#so are they going for artsy french women or something...

[callmekamel]

*to my chinese friends* "so Bazaar's China has this photoshoo-"

"yes Camel we found it it's done by Chen Man a very famous Chinese visual artist now stop talking about Anatomy of A Fall for GOD's sake"

tw: lounging, lots of lounging

[terrainofheartfelt]

here’s a though i’ve been pondering over - if the main characters from gg were musicians, what type of musicians do you think they would be? like in terms of what genres they would play in, artists that you think they’d be like, etc.

Wow anon this is exactly my brand i love you for asking this. Buckle up this post shalt be long >:)

(I know many of the cast have had music careers but I’m not really that up on them, this is more my impressions of their characters than them.)

I’ll start with the Humphreys bc they are the ones I’ve thought about the Most.

Like, I see Dan as the folk-punk type, a poet-with-a-guitar type. Frank Turner and Brian Fallon are two of my favorite songwriters, and their writing has a very Dan Humphrey Professional Yearner kind of vibe (And when I’m writing Dan-centric fic which is all my fic tbh I listen to them A Lot). Hozier and Phoebe Bridgers also carry a similar energy, though Hozier is more on the blues/folk side & Bridgers is more indie pop meets country. He’s mostly a guitar guy, but has the skill to branch out into other similar instruments, (he gets a banjo and mandolin just for the challenge). Ivy and I have talked a lot about the idea of pianist!Dan, which I also find v appealing, but I haven’t thought much beyond: Dan playing this Chopin...

Jenny, my best girl, I’ve thought about it and exchanged many a message with @bisexualdanhumphrey about Jen. She has this fascinating, bluesy & raw kind of voice. She’s a vocalist primarily, but can play her way through most chord progressions on a keyboard, she has a ukulele that she loves. Really, she can pick up an instrument for an afternoon and do pretty well, which annoys her brother to no end (“I’ve been playing for 12 years and she figures it out in a day?!”). As for musical acts I think are similar I always come back to Stevie Nicks and Halsey, for the vocals and the vibes. There’s actually an artist I’ve been really into lately called Susan O’Neill (she goes by SON some places) and when I listen to her I think “That’s Jenny’s voice”

Throwing Eric in bc I don’t have much to say about him, but I made him Beth in my Little Women au and I loooooooooved writing baby virtuoso Eric. Eric & Liszt. That is all.

Vanessa is a drummer in my brain. Like a pop-punk drummer. Ivy actually has this fic in which she plays piano in a band which is an idea I also love - like a Carole King/Sara Bareilles kind of vibe. Maybe she joins her sister’s band? Vanessa and Dan on tour with Ruby, picture it…

Blair as a musician I imagine a couple of ways. If we’re going the classical route, I can see her being really into something that requires a lot of technical skill, like the harp. (Slightly related: listen to this performance, the harp is so gorgeous I love it.) Ooh OOH, and from being a harpist she goes to become a conductor. I can SO see Blair Waldorf as an orchestra conductor. If we’re going a more pop route, I think Blair’d be like one of her beloved chanteuses, singing jazz standards and French classics a la Edith Piaf, or like Robyn Adele Anderson, or like Zoey Deschanel in She & Him (an au of Dair as She & Him…?)

Serena is another enigma. The easy answer would be to go with S the pop diva. I’ve said before that Kesha’s whole journey as an artist really resonates with Serena’s character, so I could see that—the character of the “party girl” that evolves into this lovely, zany blend of pop & country & rock & whatever the hell she wants. (Cowboy Blues is literally a SVDW character study. All of High Road is honestly) The other idea I had when I got this ask is Serena the Band Kid. But I see her going for the low brass section, bc the chillest, most easily charismatic people I know have been low brass players. Just, Serena playing trombone and euphonium makes me very happy.

Nate...idk, friend. He doesn’t particularly strike me as the artsy type, like he would play an instrument because his parents made him (reccing yet another Ivy fic because they Get It). I could see him doing something low key, like playing bass maybe in the band I made Dan, Vanessa, and Jenny form above. Bass is also like, the steady supportive thing in an ensemble, which I think suits our Natie. Or, if Nate were a band kid with Serena, I could see him doing something himbo-ish like drumline.

I am first and foremost an opera person, and a fun habit me and my friends have is thinking about “if this were an opera, what voice types would the characters be?” (my college roommate and I spent a whole evening brainstorming Mean Girls the opera once--before the musical was even a thing, so fight me Tina Fey), so I have thought a bit about that too…

Like Nate is def a lyric baritone, because they are the himbos of opera: comedic, handsome, drink the respect women juice-- a la Figaro in Barber or Escamillo in Carmen. Dan is a Puccini spinto tenor (more on the Rondine & Boheme side of the spectrum). Because of the Pining. Blair is a soprano, like a Musetta or Donna Anna or Marschallin or Magda in Rondine: romantic, but can cut a bitch. Serena is a Rossini mezzo, like Rosina or Cenerentola: bubbly, charismatic, kind, loves to pull one over on men. Jenny is a mezzo of the kind I’d like to call Gay, like Komponist or Octavian in Rosenkav - a bit more dramatic and nothing heterosexual about em. Vanessa is also a mezzo (I am one too, okay #lowvoicesupremacy) like, Susan Graham.

[infraaa]

Royal Chaos: Modern AU!

Design/Proposition One

Ah, look, it’s our good support, Pan’An! Let me talk about him for a sec 🥴

But first, a rant. I went over my notes for the RC Modern AU and realized something: wouldn’t we have to downgrade these people to teenagers then? They’re clearly adults, right? So I scratched the High School idea and switched it out for college. Also, tw// gun mentions, ROTC mentions, implications of frat parties, just in case...

Okay. Rant over.

So for Pan’An, I can imagine him being accepted into the college that everyone goes to due to scholarships and things like that. According to history, (please correct me if I’m wrong,) his family was a little bit more on the richer side, so I can imagine that he could have won some easy scholarships to lighten the load on his dear mother, who was trying to help him get into this prestigious school he had his eye on. Mommas boy!

He’s a popular guy. Not popular popular, but just enough to be recognized. I can imagine too that because of his looks, you can suspect that flocks of college girls follow and stalk him around campus. But this also has its downsides: sometimes when his professors aren’t in, the elect subs. The subs sometimes misgender Pan’An because he looks feminine. (Which is why he started using both He/Him and They/Them pronouns because it affected some gender dysphoria,,,)

Pan’An is an artsy kid, we got that. He’s certainly not like his father, or his grandfather, who were both politicians when they were alive. He’s more poetic and romantic in nature and that’s how he vents his feelings— through poetry. That’s how the Poetic Arts Society was created. Pan’An and Lord Yi created the club together. It slowly populated over time, and sooner or later, they had a nice little club. I can also see Pan’An being into theatre and Chamber Singers Choir. Not necessarily acting, rather scriptwriting and stagecraft. Chamber Singers for anyone that doesn’t know what that is, it’s a mixed choir of women and men, but they partake in something called “Madrigals,” which at my school is not only a concert but it’s also a play. It’s actually quite fun to do but it’s very exhausting... luckily, Pan’An has a lot of patience and endurance. He can do something like that.

He may be feminine looking and he may also hold an elegant disposition, but in high school, his mother carried out his father’s wishes of having him be enrolled in ROTC, which is a military training class outside of school. He has combat skills and is also skilled with guns. He also partook in equestrian sports. Yes he knows how to ride horses. (This comes from history too. I found a preface from his autumn Fu poetry and found that he served in the detached cavalry for a while, and when I looked up what that was I found out that it was an equestrian branch in the army.)

Pan’An’s desired major would be something in Psychology. I know it may be a little unorthodox, but look. Psychology actually takes some writing courses in order to pass. I can see Pan’An also being an empath, being able to read human emotion very easy, being wise and advising people at times. You also have to take a foreign language at some point, which I can see Pan’An taking a foreign language like French. (I have a solid headcanon that he’s fluent in French. Please someone animate him singing Tourner Dans le Vide for me please—

I had him go into a fraternity. I found one that suited him. Pi Kappa Alpha (ΠΚΑ, otherwise known as PIKE,) is a very popular fraternity and it focuses on leadership, development of integrity, intellect, and high moral character. No, he doesn’t go to parties that often, but that doesn’t mean he won’t go. He may go to a frat party every now and again, but he won’t stay for long. Pan’An is a modest man, you know, one of the “good boys,” he has better things to do with his time.

As for his design, I wanted to deviate from his natural color scheme because I felt like something else would go good with him. And light pink does! It compliments his hair. Actually, the cardigan I gave him is based on one I have. It’s pink and it has flecks off blue and red and dark pink in the yarn. I also thought giving him a choker added a nice touch. Don’t ask why, I’d just die if I saw Pan wearing a fucking choker. And glasses. Those too. Those are also based off of my own glasses, except mine aren’t made of gold metal. And don’t even get me started on distressed denim with this mannnn,,,,

But anyway, thanks for coming to my TedTalk. This was part one however, more of this stuff will become available. This was just a warm up~ ☺️

[elizabeth-mitchells]

Andy and Quynh One Shots - chapter 50 -  Impossibly Sweet and Disgustingly in Love

Prompt: Andy and Quynh being impossibly sweet and disgustingly in love around everyone Tags: Post-Canon, Fluff, Extreme Fluff, Tooth-rotting fluff, dangerous amounts of fluff, absolutely nothing but fluff

reposting my favorite one with an added bonus to wish everyone a happy new year!!

the most beautiful and incredible art inspired by this prompt by the lovely and crazy talented @mortt-artsy is here 

The first victim was Booker. Ever since he had joined the team, considering Joe and Nicky were always together, he was used to partnering up with Andy during their missions. When Nile joined in and shortly after they were reunited with Quynh, he stayed with the two older women while Nile joined the other couple. Now, seeing Andy and Quynh fight side by side was an incredible thing, it was admirable, intimidating and somehow, beautiful. But, then there was the downside, whenever they had to sit around and wait for a signal or the right moment to attack, and he was left there while Andy and Quynh…

“Andromache, focus!” Quynh squirmed on her place on Andy’s lap. They were sitting on top of a building somewhere, Booker was intensely focused on his binoculars pointing at somewhere in the distance, and Andy was thoroughly entertained holding Quynh in her arms and kissing her neck.

“I am focused!” Andy tried to defend herself but, after another kiss, she added, “but only on you.”

“Lucky me,” Quynh whispered, turning her head to meet Andy’s eyes. There she found the usual unmeasurable love and adoration in every shade of green.

“No, I’m the lucky one here,” Andy held her close, softly brushed her nose against Quynh’s, and then finally indulged herself in kissing her favorite pair of lips.

In the background, they could faintly hear Booker cursing in French under his breath.

--

Soon enough, Nile encountered a similar fate. Andy and Quynh had volunteered to cook dinner, but after it was obvious they weren’t getting very far on it, Nile forced herself to go in and help. Though she stopped in her tracks when she entered the kitchen and found Andy sitting on the counter and Quynh standing between her legs. The two women were exchanging quick kisses and completely ignoring Nile’s presence.

“We could forget about dinner, you know?” Andy kissed her. She had her arms loosely draped on her lover’s shoulders, and she was strongly considering just pulling her closer already. Then she added, “I have something different in mind.”

“Oh, do you, my heart?” It was Quynh’s turn to kiss her, “I think I might have the same thing in mind.”

They kissed again while they ignored the whispered “Gross,” coming from Nile still standing by the doorway trying to get their attention.

“Something sweet?” Andy whispered against her lover’s lips.

Quynh lightly bit Andy’s bottom lip and then slowly released it and pulled away enough to say, “Stop pretending you’re flirting, I know you hate cooking and would seriously prefer to jump to the dessert.”

Andy laughed wholeheartedly at that, and let her head fall on Quynh’s shoulder, “I love you so much,” she said, with her lips brushing the woman’s neck.

“Guys!” Nile turned around and yelled in the direction of the living room, “We are ordering pizza!”

--

Even Joe and Nicky, previously unparalleled couple in being extravagantly in love with each other, found some… light aversion to the two women’s newly rekindled flame. The two men perfectly understood how passionate love could be between two immortal beings, and they had even seen Andy and Quynh before torture and grief had tainted their souls. However, now they were seeing what it meant to have five hundred years of love to make up for. Plus, it looked like the women had suddenly remembered their old on-going joke of annoyingly, but hopefully playfully, constantly reminding the men that they had been together for much, much, much longer.

They were driving away after a mission. Joe was behind the steering wheel, Nicky was on the passenger seat and Quynh was sitting in the back seat, with Andy laying down with her head on Quynh’s lap.

“So, it’s almost three thousand years now then?” Quynh wondered, while her fingers played with Andy’s hair, “Three millennia of devoted and ardent love?”

“Yes,” Andy, who was holding Quynh’s other hand, brought it to her lips and started tenderly kissing her knuckles one by one. “I have treasured you since the very first dream of you I had, and I have adored you more and more every day.” Andy’s eyes were soft in a way that only Quynh had ever seen them, but Quynh also loved the way that in the blink of an eye she could read the sudden change for playfulness in her lover’s eyes. “We should celebrate like during our second millennium. So long ago, and still, it feels like yesterday.”

“I agree, my heart” Quynh smiled with matching mischief, “and do you remember our first thousand years together? It went by in the blink of an eye!”

“Oh, I could never forget!” Andy replied with a perfect teasing tone, “Even if we have loved each other for two more thousands of years after that.”

“That’s literally three times more, huh?” Quynh couldn’t hold back a small laugh, even if then she added more seriously, “Every thousand of years is impossibly better when I’m with you”. Her voice had turned soft and sincere and it was obvious she wasn’t just thinking about teasing their friends. Every ounce of love and truth in her voice and heart was perfectly matched in every feature of Andy’s face and the spark in her eyes. It was so easy to forget the rest of the world existed when they were staring at each other just like that.

Still, on the front seat, Nicky’s face was settled in a deep frown. Joe was tightly gripping the steering wheel, and he mumbled, “You two should get a taxi.” But they continued to be ignored by Andy and Quynh, still lost in each other’s eyes, in their memories, in all the love they had ahead of themselves.

--

This tendency of Andy and Quynh being impossibly sweet and disgustingly in love around everyone, didn’t lessen with time, to the surprise, delight, and annoyance of different members of the group.

Nile swore off grocery shopping with the two other women after the time that something about some cheese brought out a pleasant memory that had Andy and Quynh making out with each other in the middle of the aisle. On one occasion Booker had to shoot himself in the foot to get out of shooting practice, because successfully introducing Quynh to modern weapons had turned into Andy praising the woman’s skills in a seemingly unending speech. Then there was Joe, who would refuse to visit a certain mall for at least a century after someone in a store mistook him for Quynh’s husband, right before everyone there noticed his alleged wife getting up to some highly inappropriate business in the dressing rooms with another woman. Nicky wasn’t the exception either, since he had lost count of how many times he had to walk out of the kitchen, unable to take one more second of Andy and Quynh exchanging affectionate words and lovingly feeding each other bites of whatever sweet dessert they had that day.

Finally, when the entire family was together, well, there was no difference. They could try to tease Andy for her sudden, and wrongly deemed uncharacteristic, softness, but she’d reply with a threat or Quynh would successfully intimidate them in her defense or, more often than not, Andy would simply not notice at all, completely lost while staring at the love of her life. They could try to complain when both women laughed about inside jokes while they walked toward a mission, or when they flirted with each other in a dead language only they knew while they were all having dinner together.

But, at the end of the day, when it was time to enjoy some time to themselves, relaxing in some remote corner of the world, the six of them scattered around a safe house’s living room and watching a movie chosen by Nile, it wasn’t annoying at all. Centuries of pain, guilt, grief, and nightmares, that in moments like this they could pretend never happened. Moments when Nile, Booker, Joe, and Nicky can do nothing but exchange smiles with each other, genuinely overjoyed to watch Andy and Quynh, the two women that had suffered the longest, and loved each other even longer, finally get a chance to do nothing but enjoy each other’s company.

It didn’t matter if it could be annoying to be in the presence of the couple that had been together for the longest amount of time in history and still had the ability to love each other with the dedication and enthusiasm of millennia ago. Sometimes, all the mattered was Andy and Quynh, falling asleep in each other’s arms, with smiles in their faces, and in their hearts the glorious knowledge that they would wake up the next day to continue loving each other more than ever before.

