#only jealousy ever made him deny that Edward deserves love

[stizzysupremacy]

until I see s2 imma keep daydreaming about a Stizzy flavored reunion. Ed is too heartbroken and angry to deal with Stede when he returns to the Revenge and shuts himself away in the captains cabin. Stede is forced to work as a crewmate until he is accepted back as co-Captain. He’s gained some muscle and lost a lot of he complaining-about-the-discomfort-of-physical-labor and he’s turning into a competent fucking sailor finally. And he’s not dressed like a ponce anymore and he’s working hard and obey orders. Even the ones Izzy gives to fuck with him. And Izzy sees Stede, tits barely contained in a worn shirt, blonde beard, a nice set of sailor’s crows-feet developing. And oh fuck, the idiot is handsome and not quite as idiotic anymore. And Izzy can’t just ignore him because izzy has to run the ship while Edward is hiding. And as the only one Edward trusts, Izzy is forced to be the go-between for him and Stede and pass messages. Maybe it’s not so annoying after a while because Stede is trying to avoid annoying izzy into kicking him off the ship, so the first mate is getting some damn respect from him finally.

[borisbubbles]

ESC2019: Preshow: #35

35. ESTONIA Victor Crone - “Storm” SemiFinal 1, #14

Last Summer Estonia announced that they would, very sadly, reliquish Eesti Laul’s indie vibe by allowing foreign artists to enter.

 “Ah!🤔” Stig Rästa must’ve thought “I can now try to fulfill my biggest dream: create the Estonian Aviicii”😁".

For this he needed a few ingredients: A cheesy song with a catchy but basic track sheeple can dance on and a mouthpiece to perform the song. Said performer would of course have to be Swedish, preferably with no real discernible personality or career and just about desperate enough to enter Eesti Laul over Melfest. Singing Talent if any, was not a requirement, conveniently attractive looks a plus. 

Enter Victor Crone.

Entry Analysis

Every ESC hits us with grower songs, songs which you don’t care about at first, but which get better with every listen. “Storm” is... not one of those lol. At this point I doubt whether I even have any remaining *energy* to point out all of the cliché’s, which is basically... all of “Storm”: it has your run-the-mill pseudo-inspirational but inherently meaningless lyrics on a dope beat that sounds like every dance track ever made. It really does not get any more basic than this (sorry; than thiiiIIIIiiiiis)

I mean obviously, it’s Estonia so I had *some* inherent goodwill at the start, but now that every song has been selected, I am now VEHEMENTLY AGAINST Estonia qualifying for the final. Every time I listen to “Storm” I dislike it more and more, as I’m reminded what a cliché clunker it really is. It’s the opposite of a hit, it’s just... shit. 

Victor himself irks me too though, don’t worry, the personal attack you’re anxiously awaiting is about to start: Put a limp noodle with zero personality in a leather jacket and give them a guitar and you still have a limp noodle with zero personality, only in a leather jacket and with a guitar. Even Victor’s Lisa Rinna hair (seriously what an awful haircut for a maaAAAaan liiIIIiike thiiiIIIiis) has more personality than Victor himself. Also, lmao @ his “vocals”. I wasn’t aware a song liiIIIIiike thiIIIIiis could crack a voiiiIIIIiice liiIIIike thiIIIIiis.

NF Corner

Did Estonia have options other than “Storm”? Well, yeah, they did, but none I particularly cared about actually.😬 I went down my usual trajectory of pulling for lovable randoms because I did NOT love any of the realistic options. Inger was not my cup of tea and Stefan was probably the only one I liked less than Victor 😷 Having said that, I did have a strong preference for ONE of the contenders:

Even with Kirkorkov’s Dark Mark clining to it, “Pretty little liar” would’ve easily been the best option for Estonia, both at ESC and at this ranking (I enjoy how lowkey trash PLL’s melodrama is. “YOU PRETTY LITTLE LIAR *YOU*” <3). If Estonia wanted a conventionally handsome robot in a leather jacket, just go for Uku Ceviche, wtf???

But there are other fun songs I wouldn’t want to deny you. There is of course, the EPIC collab between Tanja & Birgit Õigemeel: 

Embarrassing ElectroSwing sensationalism, YES <3 It wouldn’t have stood a chance in ESC, but I’m happy it graced my internet tee-vee screen with its presence.. 

