogata, Silence

Did you expect anything else?

Best Supporting Actress

Viola Davis, Fences

Naomie Harris, Moonlight

Suzu Hirose, Our Little Sister

Octavia Spencer, Hidden Figures

Michelle Williams, Manchester by the Sea

See above. Yet another child actress in Suzu Hirose, gets nominated... that’s three kids getting nominations in my alternative ceremony!

Best Adapted Screenplay

Park Chan-wook, The Handmaiden (KOR)

Eric Heisserer, Arrival

Barry Jenkins and Tarell McCraney, Moonlight

Hirokazu Koreeda, Our Little Sister

August Wilson, Fences (posthumous nomination)

Really, really tempted to give this to Wilson. So I hope, wherever he is, he didn’t mind this.

Best Original Screenplay

Stephen Chow, et al., The Mermaid (CHN)

Asghar Farhadi, The Salesman

Efthimis Filippou and Yorgos Lanthimos, The Lobster

Taylor Sheridan, Hell or High Water

Makoto Shinkai, Your Name (JPN)

Best Animated Feature

Kubo and the Two Strings (Laika/Focus)

Long Way North, France/Denmark (Maybe Movies/Sacrebleu Productions)

My Life as a Zucchini, Switzerland (Gébéka Films/GKIDS)

The Red Turtle, France/Belgium/Japan (Wild Bunch/Toho Company/ Lumière/Sony Pictures Classics)

Your Name, Japan (Funimation/Toho Company)

Zootopia was the second-best Disney film of the year, and it wasn’t even among the top five animated features of the year. Little-seen Long Way North and widely-seen Your Name (everywhere except North America, apparently) are in there instead. But The Red Turtle - a true transnational effort - is the best animated feature of the year.

Best Documentary Feature

I Am Not Your Negro (Velvet Film/Magnolia Pictures)

Life, Animated (A&E/The Orchard)

O.J.: Made in America (ESPN)

13th (Netflix)

Weiner (Motto Pictures/Sundance Selects)

I have to award ESPN’s ambitious 30 for 30 entry here. And it’s easily the best of the 30 for 30 films as well.

Best Foreign Language Film

Fire at Sea, Italy

The Handmaiden, South Korea

Our Little Sister, Japan

The Salesman, Iran

Toni Erdmann, Germany

Best Cinematography

Roger Deakins, Hail, Caesar!

James Laxton, Moonlight

Rodrigo Prieto, Silence

Linus Sandgren, La La Land

Bradford Young, Arrival

Best Film Editing

Tom Cross, La La Land

John Gilbert, Hacksaw Ridge

Bret Granato, Maya Mumma, and Ben Sozanski, O.J.: Made in America

Joi McMillon and Nat Sanders, Moonlight

Blu Murray, Sully

Best Original Musical

Gary Clark, Sing Street

Justin Hurwitz, La La Land

Mark Mancina, Lin-Manuel Miranda, and Opetaia Foa’I, Moana

Best Original Musical is a category that must be activated by the Academy’s Music Branch, given that there are enough movie musical submitted for consideration. As I felt like there were enough movie musicals to warrant the activation of this category, I put these three films here (also, I wanted La La Land out of Original Score to preserve the category’s intent - to honor a film’s score, rather than its soundtrack). It has not been given under its current name; the last recipient of this award was Prince for Purple Rain (1984).

Best Original Score

John Debney, The Jungle Book

James Newton Howard, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

Dario Marianelli, Kubo and the Two Strings

Laurent Perez Del Mar, The Red Turtle

John Williams, The BFG

Best Original Song

“Another Day of Sun”, music by Justin Hurwitz, lyrics by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul, La La Land

“Audition (The Fools Who Dream)”, music by Justin Hurwitz, lyrics by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul, La La Land

“Drive It Like You Stole It”, composed by Gary Clark Sing Street

“How Far I’ll Go”, composed by Lin-Manuel Miranda, Moana

“No Wrong Way Home”, music by Alexis Harte and JJ Wiesler, lyrics by Alexis Harte, Pearl

Yes, I have the audacity to nominate a song from a short film in here - “No Wrong Way Home” from Pearl. And “City of Stars” shouldn’t have been nominated, despite it being the earworm.

Best Costume Design

Colleen Atwood, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

Madeline Fontaine, Jackie

Mary Zophres, La La Land

Eimer Ní Mhaoldomhnaigh, Love & Friendship

Dante Ferretti, Silence

Best Makeup & Hairstyling

Daniel Phillips, Florence Foster Jenkins

Jean Ann Black and Cydney Cornell, Hail, Caesar!

Eva von Bahr and Love Larson, A Man Called Ove (SWE)

Joel Harlow and Richard Alonzo, Star Trek Beyond

Alessandro Bertolazzi, Giorgio Gregorini, and Christopher Nelson, Suicide Squad

Best Production Design

Patrice Vermette and Paul Hotte, Arrival

Jess Gonchor and Nancy Haigh, Hail, Caesar!