[ih8paris]

i hate paris

Do people still use tumblr? I’m so old. And I never used it. I don’t keep up with the times. I don’t give a shit. You know what? It all passes. Except facebook. They made a deal with the devil and really, was it worth it? I use facebook. I live in Paris and there are these groups for women, expats, cheap people like me that want free yoga. That’s what I use it for. And news. BBC CNN ABC NBC MSNBC, you get it and the posts. They report what the people supposedly want, but then we can see what the people are actually saying. Donald Trump won’t win? Look at voices talking? Look at the little people. It looked like he was going to win. What do you know, he did. But what if he had lost. What if Hilary didn’t get a handle on COVID and then Donald won in 2020? We would all be so fucked right now. Maybe we already are. Anyway, I’m not here to talk politics. I’m here to process my life choices and see if there were signs that I was making HUGE mistake. 

So here’s the thing. I’m a bit untraditional. Growing up was shit. Chuck left and made sure to shit all over everything before he did. And the whole get married in your 20′s have babies get divorced get remarried have more kids bc hey you’re not old at 30 and this is the guy you actually wanted to have kids with. I rant but you get it. Traditional not for me. Also not traditional, i have some money. This money has paid for college, pastry school and yes this wonderful covid filled experience in paris: the city that hates me. I’m fortunate. I don’t live lavishly. It’s not that much money. I grew up poor, I pinch pennies. Then i do exciting things. Or maybe challenging things? I am fortunate and grateful. And guilt filled. I am given this gift and shit it away, trying make something out of this paris experience. It’s like a bad relationship where i keep begging to give it one more change. It will get better. I’m a fucking idiot. So here I am, you know third times the charm, right? Back in paris. Vaccinated. I’ve made connections with people. I feel confident that this will not be a waste. It will be fun. It will be educational. I will network. Gain experiences. Omg learn so much. Be able to travel. OH the hopes and delusions i had. But maybe we should start from the beginning. 

Omg, which beginning. Paris, i guess, we can go back further when the moment calls. So 30 is approaching. I’ve moved back home. That’s story for another time. Remember my life is not traditional. So I’m home to help out and idk try to figure out what the fuck i want to do with my life. See the big mistake i made in my 20s was listening to people i don’t admire. i graduate with an art degree. my college exit interview said i am qualified to work at a bank or Kraft foods. no connects, recommendations. No direct. And my family keeps talking about getting a job, benefits, 401k. At one point a little later on, my grandpa was pushing for me to go into service. Sorry gramps, they don’t want me. My education was good. I learned a lot. They had good resources and a lot. But then nothings. So i worked at a bakery. I worked hard at this bakery. For more than a few months i worked 7 days a week. I didn’t have a life. i had money. Money i made. And apparently that was the most important thing, from the talks i keep getting from my family. And of course i wasn’t earning enough, so needed to work harder and climb the ladder. There is no ladder in a bakery. Whatever, I rant again. We’ll come back to this. 

So 30. It’s looming. I’ve thought about grad school. The money I mentioned earlier. It’s had time to grow. The GRE expires after 5 years, not that i took it but 7 years after I graduated, i wasn’t taking it. So Europe. Europe is artsy. I would like to make good money, enjoy the work okay, but mostly make good money with the least amount of actual work. So teaching. My mom teaches. Computer programing. She’s the head of the department. She fucking hates it. The dude that was suppose to get that job, he died. It was sad. But they also didn’t replace him so when the other guy retired, it became her job. It was an unpleasant 10ish years. But again, I digress. So teaching. Work hard and play hard. And it’s always changing - ish. I guess as much as you want, or don’t. New students every 15 weeks. breaks at all the holidays. Summers off. And when you’re just about to get bored, you’re back at work. Maybe because this is the only lifestyle i know, but it doesn’t sound bad. I worked in an office of women in high school. That i for sure knew i never wanted. But teaching. College. Okay. I need a masters. Learn about MA and MFA. Start looking for jobs in Cali because life’s too short to fucking deal with the snow and mosquitos. Idk everyone doesn’t live in Cali. So now the plan is MFA. They are much more rare and more in demand at universities. More money - but this time i think chasing the money necessary bc Calif = expensive. Now back to looking in Europe. I love Italy. I would love to live in in Italy for more that just a semester but actually live Italian or close to it. The language makes sense. The people make sense. The art makes sense. And it’s omg gorgeous. Alas, no American accredited MFA programs I could qualify for in Italy. I don’t know if there were none but if there were, they would have been in textiles, or digital/graphic design. Which I don’t know anything about. I’m old school, metal work, drawing, printmaking - although so far we haven’t gotten along, another thing i going to try to make work before i leave this city that hates me, for good - painting, ceramics, you get it. I hate computers. I appreciate technology but my mom teaches computers therefore there was never a working computer in my house so we (my brothers and me) don’t do computers. So i find this school - in english and in Paris. Paris, so glamorous. Home of famous artists and their art. The Louvre and Eiffel Tower and Fashion. So okay, i check out their programs. One i have no fucking clue what it is. Still don’t. Another is Photography - pass. Graphics - no. List continues. Then i see Drawing. That’s interesting. I can draw, i draw well. This is a program i could probably get into. SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: you can get into any program. No program is ever full. It’s bull shit. Masters program. Undergrad = everyone is applying at the same time. Masters = ages range and much fewer people go. So don’t fall for that shit - EVER. 

They have a one year and two year program. The second year is less than half the first year so makes sense to go the second year and get the MFA vs MA. So that works out. I’m reading and checking it out. Not sure what I’m looking for but in hindsight, i knew something was missing. Talk it over with my mom and her peers who are also teachers. Consensus - don’t be part of the first group. So i have an interview to get it - what a joke. It is also a time for me to learn more about the program. So i ask, is this new? How long has it been around. Answer: Oh no, it’s been working several years. Very confident. I didn’t have a follow-up, just said I don’t want to be in the first group. I said those words. Her response: Oh no no don’t worry. I was so naive. And yes this continued through the whole program. People’s personalities are what they are. So she lied to get me into the program and just kept lying. No respect for the insane about of money i was paying for this ‘experience’. No respect for the education i could have gotten somewhere else. Because this program had NO educational value. I’m not being bitter or dramatic. It was a complete waste of time and money. Then covid happened. Might have been a blessing in disguise. I can go into detail of the program later. This is just an overview of the beginning. 

So, I get accepted. What a surprise. I’m now officially 30 and this - i feel- is my last hoorah. After this i will be an adult who can get an adult job and become an adult. But first i need housing. And a visa. Which is very confusing. So the French and Italians - Italians I am familiar  with, tell you about it later. So they’re similar in that lazy, lack of thoroughness, that’s their thing. Difference being Italians own it, French hardcore deny. So I’m reading this paperwork and it says thing like you need to have all your documents before your visa appointment including plane ticket. Well I can’t go without the visa so why would i get a plane ticket? Cart before the horse shit - it’s very french, wait until you hear about banks.  

[artificialqueens]

Ungodly Hour, Chapter One (Jaida x Nicky) - Scarlet Bloo

a/n: Hi! I started this fic back when the fic challenge was announced and here it finally is, (2?) months later, 3 days from the deadline. It’s been a ride, but I’ve finally gotten it to a place where I’m happy with it, and while not every chapter will posted during the challenge I’ve at least managed to get one in!

summary: Nicky is crushing hard on a bubbly soccer playing sorority sister. It’s unusual for her to ever be into anyone like this, and all she wants is to be on her radar. Popular girl Jaida is captain of the basketball team, and while she’s usually smart, French just isn’t her forte. Lucky for her, Nicky is a native speaker, so she makes it her mission to get her as her tutor. 

Challenge notes:

A large amount of the story is told from Jaida’s point of view. 

Close friends of the main characters: Widow, Heidi and Akeria (who will become more prominent characters in future chapters.)

The title is a song by Chloe and Halle Bailey. 

Nicky snuck a look in Jan Sport’s direction, her heart tingling as she absorbed her beauty. She sighed, knowing the preppy, popular sorority girl had absolutely no idea she even existed. It was laughable that she ever entertained the idea of a relationship with her, even if it was only in the late hours of the night, a fantasy to procrastinate her studies with. But with her long blonde hair, muscular arms and smiling eyes, how couldn’t Nicky be so intrigued by her? This was a new feeling. Nicky hardly ever found herself interested in anyone, let alone a woman. It was surreal to her, but it somehow felt right.

She cast her eyes away from Jan and tried to focus on the Professor at the front of the lecture hall. Unsurprisingly, it was nothing of value to Nicky. Miss Coulee was voicing her disappointment with the class after 70% of the class had gotten less than a C in the last exam. Nicky rolled her eyes, looking down at the big red “A!” circled on her own paper. Despite this achievement, she was regretting her decision to take French. Sure, it being her first language definitely made the classes easier, but left her so unsatisfied with how little she had to push herself to pass. 

“Of course you got an A”, Gigi whispered to Nicky. 

She had a defeated look on her face and Nicky felt a pang of sympathy for the girl. Gigi and Nicky weren’t close, but seeing as they’d been sitting next to each other every French lecture since September, they’d gotten to know a fair bit about each other. Like Nicky, Gigi was a fashion major but was taking French so she could “make it big in Paris one day” and Nicky knew academics wasn’t her strong suit. 

“Yeah well,” Nicky smiled sweetly, “French is my language, fashion is yours.”

Gigi seemed content with that answer and nodded satisfactorily as Coulee dismissed the class and all that could be heard was the snapping shut of laptops and notebooks and friendly chatter.

Jan lingered by the door giggling with her friends and Nicky’s gaze locked in on her like a missile. She was beautiful, and she could help but trace each curve of her body with her eyes. She felt her hands go clammy as she found herself lost in her animated expressions. Jan was different to Nicky’s image of a popular girl, she didn’t strut around campus like she owned the place or go through millions of relationships. She radiated positive energy and it just made Nicky all the more eager to get to know her. She wasn’t usually this into people, but Jan Sport had turned her into a pile of mush.

“You’re staring again.” Gigi’s teasing voice brought a blush to Nicky’s cheeks. She had caught her staring at Jan in awe on multiple occasions and was one of the very few people she’d actually admitted the crush to. The only other person who she’d told was her roommate and best friend, Widow. But her other friends? Definitely not. They were all art majors, and while Jan was taking music, it wasn’t really the same thing. Nicky guessed it made them the artsy crowd, and therefore substantially less popular. With the exception of Gigi and Widow, who had been in an on and off relationship with a soccer player since freshman year, Nicky’s friends spent lunch breaks talking as much shit as they could about Charles College’s elite. And it was somewhat justified. Most of the popular kids were complete pieces of shit. 

Case in point - Jaida Essence Hall, Charles College’s star athlete. The girl walked around like she owned the place, and Nicky guessed she kind of did. At the snap of a finger someone would appear at her side, eager to grant any and every wish. Or jump into her lap. Or stick their tongue down her throat. She didn’t look as confident as usual right then though, sitting fists curled around the edge of her paper in the lecture hall. Everyone else, including Coulee, had left, but Jaida remained in her seat. She must have failed the test too, but Nicky didn’t feel much sympathy for the girl. Charles college was best known for its Basketball, with its best players usually ending up in the pros, and during their years at Charles, they’d get handed everything on a silver platter. Maybe it was unfair, and a tiny bit vindictive, but Nicky got a sense of triumph from knowing that Coulee was failing the captain of the women’s basketball team along with everyone else. 

“Wanna grab something to eat?” Gigi asked as she gathered her books.

“Can’t, I have to finish up all of last week’s design work.” Nicky got up, but didn’t follow her to the door, “Go on ahead. I need to check the schedule before I go, I can’t remember when my next tutorial is.”

“Okay,” Gigi said, “I’ll see you later!”

“Later!” Nicky called after her. 

At the sound of her voice, Jan paused in the doorway and turned her head. It was impossible to stop the flush that rose in Nicky’s cheeks. This was the first time they’d ever made eye contact, and she didn’t know how to respond. In the end, she settled for a small nod of greeting. There. Cool, casual yet wouldn’t come off as rude. Her heart skipped a beat when the corner of Jan’s mouth lifted into a faint grin. She waved in response, and then she was gone. Nicky stared at the empty doorway. Her pulse exploded in a gallop. After six weeks of breathing in the same air in the stuffy lecture hall, Jan Sport had finally noticed her. She wished she was brave enough to go after her. Maybe ask her to grab a coffee. Or dinner. Or brunch - hell, is brunch even a big thing in America? But her feet stayed glued in place because she was a total coward. She was terrified she’d say no, but even more terrified she’d say yes. 

Nicky was in a good place when she started college. Her issues solidly behind her, her guard lowered. She was ready to date again, and she did. She dated several guys, but other than her ex, Kayla, none of them had been female, and none of them had made her body tingle the way Jan Sport did, and that freaked her out. 

Baby steps. That was her therapist’s favourite piece of advice, and she couldn’t deny that the strategy had helped her a lot. Focus on the small victories, Sasha had always advised. So, today’s victory, she nodded at Jan and she waved at her. Next class, maybe she’d wave back. And the one after that, maybe she’d bring up the coffee, dinner or brunch idea. She took a breath as she headed down the aisle, clinging to that feeling of victory, however miniscule it may be.

Jaida had failed. She’d fucking failed. For the last 15 years before she’d joined Charles College, they had handed out A’s like tic tacs. But the year she decided to take a French class? She had gotten stuck with Shea Coulee. It was official. This woman was her archenemy. Just the sight of her flowery handwriting—which filled up every inch of available space in the margins of Jaida’s midterm—made her want to scream, rip up the page, and leave education indefinitely. Jaida had been passing all her other classes, but this (almost ironic) F in French was completely bringing her average down. Normally, she had no problem keeping her G.P.A up. Despite what she knew a lot of Charle’s population believed, she wasn’t dumb. And the worst thing about Charles? Their dean demanded excellence—academically and athletically. While other schools were lenient toward athletes, Charles has a zero-tolerance policy. When she spoke to Coulee before class, she’d bluntly told her that unless she was going to find her own private tutor, she’d have no choice but to turn up to extra tutorials which overlapped with basketball practice. It really was a lose-lose situation.

 Jaida’s frustration manifested itself in the form of an audible groan, and from the corner of her eye, she saw someone jerk in surprise. Jaida jumped too, because here she thought she was wallowing in her misery alone. However, the girl from the back row had stuck around and was headed towards Coulee’s desk. Staci? Selena? Jaida couldn’t remember her name, probably because she’d never thought to ask for it before. She was pretty, though. A lot prettier than Jaida had ever realised. Perfect features, dark hair, a petite hourglass figure. How had she never noticed her before now? Her skinny jeans clung to a round, perky ass and her round breasts peaked slightly out of her v neck. 

“Everything okay?” the girl asked with a pointed look. Jaida murmured a reply under her breath. She really wasn’t in the mood to talk right then. 

The girl raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow in Jaida’s direction, “Sorry, was that english?” 

Jaida balled up her paper and scraped her chair back, “I said everythings fine.”

“Okay, then,” The girl shrugged and continued down the steps. As she picked up the clipboard that contained the tutorial schedule, Jaida flung on her jacked, then shoved her  pathetic midterm into her  backpack and zipped it up. The dark-haired girl headed back to the aisle. Sophie? Sabrina? The S sounded right, but the rest was a mystery. She had her midterm in hand, but Jaida didn’t sneak a peek because she assumed she failed just like everyone else.

Jaida let her pass before she stepped into the aisle. She followed her up to the exit, suddenly realizing how tiny she was compared to herself—she was one step below her yet could see the top of her head. Just as they reached the door, the girl stumbled on absolutely nothing and the books in her hand clattered to the floor.

“Shit. I’m such a klutz.”

She dropped to her knees and so did Jaida, because contrary popular belief, she wasn’t heartless, and the polite thing to do was help her gather her books.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine,” she insisted.

But Jaida’s hand had already connected with her midterm, and her jaw dropped when she saw her grade.

“Fucking hell. You aced it?”  Jaida demanded.

The girl gave a sweet smile. “Well, I am French. I thought you’d have been able to tell from the accent.”

“Holy shit.” Jaida felt like she’d just bumped into Coco fuckin’ Chanel and she was dangling the secrets to her  universe under her nose. “Can I read your answers?”

Her brows quirked up again. “That’s rather forward of you, don’t you think? We don’t even know each other.”

Jaida rolled her eyes. “I’m not asking you to take your clothes off, baby. I just want to peek at your midterm.”

“Baby? Goodbye forward, hello presumptuous.”

“Would you prefer miss? Ma’am maybe? I’d use your name but I don’t know it.”

“Of course you don’t.” She sighed. “It’s Nicolette. Nicky for short.” Then she paused meaningfully. “Jaida.”

