#someone please give this woman a meaningful solo

[radioactive-earthshine]

I’ve been WAITING for this question okay so

Just to clarify I’m fairly new to comics and also not up to date on what’s happening with most of the characters rn so if this doesn’t fit anywhere in any current timeline or has already been done uhhhh sorry I don’t give a fuck

Anyway I’d give Starfire a solo series.

The first major arc would be kind of a space road trip type thing and for this arc I’d partner Kory up with Donna Troy and it would be so fruity. Like so so fruity. Those women kiss. I’m not sure what exactly I’d have Kory doing in space or why Donna joins her but the arc should end in a way that consolidates the best parts of her lore and scraps everything else (this is how I’m retconning Red Hood and the Outlaws). So some kind of soul searching magic quest idk.

At the end of her space quest, Kory gets established with a job and apartment in a new city and her villains are all super high tech, sci-fi. The artist needs to have some fuckin whimsy in designing characters and backgrounds, none of that dark grey everything is gritty shit. Bright colors all around. Obviously there would probably be at least one arc with the Titans but I’d really want her to work with characters she hasn’t previously interacted with or to bring back characters she hasn’t worked with recently like Animal Man. Maybe for one arc she teams up with the (RENEE MONTOYA) Question to blend Kory’s whole alien thing with a street level noir story (making Dick the detective for this would be so lame and im not about that. Im giving Kory more female friendships thanks). I don’t know if she’s ever worked with Kon but if she hasn’t THIS IS THE TIME. It would be soon after she gets back from space and would kick off a storyline for him to change in some important way like idk maybe growing out of the Superboy mantle and actually being an adult.

Maybe none of that makes sense and if this is stupid feel free to tell me so. So yeah that’s my idea. Korydonna space road trip, set up a new status quo for the remainder of the series and have her work with new characters to fight super powered sci-fi villains in mundane settings, emphasis on Kory working with other women. If I have fundamentally misunderstood this character then just ignore all of this. But anyway the thing about this that I think would piss off DC is that Kory has no male love interests in this series, at all, period. She either kisses Donna or no one at all.

Unrelated to that I would also fix the whole Batgirl thing and have Babs be Oracle again, retcon Cass’s villain arc out of existence, and put her back as Batgirl for a solo series so we can have her pass the mantle to Steph at the end in a way that’s satisfying and does not include the character assassination. I don’t know how I would accomplish this in-universe without fucking up the timeline but I’d find a way.

I'm interested and am listening to you very closely. I'm not the most well versed person in Kory or Donna lore (I've read thousands of comics but not a lot with them meaningfully) so I can't say if this is compliant with anything, and even if it was an impossibility, this is about self indulgent stories YOU would write with no one at DC to tell you NO. I definitely feel strongly that DC needs more women with their own solos featuring other women and having relationships that are platonic so this 100% good in that regards and I feel a lot of people would be interested.

Kory and Kon interacted in TTv3 but I can't justifiably say it was the best of situations so having better interactions would be 100% a delight to see.

But yes, Kory deserves her own solo and we always need more queer content. And SPACE! We need more comics that take you away from Earth.

But here's an important question; WHAT CITY is she working out of??

Babs being Oracle again is a mantra even the most staunch of batfans cry daily and I feel most would welcome her back.

Tell me what you would do if you had full creative control to write for DC with NO push back from editors and who would you piss off the most with your unhinged creative wiles?

Also, I shouldn't have to say this but don't be a DICK to anyone whose self indulgent fantasies might make you mad. Keep scrolling, block, move on. Thanks.

[imaginedreamwrite]

CC Day 5 🎄

Model Ransom and pregnant reader caught under the mistletoe please

Christmas Countdown day 5 — Get caught under the mistletoe

“I thought you wanted to go to this party alone? You said that you didn’t want to be weighed down by a date?” He’s looking at you through the reflection of the mirror, his place at the end of the hotel bed rigid, as he’s dressed in a sleek tux.

He got invited, or rather his PR and publicist had arranged for his attendance, to the Christmas bash that took place a few weeks before Christmas. Ransom had told you that he was going alone, that he wanted to go solo and not have to worry about a date.

“Fuck, I’m just…” he looked away, his clean face and smooth jaw clenching as he looked out the pristine window. “I’m tired of being alone. I’m tired of going to these parties and leaving with some woman on my arm that I’ll forget in the morning.”

He looked back at you, his Adams apple bobbing as he inhaled and exhaled slowly. He was coming to terms with his self-fuelled honesty, his changing desires as you grew in your pregnancy.

“I’ve spent enough christmases alone and been to enough parties without a date, or shit even with a date…”

You paused while applying lipstick to compliment your dress, instead you watched his reflection in the mirror and the sullen expression on his face. Ransom was older now, approaching 41, and he had never once been in a meaningful relationship.

Everything was short term.

“I want someone who matters.” He was surprisingly in tune with his emotional needs, a surprising twist from the actor you’d met at the event, the one who’d taken you home to fuck and then dropped the next day.

“I think it’ll be fun.” You finished your lipstick and stood, smoothing the delicately sequinned dress over your growing baby bump, hands rubbing the protrusion.

“So…” you turned and walked out of the bathroom, turning in a slow circle for Ransom. “How do I look?”

He watched you, he looked you up and down from head to toe while paying special attention to your bump. His eyes settled in and he had swallowed thickly again, his jaw clenching and his hands balled.

“It looks terrible, doesn’t it? Shit…I didn’t bring another dress-“

“You look good.” Ransom cut you off, giving you a short compliment though it was the look in his eyes that conveyed more. “You look really good.”

“Thank you, Ransom.” You grasped your clutch from the surface of the dresser nearest the bed, and tucked it under your arm. “Its not to late to change your mind. You could go solo.”

“There’s always next year.” He settled his hand on the small of your back as he led you out.

** **

“You’re hiding out.” Ransom hears your voice and he had downed the champagne in his glass, tempted to drop it from the balcony just to hear and see it smash against the concrete. The party was going on inside, the elite and the greats celebrating each other while ransom took to the cool and fresh air on the balcony.

“Everything okay?” You called after him, joining him outside instead of being among the famous people. “You’re out here alone-“

“I felt it move.” Ransom had cut you off, turning to face you.

“What?” Your eyebrows had furrowed and your lips had pursed. “You felt-?”

“I felt our baby move. When I put my hand on your belly…” Ransom walked back toward you, his eyes fixated on your baby bump beneath your dress. “My PA told me its about time they start moving.”

“You felt-“ your set your hands upon your own belly, feeling the same movements he had. “Ransom I didn’t know you would have-“

“Out of everyone in that room, and you’re the only one I keep being drawn to. Everything you do…” Ransom had gently pushed you back a few steps and then he cupped the back of your neck with one hand.

“I thought all of this wasn’t meant for someone like me. The baby, the girlfriend at home waiting for me…” ransom used his other hand to cup your cheek, and tilted your head back.

“But…?”

“But I want it all.” Ransom kissed you tenderly, he kissed you softly until heat erupted between you and then his kiss grew more passionate.

He kissed you to steal your breath.

He kissed you to steal your heart and soul, and then he pulled away and rest his forehead against your own.

“They’re gonna print pictures of this tomorrow and blame it on the mistletoe.” Ransom exhaled, warm breath radiating across your face.

“Mistletoe, good excuse-“

“Its not an excuse.” Ransom corrected you, brushing his thumb back and forth over your cheek. “I did it because I wanted to.”

“Ransom-“

“I’m tired of being alone. I want to spend all Christmas with you.”

[arse-crack-thistle]

quality time

rwrb and the five love languages | part four

in which bea nearly crashes from the stress of party-planning (aroace rep)

Princess Beatrice buzzes around The Masquerade, double-checking place cards, straightening table settings, and pulling dried rose petals from the centerpieces. She rented the concert venue for the night to throw a modern Valentine’s gala to benefit Henry’s queer youth center in London. He and Alex are around here somewhere, probably hooking up in a broom cupboard and definitely not nitpicking every detail like Bea is. Her assistant follows her with a clipboard and updates her on the schedule: t-minus three hours until guests arrive and, in the meantime, she needs to give final approval, soundcheck with the band, and get dressed up. Jeans and a blazer, while royal casual, are not party-appropriate, and tonight needs to be perfect.

She usually hates royal events like galas, but this one is special. Not because it’s Valentine’s Day—Bea could not give two fucks about the holiday—but because ever since coming out as asexual around Christmas, she’s been looking for an opportunity to help other queer people, or at least give them a public figure they could point to and say, “See Mum and Dad, she’s like me.” Henry and Alex got their chance, and now this time, it’s hers.

The stage lights up with pink and red; it’s cheesy, but Bea digs it. The concert was the one thing she would not budge on with her royal event planner. Did she want to reach into wealthy pockets? Yes. Did she still want to have a good time? Hell yes. And the band she’s joining for one night only happens to be just as queer as the charity they’re supporting.

Permanent Record, local to London, tune their instruments on stage. Bea has met them dozens of times over the last month and vibed with them instantly. Margot, the too-cool lead singer always decked out in a leather jacket and Docs, is ace like her, and as much as Bea has wanted to get to know them, there’s been no time. Turns out, party-planning and party-executing steals the host away from all meaningful human connection. She’s only been able to keep up with Henry because he’s partly responsible for this event.

The pit, full of tables covered in pink and gold, finally looks perfect enough for Bea to hand-off any other minute fixes to the planner and finally have her soundcheck with the band. But then, a large crash comes from the back of the venue, and she hears a loud shriek coming from a familiar voice, the one that’s been shrill and disapproving for the last month. When Bea runs up, she sees hundreds of shattered champaign flutes and her planner on the floor, blood oozing from her hands.

This cannot be happening. The only reason Bea kept this woman around was to take most of the day-of duties off her plate. But she’s in the back of an ambulance now, and Henry is nowhere to be found. Bea’s stress levels go from tolerable to unbearable as she orders her assistant to track down replacement flutes. The staff are quick to fill her other requests: a couple of people start sweeping, someone runs off to find her co-host, another tells the band Bea’s soundcheck will be postponed, and a brave soul steps up as a temporary assistant and follows her around the back tables to check for broken glass. Bea knows she doesn’t have to be the one to do this, but it seems like the success of this event lies solely one her shoulders. If something goes wrongs, it’s her face—not Henry’s—in the papers the next day. Powder Princess Crashes and Burns at Gay Ball. Christ.

After an hour, everything is sorted. There’s no glass. The planner is getting stiches. Permanent Record has started their soundcheck and sound amazing. But even their chill indie tunes can’t calm the princess. She needs to get on stage, but her stylist specifically requested she have at least two hours to work his magic, which is not going to happen.

Bea tells her assistant to get her stylist and his team to the venue, because she won’t be able to leave, and warn him he’ll only have an hour at best. Henry and Alex have already taken off to get ready, and she has to remind herself to smack them later for abandoning her.

She tugs off her blazer, drapes it over a chair, and rolls up her sleeves. If she does get her hands on a guitar, she’ll explode. It’s all she can think of to stop her from raiding the bar at the back.

“Better late than never, eh, Princess?” Margot says as she huffs on stage.

One of the stagehands gives Bea her beautiful sleek, black Fender Stratocaster, and her anxiety reduces itself to a hum. Music can’t cure all, but it certainly keeps her from wrecking every good thing in her life.

“Let’s just play,” she says.

But it’s anything but perfect. Whatever chemistry she had with Permanent Record somehow jumped into the Thames between their last rehearsal and now because this is an absolute travesty and she’s only playing two songs with them tonight. She’s forgotten measures of one song and can’t find the chords fast enough in her solo of the other. Utter shit.

Why does she even fucking bother?

She always fucks everything up. Always. Why did she think she could put this on? Sure, she’s chaired these events before, but not ones she actually cares about, not ones she’s actually put her heart into. Christ, no wonder. She should’ve known it would turn out like this. She’s the anti-Midas; everything she touches turns to shit.

No kid will ever see her as a queer role model. She’s the girl they point to and say, “See Mum and Dad, what a waste.”

She needs a hit so fucking bad.

Which is why she has to get out of here ASAP. Before she does anything she’ll regret. She won’t slip again, and she won’t be the reason this gala fails. Henry can handle it without her.

So when Margot calls for a five-minute break, Bea excuses herself and hands off her guitar. On her way out the door, she tells the stagehand to find her assistant and tell her to have Henry take over. The hard part is over thanks to the planner actually being brilliant at her job, even if she and Bea would never get along.