There’s also THIS hilarious s*cat* anthem which cured my just about my loneliness, anxiety, depression  😻😻😻😻😻

Fulfilling its destiny of finishing last with exactly 1 point. 😻 (not last overall though, because there were *two* songs in the other semi which managed to get 0 points somehow lmfao 😻<3) 

My personal fave however was something different: meet MEME QUEEN INGA

Good Estonian indiepop isnt dead, it was just burried underneath of layers and layers and fucking LAYERS of garden-variety radio pop. "Miline päev” did have a certain ~Je Ne Sais Quoi~ about it (You know it has that special something!) that I enjoyed. Maybe it were the iconic trousers or the iconic dancing or perhaps both? Bask in the radiant warm glow of QUEENGA’s surpreme dance mewvs: 

💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃💃

Qualification Odds: Borderline (Disadvantaged)

Same issue as with Denmark: The bookmakers claim Estonia will advance, but I don’t knoooooooow about thaaaaat -- Sandra Diaz-Twine. The first issue is the live voice: Victor can barely sing “Storm” in tune EVEN WHEN SINGING IT OVER THE CD-TRACK WHICH FEATURES HIS OWN AUTOTUNED VOICE. In a format such as ESC where *all* of the voices MUST be live, there no way he’ll sound good.  Secondly, um the song is boring and shit and generic and trash and STANDS OUT as those things compared to the other songs in the SF. AND Victor’s draw puts him behind Hatari’s sado-mascochistic punkfest and Conan’s savant garde fado fable. You need to be fucking ICONIC to stand a chance between those two and honestly, name a human less deserving of being refered to as “iconic” as Victor Crone. Third of all, it’s Estonia. Estonia is all about being overrated by the netizens. I fall for it every year, because you know, this feeling of wishful thinking is REAL (DAYUM -- Alen Chicco), but not this time!! In all fairness, given how open SF1 is, I would not be too shocked if Victor DID qualify, but “Storm” feels more like a song that juries would like due to the Lowest Common Denominator (but less so than normally because juries do NOT like Estonia for some reason) (jealousy) and I believe the audience will largely ignore “storm” due to its lack of memorability. The only trump card Estonia have is the augmented reality gimmick and it’s hard to gauge how effective it will prove to be in a SF that, you know, features anti-capitalist bondage, live re-enactments of Edward Scissorhands and deepthroating contraltos dressed up like John Waters characters. 

Projected placement: 7th-15th in the semifinal. If he qualifies, bottom 10 in the finale. 

Link to the masterpost

[thecloserkin]

book review: Sleeping Dogs by Sonya Hartnett (1995)

Genre: YA

Is it the main pairing: Yes

Is it canon: Yes

Is it explicit: No

Is it endgame: Nope

Is it shippable: Not particularly but there are interesting facets to their relationship

Bottom line: Borrow it from the library but don’t pay cash money for it

The Willow family lives on a farm in the ass-end of nowhere and it ain’t no picturesque farm either: “Farms are places for working, not preening.” They work from sunup till sundown and they none of them have friends but they do have a pack of dogs. The day Michelle Willow turns twenty-three, her brother Jordan slips into her bed at the crack of dawn:

She knows that Jordan is here stealing time, has planned and plotted this moment of quiet between them, and she curls her hand around his, lets his hair tickle her face without becoming cross for it. He lies still for a minute or more, and then sits up on an elbow so he can kiss her and look at her face and touch her closed eyes. He whispers, “Happy birthday, Michelle.”

This is such a tender stolen moment between them. If only the whole novel went on in this vein! All too soon Jordan has to leave to help their older brother Edward slaughter a sheep. Edward more or less runs the farm; as far as I can tell the only thing their father is good for is yelling at the lot of them for being a pack of lazy layabouts. The only one he abuses physically is Jordan, but all five children come in for their share of emotional abuse. Their mother has long since noped right out of there and now all she does is sit in her chair like a vegetable. And the entire town gives the family a wide berth:

In the shop the chemist is watchful. He does not like the Willow children and thinks them dangerous, delinquent. He asks them what they want and Michelle says, “I want to know why chemists are always old.” She sprays perfume and samplers up and down her arm and in her brother’s face. Jordan retreats outside and leans against the window to wait. He watches the people who pass but drops his gaze if they look back at him.