Okay, she was way off on the S thing. And Jaida didn’t miss the way she emphasized her name as if to say, Ha! I know yours, bitch! Nicky collected the rest of her books and stood up, but Jaida didn’t hand over her midterm. Instead, she hopped to her feet and started flipping through it. As she skimmed her answers, her spirits plummeted even lower, because if this is what  Coulee was looking for, she was screwed. There was a reason she was a  geography major, for gods sake—she dealt in facts. Black and white. This happened at this time to this person and here was the result. Nicky’s answers focused on detailed analysis on texts Jaida couldn’t even translate in the first place. 

“Thanks.”  Jaida gave her the booklet, then cracked her knuckles. “Hey, listen. Do you…would you consider…” she  shrugged. “You know…”

Nicky’s  lips twitched as if she was  trying not to laugh. “Actually, I don’t know.”

Jaida let out a breath. “Will you tutor me?”

Her grey eyes—slightly green and surrounded by thick black eyelashes—went from surprised to skeptical in a matter of seconds.

“I’ll pay you,” Jaida added hastily.

“Oh. Um. Well, yeah, of course I’d expect you to pay me. But…” She shaked her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Jaida bit back her disappointment. “C’mon, do me a solid. If I fail this makeup, my GPA will implode. Please?” She flashed a smile, the one that made her dimples pop out and never failed to make people melt.

“Does that usually work?” she asked curiously.

“What?“

“The winning innocent pageant girl smile… Does it help you get your way?”

“Always,” the taller girl answered without hesitation.

“Almost always,” Nicky corrected. “Look, I’m sorry, but I really don’t have time. I’m already juggling school and work, and with the winter showcase coming up, I’ll have even less time.”

“Winter showcase?” Jaida said blankly.

“Right, I forgot. If it’s not about basketball or your big pageants, then it’s not on your radar.”

“Now who’s being presumptuous? You don’t even know me.”

There’s a beat, and then she sighed. “I’m a fashion major, okay? And the arts faculty puts on two major displays every year, the winter showcase and the spring one. The winner gets a five thousand dollar scholarship. It’s kind of a huge deal, actually. Important industry people fly in from all over the country to see it. Fashion houses, investors, big magazines…. So, as much as I’d love to help you—”

“You would not,” Jaida grumbled. “You look like you don’t even want to talk to me right now.”

Her little you-got-me shrug was grating. “I have to go finish up some designs. I’m sorry you’re failing this course, but if it makes you feel better, so is everyone else.”

Jaida narrowed her eyes. “Not you.”

“I can’t help that I was born into a french speaking household.”

“Well, I want your help.”

Jaida was two seconds from dropping to her knees and begging her, but she edged towards the door. “You know there’s a study group, right? I can give you the number for—”

“I’m already in it,” Jaida muttered, embarrassed.

“Oh. Well, then there’s not much else I can do for you. Good luck on the makeup test. Baby.”

She darted out the door, leaving Jaida staring after her in frustration. Unbelievable. Everyone at this college would have cut their leg off to help her out. But this girl? Ran away like she’d just asked her to give up her first born so they could give it to Rumplestiltskin. And now  Jaida was right back to where she was before Nicky-not-with-an-S gave her that faintest flicker of hope. Completely fucking screwed.

[kellerose]

Barbara Kruger: the Conceptual Art that Criticized Society

Barbara Kruger is an American conceptual artist born on January 26, 1945, in Newark, New Jersey. Her works were relative to the early products she made as a graphic designer. Kruger was known for the boldness of her words that overlaid black-and-white photographs from multi-media material, such as magazines. Kruger used short and directive slogans to portray simplistic, yet unforgettable pieces of visual media. 

The words and phrases in her pieces are usually directed towards the stereotypes and behaviors of consumerism. As an anti-consumerist herself, she took it as an opportunity for her to express the ridiculous behaviors that were spreading throughout society. Kruger also displays a sense of feminism in her works as a way to highlight the difficulties that women have to go through in the same society she constantly critiques. I shop, therefore I am (1987) and Your body is a battleground (1985) are some of her most memorable pieces that portray her message quite clearly.

You would be able to see her work displayed on billboards, t-shirts, posters, and even chess boards. The now 76-year-old New York and Los Angeles artist can now see her art displayed in places such as The Museum of Modern Art in New York, the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C., the Art Institute of Chicago, and the Walker Art Center in Minneapolis, to name a few. 

source: https://www.thebroad.org/art/barbara-kruger/untitled-your-body-battleground 

As I did more digging, the work above entitled Your body is a battleground was created in 1989 to be an image used for the Women’s March in Washington. In the image above, you can see a woman staring straight ahead with a vertical line cutting her face in half; the left side shows a positive filter while the right side is a negative filter. The use of positive and negative lighting could contribute to the idea of a battleground, as used in the bolded, red-accented words displaying over the picture. The battleground in this case is talking about the debate of the issue between a women’s right to choose. 

When looking at this image from a cognitive perspective, it wasn’t hard to recognize that her main courses of appeal in the artwork was with memory, culture, and words. She is appealing to the issues plaguing her society about Women’s rights. The history behind this image will surely make the piece more memorable. That goes the same with the cultural impacts that had created this work. How the people were reacting and behaving to this kind of issue impacted how this piece was created. Kruger’s use of bolded and Futura Bold Oblique words brought it all together. Without the strictly and aggressive phrase of “Your body is a battleground” some people may not have known what the image stood behind. The phrase is split from top, middle, and bottom of the picture to emphasize the seriousness of the phrase. It gives off something similar to this: “Your body. Is a. Battleground.” The sense of pausing in-between the words of the phrase really sets the tone of the overall image.

source: https://alexkershawmajournal.wordpress.com/category/testing-boundaries/page/2/

A Barbara Kruger image that was just as memorable and popular as Your body is a battleground, is the 1987’s I shop therefore I am. This piece is a personal favorite of mine out of all of the images I have seen. Although all of her pieces were so intriguing to learn about, I felt this one was the most interesting. In this image you can see a hand, again in the black-and-white filter, reaching out and looks to be holding the words. Again in Furtura Bold Oblique font, the words are seen red-accented to contrast and pop out from the black-and-white background.  

Kruger again uses the same techniques of memory, culture, and words to appeal in her art. In 1987, the society was shifting into a state of consumerism. Since the industrial revolution, thousands of material-making companies were created that made people ache to buy, buy, and buy. It started to feel like people needed materialistic things in order to survive, which is the whole meaning behind this image. The words “I shop therefore I am” is a spin off from the infamous phrase “I think Therefore I am” created by French philosopher, Rene Descartes. Just like Descartes’ meaning of thinking being the overall proof of existence, Kruger’s meaning behind the phrase is how society needs materials to prove that they have existence. What’s interesting is that the hand is seemingly holding the words as if it is a material that was bought by the consumer. The ridiculousness of the consumer-driven society Kruger found herself in was the reason she made such an impactful statement within this piece.

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

Sources: 

Barbara Kruger. www.artnet.com/artists/barbara-kruger/.

“Barbara Kruger.” Barbara Kruger - 142 Artworks, Bio & Shows on Artsy,    www.artsy.net/artist/barbara-kruger.

Barbara Kruger's I Shop Therefore I Am - What You Should Know. 29 Jan. 2021,  publicdelivery.org/barbara-kruger-ishop/#:~:text=The%20catchphrase%20%E2%80%9CI%20shop%20therefore,proof%20that%20they%20did%20exist. 

Kim, Adela H. Your Body Is A Battleground: ARTS: The Harvard Crimson. 9 Apr. 2014, www.thecrimson.com/column/the-art-of-protest/article/2014/4/9/art-of-protest-your-body-is-abattleground/#:~:text=However%2C%20the%20words%20%E2%80%9CYour%20body,body%2C%20yet%20directly%20affects%20her.

Lester, Paul Martin. Visual Communication: Images with Messages . Sixth ed., Michael Rosenberg, 2014.

[mythicalsecretsanta]

35mm Memories (T)

This gift is for: Jody (AKA @nectarine-migraine) Jody, I hope I succeed in making you cry! This was a real challenge for me to write, fluff peddler that I am, but I really enjoyed it and am glad I got a chance to dip a toe outside of my comfort zone.  From your Secret Santa, Archie (AKA @archionblu)

Link to AO3, or read below:

He doesn’t know why he still has the stupid thing, really.

Rhett’s had so many opportunities to throw it out: every time he’s moved, every time he’s gone digging through mementos to find something specific, whenever he’d gotten in one of those Link-like moods where he just had to get his clean on. 

He has a ritual with it now. Whenever he found it, he’d pick it up, run his thumb along the underside of the worn edge of the cap, unseating it slightly. Then he’d slide his index finger over the top of the grey plastic, the ridges of his fingerprints catching on the tiny dot of imperfect plastic hidden in the center divot as he pushes it back down, sealing it again without ever actually opening it. He thinks about how he should really toss this, but he always comes up with an excuse not to. 

Aren’t you supposed to recycle these things nowadays? Not that he knows how to do that, it probably has to go to some special facility. It’s not like it’s taking up that much room anyway. He’s held onto it for so long, it feels almost sacrilegious to toss it out. He’s not ready to let go.

This time, he rolls it around in his palm a little, musing about how something so tiny can feel so big. This single canister of 35mm film holds some of his happiest memories…and one of his greatest regrets. How can this thumb-sized lump of plastic – ‘cause that’s what film was made of, he’d looked it up once – contain such a multitude?

He snorts a little at how cheesy that sounds, even in his head, closing his fingers around it. He goes to stick it in his pocket but then has the paranoid thought: could his body heat somehow damage the film inside? So he keeps it in his hand, even though his sweaty-ass hands are probably warmer than his pocket anyway. He’s keeping it in his hand instead of putting it back because, after twenty-six years of sitting in that canister, he’s finally going to try and develop the film inside. He’d even found a place that still did that and everything. 

See, it was true that when they were sixteen, he and Link thought it’d be great to do an art shoot with a bright yellow plastic flower and the remaining photos on one of Link’s disposable cameras. They’d already shown those pictures to the Beasts, way back in season one of their show, before they’d even broken a hundred episodes. 

They’d made a big joke out of it, spent an entire ten freaking minutes cringing over their sixteen-year-old selves’ attempt at art. They had made a particularly big deal out of two shirtless photos, ‘no homo’ing so hard he was surprised looking back that they hadn’t felt the need to bring up their marriages. To women. Two separate women. 

What they hadn’t revealed to the Beasts, and what Link refused to even acknowledge, was that there was a second roll of film.

The one clutched in Rhett’s hand right now. 

It makes steering a little awkward, but he’s unwilling to let it go as he drives himself to the CVS – not the one closest to his house or the studio, but one a little farther away from both. A CVS he doesn’t frequent. There’s always a risk of him being recognized in LA, but he could at least make sure that it was more likely to be a stranger who wouldn’t ask questions about why he was getting decades-old film developed.

The thing was that when they had gotten to the end of Link’s camera, they’d been on a roll (hah.), still brimming with ideas for the perfect artistic shot. So they’d gone back to Rhett’s house and gotten his mom’s camera, spent actual money to buy a roll of film, and kept going. But the photos ended up not being the kind you could laugh at and make a mocking over-dramatized slideshow out of.

A car behind him honks and Rhett shakes himself free of Buies Creek,1994, to focus on L.A., 2019 traffic. He can get lost down memory lane when he’s back home, with the developed photos in hand.

-----

Rhett’s usually a pretty steady man, but his hands shake a little as he carefully unsticks the temporary adhesive of the envelope that holds his developed photographs. He’s scared, he can admit that. Real, physical evidence makes it real, makes it into something that actually happened that he can’t sweep back under the rug or ignore anymore.

The first few photos in the stack aren’t that incriminating. They’re shirtless, yes, but the scenes aren’t any worse than the two from Link’s disposable camera. Rhett, standing in the spot they’d found those dirty magazines, the flower laying flat in his hand. Link, holding the flower in his teeth, looking broodily off into the distance. 

They’d had a lot of botched, blurry shots as well, obviously unfamiliar with the more complicated settings on his mom’s fancy camera compared to the simple point-and-shoots that seemed to spawn in Link’s house. There’s about ten shitty photographs of them just attempting to get a shot of Rhett on his bicycle, riding down the empty road, flower tucked in his back pocket.

Every single one of them is too blurry for anyone who hadn’t been there when they were taken to be able to discern what they were supposed to depict.  They’d tried to do it with Link following behind Rhett on his own bike, but Link had never been the most coordinated of people, and they’d been worried about breaking Diane’s camera. They never did get the clear shot they wanted of that. 

The photographs that follow those are the ones that make his heart squeeze painfully in his chest. These are the photos he doesn’t dare show his wife, let alone the public. 

Link, standing in the river, the waistband of his underwear just visible above the waterline, slung low on his hips. They’d discovered that the plastic flower could float, so they’d left Link’s jeans on the shore and set up the shot with Link reaching out towards but not quite able to reach the bright yellow petals on top of the water. How Link had managed to convey so much yearning despite not looking at the camera, Rhett still doesn’t know. He’d have thought that level of acting to be beyond sixteen-year-old Link. You couldn’t even tell that he’d complained for a whole ten minutes before that about how freaking cold the water was.

Rhett knows what’s coming next, and he almost doesn’t want to continue, thinks about stuffing the rest of the stack back in its little envelope and being done with this. But he’s come this far and he feels like he has to finish this, so he shuffles the top photo to the bottom of the stack revealing the next image. 

There was no denying the intimacy of this pair of photos, or the implications behind the poses they’d chosen. He can’t remember what their teenage selves had been thinking, if they had still been striving to create art or if they’d moved on to just being silly. As Rhett stares down into Link’s earnest blue eyes, looking right at the camera, it doesn’t feel silly. 

It feels very, very real, to see Link in wet boxers and his sneakers, down on one knee, holding the flower up to the camera like an offering. As real as the sense memory that overtakes Rhett with the next photo, the sensation of cloth petals brushing against his nose and cheeks as he holds the flower to his face, as if taking in the aroma of the gift the Link of the previous shot had given him. His eyes are closed in the picture, and unlike the photos before this, there’s a smile on his face, turning up the corners of his mouth. 

The next photo is blurry, but that doesn’t stop it from being the most arresting photograph so far. Rhett had tucked the flower behind his ear and had been trying to arrange an artsy three-quarter angle shot of his face, and just as the shutter was clicking open and closed, there had suddenly been lips pressing against his own. Link had ended up a blurry streak in the photo, but the memory of that moment is still very clear to Rhett. 

When he’d felt those lips against his, he’d taken a sharp breath in through his nose and almost stepped back, startled, but Link’s hands had found their way to his shoulders and kept him in place. Rhett’s hands had moved almost against his will, curling around the warm skin of his best friend’s waist and coming to rest on his hip and the small of his back, the camera hanging forgotten by its strap on his wrist. Link’s lips had been slightly dry, and Rhett had licked his own lips without thinking about it, causing Link to gasp and open his mouth, inviting Rhett’s tongue inside. 

Rhett had french-kissed girls before, but it’d been so unlike all those times that it might as well have been the first time. Even now, staring at the photo in his hands, Rhett feels the echo of what had felt like grabbing an electrified cow fence, when his tongue and Link’s had met in the middle, shy and exploring. 

He wishes he could remember what Link tasted like. 

-----

It was clear that a lot of time had passed between that blurry photo and the next one, as it was almost too dark to show up, grainy and grey. This was the last photo on the roll – he knows without even checking the rest of the stack, because he’d taken it on their way back home, twilight falling around them. 

It was an action shot, spur-of-the-moment rather than carefully posed like most of the others had been. Link, waist deep in the river again, his clothes and shoes bundled up in his arms as they waded back to the other side. The flower, somehow still obnoxiously bright in the fading light, was tucked behind his ear like an afterthought. 

The photograph did a really lackluster job of capturing the smile on Link’s face, at least compared to Rhett’s memory of it. It had been so wide it had practically split his face, and it’d shone brighter than the fading sun, or the stupid flower behind his ear. The joy and laughter lit up his whole face when he’d looked back at Rhett over his shoulder, the secret of what happened during those unrecorded hours caught in the crinkles around his eyes, present even at that age after years of laughing together.

Rhett doesn’t remember where they’d been, what they were wearing, anything specific about the setting of the next memory, but it honestly didn’t matter. All that really matters is the way the words rang in his ears as if Link had screamed them rather than muttering them quietly whilst not looking at him. 