No doubt, cameras are already lined up outside, so she hides in one of the green rooms and locks the door behind her. If she just takes a deep breath and calms down, she can bring herself back from the edge.

Five things she can see: The 1975, Arctic Monkeys, Oasis, Solange, and Fiona Apple’s signatures on the artist wall.

Four things she can feel: the worn leather on a crusty couch, the chipped-paint walls, her toes in her shoes, and her fingers through her light brown hair.

Three things she can hear: the ticking from the clock, the click of her heels as she paces, and a knock at the door.

Two things she can smell: decades-old musk from artists past—no doubt coming from the couch—and her light perfume on her wrist.

One thing she can taste: a hint of coffee from earlier.

She breathes in and out, and the knock on the door continues.

“Bea, are you in there? Could you let me in?” Margot. Essentially a stranger. She supposes it’s better than facing a disappointed Henry, so she opens the door and promptly relocks it as soon as they’re inside.

“Christ, this place is legendary, isn’t it? Everyone’s played here—is that Bob Dylan? Fucking nuts,” Margot says, pointing to the wall.

“I’ve seen loads of people here. Always wanted to play here myself,” Bea tells them. She traces Lizzo’s signature. That was a fun night; Nora and June flew out for a girls’ night, which was ultimately crashed by Pez.

“Me too, and the rest of band as well, I suppose.” Margot looks at Bea and smiles. They’re brown eyes crinkle in the corner, and it reminds her of Alex. “And now we get to, eh, Princess? Couldn’t’ve gotten here without you. The whole world knows Permanent Record now.”

“You could’ve done it without me,” she says. “You will tonight anyway.”

“Hey.” They reach for Bea’s hand. “Everyone has some hiccups before a big gig. It’ll be grand, but only if you’re there. This is your night as much as it is ours or the youth center’s. You have no idea how important it is for your lot to shine a light on causes people shy away from.”

That makes Bea smile. For so long she wanted to hide from her position. She wanted freedom to do whatever she pleased, but now she understands the power she has, even if people still see her as “The Powder Princess.” No matter what she wears, millions of fashion influencers share links to her clothes. If she walks into a restaurant, their yearly profits skyrocket. When she told the world she was ace, thousands of people messaged her and said the same. One of them was Margot, telling her about their undiscovered band from South London.

She tells Margot how that was one of the first times she really felt like herself. Completely at peace with who she is. How that peace got away from her and turned this gala into a near-panic-attack-inducing event, she doesn’t know.

“Have you let on how stressed you’ve been to anyone?” Margot asks. The two sit together on the couch after Margot bravely plopped themself down on the dirty, old thing.

“Hadn’t the time,” she says. Truthfully, Bea doesn’t think she’s had a genuine conversation with anyone since the gala’s conception.

Margot throws their hands in the air. “Well, there you go then! You’ve got to take the time! To take care of yourself. To hang out with your mates. Just to have some goddamn fun, Bea! Come on! You think I’d be a functioning human if I didn’t let loose with my mates every now and then? This—” They gesture to their body, covered in tattoos and tattered black clothing. “Doesn’t happen on its own.”

Bea laughs. It’s been so long since she’s laughed from anything other than stress. “Right, so how does this all happen then?” She swirls her hand in Margot’s direction.

As they chat, Bea relaxes. They talk about their families and uni and music and coming out. Bea tells Margot about the time she and the gang went to the karaoke bar where Henry got wasted and sang Queen horrifically. Margot tells her about the time in year twelve when they got dared to try out for the school play and ended up playing an old man in the most unbelievable bald cap.

Eventually, the two of them pull out their phones and play a few games of Among Us until Bea’s desperate assistant finds her and pleads for her to get ready though the door. They only have an hour before guests arrive.

“You all right?” Margot asks. “Want to go out there and try again?”

Funny how it doesn’t seem so scary anymore. How it only took a short break, a nice chat, and a little pink astronaut to put Bea at ease. She smiles. The notes come back to her fingertips.

check out the rest of my rwrb and the five love languages series: part one, part two, part three, and part five. (links to come as they’re released)

listen, my permanent headcanon is aroace bea and you will never convince me otherwise and i will never write her as anything else bc i love her so much!! (that being said, if you ship her with anyone, i totally understand). also, i reference a fic of mine i wrote for winterfest so if you want to check out my version of bea’s coming out, you can do that here! and finally, i know this wasn’t a romantic fic for romance week but like i said in part one, valentine’s day is different for everyone. <3

rwrb romance week | @rwrb-fests

[thorne93]

The Stars Made Us (Part 2)

Prompt: In this world, you’re one of the “lucky” ones who got a soulmate, but what if the universe gives you more than you bargained for?

(Prompt challenge – You live in a world where your soulmate can write on their skin and you will get the writing on your own and vice versa. Where they can wash away the ink on their own skin, however, the writing is forever scarred onto your skin until you meet face to face)

Word Count: 1436

Warnings: angst and language throughout

Notes: This was supposed to be for @sorryimacrapwriter​​ and their challenge like a year ago, I think? I still loved the prompt though and have been working on this story for quite some time. This aesthetic was made by @dontshootmespence​​, thank you so much! Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes​​, couldn’t have done it without you, as well as @carryonmyswansong​​ and @arrow-guy​​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​