There is a dynamic here that may strike you as familiar, the nerdy or socially inept brother versus the glamorous sister with a temper to reckon with, a la Justin and Alex Russo from Wizards of Waverly Place. In this incarnation it’s a very unhealthy dynamic — everything about the Willows is unhealthy actually. Into this closed loop arrives an outsider, a would-be painter who overestimates both his native-born artistic talent and his appeal to women. He immediately develops an infatuation for Michelle and can’t understand why she doesn’t reciprocate his interest. Inexplicably one of their younger siblings, Oliver, takes to following this man around like a puppy. Or maybe not so inexplicably:

Although Oliver loves his siblings dearly, he is not yet old enough to consider them friends. He is no loner, and would call himself lonely.

In his eagerness to please, Oliver winds up revealing far too much to the not-particularly-astute painter, such as the fact that Jordan draws for a hobby. The walls of Jordan’s room are papered with drawings, and they are — untutored as he is — much better than anything the painter has ever produced. This hurts the painter’s pride almost as much as Michelle’s rejection does. Oliver makes another very telling observation, which is:

“What you were saying the other day - I’ve been thinking about it - “

”What was I saying?”

”You know, the stuff about kids in a family having favorites … Edward is Speck’s favorite. And Michelle is Jordan’s favorite. Michelle is Dad’s favorite, too. Everyone knows that. He thinks she’s wonderful. He lets her do anything she likes. He never yells at her.”

I love this, I love it when you have a big family and everyone has their own favorite and they all know it but refrain from discussing it. The Starks, for instance: Bran is Cat’s favorite and Jon is Arya’s, that much is canonical but I could sit here all day speculating about the other dynamics. Eventually Oliver lets slip something he really shouldn’t have and that’s when the shit hits the fan: SPOILERS AHEAD

”Michelle doesn’t like other boys. She only likes Jordan. She’ll tell you to go away, because she’s only ever liked Jordan.”

Even someone as thick as the painter cannot possibly miss the implications of that. A sibling conference is hastily convened in which they all close ranks in order to confront the threat of this outsider having such blackmail material in his possession, and the instant sibling solidarity warms my heart. They resolve on a plan of action to drive him out of town. The plan results in the painter peeing his pants as he’s savaged by the Willows’ hunting dogs, so to the extent it chastened and embarrassed him it worked; but on his way out he leaves an unsigned note for their father tipping him off about Michelle and Jordan’s relationship.

”Daddy!” she pleads, “there’s nothing - “

”Liar!” he spits. “Don’t you lie to me! Someone says they’ve seen you, out there in the bush, like animals! Animals, Michelle!”

I do think we are supposed to read possessiveness and jealousy in the way he’s thrashing Michelle here. She is, after all, his favorite. He’s incensed that she prefers Jordan (his least favorite child) as much as by the revelation of their “sin.” Eventually Michelle breaks down:

”Don’t throw me out, Daddy, don’t make me leave. It was Jordan, he made me do everything, he made me, it wasn’t my fault, don’t hurt me.”

Having got what he wanted, he leaves Michelle weeping on the floor, picks up his rifle, goes into the garden and blows the head off of Jordan’s dog before shooting Jordan next. You could interpret it as he wanted to get rid of the dog so it wouldn’t attempt to protect its owner, but to me it looks like he wanted Jordan to suffer by watching the dog die first. And if you didn’t see that ending coming a mile off you are probably new to reading stories about incest.