It had probably been a few days after they’d done that photo shoot, and he knows for sure that he’d asked Link when he wanted to go get their film developed. He doesn’t remember actually asking, but he knows he did, because he’s pretty sure that Link wouldn’t have even acknowledged it if he hadn’t brought it up. But because he had, Link had forced out a gruff “Don’t bother.”

“What?”

“You should throw it out. The roll from your mom’s camera.”

“Why? I spent like a whole four dollars on–”

“Because it was stupid. Those photos were stupid, they ain’t worth developing. It’d be a waste of money.”

“Oh.” Rhett had paused, trying to swallow around the sudden knot in his throat. “…Okay.”

He still remembers how small his voice had been, when he’d agreed after that painful silence, trying to catch Link’s eyes even though his friend refused to look at him. He remembers it feeling like someone sticking a pin in a balloon inside his chest, all the joy trapped there leaking out until all that was left was limp latex. He doesn’t remember if he cried later that night, but he knows he’d definitely wanted to, back

Because one of the best days of his life up to that point was apparently not worth the five dollars it’d take to remember it. Not to Link. And the implication was that if it didn’t matter to Link, well, it shouldn’t matter to Rhett, either. 

Whether or not he’d let those tears fall back in 1994, they’re flowing freely now, and he puts the stack of photos carefully to the side, not wanting to ruin them by accidentally crying on them. Despite it being nearly thirty years ago, he still remembers how much it hurt. He wonders if Link knew at the time just how badly he’d hurt Rhett. If Link remembered how quickly Rhett had gone out and got a girlfriend after that; needing an excuse to not spend time with Link for a while, needing someone to remind him of what he was supposed to want. 

Like all things, the hurt and the memories had faded with time. But he hadn’t thrown the roll out. He’d shoved it into the backs of junk drawers, closets, and cardboard boxes, but he’d never been able to toss it away, disown it the way Link obviously had. It followed him from place to place for twenty-six years, until Rhett had found the courage to face it head on. 

Vision still a bit blurry, Rhett takes his phone out of his pocket and types up a quick message.

“Hey, can we talk?”

He sits and waits, watching the ellipses that appear a few minutes later as Link types his reply.

Because Link had been wrong. It had been worth it. Those memories were absolutely worth keeping, and whatever it meant for them afterward, Rhett needed Link to know that.

It had been worth everything.

[gotatext]

claws my way out of the dirt like the goblin i am ..... hello thots, its nora, once again bringing you a revamped version of a muse i played yonks ago n some of u may have even written against... here is her pinterest.....

this is margaret greta, she’s a whole can of trauma spaghetti plastered over with a toothy grin and a lot of dad jokes. the only reason she’s in gifford really is bcos shes been put there as part of a witness protection program cos lots of police r monitoring livingstone so its deemed relatively safe.... haha... anyway she changes major all the time. she started off doing fine art but since then she’s done modules in architecture, film, bio-chemistry and is now dabbling in medicine. 

CIS-FEMALE — ever hear people say GRETA O’DRISCOLL looks a lot like DIANA SILVERS? I think SHE is about 21, so it doesn’t really work. The MEDICINE major is a SOPHOMORE that is from DEADWOOD, SOUTH DAKOTA. They can be +CHARMING, but they can also be -EVASIVE. I think GEE might be SHEEP. They are living in YATES. ( nora. 23. gmt. she/her )

this bitch is the most restless creature u ever seen. before she came to livingstone, she’d lived in 8 different cities in 3 years. 

was adopted as an infant. had two foster moms and two older sisters so always surrounded by women. lived in a boarding house, very much like the one in 20th century women, with lodgers coming in and out all the time, mostly artsy young women because her gay moms were both high school teachers trying to set up their own arts collective. one of her moms left when she was 4, n she doesn’t really remember her.

while living with entirely women made her super into catlin moran and the guilty feminist, as a teenager she often let boys walk all over her bc she just craved male attention jst bcos she’d never really experienced it. saw it as something aspirational, like sitting in the back of chad’s second-hand truck while he drove you to macdonalds and offered you and his five friends with identical haircuts weed was the height of being cool to greta, she wanted to be their dream girl, even if it meant compromising her beliefs

bubbly bitch but also massive snake. metaphorically and literally, always shedding her skin. loyal to few, ruled by none, out for herself, babey!! every place she goes, she becomes a new character, someone who’s a figment of her imagination, as if each city is repertory theatre and she’s a character actress, so as a result som ppl think she’s called rita, some ppl know her as margot, she just flicks through identities like nobodies business.

goes through phases of being intensely feminist and tweeting “men are trash i don’t need them” before flipping into being lonely and needy n wanting male attention again. tends to gravitate towards men who are just pieces of shit tbh like her friends are always like hun.... pick a nice boy..... but no.... she’ll go for the boxer with several arrest records for gbh or the small-town drug dealer just trying to hook her onto pills for a little extra cash, or the reformed sinner who thinks he’s being protective by reading all her texts and always knowing where she is..... n she always finds a way to spin it so that they Just Care About Her and aren’t a p.o.s 

left school at 18 n didn’t go to uni, moved in w her boyfriend of the time instead, but soon got bored, n then went backpacking around the states making money in the casinos by being a shot girl (yeehaw) and trying to make it as a mysterious 1920s widow with a smoky voice, a dark secret n a heart of gold, looking for love in the big city. all she found was producers and acting agents who’d promise her stardom n actually just fuck her in a motel n then ignore her calls.

TW domestic violence, TW gun, her watershed moment came when she met luke in sioux falls while she was playing bass for a country n blues band. he was a few years older and had a car, and they kind of went from seeing each other to being that super intense couple who are just necking all the time. 

they got engaged like 3 months after they met n rented a flat together, much to her family’s annoyance but she was 19 so there wasn’t much they could do. their relationship was super super intense though, often really heightened and when they fought it could become quite violent, but she’d pass it off as just him being really passionate. 

one of their fights got really heated and greta threatened him with the gun he kept in the glove box of his vauxhall corsa, but the safety was off and she accidentally shot him. she pleaded self defence in the trial n cos of the amount of times she’d been hospitalised for various concussions n things like ‘fallling down the stairs’ the police were like yea... pretty watertight evidence that he was a bastard who [chicago voice] had it coming..... also this happened in 2017, he was mixed race and greta is white so naturally the police totally took her side. she’s now under witness protection, rehoused in livingstone as a sports-scholarship student, due to the amount of police involvement in the area, it would mean should one of luke’s family members try to track her down, she’d be relatively safe

 massive sports fanatic. plays tennis. on the cheer team. was a track superstar in her high school. honestly just that sporty bitch, you’ll see her doing lines at a party at half four and then on your way to your 9am lecture you see her running across the park like a fresh fucking daisy who is this bitch

pretty easy to get along with (provided you don’t anger, provoke or question her too much) because she WANTS your character to be enthralled by her and will do whatever it takes to win them over. she wants everyone to love her

is That Girl who always knows where the parties are, and is always there, on the sofa, talking about institutionalised racism and trying to coerce you into a game of beer pong that she’ll definitely win. doesn’t really have one solid group of friends, just kind of on good terms with everyone and social butterflies about

has changed her major so many times. decision? who is she. currently studying medicine, but doesn’t rlly enjoy it. she’s very unmotivated and lazy and probably wouldn’t ahve bothered going to uni if she hadn’t been placed in one by a witness protection program. will probably change on to history or gender studies soon n just make up the extra credits by volunteering

 massive feminist. low key quite scared of powerful men bcos of her ex. wants to start a female only lesbian commune bc she misses her childhood in a south dakota boarding house and has endless support for women. honestly annoyed that she is attracted to men, would so be 100% gay if it was a choice. cuffs her jeans and can’t drive. is That bisexual. skateboards. wears backwards caps.  i hate her

plays bass guitar, has a teal green fender and it is her BABY. it’s covered in stickers about saving the planet and ending fracking and going vegan. she’s in an all-female punk band w agnes (n mayb jade i think) n they play gigs every now n then in grotty club basements full of druggy sweaty college kids

PERSONALITY: easy-going, sociable, observant, blunt, amiable, nihilistic, self-serving, laid back, independent, unmotivated, charming, lazy, impulsive, alluring. ESTP and a leo

LIKES: art, music, john wayne movies, black mirror, philosophy,  cowboy chic culture, DC comics, arcade games, candyfloss, deep red lipstick, marijuana, dogs, karaoke, Kate Moss, late-night strolls, zip-lining, chemistry, suspenders, cigarettes, herbal tea, gallows humour, cold coffee, long showers, brown eyes, tchaikovsky, dr. seuss, boiler house DJ sets, magnolias, decorative lamps, worn-out furniture, twangy electric guitars.

DISLIKES: bananas, coffee, Woody Allen, mental mathematics, children, Trump, institutionalised misogyny, the imaginary future, french literature, Wes Anderson films, spoken word poetry, the general mentality of cheerleading squads (despite being on one)

aesthetics:

a bubble of pink gum on chapped lips, mom jeans, a beaten up pair of adidas, denim jackets, strawberry laces, knee-highs, chapped lips, peeling sticky plasters, split knuckles, bruises you try to cover with concealer, stick and poke tattoos, hot coffee, sleep caught in your eyes on a lazy afternoon, kissing girls, cigarette smoke shrouding you like a veil, alien conspiracy theories and sci-fi paperbacks, doc martens with fraying laces, the red string of a thong peaking out purposely from jeans, leonine arch of your back and that stellar smile that says ‘you have no idea who you’re dealing with’, a rucksack permanently packed for the move, a streak of red across your lips, roller blades, cut knees, not eating your greens, smiling with a mouthful of blood, and piercing your own ears with a safety pin when your mom wouldn’t take you, kate moss posters lining the walls of a teenage bedroom, his name scrawled in rage across the pages of a diary, thumb holes poked through the cuffs of your sleeves, a tennis racket you punched through in a fit of temper, feet pounding the earth until your soles bleed crimson, sleeping in a cherry lip balm and scrunchies to keep the wild locks from your eyes. 

wanted plots: since greta literally can’t differentiate between romantic and platonic love, she’s got off with so many of her mates, so i want awkward friendships where they nearly dated, or exes that have now just turned into weird friendships, and girls from the cheer team who she’s like, weirdly intimate with like the shower together but its not a Thing cos the other girls straight, and I want like, fellow medicine students who are like?? how is this bitch still passing?? i swear she goes out every night?? she works part time at a fast food restaurant, i want a mate that just goes and sits in there talking to her until her manager gets angry. ppl she did a few modules with before changing course and somehow sort of remaining in touch with, like she did a few art modules, a bit of film, n some architecture before switching to medicine, though she’ll probs switch course again soon. ppl who she runs track with. someone she’s trying to make a zine with. here’s a list of plots on her old blog if u want any of them w her.

would love plots of any type, throw them all at me please, i cnt wait to interact w all of u. like this if u want me to message you about connections / plots! xo

full biography if u can be bothered

trigger warnings: drugs, domestic abuse, gun.

you never meant for it to happen. you’d heard the stories, of girls who let their man walk all over them, and thought to yourself “i’ll never be one of those girls…” the kind that eat low-fat yoghurt and drink slim fast to shred a few extra pounds because he said she was getting round in the tummy, or the ones who spent their evenings tied to a kitchen sink drinking wine while him and the boys played poker, wishing god, if only I could get out of here. not you, not you raised by strong women, four bright shining beacons. single mother with her hard-as-nails attitude and her stony glares, elder sisters (twins) one ginger, one blonde, one doctor, one lawyer, both determined to take a bullet to the brain and a hammer to the patriarchy before they let a man touch them without asking. you were always so inferior, so insecure and small, like a bird (like a sparrow) with blonde plaits down your back sucking tropicana whilst your busom buds sucked dick, their lips permanently ripe with stories of their sexual exploits, fake tan and glittered nails whilst you sat in the unbroken egg of virginity wondering what it was like to be loved. one day you found out.

lily milligan’s parents gone and a free house for the night, bottles of ouzo and tequila swiped from your mother’s liquor cabinet thinking she wouldn’t know (she always knew) your legs, hardened from pep squad, slut dropping on a kitchen table because the boys thought it would be fun to get the quiet girl drunk. you’d never had a sip before that night. band t-shirts, denim shorts and the split soles of rotten converse that you refuse to let go of, you still clutched with both hands to your youth, but in a tube top now (borrowed from alice carmichael who had a sister in college) and a short tennis skirt, your feet not in trainers but in thigh-high boots. uncomfy as hell but lily said you needed to look sexy. you didn’t know if you wanted to be sexy. you didn’t know what kind of girl you were, if you were even a girl at all. but robbie looked at you like he knew exactly who you were, like he knew you better than you knew yourself, and his lips had the pink cupid’s bow of a movie star, and his hair was dark locks, curling like a mane. his hands were soft, and suddenly on your waist, and after three more shots his lips were on yours and his name was the only sound in your head and on your lips as you lost it in lily’s college sister’s bedroom beneath the glare of a T-Pain poster. you bled for what seemed like hours, his hand still in yours, kissing on the sofa as truth tellers and dare devils continued to spin a bottle of unprecedented youth. you thought it was love. robbie was the one. he loved you, you knew it, how else could someone be so soft? but soon he grew bored, scrunched up your paper heart and set it alight. then came the tears, the hatred, the ‘fuck robbie, in fact, fuck all boys.’ and that you did.

you were known for being easy. any boy could be yours for a night, as long as he promised to love you for those few short breaths and pants before you cried yourself to sleep. you felt poisoned, but poisonous as well, as if by ensnaring these young boys you were gaining power over them, and not the other way around. soon it started to work. they’d want more, but you’d deny them it, sick of sucking off silly schoolboys, they’d call you a tease, a vixen. maybe you were, but you couldn’t help but want older men. you got the history teacher first time, him bending you over his desk to sneak a hand up your tennis skirt as the after-school clubs carried on next door, unawares. love didn’t exist, not for you. it was nothing but a game for pretty young girls to play, bubble gum in their canines and a hand tugging at the hem of their cheer skirt.

there was so much anger inside of your small body, ‘beware of boys and their hook-like words’. hockey helped. there was something formidable about the feeling of a stick like a weapon in your hands and the thwack it made against thighs in the heat of a scrum - “slipped, sorry!” - you’d utter with a snakeskin smile, millicent quinn knowing that you’d hit her on purpose because she shagged robbie at that party last week. she couldn’t prove it, cobbled acne on her forehead turning green with disgust. ben came into your life like a car crash. two years your senior, with a baseball jacket and shoulders like a god. he became your personal hero. on the pitch, he was lethal. together, you could bring anyone to their ruin. each day after last period he’d be waiting in his car. you’d leap into his arms like a girl-half starved, love me, love me, love me, your heated kisses the envy of every junior girl. he was yours for three blissful years, utterly yours, and you were his, his star-spangled girl, and he was your knight - you were both the same, playing games, always difficult to predict. it was a shock to all when he proposed, high-school sweethearts find love in south dakota.

the engagement was a bittersweet affair; three months – you barely out of your gingham print skirts and into a graduation gown, him, a surly quarterback towering above your sisters, cigarette at his lips and a scowl like a fart in a lift. they hated him. so did you. but you were eighteen and in love, and he fitted the cookie cutter mould. everyone wanted him, and you had him. you had him and you were happy, happy, happy, and he loved you. he said he’d give you the world, anything you wanted hand-picked and given to you. instead, he gave you a jack russell terrier and a flat you couldn’t swing a cat in, wallpaper peeling like the rotten bits inside of you, the bits that only he knew. and you got tireder and tireder of the sad excuse of a life he’d picked out for you, him out doing god knows what to pay the bills, and you dancing on tables to pave your way to stardom, and this was love, this was real, until the shine wore off and your fresh-faced, dimple-cheeked cheerleader facade faded and the ugliness started to reveal itself, the whining, the petulance, the sharp-tempered cruelty, the mind games, the need to always win, win, win. he was dull, he was boring, he was nothing like the boy the girls had said he was and no chiselled six pack could hide his lack of anything remotely interesting, your patience wearing thin until it snapped like rubber, a rucksack on your back, running shoes on your feet and the joint bank account emptied into your eighth grade birthday wallet.

you built your small fortunes working the casinos of sioux falls, a crimson dress and an attitude to match. bookish archie with his little dipper freckles was fun for a month, before he became just as dull and dreary as the rest. a three hour bus and you were in minneapolis, bright eyed and bushy tailed, fresh meat ready for the pickings. a hostel here, a friendly co-worker’s sofa there as you made what you could by taking off your clothes and shaking your ass like you were back in pep squad, doing what you did best. you met your fair share of creeps, and soon it was back on the road to escape a wide-eyed stalker and a restless itch for more. milwaukee, chicago, you made the roads your own. log cabins and lodgings, and the occasional motel, a beaten up pick up truck purchased at a scrap merchants – you got a few miles out of it before it bit the dust, and when you finally set it alight after nights spent lounging across the driver’s seat, a parka tucked over you as a duvet, you were sad to see it go. you’re nomadic by fault, never attaching to place, people or things, creating a new personality in every place you go like a character actress; each town is a different repertory theatre, and you’re the star. a compulsive liar, you even fib about your own name, to some you’re ellen, nineteen, bookish, a law student who likes smoking and cosmos. to someone else you’re rita, you’re twenty five and look young for your age, like smoking, comics and fucking in public places.

in the bright lights of michigan, you found charlie, sweet charlie, too good for you, though you let him spoil you while he thought you were the small town girl of his dreams. next came abigail, who was fun until the jealously kicked in, and then luke, gorgeous luke, dangerous, exciting, who despite his temper, despite the fights, despite bruises down your spine and your teeth marks on his arms, loved you with the strength of a wild fire. there was destruction in your wishbones, a savageness from the field, from the pitch and now somehow in his arms, you were godly. he was cruel, he was careless, and he refused to fall at your feet like so many other boys had, which only you made you want him all the more. you were rage incarnate. you hated him so fiercely you thought you might kill him, so he played the only card you wouldn’t predict; proposed.

the house you shared was a backstreet flat in detroit, you making your name as a downtown singer while he footed the bill with pills. they had a drug for anything these days, to dull the senses, to pick them up, to drive you to insanity or pull you out of the madness hole. the two of you lived like criminals on the run (you never told him that you were, living out your days as the enigma he wanted you to be), you with your voice like caramel and fishnet legs. you were his and his alone until his hand was at your throat and the gun was in your hands screaming at him to stop, stop, stop, until a bullet stoppered his brain, crimson staining linoleum as you cast yourself out like lucifer. self defence was decreed the moment they saw your violet neck, black tears and headlight eyes and mind screaming red, red, red like the pom-poms you shook so willingly in school and the insides of his skull. you were gone, and “you” was born, renamed “greta”, boxed, shipped-out, and next-day delivered to livingstone where under witness protection you were a student, blank slate, fresh-faced in a place where no one knew your name, doing what you always did and starting again.