Also, I’ve never really liked the whole soulmate AU thing idea, but this felt so right and it was amazing to write. I hope y’all love it too!!

~~~~~~~~~~~

When you woke up in the early afternoon, your parents greeted you with a bit of a chuckle.

“Stay up too late with Jenny?” your mom asked with a teasing smirk. It was a habit of yours and Jenny to probably stay up way past your bedtime, but so long as it wasn’t a school night, your parents never cared.

“Actually… I.. uh, have some news,” you announced as you grabbed some bacon for a BLT that they’d made for lunch.

“Oh?” your dad asked, his eyes still on his laptop. “What’s that?”

“So… Jenny was kind of joking around last night and said that I should try to write on my arm, you know… to see if I had a soulmate…” you began explaining, twisting your fingers around nervously as you sat at the table.

Your parents just looked at you curiously.

“Well, so I did. I wrote something on my arm, and I waited to see if someone would write back… and they did,” you said, showing them your arm. They saw the ‘Happy Birthday’, and the ‘Hi there’, with a smiling face.

“A soulmate?” your dad echoed, looking at your arm inquisitively.

“We’ve never had soulmates in the family, have we, dear?” your mom wondered as she looked over her cup at her husband.

“Not that I know of. Well what do you know about that?” he mused. “I don't see any more marks on your arms, did your mate not write back much last night?”

“No, we actually emailed. We thought it would be best if we reserve our skin.. You know, we don’t want a bunch of… tattoos of each other unless they’re meaningful.”

“Sounds sensible,” your mom noted with a smile. “So what do you know about them?”

“He’s a grad student. He’s 21. He graduated from Harvard at 16, and get this, he’s into psych. He studies it.”

“Graduated at 16?” your dad asked. “Are you sure this guy isn’t pulling your leg? What if he’s some bum?”

“If he is some bum, he’s got a great education. We stayed up all night emailing, and he’s quite well-read.”

“That sounds fantastic, honey. And, did you get his name?” she asked, a bit nervous.

You shook your head. “No, we agreed it wasn’t safe.”

“Good girl,” your mom commended.

“He’s 21, hmm?” your dad hummed. “Isn’t that a little old?”

“Oh, Anthony, don’t pretend like that’s some big gap. You and I have five years between us,” your mom reminded as she got up to pick up the kitchen.

“Yeah well we didn’t meet in high school either. We were adults.”

“I’d hardly call us adults. We were 23 and 28.”

Your dad just shook his head. “You just be careful, kiddo. Soulmate or not, there are weirdos out there.”

“Of course, Dad,” you said.

Well, that was out of the way. Your parents didn’t seem to be too upset, which was good.

You went upstairs to your room and sent an email to X.

“My parents know about us now,” you wrote.

“Do they approve?”

“They’re worried you’re a liar and a weirdo, lol,” you confessed with a smiley face.

“They might be right ; )”

“I reminded them that we won’t ever swap information until one of our names shows up.”

“Of course. As tempted as I am to meet you like a normal person, I don’t want to tamper with fate.”

“I feel the same. And your parents? Have you told them?”

“My parents have died. Happened a few years ago.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. That’s awful.”

“It’s sad, yes, but don’t let that bring down your mood, please. I miss them terribly. I bet they would’ve loved to meet you.”

“I would’ve loved to meet them.”

“Speaking of, we need to get registered.”

Registered? For what? A marriage license?

Then it hit you.

“Oh, you mean the soulmate registry?”

“That’s the one. Do you have access to it?”

“Yeah, I can just drive to it. It’s at the clerk’s office, right?”

“Yes, it is. Oh, I need to go, Y/F/I. I’ll talk to you later. Feel free to send me emails throughout the day.”

“Will do, X. I’ll go to the registry on Monday, after school.”

“Looking forward to it.”

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

The following afternoon, you went to the county clerk to file for a soulmate. You arrived at the building, stood in line, and finally, it was your turn. You were greeted by an older woman with a permanent scowl on her face.

“Can I help you?” she asked evenly.

“I, uh, I need to get registered for a soulmate?” you said tentatively. You had no idea how this part of the process went.

She eyed you up and down. “Very well, come with me.” She turned around and started to walk away from the counter and you looked around to see if you were supposed to follow. Since no one seemed to be stopping you as you inched towards the small opening in the counter, you went ahead and followed her.

“Do you have a driver’s license?” she asked once she reached a little podium against a wall.

You didn’t answer, instead you quickly searched your purse and wallet to retrieve the ID. She took it from you but before she did anything she asked you to show you the markings.

“I got these, on my arm,” you informed as you pushed your arm forward, your arms exposed.

“I’m just checking to make sure they aren’t tattoos,” she mused as she eyed them and scanned them with a small device that emitted purple light, you assumed it was a UV light or some form of it. “Alright, that all looks good.” With that, she turned to a computer and pulled up a file, scanning your driver’s license that filled out a bunch of forms and blanks - your name, age, social security, birthday, address. “Now, I need to document your markings. Put your arm right here,” she instructed, pointing to what looked like a small x-ray machine. It had a flat platform, a light, crosshairs, and an overhead lens. “Hold still,” she ordered.

You did your best to keep still as she pressed a button and the image was snapped.

“Did you write anything to them?” she asked, her voice stern.

“Yes, I wrote a few things,” you said, explaining everything you wrote and where.

“When did the markings appear? I need the date and time,” she informed.

“Alright, you’re officially in the system. Do you know their name?”

“No, we’ve only emailed and I refer to him as X?” you said, unsure.

“Good. I’m not sure if you know this or not, but we tell everyone who gets a mate: it’s never good to meet them before your time.”

“I’ve heard,” you noted quietly.

“It usually ends in an untimely death, and you don’t get another mate. No one has ever had more than one mate, even if their first one dies.”

You nodded. It made sense. The universe designed one person to fit your soul exactly, they couldn’t do that with two people, it would be crazy.

“No, yeah we agreed not to give any personal information away,” you confirmed.

“Good. Now, whenever your mate comes in to get registered, neither of you will be notified.”

You frowned for a moment. “So what’s the point in doing this?” you wondered.

“In case anything happens before you two meet, you can be notified. If you need a donor, your mate is notified. It’s mainly for record keeping, but just in case, they’re basically added to every In Case of Emergency list you have.”

“Really? Okay,” you said, a little more interested.

“Well you’re all set. Here’s some information for you,” she informed as she handed you a pamphlet. It said: So now you’ve got a soulmate, what this means for you.

Inside were several Do’s and Don'ts.

Do tell people you have a mate, so they don’t think you’re covered in tattoos of random words.

Don’t get the name of your soulmate before it appears on your skin. Their name and current location will appear when you are needed most by them.

Do be sure to include that you have a mate on any legal forms.

Don’t request a new mate.

… on and on it went. It made you smile and laugh at how… old it seemed to be.

Before you knew it, you were back in front of your computer screen, sending an update to X. He said he was busy today and would have to go to the clerk tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[harrysgoldrush]

and they were roommates {h.s} part x

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A/N: so sorry for the wait my loves, I hope you enjoy!! and thank you thank you @soullikestyles for inspiring me and keeping me going xx

harry’s first solo concert was a success. there was no other way to say it and you couldn’t be more proud. you would be lying if you said you hadn’t cried along with anne and gemma, immensely overwhelmed with how great harry was. his album hasn’t even been out for that long and yet it seemed like the whole world was singing with him. you had never experienced anything like that in your life, an overwhelming sense of price.

of course you had been there when he was working on the album, he had shown you the songs and taken you to the studio and in turn, you had held his hand the minute the album was released, shouting with joy as jeff opened a bottle of champagne.

he was clearly emotional as well, frozen in awe when the audience sang loud and clear for him. you wanted him to always look that happy, eyes wide and smile blinding as he watched everyone around him.

as soon as harry finished his encore, it was a rushed madness to safely get backstage, gripping gemma’s hand tightly as anne pushed towards one of the venue workers who was glad to lead you back to the greenroom.

the band was all standing in the hallway, listening to the cheering audience that was slowly clearing out as the stage was being taken down. you spotted harry immediately, his floral jacket slung over his shoulder as he kicked at the ground, talking to adam with furrowed brows.

as anne whistled to the group, they all turned and gemma was quick to tackle her brother.

sarah came running to you immediately, her smile wide as she pulled you into a bone crushing hug.

“sarah, you were absolutely amazing! how was it for you guys?”

smoothing her ponytail, she tried to shrug coolly before bouncing on the balls of her feet. “oh awesome. really awesome. we could have played all night.”

“hang on, let’s not give jeff ideas,” mitch was cracking a rare smile as he pulled you into a hug, ruffling your hair as he asked, “was this as exciting as those book booze ups you’re always taking harry to?”

laughing, you pretended to think before playfully shoving at the taller guitarist. “those are for work, mitch. harry just likes the catering company so we always go. but this might have been just a bit more interesting.”

while you spoke to the two, you were keenly aware of harry making his way to you, kissing his mum on the cheek before murmuring something to her. you pretended not to notice harry slide up beside you but your smile betrayed you when he grabbed at your hand lightly and began playing with your fingers, his head ducked as he focused on his quiet task.

“sorry, i’m actually waiting for my roommate,” you were grinning at him, surprised when you felt tears growing in your eyes as harry looked up at you with his soft smile and gentle gaze. “he’s a huge fan, sings your songs almost every day. i hate to say it but he’s almost better than you.”

he was covered in sweat but practically glowing, his face lighting up the moment you began to tease him.

“oh sorry, must’ve thought you were my roommate, she flew out from new york to see me but must’ve gotten lost, she has no sense of direction,” he played alone, slapping a hand over his eyes as he stepped back, feigning embarrassment. “shame though, was thinking about inviting you to my after party.”

laughing, you grabbed at harry, pulling him into a tight hug as you said, “i’ve changed my mind, take me with you please!”

his arms stayed tight around your waist, his chest shaking from his own quiet laughter before he pressed a gentle kiss to your hairline. “mum said you cried during the show?”

your cheeks grew hot as you glanced towards the woman who had shared confidential information, having been sworn to secrecy after catching you wiping away quiet tears while harry spoke to the audience; you had started crying the second he stepped on stage.

“we all did, it was hard not to,” leaning back, you tilted your head as you studied him. “i’m really proud of you harry. that was phenomenal. what did you think?”

“audience was good. felt nice. better now that you’re here though.”

you were growing dizzy with every sweet word and meaningful glance and you were sure you would melt in his arms if not for jeff shouting, “c’mon folks, the quicker we work with tech the sooner we can head to our hotel.”

harry gave you that funny look he had been giving you the last few days before grabbing your cheeks, pecking your forehead dramatically before he joined his band, disappearing down the hall with a cheeky grin.

it was anne that pulled you back from space, making you jump as she took your arm gently. “let’s go, pet. after you and gems drop me off, you two can meet with them.”

the car ride was quiet, you could tell anne was still tired from the flight over. gemma had turned the radio off as soon as the car turned on, eager to hear how you had been since the last time you had met back when Harry had first finished the album.

"harry won’t stop telling us about that book of yours, you’ll have to send me a copy. from what i’ve heard it’s absolutely broken my heart."

gemma was speaking in a hushed tone, eyes filled with quiet excitement as she nodded her head toward anne who was already asleep before you had even left the parking garage.

"tomorrow morning mum'll be asking you for an advanced copy; we almost have to get one with the way our boy’s been acting; he needed to talk to someone but didn't want to bother you with all the reviews that were coming in."

"really? so he liked it?"

"babe, i haven’t seen my brother in weeks and all he’s said to me since i landed was about you and your book. i think it’s a bit more than just liking it.”

the rest of the car ride was filled with nervous smiles and knowing looks. anne was out of the car before you had fully parked, mumbling sleepily that she needed a shower before hugging and kissing you both, fully expecting to see you at brunch to discuss your book tour.

surprisingly the hotel was fairly empty as you helped gemma carry her bags, thankful jeff had sent yours there earlier. by the time the two of you had changed into more comfortable clothes, anne was passed out diagonally on the bed and harry was texting you, begging you to hurry up and get upstairs.

"you spoil him, babe," gemma had teased, pulling you into the elevator with her. you were wearing a floral button up crop top with light washed jean shorts, phone and hotel card sitting securely in gemma’s purse. despite her evident jet lag, gemma was bouncing up and down on her heels, black spaghetti strap top and skinny jeans creating a perfect balance of runway ready and after party prep.

harry was notorious for his drunken antics, with you having had to act as babysitter for plenty of exciting nights this past year. you had learned the hard way not to wear your favorite sweater or a short dress around him, it never ended well.

when gemma nudged you, effectively pulling you back to earth, you hummed in confusion causing her to laugh.

"i’m just saying that the two of you bend over backwards for each other. not that that's a bad thing, he clearly loves all your attention. you both just seem really happy. honestly i'm surprised he hasn't declared his undying love for you yet, you two just make sense."

your cheeks were beginning to burn as you laughed defensively. "i am very lucky to have clicked with harry the way i did. i feel like i’ve known him my whole life. but i don't see anything like that in our cards. we both needed a friend when we met and i wouldn't change that for the world."

gemma's eyes narrowed but she was soon smiling with excitement as the doors opened to reveal harry donning a sparkly party hat with three solo cups balanced carefully in his hands.

he had changed into dark jeans, his grateful dead shirt faded but fitting just right as he lifted his eyebrows and pulled a confused face, his breath already smelling like tequila and something else.

"did you go to the wrong hotel or something? it's been ages since i've seen my two best girls!”

gemma simply laughs, shoving at her younger brother as you chide playfully, “you’re an absolute goof, harry styles.”