This novel falls squarely in the category of “books where the incest is a byproduct of abuse/neglect,” of which there are already too many. And unlike, say, Flowers in the Attic, where there is also abuse & neglect galore, it doesn’t frame the central incestuous relationship as a romance. This is primarily a story about an abusive family, and only secondarily about Michelle and Jordan’s bond, which anyway strikes me as uncomfortably uneven. I mean he worships the ground she walks on while she straight-up admits that she’ll probably date other men at some point. I do want to emphasize that just because their father favors Michelle doesn’t mean she’s not a victim too — everybody in an abusive family is a victim simply by virtue of witnessing the abuse and being forced to modify their own behavior accordingly to minimize the chances of abuse. It still kills me that when their father hurts Jordan it is always his left hand, his drawing hand. I don’t want to leave you all on a depressing note, however, so here are some of the shippiest passages:

It is not something they often talk of: they know what they do is said to be wrong and yet certainly it appears to hurt no one. It causes no trouble and no great punishment comes down from the sky to blight them. Griffin hitting Jordan provides the penalty they don’t want but know they probably deserve despite everything they endure, the monotony, the seclusion, the occasional misery of the farm. Denied the chance to do so as children, they are now both incapable of making outside friends: their closeness brings them solace and companionship and seems only just.

Omg they think they deserve to get hit. Because their love is ~wrong. Goddamn it hurts so good.

She leans her weight on his chest and he smells her: she always smells nice to him, like something brand new. He sighs but there is nothing wrong. No other body could be as harmonious to him as Michelle’s, no one would ever fold around him so comfortably, none could wrap him so perfectly, for Shelly and he are made alike.

[telltheworld-phff]

Chapter 18: Vicious circle

“Who the fuck was eavesdropping my conversation?”

“Meghan.”

“Meghan sold the Prince’s health issues to the press.” Edward said and hated himself for being the one to give such hard news to Harry. He saw the moment the shock came to his face and the exactly moment when he went into denial mode.

“Are you mental?” Harry yelled. “Of course my girlfriend wouldn’t do such a thing.”

“Harry...”

“Fuck off, Edward. You never liked Meghan and is just biased by Carolina. You’re fucking crazy to think Meghan would do this to hurt my grandfather.”

“Harry, it’s obvious she didn’t do it to hurt your family. She did it to hurt Carol. And to make you fight with her. I know the information got to the newspaper editor by 1 am. If it’s 1 am here, it’s 9 o’clock in Brazil. Where was Carol yesterday at this time?” Edward crossed his arms and walked around his car to seat on the passenger seat and put on the seat belt.

Harry’s mind started running wild trying to remember everything.

“She was at a media seminar for extra credit last night. She told me.” he whispered.

“And her phone…” Edward waited for him to fill in the blank.

“Was dead. I kept sending her lots of silly things during the day and her battery died. She only sent me pictures of the seminar when she got home. It was around midnight Brazil time.”

“Exactly. And we know that the newspaper was printed around 2am, our time. That means...”

“There’s not way Carol would’ve been able to be at the seminar and talking to the editor at the same time. She didn’t do it.”

“I told you so.” Edward said and looked at his friend. Harry wasn’t much of a emotional guy, but right now his eyes were full of emotions and tears and they soon started streaming down his face.

“Fuck!” Harry hit his head of the wheel a couple times hating himself even more at the moment.

Edward knew that Harry had probably lost one of the best friends he ever had. But he didn’t comment on it.

(…)

Carol was devastated. She was sad, feeling betrayed. She was mad and angry. She was furious.

She cried her whole ride home that day, she decided to call for a taxi because she really didn’t want too many people seeing her crying her eyes out. She was skipping classes, her phone was broken and she didn’t want to talk to anyone or see anyone. The only thing she wanted to do was tell Harry off and punch him. Her mind kept repeating his words and accusations and if that was possible her heart was breaking each and every time of it.

She got home and was thankful her mom wasn’t there. She took a long shower and her tears wouldn’t stop flowing. She sat on the floor of the shower stall, hugging her knees close to her chest and crying. She wept and sobbed for a couple of minutes before getting up and leaving the bathroom. She fixed a sandwich to eat and went to her bedroom. She laid there in silence for a time before the tears came back and she hated herself because she was crying because of him.

“I honestly hope you rot, wanker.” she whispered at a certain point.

(…)

As soon as he got home Harry was a man in a mission. He took off his blazer and tie, served a glass of scotch and drank it so quickly before serving another one.

He sat on his desk and stared at his phone for a couple of hours. His eyes were red and puffy and he was overwhelmed by all the emotions he was feeling at this moment. He had to be clever and sneaky. He needed proof to believe Meghan would do such a horrible thing just to hurt his friend. He and Carol had never given Meghan a reason to believe they’d cheat on her. They were friends. They were best friends and that was it. He first called his girlfriend. It was only 8 am in Toronto, so she wouldn’t be on set yet.