Ryu Seong-hie, The Handmaiden

David Wasco and Sandy Reynolds-Wasco, La La Land

Guy Hendrix Dyas and Gene Serdena, Passengers

Best Sound Editing

Sylvain Bellemare, Arrival

Wylie Stateman and Renée Tondelli, Deepwater Horizon

Robert Mackenzie and Andy Wright, Hacksaw Ridge

Christopher Scarabosio and Matthew Wood, Rogue One

Alan Robert Murray and Bub Asman, Sully

Best Sound Mixing

Bernard Gariépy Strobl and Claude La Haye, Arrival

John Midgley, Tom Johnson, and Juan Peralta, Doctor Strange

Kevin O'Connell, Andy Wright, Robert Mackenzie, and Peter Grace, Hacksaw Ridge

Andy Nelson, Ai-Ling Lee, and Steve A. Morrow, La La Land

David Parker, Christopher Scarabosio, and Stuart Wilson, Rogue One

Best Visual Effects

Craig Hammeck, Jason Snell, Jason Billington, and Burt Dalton, Deepwater Horizon

Stephane Ceretti, Richard Bluff, Vincent Cirelli, and Paul Corbould, Doctor Strange

Robert Legato, Adam Valdez, Andrew R. Jones, and Dan Lemmon, The Jungle Book

Steve Emerson, Oliver Jones, Brian McLean, and Brad Schiff, Kubo and the Two Strings

John Knoll, Mohen Leo, Hal Hickel, and Neil Corbould, Rogue One

Best Documentary Short

Extremis (Netflix)

4.1 Miles, Greece (University of California, Berkeley/The New York Times)

Joe’s Violin (Lucky Two Productions)

Watani: My Homeland (ITN Productions)

The White Helmets (Netflix)

You can read my omnibus write-up for the nominees in Best Documentary Short Film here.

Best Live Action Short

Ennemis intérieurs, France (Qualia Films)

La Femme et le TGV, Switzerland (Arbel/ Jacques à Bâle Pictures)

Silent Nights, Denmark (M&M Productions)

Sing, Hungary (Meteor-Film)

Timecode, Spain (Juanjo Giménez Peña)

You can read my omnibus write-up for the nominees in Best Live Action Short Film here.

Best Animated Short

Blind Vaysha (National Film Board of Canada)

Borrowed Time (Quorum Films)

Pear Cider and Cigarettes (Massive Swerve Studios/Passion Pictures)

Pearl (Evil Eye Pictures/Google/Passion Pictures)

Piper (Pixar/Walt Disney)

You can read my omnibus write-up for the nominees in Best Animated Short Film here.

Academy Honorary Awards: Jackie Chan, Anne V. Coates, Lynn Stalmaster, and Frederick Wiseman

MULTIPLE NOMINEES (28) Twelve: La La Land Seven: Moonlight Six: Arrival Five: Our Little Sister Four: Fences, Hacksaw Ridge, O.J.: Made in America, The Red Turtle Three: Hail, Caesar!, The Handmaiden, Hell or High Water, Kubo and the Two Strings, Rogue One, The Salesman, Silence Two: Deepwater Horizon, Doctor Strange, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Hidden Figures, The Jungle Book, Loving, Manchester by the Sea, Moana, Pearl, Sing Street, Sully, Toni Erdmann, Your Name

WINNERS 5 wins: La La Land 3 wins: Moonlight 2 wins: Fences, O.J.: Made in America 1 win: Elle, Ennemis intérieurs, 4.1 Miles, Hacksaw Ridge, The Handmaiden, Hell or High Water, Jackie, The Jungle Book, Kubo and the Two Strings, Our Little Sister, Piper The Red Turtle, Star Trek Beyond

17 winners from 25 categories. 47 feature-length films and 15 short films were represented.

[mozillogames]

The Assassin‘s Creed Film Makes a Leap of Faith Into the World of Terrible Videogame Films

I watched the Assassin’s Creed film like 3 weeks ago, and during that entire time I’ve been contemplating on writing a review for it or not. It’s not something that NEEDS to be reviewed, because it’s bad and I think everyone knew it from the moment it was announced several years ago, however it’s SO bad that I can’t stop thinking about how bad it is, and everyone else needs to suffer.

It’s also vaguely about videogames, so you know, that works.

It’s the story of Michael Fassbender, who after dying in prison, wakes up in an Abstergo monolith in Spain, a totally not evil location, where he’s sort of in prison, but he’s told he’s not in prison, despite having no autonomy of his own. Anyway, he has to go in the animus to live the life of Spanish Michael Fassbender in the past (Michael Pastbender?) to find the location of the Apple of Eden, because what else happens in Assassin’s Creed? Apparently like 40 minutes of chase sequences or something.

I’ll try and keep the spoilers to a minimum, but really there’s little to spoil as there’s not actually much plot. During the present day segments Michael Fassbender walks around his prison complaining how much he doesn’t like assassins, because he’s not an assassin and he’s annoyed at waking up in another jail after dying. Meanwhile the doctor lady talks about how wonderful it is that he’s working as a slave in prison to conduct confusing research about removing violence from the world, there are also other assassins in this facility, but literally none of them have names, and some of them don’t even get lines.