the styles siblings were practically glowing, basking in each other’s presence in a way that you’ll always love. they have a secret language, one similar to yours with harry, but one that has been years in the making, something so effortless and fascinating and something you could only hope for.

before you’re even able to catch on, gemma has left you two alone and harry is gently handing you a cup that is filled to the brim. “hope you don’t mind, i might’ve poured a bit too much.”

“i need to catch up with you anyways” your shrug makes his eyes light up, more mischievous than usual with the excited nature brought on by a night of performing.

taking a sip, your eyes shoot wide as you’re met with a mouthful of straight tequila. his guilty pleasure and a nasty habit that you’re more than happy to indulge in.

when he begins to laugh, you ask quickly, “i’m not stealing you from the party, am i?”

“the party don’t start til you walk in.”

oh yeah, he’s plastered.

as he leads you deeper into the party, introducing you to people whose names are already forgotten, he hands you more and more drinks and you feel yourself swept into the blur of bright lights and loud music.

you are normally much more conscious of drinking with harry, always making sure to be aware enough to look out for him but tonight jeff has taken that role, along with dj much to harry’s delight.

“where’s the band?” your voice is drowned out by the bass drop of a song you’ve never heard in your life and you’re sure harry didn’t hear you with the way he grabs you to dance. then before your mind can wrap around what’s happening, he’s pushing you forward, hands resting warmly on your hips, cup clenched awkwardly between his teeth.

you wind up in another room filled with colorful lights and the smell of weed, thankful that this room is a little quieter. adam sneaks up on you, making you jump when he takes your empty cup and disappears with a promise to fill it up.

sarah is a welcome form of affection, granting you warm hugs and nonsensical insights as harry and mitch mess around with the camera. in a blur of bright lights and clumsy laughter, you’ve slowly begun to fill your pockets with photos of you and the band. you hardly have time to look at the finished products, deciding you’ll have plenty of time when you’re sober and missing your friends.

ever the narcissist, harry is fascinated with the machine and determined to take the best photos; he’s already brought himself a brightly colored hat to make sure people know this party is for him. you can’t tell why it’s so funny, but you keep pointing out his ridiculously large forehead and harry keeps pulling serious faces right before your pictures are taken, prompting you to do anything you can to try and get harry to crack a smile for a photo.

“harry come on, i just want one nice photo of us. why won’t you smile? is it because i said the thing about your head?”

“you look better in the lighting than i do.”

you can hardly take him seriously, struggling to keep a straight face before you nod in understanding.

“okay. we can fix that.”

sarah is quick to hop in, directing the photos in question as she yells, “harry close your eyes more! no no don’t open them!”

in the end, you’ve wound up with dozens of photos of you pulling the ugliest faces ever to make your roommate feel better while he does a poor attempt at a smolder.

“what is that supposed to be, h? you look constipated.”

“sarah jones it is my interpretation of blue steel from the hit comedy action movie zoolander.”

“come on, come on i want the whole band in this last one!” you’re shouting, interrupting the two as you realize people have formed a semi-organized line to use the camera. “squeeze in!”

“hang on, i can’t fit!” harry is nearly screaming, pushing at you all as the camera counts down.

grabbing at him, you try to explain that he’s got plenty of room but as the shutter goes off you’re suddenly being tackled as harry leaps onto your back, knocking the whole group over.

time becomes blurred after that, desperate snacking and lazy drinks and an overall sense of content when sarah whispers something to harry and they both look at you.

later in the night, when your brain isn’t as foggy and the air isn’t as hot, he’s convinced you to sit on his lap, or maybe you had to sit on his lap to stop him from embarrassing himself; it’s hard to tell. all you know is that he is practically glowing with his arms wrapped around your middle and his chin resting on your shoulder as he talks loudly to his friends around you two.

you swear harry’s never spoken so much in his life when one of the tech crew members recognizes your name from the new york times newcomers list. he’s practically telling your whole life’s story along with a long list of embarrassingly exaggerated accomplishments. he’’s even stuck his hat on your head now, explaining that you’ve got to wear it because you’re the guest of honor now; the sharp bite of the elastic chin strap keeping it on your head makes you think otherwise.

by the time gemma’s rejoined the group with another round of drinks he’s lost the plot; all grins and giggles and nonsense.

“harry, mate, we’ve met!” mitch is close to tears, practically wheezing as he shakes your hand for the third time that night as you struggle to catch your breath.

“what? really? aw, i’m so glad. do you like her? i hope you do, she’s bloody brilliant.”

giggling, you’re glad to be grounded in his arms, feeling your drinks finally setting in. harry’s eyes are wide, his pupils impossibly wide and he can tell you’re about to get up to get him a water or a snack or anything to bring him back down because the second you try to get up, he’s stopping you with a playful frown.

“i’m just gonna fill our cup, it’s already empty since someone lost his drink earlier.”

he just shakes his head, wrapping his arms tighter around you before awkwardly twisting his legs around yours as sarah tells a story that makes gemma clap her hands loudly before asking mitch if it’s true.

you’re only able to tune into their conversation for a moment, with harry easily able to distract you when he begins fumbling with your phone. you’re still not sure how or when he got it but he’s been using it all night, doing who knows what with it.

“wanna take another picture of us, you look beautiful.”

laughing, you turn to see what he’s doing and let out a shriek when he accidentally head butts you as the flash goes off, his lips scrunched up against your chin.

he’s grimacing as you struggle to grab at your phone, easily able to keep it out of reach as he examines the picture he’s taken.

it’s an awkward angle with his free arm wrapped right around your stomach, the other holding out the phone low in front of them. you hadn’t even noticed your hand was holding his arm gently, too focused on not knocking over your drink while harry nearly broke your jaw with his sudden decision to aggressively kiss your jaw. your eyes are wide and so are his, but you’re both smiling in the picture and look so happy that you know you’ll never delete it.

“have you been taking those all night?”

he nods, still staring lazily at the photo, zooming in on your faces before he’s glancing up at you with a smile, surprising sober as you bump heads more gently.

“yeah, don’t want to forget anything. our lives are different after tonight with your book and my album. but i don’t want this to ever change.”

“you mean that?”

“yeah, never. but don’t tell the others, okay? i’d hate for them to find out so early in the tour that you’re my favorite friend.”

in a surge of sound, you’re immediately twisting to look at harry who’s already shot up, practically carrying you to the dance floor. you’re surprised he hasn’t been dancing all night, he’s mainly hovered around you and introduced you to his friends as if this was a house party rather than the after party for one of the most important shows of his career.

but now it’s your song, your guilty pleasure which always makes harry blush in embarrassment, begging you to stop dancing and singing loudly to the bee gee’s best song (in your humble opinion).

somehow “more than a woman” has found its way into a playlist that’s been playing fleetwood mac, kendrick lamar and the rolling stones for the past two hours. and harry is dancing his heart out.

you had shown him saturday night fever months ago, openly thirsting over young john travolta dancing to this song and now your best friend is drunkenly attempting to recreate the scene in question, singing in his falsetto with mischievous eyes and you watch in awe.

it’s utterly ridiculous. and that makes it easy to fall into line, practically shouting the lyrics with him as you dance just as awkwardly with a huge grin on your face. your arms are everywhere they shouldn’t be, harry’s tripping over his two left feet and it’s the greatest thing you can remember happening. with his eyes on you, it’s easier to just close yours; it makes your cheeks cool significantly as you embarrass yourself with him.

and when he takes you into his arms, you hold onto him just as tightly and yell, “i can’t believe you got jeff to play this song. when did you even tell him about it?”

“you should know by now i’d do anything for you. including playing the bee gees at my very private very exclusive party.”

at a loss for words and boldened by the endless drinks supplied, you can only admit with a breathless smile, “i love you, h. so much. i can’t remember the last time i had ever been so happy before i met you.”

his smile is timid, almost bashful as he nods, comprehending what you’ve said. you feel small in his arms, especially when he lifts you up and spins you in his arms, choosing to sing rather than respond.

maybe tonight he’ll tell you how he feels. while you’re dressed all pretty just for him, following him around all night despite how obnoxious he’s been; he blames it on the nerves. he’s had much more to drink that you, he had hoped it would have made him bolder in the ways that matter and now he’s sure he’s messed things up when he realizes just how much he’s leaning on her when they dance.

still, you somehow manage to hold him up, shouting the lyrics right back at him, holding his hand just as tightly and keeping him close all night until the party had dwindled down to just the two of you and harry’s ipod in harry’s hotel room.

“one last song,” harry promises earnestly, light on his feet as he searches for the song he wants. he’s torn between two, unsure of how he wants to end the night. “pick a number, one or two.”

please pick two. he thinks, fingers hovering over a herb alpert & the tijuana brass song that always makes him think of you, something that would easily steal his words right out of his mouth and change everything.

he watches you think for a moment, kicking your shoes off near his bed as you finally free your head from the hideous sparkly hat he had gifted you, your hair a frizzy mess that you have no intention on taming tonight.

“hmm. one? we can always listen to two another night.”

you can hardly breathe when he steps close to you and gently puts an earbud in your ear, smiling quietly at you before the beginning notes of “going to california” begin to play. his touch is soft when he pulls you close, his gaze intense as he sways you both gently. one hand grips yours and the white ipod nano while his other hand rubs at your lower back, his actions bold while his face is timid yet relaxed, giving you his full attention.

you fold first, skin hot and chest tight as you look down at what little space there is left between you two.

he sings it gently in your ear, your hair tickling his nose but harry doesn’t seem to mind, holding you tightly as you both dance. he’ll tell you another night when he doesn’t need to play “this guy’s in love with you” because he’ll be able to say it himself. until then, he’ll be thanking gemma for the rest of his life for taking your phone and key card with her to you shared room, giving him ample excuses to invite you in; he’ll take all the seconds he has with you.

tag list: @capture-the-moment-on-camera @myspecialparadise @berrynarrybanana @brwnskin-bunnyteeth @harry-is-my-medicine @harrysclementines @another-lonely-heart @harryskalechips @soullikestyles @lights-up-hazza @c-h-e-r-r-y-y-lips @cassiopeiaskies​ @inmygardensuit​ @ggaayyyong​ @mortumnoctis​ @orange-mang0​ @shawnieeboyy​ @odetostep​

[be-lis-mamamoo]

International Women's Day: Mamamoo Edition

Just because I thought "Why not?" If you you're involved with Mamamoo, every single day feels like a Women's Day. And here are the reasons why 👇🏻

Kim Yongsun - Solar

When we're talking about women empowerment in K-Pop or the music industry in general, I hardly can think of a better role model than Kim Yongsun. She's not only Mamamoo's oldest member and their leader, she's also a very supportive and thoughtful person who always cares about everyone and everything around her.

Her YouTube channel Solarsido demonstrates her versatility as singer, entertainer, dancer, choreographer etc. and she pleases her fans with a lot of diverse content. Once in a while she shows her incredible dance skills, the other day she exposes her way of learning English. But what's really impressive about her YouTube channel is that she raises awareness about serious issues and social causes:

In honor of “Expectant Mother’s Day”, Solar volunteered to help watch her friend Eun Song’s newborn baby. Solar volunteered to help watch her friend Eun Song’s newborn baby. While she did struggle a bit, her sharing the experience was illuminating about what mothers go through on a daily basis! ©Koreaboo

Solar joined forces with Dongdaemun Senior Welfare Center and social worker Jung Soo Bin to donate roughly 2,200 lbs of kimchi to underprivileged elderly. She even delivered some of the boxes in person, making the gesture even more meaningful! ©Koreaboo

On the “International Day of Zero Tolerance for Female Genital Mutilation”, Solar used her large platform to raise awareness of the violence women around the world experience as victims of FGM. ©Koreaboo

Also, did I mention that Solar stands for gender neutrality? I think we all remember that time she ripped off her shirt during their 4seasons 4 colors concerts and when she was invited to perform live at KBS! She explained, “Afer seeing many male idols ripping their shirts on stage, I wondered, ‘Why can’t girls do that too?‘”

There's a lot more to say about her so if you don't know much about Solar or Mamamoo in general, make sure to check them out. You won't regret it.

Moon Byulyi - Moonbyul

One of the best examples for gender neutrality and music diversity in K-Pop might be Miss Moon Byulyi.

With her latest solo comeback "Dark side of the Moon", she wrote a new history in K-Pop. Bold in both sound and style, Moonbyul takes the stage with "Eclipse" and uses it to show off her duality as both a singer and rapper over its forceful melody and brash beats. Accompanied by the release of a captivating music video where the artist is seen both as a soldier and a queen, “Eclipse” revels in Moonbyul’s skills as a performer, and also continues Mamamoo’s legacy as an act that constantly relays different ideas of feminine strength through their music. ©Billboard

Moonbyul is successfully redefining fashion’s outdated gender norms by wearing suits and breaking the beauty standards of K-Pop PERFECTLY. But Byulyi also has her soft sides. Her sincere love for Mamamoo and Moomoos is just precious and she never misses a chance to show her support and love for her members and fans. On Fancafe, she helped Moos who went through hard times and in her private life, family and friends play a central role which she proudly shows by her many tattoos.

I personally love her for her way of spreading self-confidence and a strong self-esteem. Be it by her self-composed songs or by simply talking with fans during Fanmeetings and on Vlive, she always motivates us to love ourselves!

Make sure to follow her on Instagram!

Jung Wheein - Wheein

Wheein was born to shine. But she was also born to be a great role model and here is why.

Fronting Soar, Wheein's first-ever solo single album, “Good Bye,” or “Let’s Break Up” as it reads literally in Korean, is a poignant track that rises and falls with Wheein's dynamic delivery of the song, as soft rock instrumentals build the melody up around her powerful vocals. 