[milkslimepearl-tea]

🎧🎶French Songs Masterpost🎶🇫🇷

French native here ! I absolutely love french in music, especially as it comes in such wide range from political songs to kindda nsfw one. French is a language where you can really play around to write interesting and/or funny songs. This is what I listen often and like ! Ill give a youtube link to every songs, but you can probably find better quality on deezer and stuff, especialy for the old one. I'll also try to sum up each song so you can grab them a lil better, hopefully ! Charles Aznavour - Emmenez moi (1968) A classic. I love it. Makes me wanna travel and have a break lol. Summary : Aznavour want a BRAEK. 🎵 Emmenez-moi au bout de la terre Emmenez-moi au pays des merveilles l me semble que la misère Serait moins pénible au soleil Cyril Mokaiesh - Communiste (2011) Political stuff ; its trashing big companies and capitalism/liberalism. Summary : Mokaiesh talks about all the thing he doesnt like etc. and if it does link him to communism, then he's communist and whatev. i love it. 🎵 ça les perdra De mondialiser l'injustice D's'en asperger de bénéfices Ça les perdra Anne Sylvestre - La faute à Eve (1986) Feminism ! heck yeah ! hard take on how everything is blamed on women, thanks to 🎶christianistics traditiooon🎶 Summary : ève does her best but Adam is a piece of shit ungreatful fuck. 🎵 "Moi, je vais me mettre en grève J'irai pas au paradis Non, mais qu'est-ce qu'Il s'imagine ? J'irai en enfer tout droit Le bon Dieu est misogyne Mais le diable, il ne l'est pas POLO & PAN - Canopée (2016) sweet love song ! my fav. one of my fav groups actually. wonderful lyrics. this on has quite the complicate vocabulary, but you Should Definitely check their other stuff ; its marvelous. Summary : Two ppl living their best in amazonia. the birds are singing, the sun is shining, the trees are tall and green ! 🎵 Des oiseaux nous chantaient leur mélopée Et nous vivions heureux dans la canopée Dartek - Les Kassos this one is very nsfw LMAO hard dubstep i think ? the lyrics comes from a french cartoon, Les Kassos. U can check it out too if u like trash humor. Uh, im not especialy fond of it, but if its ur thing ! the song is still dope af Summary : uhh. hallucinations ? mention of sex and drugs ? uhu Edith Piaf - L'homme à la moto Would who i be if i didnt put miss Edith Piaf in here ?! Not one of her most popular tune tho ! and what a shame. I absolutely love that one and never miss a chance to yeLL IT OUT in the forest w/ my bff. a blast. Summary : A motorcyclist scares the shit out of the country side with his bike. One day he hits a train and THE END ! 🎵 Il portait des culottes, des bottes de moto Un blouson de cuir noir avec un aigle sur le dos Sa moto qui partait comme un boulet de canon Semait la terreur dans toute la région. Rufus Wainwright - Complainte de la Butte Who would i be if i didnt throw Moulin Rouge in there ? bitch see me CRYFIN. Summary: im sad. everybody is sad. The girl is poor. They take shelter in the moulin. Also there is the moon and she's ginger. I love it. 🎵 Les escaliers de la butte sont durs aux miséreux Les ailes des moulins protègent les amoureux Les Fatals Picards - Djembé Man (2007) they sing REALY fast. but god i love les fatals picards. its just so heckin funny igzerhg. Summary: theyre just making fun of ppl who plays djembé at the end of a party and disturbs everyone. 🎵 Si on classait ton bordel sur l'échelle de Richter, Djembé Man c'est vraiment sûr : il manquerait des barreaux Patricia Kaas - Mon mec à moi IM JUST YELLING THE LYRICS EVERYTIME I LISTEN TO IT, I CANT HELP IT. I LOVE IT. also super lyrics. Summary: the boyfriend is telling her fake stories and she's totally into it bc he's cute while he does it and she loves him. its just So Catchy. 🎵Mon mec à moi Il me parle d'aventure Et quand elle brille dans ses yeux j'pourrais y passer la nuit

Oldelaf - La Tristitude I love oldelaf :( check out his other stuff, its amazing (le café really got me goofing around when i was little lmao). he's very smart with his lyrics Summary: "something is as sad as ..." The tile is a joke, triste = sad, so la Tristitude would be, Or a smash between Triste and Solitude, Or a ironic way of saying To be sad. 🎵 La tristitude, C'est quand tu viens juste d'avaler un cure-dent, Quand tu te rends compte que ton père est Suisse-Allemand, Quand un copain t'appelle pour son déménagement, Et ça fait mal Odezenne - Souffle le vent My. fav. Rap band. i love them. theyre total genius. Like really. Their texts are absolutely Wonderful but they are awefully not known enough foR MY TASTE. plz listen to them lmao. check their albums out ; if i would advice one to start, maybe Dolziger Str. 2. but theyre all so great URGH. their songs might be hard bit to understand tho, so u can not comprehend what theyre talking about, but theyre Frickin good if ur looking for good french immersion. Summary: life 🎵 Allons plus loin ! En autarcie. Voir comme c'est beau les ciels pluvieux, Qu'un jour plus vieux, je puisse dire comme tout est beau avec le sourire. La Femme - Nous étions deux electrooo !! YEAY ! i love that one. u can check Elle ne t'aime pas, Sphynx, and Tatiana. its bit hard to understand the singer even for a french person lmao but its Great Material. Summary: a guy cheated on his girlfriend and his trying to find excuses. 🎵 L'autre nuit encore un inconnu étendue allongé dans la rue Il pleurait la vie, il pleurait l'amour il attendait la mort L'autre nuit Angèle - La Loi de Murphy always makes me laugh lmaooo. also the clip Is Real Cute. Summary: what can happen badly, will happens badly ! 🎵 Puis, là, c'est trop parti en couille, y'a d'abord eu la pluie La Loi de Murphy a décidé d'enterrer mon brushing Un mec me demande son chemin, gentille moi je le dépanne En fait, c'était qu'un plan drague, ce con m'a fait rater mon tram Pomme - De là-haut I LOVE POMME. with my whole SOUL. she's so cute. beautiful texts. lesbians texts. love. also her clip are So Artsy And Cool. She's so cool. Listen to ... everything she makes, basicaly, please lmao Summary : She's dead, and its sunday. Les mots qui sortent, qu’on ne disait pas Le vent les apporte jusqu’à moi Tout paraît si limpide, si limpide, limpide Vu de là-haut salut c'est cool - Des fleurs MORE ELECTRO ! funny text, wonderful clips, theyre just so funny. easy going song. check out Crocosmaute and Techno toujours pareil too zieohiorhg please for your own GOOD. Summary : youre a pretty flower. you smell good. we're all flower in the same bouquet. 🎵 Je suis une fleur Je suis une très jolie fleur Je suis plus jolie qu'une rose et je sens meilleur qu'un lila Qui suis-je ? Je suis toi Carmen Maria Vega - J'ai tout aimé de toi. love song. lesbian. trans ! sweet. beautiful. Summary: love song, how her s/o transitionned, and they broke up (i think) 🎵 Tu te rêvais femme tu te disais maudit Je te disais je t'aime Eu étais beau et tu étais belle aussi Te l'ais je dit? Vald - Eurotrap RAP ! RAP ! RAP . my second fav. his songs are doope af. a bit nsfw tho, a bit rude lmao. check out Ma meilleure amie, Désaccordée too ! He talks fast tho, but great for french immersion ! listen with the lyrics its great 🎵 J'ai l'regard dans l'vide comme Joe Budden Comme je m'enrichis, je prends d'la bedaine Dose de méga shit pour qu'je la reperde Dominique Grange - A bas l'état policier (1968) basicaly: acab lmao Summary: the government send the police to beat up the people manifesting on the streets on may 68. this song was made ! 🎵 Puisque la provocation Celle qu’on a pas dénoncée Ce fut de nous envoyer En réponse à nos questions Vos hommes bien lunettés Bien casqués, bien boucliés Bien grenadés, bien soldés Nous nous sommes mis à crier HONORABLE MENTION : Boris Vian (La complainte du progrès), Orelsan (idk, i dont really like him that much ? a lot do tho. maybe Défaite de famille, or La Terre est ronde), Eddy de Pretto (Kid) , Camille (Ta Douleur, Je ne mâche pas mes mots), Woodkid & Louis Garrel (L'aérogramme de Los Angeles), Kathleen Fortin ( Les Moulins de Mon Coeur), Stupeflip (A bas la hiérarchie, Nan si ...) etc. etc. ! ANYWAY french music is awesome ! beautiful ! vast !! PLEASE HAVE FUN ! I LOVE U FOR LIKIN MY WEIRD ASS ELITIST LANGUAGE ! KEEP UP UR DOING GREAT WORKS ! happy listening yall ! ❤️

[writinggeisha]

Are you looking for nicknames for girls? We can’t really say for sure when nicknames started or where they started but we all have pet names for our family, friends, and yes even our pets get a nickname besides the name we have given them. It only makes sense that we give our lover a nickname as well. There are some that are often over used but generally nicknames have a meaning to the person who gave it, and the person who is receiving the nickname.

If you want to give your girlfriend a nickname try to make it special to her, think of her personality,  her looks, is she from the city or country, what are her favorite things as far as music, movies, and books? What is her favorite food, snack, or drink? Write down 5 or 6 things that come to mind when thinking of these things and review it the next day.

So guys, you been dating your girlfriend for a while now and you may have already given her a nickname or maybe you’re trying to find the right nickname for her. We have put together a list of cute nicknames that you can choose from if you wish.

Cute Nicknames For Girls

1. Baby girl – this one is totally over used, especially since Derek Morgan on Criminal Minds used it for Penelope Garcia; however if she is your baby girl then by all means use it.

2. Angel eyes – a song made popular by the Jeff Healy Band, again a bit over used but if she is your Angel eyes then so be it, call her that.