“Hey honey. What a surprise you calling me so early.” she said with a sweet voice while she was getting ready to work.

“I missed you, that’s all.” Harry tried to put an effort on his voice.

“Missed? As in you don’t miss me anymore?” she asked.

“I always miss you, Meg. You know that.”

“Yeah. I think I do.” smiled and he was silent for a moment.

“Meg, do you love me?” he asked.

“Of course I love you, Harry. Why are you asking me this?”

“Would you ever do anything to hurt me or my family?” he asked already knowing the answer: yes.

“Of course not honey.” she was getting suspicious but there was no way he’d be able to find out the truth. She hadn’t given her name or used her own phone, she made sure to call the editor in an hour that Carol would be home.

“Yeah.. I think I should’ve listened to you when you told me Carolina wasn’t to be trusted. She sold a very important information to the press, my grandparents are furious with me and they’re truly considering taking off my title.” Harry said knowing that Meghan didn’t know how things worked in the Royal family, so she wouldn’t realize it was a lie.

“REALLY?” she was truly shocked. She loved Harry, of course. But she also liked the idea of the power she’d have if connected to him.

“Yes… I just came home from Buckingham. I might as well go back to the army.”

“But the army is not safe...”

“I know. But that’s what I like to do. And I’ll have to earn my own money.” he interrupted her.

They were silent and Harry served another glass of scotch he wanted to get drunk as soon as possible.

“What do you think of us moving in together? I once asked Carolina how I should ask you this but now I don’t really take her opinion into consideration.”

“How would it work?” Meghan said after a while. He was acting weird, but that was because of the newspapers and the prospect of being left without a title and a job, she thought. But she couldn’t help but smile knowing that Carolina was definitely out of the picture. “What you discussed with her?”

The fish bit the bait. If Meghan wasn’t trying to make Carol look bad for him, she’d start a jealousy fit and not asked what they had talked about.

“I only chatted with her about it, she advised me to talk to my father first and to wait to see if your show is renewed. If it is, I’d be doing less engagements to be with you in Toronto. If it’s not, we’d have to get a flat in London to live. I don’t really care about the place or the country. I just want to be close to you, Meg.” he was disgusted to be saying those words, but he had to do it.

“That’s incredible, Harry. But let’s not get too carried over it, ok?” she said cautiously.

“Well… it’s about time. You have to leave for work. Don’t let me hold you back.”

“Ok, honey. I’ll call you later. We’re planning our next step carefully. Love you, Harry.” she said and hung up.

Now everything he had to do was wait. And waiting he did. So did the bottle that didn’t leave his side.

(…)

“Prince Harry is about to move in together with Meghan Markle. They’re planning to live in a flat in London next Summer.”

“Only a day after Prince Philip’s health announcement from the Palace, a close source says Prince Harry and girlfriend Meghan are moving in together.”

“Just a step before another royal wedding: Prince Harry and Meghan Markle are moving in together. Are they rushing things to have Prince Philip present at the wedding?”

Three days. That’s how long Harry waited. He was in a terrible mood, yelling at anyone about anything. But he was rewarded three days later when he woke up and saw Edward’s newspapers clippings about the lie he had told Meghan. He was furious with her, but at the same time he was furious with himself. Knowing Carol like he did, she wouldn’t forgive him easily. And now he knew how much she valued their friendship and how much she deserved to be trusted. If she had said she didn’t sell his grandfather’s secret to the press, he should have believed it. Not accuse her of something as low as selling him out to earn money. Harry knew Carol’s history and her family’s history. They all worked very hard. They all knew the value of things not just the price. He booked a flight to Toronto later that evening. He couldn’t wait to get there and see if Meghan would once and for all admit she was the one who got the easy money.