"Good Bye" was released through a heart-rendering music video that depicts a rare representation of same-sex love in K-pop. Featuring a woman entering the home of a couple, she treats it as if it’s her own and play-acts being in a relationship, while becoming enraged and destroying signs of the pair being together, seemingly out of jealousy. ©Billboard

In addition, Wheein explained that the shape of love doesn't matter to her, it's all the same. For me as a member of the LGBTQ+ community, Wheein's statement means a lot and I'm so happy about her support and understanding!

During the "Secret Unnie" filming with SNSD's Hyoyeon, Wheein also talked about the pressure of Korean beauty standards and her struggles of feeling left behind, a feeling all of us can relate to.

Whenever Wheein shows her vulnerable sides, it always carries an important message to her fans. I love her because she's simply being herself without trying to be someone she isn't. Wheein is one of the most humble artists I've ever met, she's an inspiration and a great emotional supporter.

Ahn Hyejin - Hwasa

I guess since she became THE it-girl of 2018, 2019 and probably 2020 also, everyone should be aware of how much of an amazing person she is. Here are the reasons why she is my number one queen.

Everything started with twit, her first solo song which quickly became a very popular song in SK. Her prowess as one of K-pop’s most dynamic singers carries throughout the song, a true show of her impressive talent as she addresses, mocks really, a lover who is giving too much to someone who doesn’t deserve it. ©Billboard

"If I don't fit in this generation's standard of beauty, I will have to become a different standard"

Who doesn't remember her most famous quote? I think a lot of people appreciate her for her very strong self-esteem and just being the way she is. Just like Wheein and the rest of Mamamoo, she's very humble and down to earth.

What I love the most about her is her attitude. Hwasa called out her haters in their latest comeback album "reality in BLACK" and doesn't hesitate to tell the whole world how much she loves to be herself.

What can I say, there's so much more I want to tell about her but the best way to get to know her is to watch the whole Mamamoo related content and ofc her solo activities, for example her appearance in "I live alone"

All in all we have to admit that she's the most badass queen ever who deserves the whole world. And it's our obligation to protect her from all the unnecessary hate. She has just the sweetest personality and even though she acts like a tough person, she can get hurt just like every other human on this planet.

Mamamoo isn't only a group of talented singers. They're very unique and special women with big hearts and a lot of love and support for their family, friends and fans. K-Pop is a strict and sometimes scary music business but even so, Mamamoo manages to be such great role models and one of the most humble celebrities I ever got to know!

[manatehispants]

Entertain Me!

“Okay. You can stop now. Like right now.”

Harley kept her arms wrapped tightly around Floyd who despite his words was doing very little to actually make her stop. The wild card blonde acted like she didn’t hear a word the assassin said. She continued to rub her pale skinned face against his cheek like an affectionate cat who had just got done hitting the cat nip. Lawton rolled his eyes. He gave it two more minutes before he attempted another protest.

“I ain’t playing around, Harley. Let go or I’mma shot you right in the face. Last warning about this.”

This time he did try to push her away from him although there was no real force to it. He’d never say it out loud, but he liked the crazy jester. Somewhere along the line she had become meaningful to him. Harley knew it too. She knew Deadshot wasn’t going to ever say he liked her let alone cared for her, but his actions showed it in his own way. And this time it wasn’t all in her head either like it had been with Joker. Nope! This was real. Harley faked a pout, but finally she disentangle herself from the man. She leaned back on the hotel couch laying her head onto Deadshot’s shot and swinging her legs over the other side. Her platinum blonde pigtails dangled just off of Lawton’s lap. He let out a small grunt and wondered why she always did that with such force. He also wondered for the zillionth time why she stuck around him. Was she really so fucked up from her time with Joker that she thought Lawton was as good as it got? He glanced down at Harley, a cigarette dangling from his lips. His heart quickened when his eyes locked onto her’s. They were full of something he knew he didn’t deserve, love and adoration. Laughing Harley winked at him almost as if she knew what he was thinking. Maybe she did. Maybe she knew far more than Lawton credited her for.

“We should go see that Taylor Swift concert the one that is in town tomorrow! I have the perfect outfit! Oh! We could get matching outfits! It will be so fun! I’ll post all the pictures up on Instagram! Eat your heart out Bats and Robin, there’s a new dynamic duo in town!”

Where the Hell had this damn idea come from!? Lawton pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. Nope! He didn’t even want to get into that aspect of it with her. It would only give him a headache.

“We ain’t doing that. I told you already I am in town for work. That’s it. And never ever compare us to Batman and his kid sidekick again. Better don’t pretend there is an us cause there ain’t.”

“But I am bored. Come on. Entertain me! Pretty, pretty, please? With a big fat cherry on top? Oh! And sprinkles. We can’t forget those. Great! Now I want ice cream.”

Pouting again Harley sat back up and leaned herself onto the assassin’s muscular body. She ran one hand down his chest her hand stopping to rest on his stomach. Floyd’s body reacted by tensing. It usually wasn’t good when someone touched him in such a vulnerable spot. As much as he wanted to trust Harley.....She was still crazy and crazy people do well, crazy things. He forced himself to relax by inhaling deeply onto his cigarette. He leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling as he let out a perfect ring of grey-blue smoke. He watched as it slowly rose up. One more was blown out before he bothered to answered her.

“Nobody asked you asked you to stalk me out and break into the hotel room. Which you still haven’t explained why you did.”

He should be pissed with her for that, but he wasn’t. He was actually sort of glad she was her or at least he was when she was making off the wall comments and crushing his balls with her head. Really who the Hell “rested” their head down with that much force? Harley’s darkly painted lips vibrated together as she waved off Lawton’s words.

“Stalking and breaking in are such strong words ta’ be throwin’ around! What I did is more like enthusiastic followin’ against ya wishes with a surprise stop by!”

Floyd gave Joker’s ex girlfriend a blank stare. Harley rolled her eyes and dramatically collapsed herself onto his shoulder. Locks of her shocking blond hair pouring onto him. Like he had done so many times today he again rolled his eyes at her giving off the impression of being put out by this. But both knew the truth, he loved it. He liked having someone in his life who was crazy enough to not only accept all parts of who he was, but to embrace them. Unlike others, Harley understood what the dangers of his work entailed. Sure she liked playing house, but she wasn’t going to force Deadshot to be someone he was not. Just as he would never change her into someone she wasn’t. He didn’t write her off as by product of Joker or see her as a tragic warning story about loving the wrong man. When he looked at Harley that’s what he was looking at.....Harley. There was so few in her life who did this. Sure, there was Ivy and Harley loved the woman to death. But with Ivy it wasn’t that simple. Ivy meant well, but she always wanted to fix Harley. She wanted to take Joker and all parts of him away from her. She didn’t understand that no matter the Clown Prince of Crime would forever be a part of Harley. To be with Ivy meant she would have to give up part of herself, and selfishly Harley wasn’t willing to do that. Maybe there would come a day when she could, but right now she couldn’t. She couldn’t be whatever it was others wanted her to be. She needed a chance to be her own person. Free of Joker, free of being named a sidekick. Ivy always said and did treat her as an equal. This was true, but with Ivy everyone still viewed Harley as a sidekick. They saw Ivy as her Joker replacement. The Harlequin of Love buried her face against Floyd’s shoulder. It was so very child like that for a moment Lawton thought of his daughter.

Outside Harley that was the only person who truly cared for him and who he too cared for. She was why he continued down this path. She was why he would never retire from this work. It was her face that haunted his mind any time he considered turning his gun his next target and onto himself. Lawton finished the last drag of his cancer causing stick and tossed the bud to the floor. Suddenly his heart ached for the one he could never be near and for the life he discovered he would never be able to have. Carefully as if she was made from glass Floyd touched the back Harley’s head. Smiling against his shoulder the wild card nuzzled his shoulder and then looked up at him. God damn her and the things she made him feel. He didn’t want to feel anything! Right now he only wanted the world to be shut out. Maybe he could get to help with that. He cupped Quinn’s face in the palm of one hand, and like clockwork she did as was expected. She understood what was happening. Floy was connecting with her the only way he knew how to be affectionate with another person through sex. She leaned her face into his hand nuzzling against. Her perfectly painted lips laid a soft kiss against his palm. Moving his hand so that part of his palm was now under the infamous bombshell’s chin, Lawton tilted her head up to him and leaned forward kissing her upon the lips. His free arm went around her slender frame pulling her near him. Instantly Harley had both her arms wrapped around him. She needed this as badly as he did. Her body melted against his and her lips felt perfectly at him on his. The taste of cheap beer and cigarettes danced onto her taste buds as she deepened their kiss, pushing him for more.

Almost roughly he tugged her closer now to him. His tongue dipping into her welcoming mouth. Exploring every inch of it as if it was there first time together. Her mouth was sweet. She tasted of cotton cotton candy and cherries.....A mask of innocence. It was as intoxicating as the liquor he had been drinking away all night. Her love is a crazy deadly one and in the end Lawton knows she’s going to fuck him over somehow. She always did, but she also always came back to him. Joker will come calling or someone more attractive will show themselves to her, but for moment in time she belongs to him. It’s thrilling and he’s always been a sucker for a head rush. The jester’s tongue dances into his mouth and soon their tongues entangled with another fighting for dominance. The soft moan that escaped her was quickly making Floyd realize his pants were far too tightly. He pulls his mouth away off her’s. Quinn is staring at him her sapphire eyes clouded with lust. Harley runs her black painted nails down his back and Lawton feels his desire for her.....For what comes next growing. A shiver of pain mixed with pleasure goes down his entire spine.

“Ya gunna be my Prince Charming, sweep me off my feet and take me ta’ bed now or not?”

He shouldn’t do it. Harley shouldn’t be encouraged. He’s going to get burned by her. It’s only a matter time. But fuck it, you’re only going to live once, right? Or that’s what he keeps hearing. He might as well get his rocks off while he still can. He swoops the ex gymnast expert up off the couch and into his arms. Instantly her arms around looped around his neck. Her lips are crashing into his in what will surely be a bruising kiss for the both of them. Not that either care. The small sting of it only adds to the pleasure they are both becoming overwhelmed with as Lawton carries Gotham’s infamous wild card to bed. Tomorrow he has a job that needs to be done. Tomorrow he will be back to being the professional he prides himself on when it comes to work. Tomorrow Harley will be off on yet another on of her crazy adventures proving herself to the word, but mostly proving to herself she can be a solo act. But that’s all stuff of the future. For now the two are more than a little content for what the presence holds for them between the sheets. They will make the most of the night and for awhile neither will worry about that aching loneliness that eats away at them.

[darthrena]

(Your Kisses) Taste like Come what May

Excerpt:

“I promise you will love her.  She’s funny, smart, absolutely gorgeous–Just one date is all I am asking.”

“What has gotten into you all of a sudden.  Is this girl on the run from ICE or something?”

“Armie asked me to marry him.”

Ben felt his world collapsing.  His mild amusement long forgotten under the weight of a thousand unspoken words, missed opportunities, and imagined confessions.

Rose’s voice seemed to come from far away.  "Ben?  Aren’t you going to say anything?“

Ben swallowed, forced his throat to produce sounds other than screaming, or worse, a sob.  Oddly, when his mouth felt capable of speech, it was a faint rasp, no hint of the tempest which roiled within.  "Congratulations.  You deserve to be happy.”

o-o-o-o-o-o

Summary:

Ben, Rose and Hux grew up together.  Ben loves Rose, but Rose and Hux are together.  After Rose and Hux become engaged, Rose tries to set Ben up with her friend Rey.  He reluctantly agrees to go on a date.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

A step over the threshold and the familiar creaking of wood, weakened by time and salt-air, and aroma of hearty chowder and ale engulfing his senses, Ben knew he made the right choice.

Nestled between a trendy Korean tapas place and a shoe repair shop with flaking blue paint Ben could recall from his childhood, Takodana was sedate even on a Saturday night. Eclectic knick knacks ranging from a Rico Petrocelli bobblehead, a 1984 Bruce Springsteen poster yellowing at the edges, a carved wooden mask allegedly depicting a warrior of Venezuelan origin, to vibrant weavings of alpaca wool, lined the walls and cluttered the entrance way. Questionable decor aside, the whiskey, unpretentious beef stew, fries and a decent chowder on the menu had long ago made it Ben's favorite bar.

The proprietress, Maz, eyed him from beneath thick rimmed glasses and a bevy of judgement as he slipped into his favorite booth across from the bar. "Ben Solo," she drawled, giving little reassurance in either tone or posture, hands on hips and brow arched.

"Hey Maz," he greeted warily, as Maz stepped from behind the counter.

At last the petite lady put him out of his misery. "I ran into your mother the other day. Said you haven't been home since Christmas."

Right. It wasn't like Ben was avoiding his mother, at least, anymore than usual.  After quitting his job, and getting away from Snoke's insidious manipulations, it had been cathartic almost, reconciling with his mother and Uncle.  your father would be proud, his mother's voice hoarse with tears of grief and pride.  As lovely and neat as the story would appear on the cover or told over dinner parties when his mother was three Merlots in and giving him meaningful, tearful glances--prodigal son returned home and joined his mother's firm--things were still a bit strained.  Their specialties of law differing as they did, weeks could go by without seeing his mother at the office.  Ben made a concerted effort to call his mother once a month, or at least have Kaydel order her flowers or a bottle of wine when he couldn't bring himself to.  "I've just been busy," he mumbled, unable to summon even a modicum of coolness in the face of such obvious disapproval.