3. Red – simply because she has red hair that you adore.

4. M’fhíorghrá – Irish for my true love.

5. Babe – frequently used but still works.

6. Doll – she is your doll or maybe she is petite like a doll, it’s also another oldie that has stood the test of time.

7. Baby doll – she is both your baby and your doll.

8. Anima mia –my soul in Italian.

9. Snookems  – no logical meaning but if it fits use it.

10. Snookie  – similar to snookems.

11. Sweetthang – she is your sweet thing.

12. Mimi – kitten in Haitian Creole.

13. Lover – simply because she is your love.

14. Sugar – she is sweet as sugar.

15. Dollface – she has the face of a doll, pretty and perfect.

16. Gorgeous – she is gorgeous to you.

17. Honey – she is sweet as honey.

18. Dream lover – she is a dream and the song says it all.

19. Farfalle –Italian for butterfly.

20. Pookie – a term of endearment.

21. Sunshine – she brings sunshine into your life.

22. Cuddle bug – she loves to cuddle.

23. Dreamboat – she is your dreamboat.

24. Vita mia – meaning my life in Italian.

25. Sweet pea – another one that really has no logical meaning but she is sweet so you call her sweet pea.

26. Pumpkin – you think she is first rate and cute.

27. Toots or Tootsie – back from the 30 and the gangster era but if it works why not.

28. Kitten – she is cute as a kitten also used in the 1920s for woman.

29. Hot lips – she has hot lips for you.

30. Belle – shortened from southern belle she has an air of sophistication.

31. Sweet cheeks – another oldie but still works today.

32. Sugar pie – sweet.

33. Mon chéri – my darling in French.

34. Honey bunch – an oldie but stands the test of time.

35. Buttercup – like the flower she brings light wherever she goes and especially to your life.

36. Love bug – she is your love and cute as a bug if you find bugs cute that is.

37.  mhuirnín – Irish for darling

38. Sexy Lady – simply because you find her a very sexy lady.

39. Darling – an oldie that stands today.

40. Pooh -shortened from pooh bear.

41. Pooh bear – cute as a bear and fan of Winnie the Pooh.

42. Joy – she brings you joy.

43. Peach – she is sweet as a Georgia peach.

44. Dove – soft beautiful and somewhat fragile like a dove.

45. Chickadee – she is cute as a chickadee bird and speaks her own language that other women understand.

46. Babylicious – she is your baby and simply delicious.

47. Heaven – she is your heaven on earth.

48. Heavenly – she is your glimpse of heaven.

49. Little Lady – she may be little or short but she is always a lady and she is your lady.

50. Hun or Honey – another classic that has stood the test of time.

51. Ma belle –French for my beautiful.

52. Mi amor – Spanish for my love.

53. Baby boo – She’s your babe.

54. Precious – simply she is precious to you.

55. Freckles – if she has freckles that you find totally adorable.

56. Dream girl – the girl of your dreams.

57. Tesoro –Italian for sweetheart.

58. Mon coeur –French for my heart.

59. Bright eyes – her eyes are bright and mesmerizing.

60. Cupid – she struck your heart with her arrow of love.

61. Lover girl – she is the girl you love.

62. Princess – she is your princess.

63. Cinderella – variation on princess.

64. Pretty lady – she is delicate and beautiful and ladylike.

65. Sugar smacks – her kisses are sweet as sugar.

66. Gem – as beautiful and priceless as any gem.

67. Bebe tifi – baby girl in Haitian Creole

68. Bella – Italian for beautiful.

69. Sunny hunny – she is bright like sunshine and sweet like honey.

70. Treasure –she fills your life with treasures and riches emotionally.

71. Passion – she gives you passion in your life.

72. Jewel – like a gem.

73. Flame – she has the light of an eternal flame.

74. Caramella –Italian for candy, if she is sweet as candy, go for it.

75. Firecracker – she can explode with passion at any time.

76. Ma biche – French for my doe.

77. Baby cakes – from the 1950s but still a goodie.

78. Honey lips – her lips are as sweet as honey when she kisses you.

79. Dew drop – she is like the moist fragile dew drop that wets the earth in the morning quenching its thirst.

80. Oma – Indian for life giver.

81. Hot cakes – from the 1950s but she will love it.

82. Frou-Frou – you find her showy and flashy and you love that about her.

83. BeBe (mon bébé) – French for baby or my baby.

84. My peche – my peach.

85. Mon amant – French for my lover.

86. Ragazza Amante – Italian for lover girl.

87. Lovie – she is your love.

88. Mon cœur – French for my love.

89. Gorgeous girl – she is your gorgeous girl.

90. Sweet dream – she gives you sweet dreams.

91. Mia Princepessa –Italian for princess.

92. Love goddess – this will make her beam.

93. My girl – yes the temptations song says it all.

94. Süsse – sweetie in German.

95. Sexy girl – she is your sexy girl and telling her so makes her feel sexy.

96. Mon chou – French for my sweetheart.

97. Sweet stuff – similar to hot stuff.

98. My little angel – for those girls who never seem to get into trouble.

99. Pookie – has several slang meanings but if it means something personal to the two of you, use it.

100. Queen – she is the queen of your heart and life.

101. Musu – Indian for beautiful.

102. Mwen bebe – my baby in Haitian Creole.

103. Little dove – she is your little dove, white and peaceful full of love.

104. Cara Mia – my dear in Italian.

105. Sweet peach – she is sweet as a peach.

106. My temptress – she is your sweet temptress who can get you to take a day off just because.

107. Pinup – she has the body of a pinup and you want her to know it.

108. Luce mia – Italian for my light.

109. Embeleso – Spanish for sweetheart.

110. Cupcake – she is small and sweet like a cupcake.

111. Hot stuff – you find her hot and like to tell her so.

112. Blue eyes – obviously she has to have blue eyes.

113. Brown eyes – same as blue eyes.

114. Treasure trove – like a treasure chest she gives you abundant treasures in life.

115. Heart stopper – from the moment you first saw her, your heart stopped.

116. Light of my life – she has brought light into your life.

117. Sweet love – the sweetest love you have ever known.

118. Goldie – if she has blonde hair, goldie fits.

119. Baby doodle – if she is artsy and craftsy, this might fit.

120. Flower girl – if her passion is flowers, this is a good one.

121. Power puff – the girl who works hard but remains a girly girl.

122. Beautiful mind – for the girl who is not only beautiful but has a great mind.

123. Lady love – she is your lady love and she likes to hear that.

124. Ballerina – she is graceful and slight like a ballerina.

125. Goddess – she will love being your goddess.

126. Sweet Ballerina – similar to ballerina.

127. Sexy Legs –tell her you find her legs as sexy as any dancer.

128. Smoochie poo – you just love to get smoochie with her.

129. Sugar babe – she is your sweet babe.

130. Starshine – she shines as bright as any star.

131. Liebling – German for darling.

132. Lemon drop – if she likes lemon drops, I guess this works.

133. Hot pants – tell her you find her hot.

134. Sexy eyes – her eyes are sexy and you find them mesmerizing.

135. Beauty queen – you find her to be your beauty queen and enjoy telling her so.

136. My beautiful heart – she is your heart.

137. Sweet lips – her lips are as sweet as sugar.

138. Sun beam – she brings rays of sun into your home, heart, and life.

139. Moon beam – she sparkles like a moon beam.

140. Hot momma – even if she isn’t a momma yet, it says she will be more than a momma when she is.

141. Hottie tottie – tell her she is hot hot hot.

142. Withcy woman – she put a spell on you the moment you saw her.

143. Snuggle bear – cute cuddly and snuggly as a teddy bear.

144. Lovebird – like the love birds you want her with you always.

145. Pookie wookie – Made up word that doesn’t really have a meaning but if it fits then use it.

146. Sleeping beauty – it tells her she is fairy tale princess.

147. Lady love – your lady, your love and she will love to hear it.

148. My everything – tell her exactly what you feel for her.

150. Lover doll – she reminds you of a doll and still not so fragile that she can’t be your lover.

151. Angel of mine – she is your angel.

152. Boo – Louisiana Cajun endearment.

153. Scrumptious lady – your scrumptious lady of course.

154. Sweet baby – she will love to be your sweet baby.

155. Heart’s desire – she is your heart’s desire.

156. Douceur – French for sweetness.

157. Canoodle – I have no idea what this means or where it comes from but sounds a little risqué.

158. My one true love – tells her every day that she is the one.

159. My only love – tells her that you love her and only her.

160. My chica – tells her and everyone she is your girl.

161. Woman of my dreams – even if she knows it she still likes to hear it.

162. Sweetness – she is your sweetness.

163. Object of my affection – she will love to hear that she is yours.

164. Inamorata – Italian for woman I love.

165. My passion – she loves to hear that she is your passion.

166. Shnookums – not sure where this come from but it sounds cute.

167. Enchantress – she is your enchantress.

168. Kiah – Indian for new beginning.

169. Baby face – nothing makes her feel young and beautiful like baby face.

170. Sexy angel – she is an angel but still sexy.

171. Venus – let her know she is your goddess of love.

172. Button – she is cute as a button

173. Huggalump – I have no idea where this started but hey if it works for you then use it.

174. Cinnamon girl – sounds cute.

175. Cher –Louisiana Cajun for honey or dear.

176. Spunky – if she has a lot of spunk, this is good to use.

177. Bumpkin – country form of pumpkin.

178. My world – she will love to know she is your world every time you call her this.

179. Polly-polly – made up nickname that has no real meaning but it sounds cute.

180. Sexyness – no explanation necessary.

181. Shorty – only if it does not bother her that she is short.

182. Cariño – Spanish for honey, love.

183. Bubbles – if she has an effervescent personality, this is a great one.

184. Dream queen– the queen of your dreams.

185. Firefly – cute as a bug and lights up the room.

186. Envie –Louisiana Cajun, meaning hearts desire.

187. Dearheart – unique and affectionate.

188. Bee’s knees – from the 1920s extraordinary person, so if you call her this and she knows the meaning, she may or may not like it but give it a try.

189. Cat’s meow – from the 1920s, means she is splendid or stylish.

190. Mi osito – means little bear in Spanish.

191. Cat’s pajamas – from the 1920s, also means she is really cool in your eyes.

192. Dish – 1920s, meaning she is a looker.

193. Chippy – from the 1920s, at that time meant a woman of easy virtue, today may have a totally different meaning.

194. Hotsy-totsy – the 1920s way of saying her looks are pleasing.

195. Looker – 1920s meaning Pretty woman.

196. Moll – 1920s meaning girlfriend.

197. Engeltje – In Dutch, means little angel

198. Sheba – from the 1920s, means a woman with sex-appeal.

199. Turtledove – if she is unafraid of commitment.

200. China doll – beautiful and fragile and something to cherish.

201. Esposa – Spanish for wife.

202. Esha – Indian for desire.

203. Foxy – you find her hot.

204. Foxy lady – and yes you can play Jimi Hendrix Foxy lady for her.

205. Itoshii aisuru – Japanese for dear love.

206. Southern comfort – if she is from the south and brings you comfort and joy.

207. Bebelle –Louisiana Cajun for doll.

208. Jiya – Indian for sweetheart.

209. Dreamweaver – she weaves into your dreams.

210. Duchess – a title like princess that shows she is special.

211. A ghrá – Irish for love.

212. Lovie – tried and true.

213. Scrumptious – you find her simply scrumptious.

214. Bella mariposa –means beautiful butterfly.

215. Scrumptious angel – your angel that is totally scrumptious.

216. Tinkerbelle – she is your fairy.

217. Mo chuisle – Irish for my pulse.

218. Moya golubushka – Russian for my little dove.

219. Golubushka – Russian for lover (female lover).

220. Ahuva – Hebrew for beloved.

221. Dancing queen – she loves to dance.

222. Mi cielito – Spanish for my little heaven or sky.

223. Love muffin – she is your love and sweet like a muffin.

224. Hela – Indian for moonlight.

225. Alamea – Hawaiian for precious.

226. Ma beauté –  French meaning my beauty.

227. Bunny love – she is cute and cuddly like a bunny.

228. Gaienne – Louisiana Cajun for girlfriend.

229. Pussycat – old but still works.

230. Magic lady – she works magic for you.

231. Kit kat  – break her off a piece of a kit kat bar.

232. Ammu – Indian for sweet happiness.

233. Sweet one – similar to sweetness.

234. Amado – Spanish meaning beloved, darling.

235. Peach blossom – beautiful and sweet.

236. Ma colombe – French for my dove.

237. Lilly – she is as beautiful as a lily.

238. Schatzi – means honey sweety.

239. Palanggâ – In Tagalog, for a special loved one.

240. Mijn schat – Dutch for my treasure.

241. Canary – if she can sing, it works. If she can’t sing, it won’t work.

242. Mô shou /mawn shoo/ – Louisiana Cajun for sweetie.

243. Canan – Turkish meaning beloved.

244. Soulmate – you found your soulmate and want her to know it.

245. Sigal – Hebrew for treasure.

246. Hot honey – sweet hot and sticky.

247. Ebio – Egyptian for honey.

248. Angeleto – Little angel.

249. Bambina – means sexy girl.

250. Bodacious babe – means hot sexy woman.

251. Honeybird – cute and adorable.

252. Honeysuckle – she is sweet and beautiful like the flower.

253. Loverpie – cute and it works.

254. Luna – if your lady has a dark and mysterious side, this is the one for her.

255. Mithi – Punjabi meaning sweetie.

256. Noori– Arabic for my light.

257. Paramour – means lover.

258. Snuggley bear – totally cute, especially if she likes to snuggle and is cute as teddy.

259. Cherry blossom – very pretty.

260. My sweet queen – will make her feel special.

261. Sugar mama – kind of cute, as long as she doesn’t mind being called mama.

262. Sweetums – cute and tells her you think she is sweet.

263. Honey plum – sweet and juicy.

264. My buttercup – like buttercup but it tells her that she is yours.

265. Passion fruit – full of passion and sweet and juicy like the fruit.

266. Pretty lady – then you can play the song for her on a special date.

267. Sweet lover – sweet name for her.

268. Tigress – graceful and sleek, full of power.

269. My binky boo – somewhat over the top but if it works for you then by all means use it.

270. Ecstasy queen – because when you are with her, you are ecstatic and in heaven.

271. Lambkins – sort of cute. If it works for you both, then go ahead and use it.

272. Corazon –means heart in Spanish.

273. Sex goddess – she will know how powerful and special you think she is with this nickname.

274. Amorcita – means little love which will work if she is small and slight. However if she is tall and medium to big, this might not be the wisest choice. She might wonder if the little is about how you feel.

275. Love genie – she has granted all your wishes in a lover.

276. Honeypot – she is always brimming with sweetness just like a honey pot.

277. Xena – she is your warrior princess.

278. Lacey – she is delicate as lace and lace looks great on her.

279. Juliet – as in Romeo and Juliet.

289. Bambi – Think this one over real well before running with it, you are either telling her she is a baby deer which okay and kind of cute or you sound like you think she is a stripper.

290. Lumlums – Doesn’t seem to have a real meaning but sounds cute.

291. Lady Godiva – if she is generous and somewhat daring, this might just fit.

Conclusion

When you decide to choose a nickname for your girlfriend, you need to keep in mind that the name should fit her in some way.  Her personality, the things she likes, her physical attributes, are all things that you should be thinking about when you choose a nickname.

One thing you should NOT do is choose something like pudding, dumpling, or muffin bottom, these can be taken by her as you referring to her being fat. Donut sounds like she is an afterthought a dessert after the main meal.  Another one to steer away from poopsie…. Why would you call your girlfriend poop??

It can be hard choosing a nickname for your girl, just use some common sense and you will be fine.

LG’s Note: Um, speaking as a woman, if I was called 80% of these names I’d have to kill the person who called me that. Just, no.

[myfriendpokey]

7 bubsys of the world

1. museum bubsy:

i love bubsy bobcat's ghastly, staring eyes, which look past everything around him, as if he were the dead theologian mentioned in swedenborg - who upon death simply moves without knowing into a new eternal house shaped exactly like his own, but which over time begins to grow dimmer, more transparent, he finds rooms he's never seen before, populated by dead and faceless men, themfurniture and writings fade, until we can only imagine some final increment of ghostliness leads to the awful truth that - - aaah!!

but of course the distance in bubsy's stare comes from a different location, not so much the gulf between the living and the dead as that between the living and the 90s. bubsy looks at us from the depths of a bubsy 3d that NEVER ENDED, that rather than being a temporary and ignoble home for the hovering bubsy spirit (as expressed in various promotional materials) has somehow become the final determining limit for where that spirit can go. bubsy can explore any kind of content, go on any kind of adventure.. once it is re-expressed within the conditions of this mangled polygonal plain..... i think that it's so easy (and so profitable!!) to fall into a sort of idealist conception of videogame history as one of various platonic bogeys (truth! gameplay! mario!) temporarily given shape in base matter before disintegrating to appear in some new form. we don't really think those material expressions have anything to say about their spirits, obviously mario isn't "really" as chunky and polygonal as he is in mario 64, just as videogames as a form can easily be distinguished from any of the various rather sad attempts to embody that form. so it's a real shock to find our credit rescinded and be told, no, this is what you have. bubsy is trapped inside his temporary emblem, inside a world he never made, drifting around haplessly and at last thrust towards that final refuge of the doomed, which is the effort to at least be Cultured.  do his unseeing eyes still register a sense of potential alterity in the artwork he consumes, or just the frozen parody of same?

2. personal bubsy:

interestingly very few of the bubsy fangames try to replicate the protagonist's canon personality at face value, very likely because it's unbearable. but maybe also for other reasons. the bubsy games themselves play with the idea of bubsy as either an actor seperable from the gameworlds he inhabits ("bubsy the bobcat in claws encounters of the furred kind") or as at least possessing a kind of bugs-bunny-ish awareness of an audience (who are all those quips addressed to?). but that's within the games' own conception of themselves as exciting blockbuster product - taking them as failures of one kind or another as it's become standard to do converts bubsy's actorliness from that of the starring attraction to a sort of jobbing z-movie shlub, mired in one contractual dispute after another and forced through a variety of ill-concieved ventures. and i say interestingly because as far as i can see there's little to support this good will or sense of implied interiority - i'm not aware of gex, say, or duke nukem being extended the same kind of escape clause from their own insufferability. maybe the sheer unbelievability of what these games are telling us about themselves, as mediated through some decades of bubsy trash-talk, gives them a plaintive quality.

3. omnipresent bubsy:

i made a bubsy bobcat fangame once because i thought it would be funny to have a fangame for a character nobody actually liked. it got picked up and reposted by a bubsy fanblog a few days later ("Added for the sake of Bubsy completeness... man this looks bad... but you can download it XD".)

4. dialectic bubsy:

to clarify: i made a bubsy bobcat fangame because i wanted to be funny, but i also wanted to be annoying. i was interested in the "indie games" scene (as distinct from the rpg maker one) and in 2009 the public face of that was very much High Designist, minimal, meaningful, squares, grids, programming, Passage, etc..

i was making a game for an experimental gameplay workshop open jam and figured since i lacked all qualification for this style of art i might as well deliberately disqualify myself from it and make something that was sort of ostentatiously mired in the same junky, unreflective commercial culture that stuff was trying to escape.  so it was partly a tease, but not a very dangerous one. bubsy was so visibly, universally reviled within videogame culture that it was hard to imagine any kind of sincere identification with the character taking place - using that franchise therefore meant being able to convert the ickier associations of the fangame format (unoriginal!! un-"challenging"!! made by and for hobbyists and women!!) into more aestheticised, and also more acceptable, forms of disagreeability ("punk" recontextualisation and deliberate badness, etc). so it's a funny ugliness but also one that relies on a sort of shared, unquestioned sense of what's genuinely "un-touchable" in this artsy context, and of course bonding over mutual agreement on what's beyond the pale of acceptable taste is one of the founding rituals of "gamer culture". i'd never played a bubsy game and probably only knew about the franchise from seanbaby or something like that.

what happened next is more interesting. i'd made a game called space funeral, which was popular enough on gamejolt to generate a fairly active fanart tag and even some fangames, a number of fangames all by different authors and with different approaches. and one of the fangame authors ended up playing my own bubsy fangame and decided to re-include bubsy as a character in space funeral 4 as something of a callback to that. i think (forgive me, i only browse the tag) this slowly became the occasion for some drama within "the community". Words Were Said re. furries and the appropriateness of same within this context, bubsy continued gaining more and more of a prominent role in the new fangame, "new bubsy" was also reimagined as a trans sex worker with an extremely prominent chest, these decisions appeared to be contentious, eventually the developer of SF4 declared that they were sick of the fandom, sick of the original game, and going to start a new project based entirely around their new bubsy character.... all of which is well and good and Culture In Action and frankly i stopped having any opinion about space funeral long before the first fangame came out. but what i'm interested in here is bubsy, and specifically the idea of how the deliberate reuse of the bubsy character acts as a way to thematise and re-engage whatever's felt to be awful, unacceptable, within some specific space. in rip van bubsy that means pushing against artgame's more apollonian efforts with a reminder of the garish, lumpen, unsignifying qualities of most actually existing videogames; in space funeral 4, the ironic repurposing and sexlessness of games like rip van bubsy and space funeral is itself critiqued by a sincere / artless / horned-up reusage of the same material which is similarly "unacceptable" within that framework. the travelling figure of bubsy appears as an index of dissent around the format...