In the past, Spanish Michael Fassbender is doing something infinitely more interesting, as is always the case in Assassin’s Creed, which seems to be hunting down the Apple of Eden, or something like that. From my understanding it was mostly running around and having a fight sequence and almost being executed, in fact I think that was the entirety of the segments that take place in the past.

You know how in the Assassin Creed games it keeps reminding you how there’s some boring present day story line going on that no one likes or cares about? This happens here as well, with nearly every fight or climbing sequence being intercut with footage of present day Michael Fassbender climbing air or fighting air with a giant robotic arm up his arse. Literally in the middle of a fluid sequence it’d cut to what can almost be described as pre-green screen footage. It looks clumsy as it’s basically Michael Fassbender moving around on a wire interacting with objects that aren’t there.

During the past segments the Templars talk about how they’re going to remove free will and be evil, classic Templar talks, which everyone in the room with present day Fassbender can see, because apparently in this animus the world is projected around you in some vague holodeck format. There’s a long and drawn out chase sequence which thinking back on it is actually TWO separate chase sequences but they blur together so easily because there’s little plot before or after. During one of them Spanish Fassbender and friend jump into a house after a long sequence of being chased by guards. The music slows and it seems everything is fine, and then the general literally punches through the wall and they continue to have a fight. This is the general who was chasing them at ground level on horse back, then punches through a wall of a 2nd story house as if he was bringing a cherry flavoured beverage to them.

In the second chase sequence it ends with Pass Fassbender jumping off a big bridge à la a leap of faith, to which the scientist lady in the present (who is watching this go down with robotic arm Fassbender) exclaims “LEAP OF FAITH!” falling just short of the registered trademark logo popping up, it wasn’t even the first time it had happened either. That level of bad writing and horrible shoehorning of terms from the videogame series sort of exists throughout. Thankfully no one says something along the lines of “Oh my god! I think he’s using... EAGLE VISION!” or “You need to climb to the tower and.... SYNCHRONIZE” but trust me, what little writing exists in this film, a lot of it is terrible.

Do you know what was probably one of the dumbest segments in the entire film? They discover where the Apple of Eden is. The grave of Christopher Columbus, so they quick cut to that, which is apparently a big catholic church, whom are traditionally ran by the Templars, and there’s not even a rigorous search through his belongings or anything. A man just walks up to them and hands them a box with the Apple of Eden inside, apparently when they were cataloging his belongings the guy who put “Apple of Eden: 1″ didn’t think it important enough to go further than that and just put it in storage.

With the Templars finally in possession of an Apple of Eden they have a big meeting in what can only be described as cult robes and the lady scientist becomes annoyed because she is spurned of any of the glory as her father takes all the credit. This seems to be the final straw for her as she suddenly realises that the Templars are actually the bad guys as she listens to the speech of controlling all of humanity, which is confusing as to how she never cottoned on earlier. Fassbender and crew turn up and kill everyone and leave because security was apparently minimal and the film just ends.

It felt like I watched the first two thirds of a film and then it ended. Somehow it was two hours long, and most of this was down to long drawn out chase and fight sequences that weren’t even that great. Suffering from all modern action movie issues of six cuts in the throwing of one punch (summed up perfectly in this Taken 3 clip). As I stated previously very few characters actually have lines or names. The other assassins who dislike and then join Fassbender don’t have names. When one is asked what his name is he just gives a weird answer that I stopped paying attention to. There’s an Asian lady who literally doesn’t have a single line in the entire film despite having a fair amount of screen time.

There’s literally a scene where Fassbender is still in the animus and having like some vision of all his assassin forefathers standing around him in a circle which the three other assassins see. It then shows them, one by one, smiling and nodding in some smug satisfaction that I guess he’s become an assassin or something. Asian lady still doesn’t talk. In the past, there’s a female assassin who is an alright character, I don’t think she’s named once.

Assassin’s Creed was as bad as everyone thought it would be. It’s not confusing, by any means, because there’s little to no story to get lost in. Abstergo want to find location of Apple of Eden. Use memories of prisoners to find it. They find it. Oh no. Kill the Templars. Instead, the story gets lost in long chase sequences, and what felt like a third of the film featuring a topless Fassbender getting hot and sweaty in his sex swing. Like the Assassin’s Creed games, it was ultimately empty of any real substance and just drawn out with overly long action and fight sequences that left me greatly unentertained throughout. I would’ve been fine in reading more subtitles with Spanish Fassbender as the visuals and costume designs were wonderful and could’ve greatly done with more focus, even if it was just one long chase sequence after another. At least there weren’t any flags to be picked up or feathers to find.

LEAP OF FAITH!

(Also while I don’t really play the games, even I got a bit annoyed by Present Fassbender being able to use the Assassin’s Blade that Spanish Fassbender had to lose a finger to use (like in the first game) because at that point Ezio hadn’t fixed them all with his main man Leonardo)