Maz tutted at the flimsy excuse, but seemed to relent slightly, moving back toward the bar.  "It'll be the usual then?"

"Yeah."

Silence reigned but for the hub of other patrons chatting and the slight clink of glass as Maz's weathered hands deftly prepared his usual starting drink, an old fashioned.

Maz brought him his drink, laying it down on a lacy, crocheted coaster.  "You want the stew?  I also have a Saturday Chowder."

Ben twitched a smile.  "What makes it a Saturday Chowder again?"

"It's Saturday, isn't it?"

"So just the regular chowder then?"

The spry old lady made a swatting motion with a ladle nowhere near impacting him.  "Don't be fresh with me, Benjamin Organa Solo."

"Oh I wouldn't dare."  Ben took a savoring sip of his old-fashioned.  It was perfect as always.

Maz was shaking her head, a gleam in her eye that should have been a warning of the subject she had been warming up to.  "Just like your father, you are."

Ben forced himself to keep his shoulders from tensing.  It was easier now, breath in, breath out.  When he spoke, however, none of the grief and anger that had once roiled like an summer storm within him escaped.  "I guess so."

"You should go next week, Ben."  Maz's voice was so very gentle.  "Your mother needs you."

"I'll think about it."  Ben cleared his throat.  A burning feeling was crawling up his chest to gouge his eyes.  A judicious sip of his drink doused it slightly, but a distraction was welcome.  "I'll think about the Saturday chowder too.  Hux is joining me though, so I'll wait for him to order."

"Alright then."

After a brief pat against his shoulder, Maz went to attend to a middle aged couple across the bar, and Ben was left alone.

Three gnomes and a tarnished silvery ash tray shaped like a crab on the table beside him were his only company.  Ben spared them a slight smile touched with nostalgia.  The crab shaped ashtray had been a favorite as a child, tagging along with his Dad to Takodana on sweltering afternoons.  A whiff of tobacco, his father's gravely voice and lopsided smile, Don't tell your mother we came here instead of the zoo.

Ben had never minded.  Maz gave him coloring books and the best lemonade, sweating over lace doilies.  Uncle Chewie would drop by, ruffle his hair and tell stories about Mara, the Chieftain of Coquivacoa, who fought the Spanish Conquistadores, or of stomping through the rainforests of Java, weakened by Dengue fever and harangued by monkeys.

There was the sound of the bell ringing, a familiar red head ducking beneath a bright colored talisman.  Dark circles starkly shadowed Hux's steely green eyes, but he still lit up in a smile as his long strides brought him to the seat across Ben.

"Solo, sorry for running late.  Rose was piqued at the sudden boys night, and decided to distract me until I divulged the nature of our evening.  Alas, despite her efforts I kept mum."  Hux regarded him with raised eyebrows, a satisfied grin softening the highhanded tone.

Ben tried not to think too hard about the nature of the "distraction," while remarking dryly, "Easy enough when I haven't told you anything to divulge."

Hux remained unfazed.  "I had high expectations the lovely Rey would be featured."

Absurd though the impulse was, Ben felt a current of displeasure to hear his friend say her name so casually.  "You've met her?"

"Of course.  Rose has had her over several times.  As a fellow countryman, naturally I approve, but she's delightful company and holds her liquor well."

He thought back to the other night, of Rey, six drinks in straddling his face as he ate her out.  "That she does."

Old friends that they were, Hux allowed the topic to drop momentarily, waving over an only too happy Maz to place his order.

Food orders taken (Saturday chowder for Ben, the stew for Hux, with fries to share), Maz drew a IPA from the tap, while fixing her eager sights on Hux.  "'heard you finally made an honest woman of your girl.  Congratulations, dear.  Shame Rose couldn't come tonight."

Hux grinned back, the same beatific look he'd been sporting ever since Rose accepted his proposal lightening his naturally haughty features.  It was easier to focus on his glass and slowly diluting brown liquid as the ice melted, than Hux cheerfully accepting Maz's congratulations.  "--tonight's just us.  Rose sends her love."  Shooting Ben a wink he could do without, Hux continued slyly, "Perhaps next time we'll be back on a double date."

Fuck.

Maz swiveled with super human speed to bring the full throttle of her bespectacled gaze upon himself.  "Started seeing someone?" She cooed with feigned casualness than fooled no one.  Already Ben could sense the gears turning--Maz wasn't one for smartphones, but in the next 24 hours he imagined she would be calling on his mother for tea, or using Takodana's ancient rotary if she deemed the matter too pressing.

While glaring at an unrepentant Hux, Ben hurried to deescalate the conversation.  "It's nothing serious.  Hux is just giving me a hard time."

The man himself merely smiled innocently.  "Rose made it sound different.  Perhaps I misunderstood."

Maz seemed a little disappointed, if skeptical, but she left them to bring their orders to the kitchen.

Finally left alone, Hux dropped all pretense.  "Sorry, I had to tease you a little.  But you know Rey would love this place."

Rey would fit right in to Takodana.  It was easy to imagine Rey cozying across the booth, a tequila neat or a Belgian white ale in hand, cheeks flushed and hair loose as she gossiped with Maz and laughed too loud with Rose.  She would love hearing Uncle Chewie's tales that sounded half like fiction.  He could imagine her asking in that charming lilt about all the odd bops and bits in the shop, and telling her about the time he spilled a customer's beer over the velour bar seat or the time first he snuck a sip of alcohol and Dad had just laughed and Dad--

Dad would have loved her.

"Yeah, she would.""Ben..."  He glanced up at the rather serious tone, and solemn look Hux was sporting.  "Did you mean that?  About it being nothing serious."

Did he mean it?  He thought of Rose, smiling sadly as she told him, So do you, you know.  Of Rey's knowing hazel eyes.  You have feelings for Rose, don't you?

"I don't know," he admitted.

There was a sound of huffed laughter from his side.  "Dude, you have it bad."

Ben grimaced.  "Please, don't say Dude."

"Hombre."

"Please stop talking."

"Homie?"

The next couple hours passed in a blur of warm food and easy conversation.  Hux let Ben off the hook for the most part on the subject of Rey.  After Hux had drunkenly complained about the wedding planning for thirty minutes--"Why do we need to have a rehearsal dinner and a wedding?  Why must the party favors match the bridesmaid dresses?"-- Ben surprised himself by bringing it up.  Although, alcohol likely had somewhat to do with it.

"I don't know what to do about Rey."

"You should just call her, mate," Hux slurred with exasperation.

"And say what?" he snapped back.

Hux shrugged.  "I like you.  I want to date you?  Doesn't seem all that complicated."

"Easy for you to say," he muttered under his breath.  His head felt muddled under the weight of alcohol and confusion of his emotions.  "On our date, I told her that I'm not looking for a serious relationship."

"And?"

"And now I don't know what to do."  Hux was poised to argue again, so Ben cut him off hastily, "I don't know what I want to do."

After a moment's pause, Hux rubbed his face blearily.  "Look, Ben, I think you're overthinking this.  How do you know she's looking for a serious relationship?  She's what, 25 years old?  If you want to see her, tell her you want to see her.  If you want to date her, tell her that."

That seemed...reasonable.

Hux was right.  He didn't have to have everything figured out just yet.

If he wanted to see Rey again, then he should just ask her.

Which was how he found himself standing on the corner as he waited for his cab, dialing Rey's number.

It rang a few times, a length sufficient for Ben's anxiety to stir to life restlessly, before a sleepy voice answered at the last ring.

"Hello?"

"It's Ben."

"Ben!"  The voice sounded much more awake now.  There was a low chuckle that sent a warm, molten pulse through his veins.  She must have been sleeping.  Ben wondered idly if Rey slept bare as she had in his company, or if she wore a ratty t-shirt over panties, if her nipples pressed through the thin fabric.  His fantasies were interrupted by Rey continuing with obvious amusement, "I was following the advice of all those Just Seventeen magazines I read growing up, and planned to text you in the morning.  Seems like it paid off."

"Oh."  Ben considered this information for a moment.  "I read mostly read F&SF.  The fantasy and science fiction magazine.  They didn't offer much dating advice."

Now Rey laughed full out.  "No, I'd imagine not," she replied after catching her breath.

"I want to see you again."

Inebriated though he was, Ben could detect the smile in Rey's voice.  "We literally just saw each other this morning."

"Technically it was yesterday."

"That should tell you something of the appropriateness of your phone call."

Oops.  "Sorry."

There was another huff of laughter over the receiver that briefly whited the sound.  "Look Ben..."

That beginning was not promising.  Nerves bubbling up his gut, Ben was helpless against the flow of babble as he cut her off: "I can't stop thinking about you.  The way you taste.  Your cunt clenching on my tongue, the sounds you make when you come.  And the way you laugh.  Whether you like green tea tiramisu or hate IPAs."

"Fuck, Ben."  There was a weak laugh on the other end, overwhelmed and something else his alcohol impaired brain couldn’t translate.  "Are you always like this?"

"No," he breathed back.  "Not at all.  Never."

"Ben."  Her voice was a sweet sigh.  There had never been a more lovely sound than her lips around his name.  "I want you too.  It's just, well, what about Rose?"

"Rey."

His mind was in free fall.  The ground beneath his feet had slipped away.  What about Rose?  He loved her, didn't he?  He grasped at bits of thoughts, stray feelings, a warmth that was Rose's smile and nose scrunched in glee, and a smoldering burn that was Rey's lips parted in ecstasy--but those sum of parts defied revelation, no, he refused to summate them.  He was vaguely aware of his panicked breathing, but remained in paralyzed impasse.  When Rey spoke, her voice was tentative and gentle and far better than he deserved.

"Ben?  It's alright.  I understand."

"You understand?" he repeated dumbly.  How could she make sense of what he barely comprehended?

"Yes."  There was a pause, and a hitch in Rey's breathing.  "Well, you want something more casual.  I get it.  We had a lot of fun together.  But if you don't mind, I'd like to think it over.  Maybe you should too, when you aren't drunk."

No, that's not what he meant.  Tell her now.  Open your mouth.  "Oh," he said.

"Yeah."

"Oh."

There was a pause that stretched on and on.

Then.

"Goodnight, Ben."

His name spoken like a caress lingered in his mind long into sleep.

Also posted on AO3

[ashtray-girl]

By Grand Central Station I Sat Down And Wept and its role in Morrissey’s lyricism

PLOT This is a short prose poetry novel in which author Elizabeth Smart recounts her love affair with married poet George Barker (even though she began writing it years before they met). Said affair lasted 18 years and she bore 4 of his 15 children, whom he had from several different women.

The novel is divided in 10 parts, so I’ll proceed by summing up each one of them while also highlighting the parts which I think are relevant to the Morrissey discourse.

DISCLAIMER: even though there isn’t much of a plot to spoil (the focus is placed almost entirely on the narrator’s feelings and in the way they’re expressed), I am gonna quote extensively from every chapter so keep that in mind if you intend to read the book for yourself.

PART I The protagonist is waiting at the bust station for the man she loves to collect her (she never names him btw) but when he finally comes he’s with his wife and it’s her that the protagonist sees first.

“But then it is her eyes that come forward out of the vulgar disembarkers to reassure me that the bus has not disgorged disaster: her madonna eyes, soft as the newly-born, trusting as the untempted. And, for a moment, at that gaze, I am happy to forego my future, and postpone indefinitely the miracle hanging fire. […] Behind her he for whom I have waited for so long, who has stalked so unbearably through my nightly dreams.”

It’s interesting to note the way she talks about her. Even though she’s wildly in love with this man, she never badmouths her. On the contrary, throughout the story she seems to have a good opinion of her.

“I see she can walk across the leering world and suffer injury only from the ones she loves. But I love her and her silence is propaganda for sainthood.”

You know what all of this reminds me of? The time Angie collected Morrissey at the station to take him to Johnny’s house, a few days after Johnny had knocked on Morrissey’s door and they’d talked about forming a band. Did he expect it would be Johnny who’d come and pick him up? Did he know he had a girlfriend?

“So we drive along the Californian coast singing together, and I entirely renounce him for only her peace of mind.”

I don’t know if the narrator shares Morrissey’s fascination with cars (I don’t even think the two things are necessarily related), but it’s worth pointing out how some of the most important and dramatic scenes of the book happen in a car.

“Why do I not jump off this cliff where I lie sickened by the moon? I know these days are offering me only murder for my future. It is not just the creeping fingers of the cold that dissuade me from action, and allow me to accept the hypocritical hope that there may be some solution. Like Macbeth, I keep remembering that I am their host. So it’s tomorrow’s breakfast rather than the future’s blood that dictates fatal forbearance. Nature, perpetual whore, distracts with the immediate.”

Look at this entire paragraph and tell me it isn’t the most Morrissey thing you’ve ever read. Also, does any part of it sound familiar? Well, let’s look at the lyrics for Shakespeare’s Sister:

Young bones groan, and the rocks below say “Throw your skinny body down, son"

But I'm going to meet the one I love So please don't stand in my way Because I'm going to meet the one I love No, mama, let me go

Young bones groan and the rocks below say "Throw your white body down"

But I'm going to meet the one I love At last, at last, at last! I'm going to meet the one I love

Then the protagonist gets to the couple’s house and her sudden proximity to the man she loves brings the feelings she’s been trying to repress right back to the surface:

“The Beginning lurks uncomfortably on the outskirts of the circle, like an unpopular person whom ignoring can keep away. The very silence, the very avoiding of any intimacy between us, when he, when he was only a word, was able to cause me sleepless nights and shivers of intimation, is the more dangerous. Our seeming detachment gathers strength. I sit back impersonally and say, I see human vanity, or feel myself full of gladness because there is a gentleness between him and her, or even feel irritation because he lets her do too much of the work, sits lolling whilst she chops wood for the stove.”

There’s an unmistakable feeling of impeding doom, as if she knows that even though nothing physical has happened between them yet, she’s sealed her own deal just by being there with him and it’s only a matter of time before the inevitable strikes.

“While we drive along the road in the evening, talking as impersonally as a radio discussion, he tells me: ‘A boy with green eyes and long lashes, whom I had never seen before, took me into the back of a printshop and made love to me, and for two weeks I went around remembering the numbers on bus conductors’ hats.’ ‘One should love beings whatever their sex’, I reply, but withdraw into the dark with my obstreperous shape of shame, offended with my own flesh which cannot metamorphose into a printshop boy with armpits like chalices.”