5. negative bubsy:

i think it's a known and documented phenomenon that punk music has a weird, recurring affinity for the purest of pure MOR pop - sex pistols, the clash, nirvana all known abba fans, the minutemen covered steely dan, sonic youth the carpenters, madonna floats across michael azerrad's "our band could be your life" as eerily recurring presence and talisman... all of which might just be a catalog of private tastes. but it's also tempting, given that in seperate ways these were all very self-fashioned, ideological, image-alert bands, to take this taste for pure pop as to some extent  deliberate, as maybe part of the same self-fashioning. the very distance of abba from anything approaching punk, noise, art-rock, becomes a reason to like them - they become a kind of model of aesthetic autonomy, serenely detached from any kind of taste or wider expectation - abba are a vantage point from which you can critique punk rock itself. and punks and abba become comrades in their mutual distance from pink floyd("horseshoe theory").

why so many art games about bubsy? there are many perverse or ironic reasons, but i wonder if one of them could be that he occupies something of the same role within the videogames imagination. the idea of a franchise for a character nobody likes turns into an image of art for art's sake. the fact that bubsy is irredeemable from a "meaningful, expressive" perspective makes him useful as a point from which to hypothesize forms of art which deliberately avoid the meaningful or expressive - as in ulillillia's marvellous bubsy 3d videos, which transform the game into a oulipean suite of detached operations.

6. material bubsy:

the recieved idea of the mid-1990s mascot platformer audience is like the old analogy of the pre-revolution french peasant as a man walking up to his nose in water - while the ground is flat, he can persist indefinitely, but come the slightest decrease or pothole he will instantly drown. with the bubsy games as tipping point for the temporary demise of this form. but it's still curious that he was chosen, rather than, say, zool or cool spot, mascots who were "worse" on an objective moral level in that they were literally marketing contrivances to sell snack food to children. the videogames audience is traditionally able to accept any level of ghoulishness of this kind as long as it is presented in an appropriately humble,relateable way - the only sin really punished is that of pride, of getting above your station. so here we have a sort of martyr-bubsy, whose only real crime was not exemplifying videogame industry hubris and cynicism so much as making insufficient effort to cover for it...

well, maybe not, maybe we should honor the "disproportionate" scapegoating of bubsy as a real moment of disgust at the habitual crapness of mass media and avoid that charitable revisionism which is so easily rolled out to brands with the power to outlive many of their critics. but there is a  certain fascination that comes with those games blamed for or associated with some kind of crash, collapse - - like the atari ET game, they can no longer be regarded as "just games" operating within some fixed economic niche, they fall partly out of that niche and into the material world, they temporarily dispel the sensed changelessness of the industry. if ET really did destroy the industry it would be the best videogame ever made. bubsy never acquired this glamour, but it means that within the awful pantheon of named videogame characters he's one of the few which can be identified with any kind of negative drive, which gives him a special affinity for hobbyist games interested in tarrying with that drive.

7. official bubsy:

how many bubsys can you shut up? in 2016 a new, official bubsy game was released for pc and ps4, proving once and for all that that is not dead which can eternal lie, and came with a nauseating press-release-cum-interview with bubsy himself in which he ruminates smugly about his ensuing return to planet earth. the fake interviewer glosses the weird and largely negative history of the franchise (bubsy is a "gaming legend", apparently - i can't see anyone described as a "legend" without thinking of those awful laddish testimonials to the likes of boris johnson and raoul moat); bubsy throws in an unexpected jab at "unauthorized indie pixel games and deeveeart  portraits", suggesting he's at least seen space funeral 4; the overall  tone is that same bullying landlord chumminess of people deposed by scandal who pop up on the chat show circuit five years later with memoir in tow, blandly self-certain about the place they  deserve to keep in public life. whatever human meaning had accrued to the  franchise - in failure, in the way that failure could be used, repurposed, in wider ongoing arguments about culture - is firmly pushed away, in favour of that strangely anonymous recognition-without-history that constitutes ultimate value for any IP.

but it's also hardly unexpected - nothing dies anymore, even those forms whose only interest was in death, and we're of course not restrained by the threatening (litigious?) distinction between authorized and unauthorized versions of the same wretched official culture. better just to see it as yet another fan-bubsy to add to the catalog- a horrible-undead-persistence-under-capitalism bubsy, a bubsy that now signifies as well as everything else the monolithic stupidity by which "authorized" culture attempts to safeguard its possessions. so maybe we will see this new bubsy start to emerge places as well, an all-new emblem of the negative, emerging where you want it least... a bubsy for our time..!!!

[image tags: bubsy visits the james turrell retrospective, bubsy the bobcat in rip van bubsy starring bubsy, space funeral 4, “rabbid better than bubsy” by shinxboy on deviantart, bubsy animated tv show]

[weekendwarriorblog]

The Weekend Warrior 7/30/21 - JUNGLE CRUISE, THE GREEN KNIGHT, STILLWATER, NINE DAYS, THE BOY BEHIND THE DOOR and More!

Well, this is going to be the most interesting weekend of the summer. Don’t believe me?

What would you say if I told you we have three wide releases this week, one a mega-studio movie that cost hundreds of millions with two huge box office stars, taking on two smaller indies -- one with a big star, the other something more artsy with an actor who should be a bigger star? That’s what we’re looking at this week, since Disney has a movie, taking on two of the smaller studios with what are likely to be strong, well-reviewed movies that (fingers crossed) we’ll still be talking about at the end of the year when it comes to awards.

One thing that I feel I need to point out before continuing is that we’re starting to see a potential third or fourth wave of COVID, this time the Delta variant, slowly creeping up, and while I don’t think theaters will completely shut down as they did last March, I do wonder whether capacity will be lowered again to prevent the spread by allowing for more social distancing inside movie theaters.

Normally, I would start with the Disney movie -- which I really liked -- but I actually want to start with one of the smaller movies, because Thomas McCarthy’s STILLWATER (Focus Features), starring Matt Damon, is this week’s “Chosen One,” and honestly, it needs a lot more support and love than the other wide releases this week.

In the movie, Matt Damon plays Bill Baker, an out-of-work oil rig worker from Stillwater, Oklahoma, who flies to Marseilles, France where his estranged daughter Alison (Abigail Breslin) has been imprisoned for four years, accused of killing her roommate and lover. Once there, Bill learns from Alison that there might be more evidence that could prove her innocence, but when her legal team refuses to look into it, he instead tries to find anyone that can help him free his daughter. Along the way, he meets French actress Virginie (Camille Cottin) and her eight-year-old daughter Maya (Lilou Sauvaud), and they become fast friends and then roommates, helping Bill whenever they can.

I have to be honest that I went into Stillwater knowing very little about it, including the general plot, and I honestly didn’t even know that most of it took place in France -- 95% of it, in fact. Another thing I didn’t know in advance was that it was co-written by Thomas Bidegain, who has been working extensively with the brilliant Jacques Audiard in recent years on films like Rust and Bone, A Prophet and Dheepan. Just thinking of that combination of McCarthy with Bidegain is reason enough to give Stillwater the benefit of the doubt, but it also proves to be quite a sympatico combination of skills, since both writers have long had a proven knack for creating emotional character dramas.

As much as the overarching story involving Bill’s daughter and him trying to find the person who was really responsible for her roommate’s murder -- and yes, It’s hard not to think of the Amanda Knox case while watching the movie -- I ended up enjoying how Bill’s relationship with Virginie and especially Maya played out much more. That said, Damon’s performance is fantastic, and so is that of Abigail Breslin, who we really haven’t seen in this kind of dramatic adult role before, at least not that I have seen. Damon and Breslin’s scenes together are probably some of the film’s strongest, to the point where once it gets back into him catching the real killer, it certainly adds another layer but maybe one that maybe isn’t as interesting.

The one negative I have to say about Stillwater is about how the marketing spends so much time focusing on the thriller and crime aspects of the movie and fails to illustrate what makes the film so wonderful -- which is the character arc Bill goes through by spending time with Virginie and Maya, who bring so much to his life he would never have found in Oklahoma. That was really the biggest takeaway for me, and why I enjoyed the movie enough to make it “Chosen One.” Like so many of McCarthy’s great earlier films like The Station Agent and The Visitor, he has a way of creating compelling drama by bringing people from different backgrounds together.

On the other hand, if you’re unwilling to give a Red State working man like Damon’s character a chance, maybe Stillwater won’t be for you, but if you’re willing to learn about people that are different than yourself, put into situations in which you might never be, then it’s just the right cure for those who want something more grounded and authentic during the summer.

Personally, I’m convinced Stillwater will be one of the Top 10 Best Picture Oscar nominees this year, and I’ve already had people wanting to bet against me, thinking I’m wrong,, but I honestly think that once others see this film and allow themselves to appreciate the story and character-work done by McCarthy and his small cast, the film will find many fans. Maybe that won’t happen right away in theaters, but it’s likely to be on VOD in a month or so and then awards screeners later this year will help remind people and find new recruits.

As far as the box office prospects of McCarthy’s latest, I’m not really sure it can open with more than $5 million even with Matt Damon’s face plastered everywhere, because it just doesn’t seem like the type of movie that should get an immediate wide release vs. a slower roll-out.

The biggest movie of the weekend and by far the widest release into over 4,000 theaters is Disney’s JUNGLE CRUISE (Walt Disney Pictures), teaming Dwayne Johnson and Emily Blunt -- Blunt having led one of the second biggest female-led movies of 2021 so far after Black Widow -- and putting them into a fantasy-adventure based on the Disney World (or Land?) theme park ride. This is an idea that worked well for Disney’s 2003 action-adventure Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest, and its sequels, but maybe not so well for movies like The Country Bears. The fact is that theme park rides based on hit movies work great, but trying to create a hit movie out of a theme park, it just isn’t done, and for a very good reason.

If nothing else, this one stars Dwayne Johnson, who has been absent from theaters for quite some time, having bailed on the “Fast Saga” franchise for his own 2019 spin-off with Jason Statham, Fast & Furious Presents Hobbs and Shaw. That made about $173 million domestically and another $586 million overseas, but Johnson’s last movie was 2019’s Jumanji: The Next Level, which made $300 million domestically and another $483.3 million overseas. Not all of Johnson’s movies have done so well -- Baywatch and Skyscaper both bombed domestically -- but Johnson is clearly an A-list star who just needs the right vehicle. Jungle Cruise may be just that, because it combines the type of action and humor that are Johnson’s strong suits with the family draw of something like the Jumanji movies but then also adds the Disney namebrand, which has led to many huge blockbusters.

It certainly won’t hurt that his on-screen foil Emily Blunt is coming off her hit A Quiet Place Part II, which continues to move her into the realm of beloved A-lister ala Julia Roberts and others. In between the Quiet Place sequel and the original movie in 2018 (which grossed $335 million worldwide), Blunt starred as the title character in Mary Poppins Returns for Disney, which made even more than the first Quiet Place worldwide, but it firmly placed her in the Disney realm that makes her a perfect co-star for Johnson. She previously starred in the Disney musical, Into the Woods, which also did very well, but it clearly has put Blunt into a category that should make a draw on a similar level as Johnson but more for women and girls.

Since the original Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl will be the benchmark for how Disney is hoping Jungle Cruise might perform -- keeping in mind that we’re still in the COVID pandemic and the fact that Jungle Cruise is available to buy for $29.99 on Disney+ Premier Access starting Friday -- we have to remember that the first “Pirates” was looked at rather cynically, so when it opened with $46.6 million in July 2003, that was thought of as a huge boon for the Disney property. It ended up grossing $300 million in the U.S. alone, which showed a huge amount of word-of-mouth and repeat viewing, which I personally feel Jungle Cruise

Unfortunately, we do have to take into account both COVID and the ability for families to see the movie on Disney+ for $30 vs. the $100+ it usually costs to take a small family to the movies, especially with kids under 12 still not being vaccinated. In normal times, I could maybe see Jungle Cruise opening with $40 to 50 million or more, but these aren’t normal times, and some of the factors mentioned above might keep it down around the $30 million mark, give or take.

I reviewed Jungle Cruise over at Below the Line, incidentally.

Next up is David Lowery’s THE GREEN KNIGHT (A24), starring Dev Patel, which is a fairly faithful adaptation of the “Sir Gawain and the Green Knight” Arthurian legend poem written by “Anonymous,” and it’s a grand sweeping epic in the vein of Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings, although it’s a far more R-rated affair. It stars Dev Patel, Oscar winner Alicia Vikander, Barry Keoughan, and Joel Edgerton as well as others, and it’s a movie that’s likely to be talked about by many over the next couple weeks.

It’s an interesting new film from the filmmaker who has done small indies like Ain’t Them Body Saints and big studio movies like Pete’s Dragon (and the upcoming Peter Pan and Wendy), and mid-sized movies like A Ghost Story and The Old Man and the Gun in between. He’s reteaming with Ghost Story distributor A24 who knows the best way to attract the cinephile Millennial audience (aka #FilmTwitter) that would appreciate The Green Knight. They’ve done particularly well with horror and genre films from the likes of Ari Aster (Hereditary, Midsommar) and Robert Eggers (The Witch, The Lighthouse). So far, A24’s top-grossing film is the Safdie Brothers’ Uncut Gems with around $50 million. That starred Adam Sandler, who is a much bigger star than anyone in The Green Knight, but Heredity’s $13 million opening, or more likely, Midsommar’s $10.9 million five-day would be a better barometer for Lowery’s latest.

You can read my review of The Green Knight here, but I fully expect others reviews to be just as favorable and glowing, along with the excitement by #FilmTwitter to see this movie after it was delayed over a year. In many ways, A24 has created a niche for this type of film with Ari Aster’s Hereditary and Midsommar, and this will probably be effective counter-programming against a mainstream studio movie like Jungle Cruise. The fact that this won’t be available on streaming or On Demand should help it bring in between $7 and 10 million this weekend, as the amazing visuals and marketing for the film should make it the first choice for those between 20 and 40 of both genders.

Essentially, this week’s Top 10 should look something like this...

1. Jungle Cruise (Walt Disney Pictures) - $32 million N/A

2. The Green Knight (A24) - $8.7 million N/A

3. Black Widow (Marvel/Disney) - $6.5 million -44%

4. Old (Universal) - $6 million -64%

5. Snake Eyes (Paramount/MGM/Skydance) - $6 million -56%

6. Stillwater (Focus Features) - $4.8 million N/A

7. Space Jam: A New Legacy (Warner Bros.) - $4.5 million -53%

8. F9: The Fast Saga (Universal) - $2.5 million -48%

9. Escape Room: Tournament of Champions (Sony) - $1.6 million -54%

10. The Boss Baby: Family Business (Universal/DreamWorks Animation) - $1.6 million -44%

Opening in limited theaters in New York and L.A. on Friday before a wider release on August 6 is Edson Oda’s NINE DAYS (Sony Pictures Classics), a movie that premiered at the Sundance Film Festival way back in January 2020 to rave reviews across the board, but has to find a renewed push now that it’s finally coming out in theaters. It stars Winston Duke (US, Black Panther) as Will, an enigmatic individual who watches people’s lives on a wall of monitors but who also has the power to test individuals hoping to be the next to get a life. Yeah, it’s a pretty enigmatic and metaphysical idea for a film, but Edo’s script is great, and he’s put together quite an amazing ensemble cast around Duke, including Benedict Wong (from Doctor Strange) and Zazie Beetz, but we also see the likes of Tony Hale, Bill Skarsgard and Arianna Ortiz playing very different characters we’ve seen from them before.

I don’t want to go too deep into detail about what happens in this highly metaphysical existential film, but essentially Duke’s character is putting a group of “souls” (for lack of a better term) through their paces in order to be allowed to have a life. The different things they’re asked to do, including watching those aforementioned monitors, makes it hard to really stay completely absorbed in the story, mainly because you might not know what you’re watching. But Duke is great while Wong is very amusing, and Beetz’s character Emma is great as a nut that Will has a particularly difficulty cracking. (In some ways, the movie reminded me of a far more grown-up Soul.)