(…)

Breaking up a relationship was never a easy thing to do. Sometimes one doubt they’re doing the right thing. But Harry was as sure as possible when he arrived at Meghan’s house at 2 am in Toronto time. She was sleepy and surprised. She was happy seeing him there but soon all hell broke loose and they had one of the biggest fights both of them would ever have. It took Harry four hours for Meghan do confess. He tried to start calm and simply asked her. She denied. He then played with words to see if he’d be able to confuse her and make her talk, but she didn’t open her mouth. He was getting angry and anxious and he simply accused her of doing it. Meghan started playing dumb and crying and after she saw how mad Harry was getting, she tried to revolve the game in her favor. So she accused Carolina of doing it. She lied to his face.  And that only helped Harry to get angrier. She confessed after Harry yelling at her for a couple of hours. And if he hadn’t been raised to be a prince and well mannered, Harry would seriously do something he regretted. He left her house, slamming her front door, as single man, he was relieved for now knowing the truth and thankful for Edward’s effort to prove he was wrong. He was so very damn wrong. Now he had a friend to win back. That was the hardest part.

(…)

“Please, let’s not talk about him.” Carol said laying on Julia’s bed. She was waiting for her friend to get ready to go out. But as always, Julia was taking forever to get ready.

“I mean… he was a fucking dick to you!” she said looking at Carol. “I think we both should punch him.”

Julia and Carol were more like sisters than best friends. They liked the same things, they studied at the same schools, they even at some point had a crush on the same boy. They went to concerts together, they traveled together and they were the kind of friends that even if they were too busy with their lives and went weeks without talking to each other, as soon as both of them were in the same room, it felt like the hadn’t missed a day. Julia had always been one of Carol’s role model. She was smart, funny and outgoing. She stood up for her friends and family whenever it was needed. But she was also the first one to point their flaws and was a very sincere critic to all of them.

“I think you’ve got a crush on him.” Julia said while applying her mascara.

“You’re crazy. I don’t have a crush on him.” Carol said defiantly.

“Deny as much as you want, Carol, but I know you. You’ve got a huge crush on the ginger prince. Besides, I’d be surprised if you hadn’t. You always pick the most daft men to have crushes on.”

Carol threw a pillow at her friend and they laughed.

She was only going out tonight because Julia was simply making her. Ever since her fight with Harry a week ago she only got out of bed to go to work. Everyone noticed her sullen mood and her snapy comments. She was pushing everyone away from her and Julia was the only brave enough to walk on thin ice and tell her friend the things she needed to hear. They were going to Villa and they wanted to dance the night away and get drunk. No one was allowed to go back home sober.

(…)

Carol woke up the next day in a different yet familiar bed. She had a pounding headache from all the tequila she drank. She was only in her underweard an before she started panicking she looked at her side and saw she was at Rodrigo’s house.

“Fuck!” she whispered.

She closed her eyes trying to remember last night. She remembered arriving with her friend, she remembered dancing and drinking. She remembered he arrived there with his friends and that he almost started a fight when she was dancing with another guy. She was drunk. She wanted to be reckless. She wanted to not care about all Harry’s advices to not go near him again.

And she remembered she was the one that kissed him.

Everything else was a blur.

But now that Carol was in pain and sober, she panicked because out of everyone in the world, Rodrigo had to be the last one she had to look for comfort. She thought about trying to leave before he woke and when she was starting to take off the blankets, his arm was around her waist and he was fully awake.

“Going somewhere?” he said nuzzling her neck.

“To the bathroom...” she lied and he tried to kiss her “Morning breath. Off you go.” she pushed him and got out of bed. She went to the bathroom to wash her face and she tried to think of a way to be out of this situation. She looked for a painkiller on his cabinet and found one. She took two without any water and was so relieved when she saw the used condom on his trashbin. At least they had protection.

When she got back to the bedroom, he had fixed them breakfast. She almost said she wasn’t hungry but her stomach rumbled loudly.

“You’re always hungry in the morning. Specially after sex, so I brought you breakfast.” he said.

“Thanks” she gave him an awkward smile and started eating. “What exactly happened last night?”

“Well… You kissed me and didn’t let me go for the rest of the night. I was driving you home and you asked me not to. We came here, had sex and fell asleep.” he said like it was the most normal thing ever.

“Well… it’s not happening again. I was drunk and weak.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Carolinda.” he smiled. That fucking damn smile. He nuzzled her neck again e she could feel the warmth of his body on hers. Breakfast was soon forgotten. And the vicious circle was back on.