So there you have it: Meaningful Car Scene n°1. He confesses he had a homosexual experience (and he enjoyed it, or so it seems) and she’s jealous but not outraged or disgusted, which is quite a big deal if you think this book was first published in 1945. (It’s also worth noting that, in her later years, Elizabeth Smart had affairs with both men and women). Another thing I noticed as I was writing this is that sentence, “remembering the numbers on bus conductors’ hats”, which reminded me of that line in Phoney:

Who can make Hitler Seem like a bus conductor? You do, oh Phoney you do

It’s probably just a coincidence, but I found it funny nonetheless.

“He kissed my forehead driving along the coast in the evening, and now, wherever I go, like the sword of Damocles, that greater never-to-be-given kiss hangs above my doomed head. He took my hand between the two shabby front seats of the Ford, and it was dark, and I was looking the other way, but now that hand casts everywhere an octopus shadow from which I can never escape. The tremendous gentleness of that moment smothers me under; […] I stand on the edge of the cliff, but the future is already done.”

Meaningful Car Scene n°2. There’s a first attempt at physical contact and by now he seems to have realised she has feelings for him, so he’s trying to see how far he can push himself with her.

Now, I’m just gonna go ahead and say it: I feel like something very similar to this may have happened between Johnny and Morrissey. The reason why I decided to write this analysis is because, once I read the book, I fully realised the pervasiveness of its influence in many of the lyrics Morrissey wrote while he was in The Smiths (especially during the Meat Is Murder era) and in the first years of his solo career but, as much as people talked about it, I feel like they never went deep enough. The way I see it, Morrissey had every reason to relate to the protagonist, even though she’s a woman. Someone who falls deeply in love with a married man (with bisexual tendencies, it seems) and is quite concerned with the ethics of what she’s doing but at the same time is very certain of her feelings for him. The man, on the other hand, seems to have a much more ambiguous attitude, accepting her love but also wanting to keep a respectable façade by staying with his wife. If we assume that Morrissey did harbour romantic feelings for Johnny, it’s easy to see why he would choose this book as a way to sublimate them, especially if we consider how the queer factor would’ve made them even less acceptable in the eyes of society.

But going back to the book… what about the man’s wife?

“By day she obeys the voice of love as the stricken obey their god, and she walks with the light step of hope which only the naive and the saints know. […] He also is bent towards her in an attitude of solicitude. Can he hear his own heart while he listens for the tenderness of her sensibilities? Is there a way at all to avoid offending the lamb of god?”

As I said before, she doesn’t seem to be especially jealous of his wife, but that may be because at the moment she’s high on the secret attentions her husband is giving her, so it’s easy for her to feel sorry for this other woman who’s being cheated on right under her own roof.

I can’t help but think about how Morrissey and Angie had their own relationship and seemed to be quite close. I mean, that must have been a bit of a weird dynamic (for Moz at least), and I wonder how they worked it out.

“I never was in love with death before, nor felt grateful because the rocks below could promise certain death. But now the idea of dying violently becomes an act wrapped in attractive melancholy, and displayed with every blandishment. For there is no beauty in denying love, except perhaps by death, and towards love what way is there? To deny love, and deceive it meanly by pretending that what is unconsummated remains eternal, or that love sublimated reaches highest to heavenly love, is repulsive, as the hypocrite’s face is repulsive when placed too near the truth. […] I might be better fooled, but can I see the light of a match while burning in the arms of the sun?”

There’s another reference to dying by throwing herself off a cliff, but the really interesting part is what comes after. The narrator rejects the idea that spiritual love is the highest form of love, which is achieved by embracing its physical side instead. It’s not enough for her to have a platonic bond with the man she loves because she wants him in mind, body and soul.

While reading this, I couldn’t help but draw some parallels:

- “Dying violently becomes an act wrapped in attractive melancholy.” → “To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die.” - “Can I see the light of a match while burning in the arms of the sun?” → “There is a light and it never goes out.”

And then, opening the penultimate paragraph of this first chapter:

“I have learned to smoke because I need something to hold on to. I dare not be without a cigarette in my hand.”

This is one of the most obvious one. If we look at the lyrics for What She Said (which is based almost entirely on this book), it’s pretty self-explanatory:

What she said: ‘I smoke ‘cause I’m hoping for a nearly death And I need to cling to something.’

PART II This part is mainly about the remorse the protagonist is feeling towards the man’s wife, who has now realised something happened between the two of them.

“Her eyes pierced all the veils that protected my imagination against ruinous knowledge. […] Is there no other channel of my deliverance except by her martyrdom?”

It’s quite interesting to note how the chapter opens with:

“God, come down […] and tell me who will drown in so much blood.”

And then, on the next page:

“I am blind, but blood, not love, blinded my eye. Love lifted the weapon but guided my crime.”

Both of these lines reminded me of the lyrics for Yes, I Am Blind:

Yes, I am blind No, I can't see The good things Just the bad things, oh...

Yes, I am blind No, I can't see There must be something Horribly wrong with me?

God, come down If you're really there Well, you're the one who claims to care

It then goes on:

“… she whom I have injured, and whose agony it is my penalty to watch, lies gasping, but still living, on the land.”

- “Gasping, but still living.” → “Gasping, but somehow still alive.” (Well I Wonder)

PART III The narrator spends most of this chapter gushing about how in love she is with this man, who in the meantime has followed her back home to spend some time with her (though it’s not clear whether he has left his wife for her or not.)

“Even the precise geometry of his hand, when I gaze at it, dissolves me into water and I flow away in a flood of love.”

(I have nothing to say about this line except that I like it and that I can’t help but imagine Morrissey staring at Johnny’s hands as he picks the chords of his guitar, thinking these exact same thoughts.)

“When the Ford rattles up to the door, five minutes (five years) late, and he walks across the lawn under the pepper-trees, I stand behind the gauze curtains, unable to move to meet him, or to speak, as I turn to liquid to invade his every orifice when he opens the door.”

Yet another reference to his car. Also yeah, you’re wet for him, we get it.

“And there is so much for me, I am suddenly so rich, and I have done nothing to deserve it, to be so overloaded. All after such a desert. All after I had learnt to say, I am nothing, and I deserve nothing. […] It has happened, the miracle has arrived, everything begins today, […] all the paraphernalia of existence, all my sad companions of these last twenty years, […] all the world solicits me with joy, leaps at me electrically, claiming its birth at last.”

I can’t help but think about how similarly Morrissey must have felt after Johnny knocked on his door, after having spent his last twenty years in much the same way the narrator had, feeling lonely and isolated.

I mean, he even said so himself:

“He appeared at a time when I was deeper than the depths, if you like. And he provided me with this massive energy boost. I could feel Johnny’s energy just seething inside of me.”

“I was there, dying, and he rescued me.”

The chapter ends with this sentence:

“Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm, for love is strong as death.”

Which kinda reminds me of that part in Rusholme Ruffians:

So scratch my name on your arm with a fountain pen (This means you really love me)

PART IV This is, in my opinion, the book’s most interesting chapter. What happens is, they get stopped as they’re crossing the Arizona border and once the cops realise they’re together but not married to each other, the take them to the police station, interrogate them for several hours about the nature of their relationship and then make them leave separately.

Once again, one of the most dramatic scenes takes place in a car.

I fully believe that Morrissey wrote both The Boy With The Thorn In His Side and later Late Night, Maudlin Street with this entire part in mind.

“They are taking me away in a police car […] They are prosecuting me for silence and for love […] They drove me away in a police car. […] For too much love, only for too much love. […] Are you not convinced, inspector? Do you not believe in love?”→ “They took you away in a police car / Inspector – don’t you know? Don’t you care? Don’t you know – about love?” (Late Night, Maudlin Street)

“They intercepted our love because of what was in our eyes. […] Did they see such flagrant proof and still not believe?” → “How can they see the love in our eyes and still they don’t believe us?” (The Boy With The Thorn In His Side)

I wonder who “they” were, though. I mean, we know that in the book, when she says: “They are prosecuting me for silence and for love” she clearly means the authorities, but what did Morrissey mean? Were “they” those same “people who are weaker/uglier than you and I” and those “evil people (who) prosper over the likes of you and me always”? And did he have some specific names in mind, or did he just mean society in general? As in: “They (the general public / the media / the music industry) can’t (don’t want to?) see we love each other because they’re not ready to accept that idea yet, but they’re more than happy to profit from us and our art, which is only made possible BECAUSE of that love.”

The penultimate paragraph before the end of the chapter feels especially relevant:

“All our wishes were private, we desired no more scope than ourselves. Could we corrupt the young by gazing into each other’s eyes? Would they leave their offices? Would big business suffer?”

PART V The protagonist comes back home feeling sorry for herself. Her family doesn’t approve of her relationship with a married man, but she refuses to apologise and spends most of her time contemplating nature and reminiscing about what happened.

Another quote which Morrissey probably used as inspiration for Late Night…

“Every yellow or scarlet leaf hangs like a flag waving me on.” → “Every hag waves me on / Secretly wishing me gone.”

PART VI The protagonist has an argument with her father, who’s worried about her state. Her mother doesn’t want to have anything to do with her anymore and even her brother is sceptical about the whole situation. She then reminisces about leaving Ottawa with him (she’s Canadian) and she talks at length about how they’re meant to be together no matter what. She also finds out she’s pregnant.

At the start, she mentions neighbours who warn her to stay away from him:

“The well-meaning matrons who, from their insulated living say, ‘My dear, I think you would would regret it afterwards if you broke up a marriage,’ ‘When you felt it about to happen the right thing would have been to have gone away at once.”

I wonder how many people around The Smiths were aware of Morrissey being in love with Johnny (because at this point, no one can convince me he wasn’t) and, if they were, how much did they know? Did they ever talked to him about it? Did they warn him about being cautious, about not revealing too much of his own feelings in his songs? And did they mention how bad it would look for him if he broke up a couple?

“The policeman grows fatter each day and rivals the new tanks. He blots out the doorway of the little café. A couple seeing him spills the milk at the counter, remembering what they did under the bridge last night. But the policeman is blind. He strikes only when he hears a loud noise. There are others, though, who have eyes like shifty hawks, and they prowl the streets searching for a face whereon an illegal kiss might be forming. No, there is no defence for love, and tears will only increase the crime.”

Here she’s talking about how, while in the midst of a war (the book is set in the 40s), the police (and society in general) seem to be concerned with futile things like arresting people who are doing nothing but love each other and it reminds me of a quote from Morrissey’s Autobiography:

“Men were draped with medals for killing other men yet imprisoned for loving one another.”

Later on, she makes a point of proclaiming herself ready to take their relationship as it is, without expecting much of a future.

“Though this is all there is […] I accept it without tomorrows and without any lilies of promise. It is enough, the now, and though it comes without anything, it gives me everything. […] But as long as the accessories are such now as to make me over-armed with weapons to combat the antagonistic world, even if a thousand programs go wrong, I won’t lament that past I was when I could see no future.”

She then tries to dissipate any doubts he might have about their relationship (because it looks as if he’s already starting to second-guess himself) by repeatedly reassuring him that she’s the one for him and that, as much as he tries, he can’t escape that fact.

“Remember I am not temptation to you, but everything is which inclines you away. Nor are you to me, but my entire goal. Sometimes you see this as clearly as I do now, for you say, ‘Do you think if I didn’t I could have…?’”.

I wonder�� if Johnny hadn’t already been with Angie when he knocked on Morrissey’s door, would things have panned out differently for them? Would they have dared to take their relationship to the next level in spite of society’s backlash?

“Do you see me then as the too-successful one, like a colossus whose smug thighs rise obliviously out of sorrow? Or as the detestable all-female, who grabs and devours, invulnerable with greed? Alas, these are your sins, your garments of shame, and not the blond-sapling boys with blue eye-shadow leaning amorously towards you in the printshop.”

Leaving aside the fact that this man is garbage, she’s obviously anxious to reassure him that it’s not his bisexuality that saddens her, but the fact that he sees her as a threat.

Also that line, “grabs and devours”, will then be used by Morrissey in The Headmaster Ritual:

He grabs and devours He kicks me in the showers Kicks me in the showers And he grabs and devours

By the end of the chapter though, her words of comfort are starting to sound ominous:

“Only remember: I am not the ease, but the end. I am not to blind you but to find you. What you think is the sirens singing to lure you to your doom is only the voice of the inevitable, welcoming you after so long a wait. I was made only for you.”

PART VII The man has a breakdown and he’s interned in a psych facility. She tries to go and see him, but his wife is already there. He’d previously written her a letter, asking her to take him back. The protagonist leaves and when she comes back a few days later they leave together, but when she tries to confront him about the letter he refuses to listen to her. They have a fight and she ends up capitulating because he’s still ill and she wants to believe him when he tells her she’s the only one.

“My love, why did you leave me on Lexington Avenue in the Ford that had no breaks?” This line reminds me a bit of Break Up The Family, when Morrissey says:

Hailstones, driven home In a car – no breaks? I don’t mind

Which coincidentally is what’s happening in this chapter: the honeymoon phase is clearly over, he’s having troubles with his guilty conscience and he deals with them by distancing himself from her, even though she’s expecting his child.