There’s also Will’s obsession with a violin prodigy whose life he has been observing for a number of decades that makes it hard to understand what we’re watching. But there are many nice moments, plus a few that just seem like an acting exercise, and that intriguing storytelling style is embellished by a beautiful score by Antonio Pinto, which beautifully complements the visuals created by Oda and his cinematographer, Wyatt Garfield.

Nine Days certainly won’t be for everyone -- it’s slow and kind of contemplative and deliberately enigmatic; I’m certainly not sure I fully got it -- but it’s still an intriguing movie because filmmaker Edson Oda has such a unique storytelling style, which in some ways, makes this feel more like a movie we might get from A24 or NEON than Sony Pictures Classics. (I’ll discuss the film’s box office prospects next week as Sony Classics gives another movie a far-too-wide expansion following a platform release.)

This week’s Shudder release is THE BOY BEHIND THE DOOR (Shudder), the second movie by filmmakers David Charbonier and Justin Powell after The Djinn, their first movie, which was released earlier this year. Got all that? (The Boy Behind the Door actually played Fantastic Fest last September but is just finally hitting Shudder on Thursday after playing a bunch of festivals, including, most recently, the Tribeca Film Festival.)

The movie stars Lonnie Chavis as 12-year-old Bobby, whose best friend Kevin (Ezra Dewey, who starred in The Djinn) has been kidnapped and locked up in a house, so Bobby tries to rescue him, having to fight off a couple adults (pedophiles, in fact) while hiding in the house and trying to escape himself.

I really wanted to like The Boy Behind the Door more, because I did enjoy what the duo did in The Djinn and Dewey pretty much carried that movie. I’m not sure that Chavis does as good a job carrying this one, which is odd since the filmmakers already had experience getting good performances from a younger actor.

What’s surprising is that this is debuting on Shudder, because it isn’t particularly scary. It does have a lot of violence, and it’s quite brutal and grueling at times, if that’s your sort of thing, but I don’t even think the writing is particularly good compared to The Djinn.

The Boy Behind the Door offers an interesting one-location thriller, but it’s very tough to watch kids being put into and through some of these situations, so it kept from being able to fully like or love the movie, let alone recommend it. But if you have Shudder, it’ll be on there, so there’s no reason not to watch it. I’ve certainly seen worse. (How’s that for a recommendation?)

Dan (Dirty Grandpa) Mazer’s THE EXCHANGE (Quiver Distribution), written by Tim Long (The Simpsons) stars Ed Oxenbould from The Visit, Justin Hartley from This Is Us, and Avan Jogia from Zombieland: Double Tap. Oxenbould plays Tim, a socially awkward teen who decides to order a “mail order best friend,” but instead of getting a sophisticated exchange from France, he gets Jogia’s chain-smoking sex-obssessed Stéphane, who becomes a hero of Tim’s community. Hartley plays the school’s gym teacher, Barry. This is a fairly bland high-concept indie comedy that treads on Napoleon Dynamite territory without really being particularly funny. I will give props to Music Supervisor Nick Angel, who managed to get some awesome period songs for the score, but otherwise, I really don't have much to say about this one.

Joshua Leonard and Jess Weizler co-wrote and star in Leonard's new movie, FULLY REALIZED HUMANS (Gravitas Ventures). They play Elliot and Jackie, a couple who have been trying to have a baby but don’t want to screw up their kids the way their parents screwed them up. In order to become the perfect parents, they’ll have to rediscover themselves.

Opening at the IFC Center in New York this Friday and at the Laemmle in L.A. on August 6 is THE EVENING HOUR (Strand Releasing), Braden King’s Appalachian drama based on Carter Sickels’ novel, which follows Cole Freeman (Philip Ettinger), who is caring for the old and infirm in the community while selling painkillers to local addicts. When his old friend Terry Rose (Cosmo Jarvis) returns to town with new plans that threatens to unbalance Cole’s lifestyle. Cole also has to deal with the return of his other (Lili Taylor) and conflict with a real drug dealer (Marc Menchaca). The film also stars Stacy Martin, Kerry Bishé… and my good friend, Susan McPhail (in a very small role, though).

Other movies I just didn’t have time to get to include:

A DARK FOE (Vertical) LORELEI (Vertical) MASQUERADE (Shout! Studios) MIDNIGHT IN THE SWITCHGRASS (Lionsgate) RIDE THE EAGLE (Decal) SABARA (MTV Documentary Films)TWIST (Lionsgate)

Next week, James Gunn’s THE SUICIDE SQUAD!

[esperanzas-house]

Meta Statement

Since around 2013, I have had a fascination with Tumblr. I know how it works, I know how to make blog pages unique, so when I saw that creating a blog was an option for the commonplace book, I was enthusiastic about using Tumblr as my medium for this project. This was the easiest part; however, I struggled to determine what the theme of my “commonplace blog” would be. Naturally, I turned to the class for inspiration (which is something that is full of good inspiration!) and remembered one of the first readings I did this spring semester-- The House on Mango Street. I loved this book and something about the messages of female adolescence really resonated with me, so I decided that Cisneros’ work would be the main focus for my blog. From here, I wanted to make the blog unique, yet still contain some of the random beauty that comes with commonplacing. I decided that my blog would be “Esperanza’s Blog”. I wanted to create this page as if it were Esperanza’s own blog. The blog’s entries have it’s irregularities but that also echoes any other Tumblr blog out there. 

My first entry that I created was an original piece of artwork. I knew I wanted to do something artsy, and I started with the most obvious inspiration point-- the title. The end product was a mango drawn out from quotes from the book, which was an idea that popped into my head with no warning. The quotes I selected to create the mango, were some of my favorites from the novel, but I noticed that they all had a similar theme, and that was growing up and the changes it brings. The one quote that takes up most of the mango (the leaf and the yellow-orange portion) is the chapter about the shoes. That narrative was extremely powerful to me, and wearing the high heels is definitely a right of passage of womanhood for not only Esperanza, but for a portion of the identifying women out there. Another quote used in the mango, that also encompasses the theme of adolescence, is the Chanclas chapter with its baptism dance. The feeling of embarrassment from wearing a certain piece of clothing was definitely a common occurrence for me as a teenager, so it was very powerful to also see it in Esperanza. Each color of the mango tells a different story with the same theme of growing up, and I am very happy with how it turned out.

The second entry I created was a playlist. My goal was to try and create a playlist I felt that Esperanza would’ve created in modern day. Music is a huge part of sorting out emotions, and it was extremely helpful to me during adolescence. Although I am putting my personal experience onto the character of Esperanza, I also know this is a universal experience for a lot of people of all genders. From what I know of Esperanza’s character, and how she can tap into her creative side via writing, I’m sure she would have a deep love for music as well. With this playlist, I wanted to create something that would speak to the universal experience of adolescence but also be diverse. I included songs in various languages such as Spanish, Korean, French, and Portuguese (artists include BTS, Angele, and Selena). These songs speak about growing up, being sad, or falling in love. It’s a playlist full of emotion, which The House on Mango Street is as well, and I wanted to bring these emotions into the blog. 

In the third entry, I created a poem. Along with the original mango art, I knew I wanted to write something original as well. To keep up The House on Mango Street overarching inspiration, as well as staying with the theme of growing up, I decided to take a break from Esperanza’s character and turn to Nenny. Nenny is also a woman who will go through the same process of getting older as Esperanza, and I felt as if her character needed more attention. Being a younger sister myself, I feel very personally connected to this entry. I had tension with my older sister when I was growing up, and during adolescence, I rejected my relationship with my sister. Now, however, my sister is my best friend. Regardless, this real life experience was something that I could see in Nenny and Esperanza, and that is why I chose to write a poem from Nenny’s perspective.

For my fourth entry, I found images that resonated with Esperanza’s character, and put them all together to create one collage. Additionally, I love to make aesthetic collages, so this furthered my motivation to make this entry. This collage has staples of growing up that were seen in The House on Mango Street, such as high heels, makeup, and pretty dresses. 

For the last entry, I picked a poem from one of my favorite authors ever, Rupi Kaur. Her poems truly speak to the woman audience, and I think that helped with the theme of the blog. Her poems also reach an immense number of young people, so that is another reason why I selected this poem. It’s easy to read, and is touching on a very vital issue of society today-- the emphasis on the importance of the physicality of being a woman. Esperanza dealt with the issues spoken about in the poem, and so I feel like the narrative in the stanzas relate to her as a character.

[forgetmenots04]

Read it because im giving you genuine advice

I was married!!!! I was a wife!!! Im just making you take responsibility for your skeezy behavior I WAS MARRIED!!! I was a wife!!!!! I know what it means to be a devoted wife that takes care of her husband!!! Ive done it before!!! Im a grown ass woman!! I married a guy in the airforce a long time ago i know what it means to "think you've found your soul mate" but guess what??? Even if you find some meek subservient bitch willing to lay down and let you walk on her in silence you will still have problems!!! Life's tragedies just don't stop when you think you found the one Im making you own up to it like an adult!! I was married hayden!!!!

I was married for 5 -6 yrs!!!! I had known the guy since i was 16 i was a wife to somebody already . I know what it takes to be in a relationship long term! I know what it takes to be in a marriage and committed do you!?!?

I know what it means to truly love somebody and how much EFFORT it takes!!!! Its hard work! And you don't always get a return either !

And i dont think you have it in you yet to fully commit to someone

! I know all about the death and birth of love!!! I know what it means to struggle and to love hard

You GOT SO JEALOUS AND MAD when another guy was calling me pretty but im not suppose to be jealous that my boyfriend is flirting with other women telling them how hot they are and inviting them over to watch movies and presumbly cuddle and fuck like idk hicometome and sunkissed. How would THAT MAKE YOU FUCKING FEEL????? IF i was all over other men LIKING EVERY SINGLE POST and telling them how hot they are THAT WOULD INFURIATE YOU!!! YOU WOULD DUMP ME IF I DID that shit to you!!!!. And then he lies about it straight to my face! And you think i didn't know that i was being played and you have the audacity to sit here and lie straight to my face!! You are caught hayden!!! Red handed!!! All the women you thought i was too stupid to know about like "hicometome" and sunkissed and lavender dreams and french fashion bloggers based in Lyon and angel cruor. It hurts to see that you have a type "goth artsy girls with tattoos" i am so much more than some fuck boys type. And you are a fuck boy!!! You have the haircut and the beard like every other mediocre average white man. DO BETTER!!!! Don't treat the next girl like you did me!!!!' Be a better man!!!! Show more compassion and gentleness and honesty and sincerity if you want to get married you can't just give up when things get hard! And believe me you think im a lot?????? Wait until youre married and can't just ghost somebody whenever you fight. Somebody that loved me would have tried harder for me i was even considering just driving up there myself to see you??? I'd be putting no one at risk and would've been safe about it with goggles mask and gloves. But from the beginning you had different intentions than i did. Maybe just to fill the time or else you were lonely but you never intended on seeing me from the beginning what you did was wrong!! And when you're married you've GOT TO be able to give her a REAL apology NO FUCKING "im sorry IF it came off rude" SAY!!!!! "IM sorry FOR being rude and insensitive!! Give her a real goddamn apology. And while youre young learn how to make genuine heartfelt apologies practice it!!!!' Because the woman you marry deserves better than how you treated me Don't treat her like you treated me or else youll lose her too!

And yes baby i was so stupid i continued talking to you after you told me you were moving because you made me feel like you were serious about wifing me up!!! You told me you had serious intentions!! If i had known earlier that all of this meant nothing to you then i couldve saved myself from you. Im just left wondering why we didn't cut it off sooner.... Clearly you felt lonely and had WAY different intentions. I just wish you would have told me the cold hard ugly truth so that i couldve saved myself from you

I couldve saved myself from you!!!! We shouldve ended it sooner!!! You should have told me the truth!!!!! That this wasn't a serious thing and that you had other women you're talking to. You could have saved me from all of this pain!!! If you would've let me go earlier!!! That's all i regret....is not being told the truth and not protecting my heart from the WOLF that YOU are!!! .

You shouldve told me the truth we shouldve cut it off as soon as you got the job!!!! That was a mistake!!! And you claim you don't stay friends with your ex's and i know that's a lie from all of your likes and comments. So it has to be something with me that you don't ever want to see again .i called you out!! By name!! And you hate that...i tried my best hayden you had a girl that loved you Even while she knew you were out saying similar things to women all over the internet.

DO BETTER IF U WANT MARRIAGE AND KIDS!!! YOU HAVE TO DO BETTER FOR THE NEXT GIRL!!!! Actually try!! And don't lie to her like you did me! That's all i have to say

You are not an empath!!!! You are not an empathetic person. An empathetic person wouldn't lie over and over again and cheat an empathetic person would've told me the truth that this wasn't serious and you were talking to other women. You are not empathetic!!! You are a WOLF!! You lie and cheat!!! An empath wouldn't discard me like i meant nothing to them an empath DOESNT THROW PEOPLE AWAY!' You are not a fucking empath!! This couldve been fixed!!!

This couldve been fixed!!!! I couldve gotten my room mate to drive me up to new york!!! We could have fixed all of this if you just would've TRIED!!!! All it took was EFFORT!!! I could have gotten my roommate to drive me up there we could have fixed this!! But you hate me now for MAKING YOU TAKE RESPONSIBILITY. And CONFRONTING. You on your cheating . I bet that's why you can't have me in your life because i CONFRONT you! You dont like being confronted!! That's why you HATE me and can't have me in your life at all. You never planned on seeing me!! You never wanted to see me you were never serious!!! You cheated on me and lied to me and made me feel like i mattered that you were SERIOUS!

[melissa-diaz]

Google Arts and Culture, Sir Thomas Browne, and More (Complaining) About Learning to Code

The painting I’m featuring in this post is by french artist Henri Edmond Cross. I found it on the Google arts and culture website, in the Museé de Orsay digital collection. I’ve been diving into a few online museum collections for the last few months, and it’s been pretty cool. Nice pictures. I guess you can’t really say much more than that without sounding like a douche. A classier way to say that is to just shrug enigmatically and say art is subjective, it lets you get off the hook with your stupid interpretations of a piece and reminds artsy people that they should shut their douche faces up and let the pleabs enjoy the pretty pictures on their museum day trip. It’s kind of like voting, or at least how that used to be, you just don’t talk about it in polite company because you’re opinion isn’t really welcome or helpful. So, if you want to see some cool art collections, go to https://artsandculture.google.com/ and check out whatever the hell you want and shut up about it after you do.

I’ve also been plowing through the Harvard Classics, and am now up to Sir Thomas Brown’s Religio Medici. So far it seems to be a tract about how even though he’s a doctor and a man of science, he doesn’t let common sense and reason (ie the devile) get in the way of believing in the bible. I like the way he writes, it flows in a way that’s very fluid and enjoyable. I looked him up a little so I know in another couple of chapters he’s going to say he believes in witchcraft and the occult, which I guess when Reason is the devil, whatever reservations you may have about spells and magic is really up in the air at that point. People say he’s the best English writer since Shakespeare, and really ham up how curious he was about everything and open to learning and curiosities of science and mysticism. He also apparently visited some hamlet at some point and very earnestly assisted an investigation of two women on trial for witchcraft. He helped them discover that the women were witches and they were sent to be burned alive or whatever while Browne floated on back to examining the patterns on flower petals or whatever. The level of absurdity people were living in medieval Europe is hard to wrap my head around. I wish I could live for 500 years to see how ridiculous the way we live now is. I bet it’s going to be hilarious for future humans to look back at us and see how we lived most of our lives with our faces smooshed up against handheld, portable computers to the point where some of us are literally walking off cliffs and into traffic.

Computers are the bane of my existence right now. Learning to code is the most demoralizing action I’ve ever taken in my own best interest. And at first I was curious, then maybe interested in maybe getting a decent job, but now. It’s personal. I’m going to learn how to code for spite, because my dumb brain isn’t going to tell me what to do anymore. And what kills me is I could learn to code, if it weren’t for the fact that I find it so boring that I keep drifting off into all kinds of way more fun thoughts, like farts, and ice cream sundaes, and putting on a cat suit and running into traffic. Why can’t coding be more like that, huh? HUH?

It’s fine, I’m just struggling to understand something really basic about taking a dictionary in Python and iterating through all the values, and then finding the maximum value I’m looking for. I’m trying not to use a built-in function, but rather use an algorithm. It’s going to take a lot of Google searches to not have to think up the answer on my own, almost as much work as just figuring it out.When I do figure it out, I’ll write about it here. Maybe it’ll help other “creatives” (space cadets) who are better at lateral thinking (getting drunk and high) than linear thinking (being an adult).