PART VIII He and his wife move to London where the war is raging and, after a while, the protagonist follows them. She stays in a dingy hotel and he occasionally visits her to have sex with her, but by now it’s clear that he has no intention of leaving his wife for her, so they often fight and every day she’s getting more and more desperate and isolated.

The chapter opens with the line:

“His brother and his mother and his grandmother lie abandoned in death on the stones of the London Underground.”

This vaguely reminds me once again of Late Night…

You gran died And you mother died On Maudlin Street In pain and ashamed With never time to say Those special things

“Bombs are bigger, but the human brains they burst remain the same. It is the faces we once kissed that are being smashed in the English coastal towns, the hand we shook that are swept up with the debris […] and love still uproots the heart better than an imagined landmine.”

This paragraph makes me think of Ask:

Because if it’s not love Then it’s the bomb, the bomb, the bomb, the bomb The bomb, the bomb That will bring us together

In the meantime, their relationship is going sour and the protagonist feels they’re reaching a breaking point.

“When the ship cracks in the typhoon, we cover our heads and tell ourselves that all will resolve back to normal. But we are unbelieving. This time may not be like the other times that with time grew into cheerful anecdotes. […] O where does he stalk like a horse in pastures very far afield? I cannot hear him, and silence writes more terrible things than he can ever deny. Is there a suspicion the battle is lost? Certainly he killed me fourteen nights in succession.”

I can’t help but think about how Morrissey must have felt when Johnny told him he wanted to leave The Smiths. People around him (Stephen Street, Grant Showbiz) thought he was going to kill himself and the fact that Johnny then went on holiday and never made contact with him must have alarmed him even more. He’d first thought the situation could be repaired, but by then he must’ve realised the end was upon them.

“He did the one sin which Love will not allow. […] He did sin against Love, and though he says it was in Pity’s name, and that Pity was only fighting a losing battle with Love, he was useless to Pity, and in wavering, injured Love, which was, after all, what he staked all for, all he had, ungamblable.”

From what I gather, he went back to his wife because he felt sorry for her and the protagonist can’t accept that because in her eyes their love was everything that mattered and everything they had.

Now: as I said before, I think Morrissey was inspired by this book because he saw himself in it. I think he must’ve found many similarities between the protagonist’s situation and his own, both of them in love with a married man who doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself. Johnny and Angie split for a brief period in 1983, when The Smiths went on their first USA tour, and I’ve seen a few people speculate that if something physical happened between Morrissey and Johnny, it may very well have happened then. Morrissey may have taken advantage of the fact that Johnny was free and overcame his fears by making the first move. Or maybe, Johnny was the one who, once aware of Morrissey’s feelings for him, decided to take the bull by its horns. I don’t know. Nobody does. What I wonder is… once Johnny went back to Angie, how did Morrissey feel? Because I don’t think he was all that thrilled. Did he think he did it out of pity, like the protagonist of the book did? If something had happened between them on that tour, did he feel used? Did he feel mildly outraged? Did he resign himself to consider it a one-night stand and nothing more, even though his feelings for Johnny clearly went deeper than that? It’s also worth noticing how the references to this book start to spring up in his lyrics from Meat Is Murder onwards, that is, after that tour in 1983.

“How can I put love up to my hopes so suicidal and wild-eyed when the matter is too simple and too plain: it is her tears he feels trickling over his breast each night; it is for her he feels the concern; and the pity, after all, not the love, fills his twenty-four hours. Perhaps I am his hope. But then she is his present. And if then she is his present, I am not his present. Therefore, I am not, and I wonder why no one has noticed I am dead and taken the trouble to bury me. […] For even if he loves me, he is in her arms. O the fact, the unalterable fact: it is she he is with: he is with her: he is not with me because he is sleeping with her.”

For me, this might be the most heartbreaking part of the book. The protagonist knows that no matter what she tells herself, when he’s done with her he comes home to his wife while she’s stuck in a hotel room in a country which is not her own.

That line, “I wonder why no one has noticed I am dead and taken the trouble to bury me”, also crops up right at the beginning of What She Said:

What she said: “How come someone hasn’t noticed that I’m dead And decided to bury me? God knows, I’m ready!”

Which makes me think Morrissey must have somehow related to this part. “He loves me, but he’s still with her.” “He has martyred me, but for no cause, nor has he any idea of the size and consequence of my wounds. Perhaps he will never know, for to say, You killed me daily and O most especially nightly, would imply blame. I do not blame, nor even say, You might have done this or this rather than that. I even say, You must do that, you have to do it, there is no alternative, urging my own murder. […] If ever again he lets those nights happen, or dallies with remorse for past sins to others while sinning most dangerously against me, I shall be unrevivable. I shall, whether I want to or not, be struck dead with the fact. And he may clothe it in all humanity’s most melting colours, and pity, and sympathy, and call on love to be kind, and I too shall pray, Let me be kind, but it will be no good.”

This entire thing reinforces my first thought, which is: Morrissey and Johnny at one point had a one-night stand (“It was a good lay, good lay...”), except for Morrissey there were much stronger feelings attached to it.

As hurt as she is, the protagonist doesn’t blame the man for going back to his wife and she even encourages him, because she recognises that, at the end of the day, it’s the best course of action for everyone involved. What she wishes wouldn’t happen again are those nights, coupled with him badmouthing her to others out of remorse for his own actions.

If we once again consider the queer factor in the relationship between Morrissey and Johnny, it wouldn’t surprise me if Morrissey followed the same reasoning when Johnny went back to Angie because, as much as Morrissey loved him, he wouldn’t be able to give him the stability of a straight relationship. (That isn’t to say Johnny didn’t love Angie, btw. I’m sure he loved her deeply and he still does, but I also think at the time some internal conflict was present because, on some level, he reciprocated Morrissey’s feelings.)

That last line, “… and call on love to be kind, and I too shall pray, Let me be kind” reminds me of I Know It’s Over:

It takes strength to be gentle and kind

This can be applied to many situations, but I feel like it becomes especially relevant in the context of the love of your life leaving you for someone else, who you also care about.

PART IX The protagonist goes back home to Canada and has to face the invasive questioning of neighbours who see her with a big belly but no wedding ring. After a while though, she realises she must see the man she loves and so she leaves to meet him once again.

“I am lonely. I cannot be a female saint. I want the one I want. He is the one I picked out from the world. I picked him out in cold deliberation. But the passion was not cold. It kindled me. It kindled the world. Love, love, give my heart ease, put your arms round me, give my heart ease. Feel the little bastard.”

- “I want the one I want.” → “I want the one I can’t have.” - “Put your arms round me.” → “All I ask of you is one thing that you never do / Would you put your arms around me? (I won’t tell anyone).” (Tomorrow)

PART X The final chapter opens with the line that gave the book its title: “By Grand Central Station I sat down and wept.” He didn’t come to collect her, so she has a breakdown right in the middle of the station. The ending is kind of confusing. It looks as if she resigns herself to go back to him just to have sex with him, and she tries to convince herself everything is fine, but it clearly isn’t.

Elizabeth Smart went back to George Barker time and time again, even though their relationship was dysfunctional to say the least and they were both very damaged, egotistical individuals. He cheated on her repeatedly but she loved him nonetheless, so I guess it would make sense for the book to end like this as well.

“They obey the glint in the middle of my glazed eye, for it is the fierce last stand of all I have.” → “Gasping - but somehow still alive / This is the fierce last stand of all I am.” (Well I Wonder)

“I wanted only one thing. I gave you the full instructions. The name, I spelt it out in letters as long as a continent, even the address, the address that makes waterfalls of my blood because it is also her address. I said quite plainly and loudly: This is what I want. I want this, and I don’t want any bonus. Just give me this and I’ll pay any price you ask. I made no reservations. You took advantage of this. I never grudged. But, Sir, so what I plead is just – what are you stalling for? There is no more to give.”

This entire paragraph reminds me of Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want.

“He hangs, damp with his impotent tears, nailed by one hand to Love and by the other one to Pity.”

This man is split between love and duty and can’t seem to be able to make a decision, with everyone suffering as a consequence, including him. That’s what the protagonist sees. What I see is a man who likes to have his ego stroked and doesn’t mind a bit of drama. It’s not that he’s unable to make a decision, he just doesn’t want to.

“Is it possible he cannot hear me when he lies so close, so lightly asleep? […] My dear, my darling, do you hear me when you sleep?”

These parts were clearly used by Morrissey as inspiration for the lyrics of Well I Wonder (which, like What She Said, was based almost entirely on this book – I even think they were written back to back.)

Well I wonder Do you hear me when you sleep?

“This is the very room he chose instead of Love. Let it be quiet and full of healing. […] It is the cursed comfort he preferred to my breast. The one who shares it weeps silently in corners, is tender unnoticed, and makes his necessary tea. ‘Have you seen my notebook, dear?’ ‘It is under the desk, my sweet.’ Give it to him, O my gentle usurper, whom I also have usurped, my enemy whom I have both killed and been killed by. […] He also is drowning in the blood of too much sacrifice. Lay aside the weapons, love, for all battles are lost.”

At last he’s made his choice and if we’ve learned something from history it’s that a man’s comfort will always be more important than a woman’s safety and peace of mind.

FINAL COMMENTS As I said before, one of the reasons I think Morrissey was inspired by this book is that he found its story to be relatable, but it’s not just that. The language, as you may have noticed by reading some of its quotes, is quite poetic, abstract and melodramatic, with a major focus on introspection and an underlying sense of pervasive melancholy. This is an artistic quality that both Morrissey and Johnny had in common, even though they expressed it differently: one through his lyrics, the other through his sound. Ultimately, I think Morrissey found By Grand Central Station… very useful creatively and personally. Creatively because it gave him the inspiration to write some of his best songs (also, here’s a reminder that both Moz and Johnny declared Well I Wonder as one of their favourite Smiths’ songs at some point), and personally because it provided him with an outlet to confront his feelings for Johnny, which I think must have been quite tumultuous. With a shortage of LGBT media which was even more prevalent in the 80s, queer people often had to read between the lines of straight stories to find something to relate to, and I feel like that’s what Morrissey did. Personally, after reading it I found myself surprised by the superficiality with which most people (biographers, reviewers etc.) talked about its role in Morrissey’s lyrics, because clearly there’s so much more to it than stealing a line here and there. It’s also about him feeling invested in a story because it spoke to him and it represented him, at least partially, in an era when anyone who didn’t fit in with society’s standards of what it meant to be a man or a woman might as well not have existed at all.

[cards-onthetable]

Lol what?

-me the entire time I watched this episode. I don’t have that many thoughts because I don’t care about any of this at all. LeT’s DiVe iN!

Danny

Remind me who the Delgados are again? I mean, don’t actually bc I don’t care. But I feel like I’d be more invested in this storyline if I remembered.

But damn @ straight up showing a murder like that on screen. That’s A Lot for this show.

Oh the psychic lady is back? This should be fine

I am seriously missing how these cases are all connected. I guess that’s what happens when you spread some story out into 3-4 episodes over two full seasons like what’s with this lame attempt at a cohesive story arc?

We’re moving on to this club setup situation and all I can think about is all of my Questions about this whole phone/wire situation, but it’s fine

Oh, hooray, they caught the guy who killed Linda. Nice.

I don’t know how I feel about this last psychic scene. Like... it’s meaningful, and a Big Deal, but also.... is it that meaningful? To let this psychic lady who Danny’s met like twice now convince him to take off his wedding ring? I would’ve much rather seen that happen over a conversation with Frank or Henry - actual important people in Danny’s life who can offer some insight as two men who have also lost their wives - instead of this nobody psychic getting that role.

Frank & Lena

Dude Frank’s Big Three are hilarious.

Bit ~presumptuous~ of Lena to go around telling folks she has the commissioner’s ear when she’s never met the dude, lol

About to be Frank’s sister??? Um lol I don’t think that’s how the whole in-law thing works but okay

Did Frank Reagan just say the word “icky” on my TV? Lol what? 😂😂😂

GAWD it’s like they’re preparing for war up in the PC’s office. Everyone is sooo awkwarddddd

Lena Janko is ridiculous like, to the point where I can’t even enjoy this 😂😭

“Very masculine” is 100% a nod to “Nice place Reagan...could use a woman’s touch though” except it’s not a nod in a cool way, it’s like the writers rewatched that scene and changed it a little bit so they didn’t have to start from scratch 🙄

GAWD say Edit one more time. Please

Frank is a bigger person than I am yo I would’ve shot that shit right down the second she started asking for courtesy cards like I don’t care whose mother you are

“I KNOW SHE’S VERY SENSITIVE ABOUT THESE THINGS, I WOULDN’T WANT TO UPSET HER” LOLOLOLOLOLOL OF COurse, New Eddie is Very Sensitive and Easily Upset

How widespread was this scheme of Armin’s that apparently people have recognized the Janko name everywhere Lena has moved to? New York is a big city dudes, I’d think she could find some luxury high rise somewhere that isn’t run by her husband’s victims. Like considering Jamie and other cops had never heard of the case back in the day, how Big could it have really been? Lol whatever I’m thinking too much. God knows the writers don’t think when it comes to this shit.

This rich old lady with her tiny cat-dog is my all time favorite Blue Bloods character

“Looks like we might not even need to see the security footage!” Lol @ Garrett with those Detective Skillz

Lena is back in Frank’s office and what is with Frank’s hand gestures/body language? Lol it’s weird af like Frank Reagan should not be pressing a hand to his chest like that 😂

EDIT lolol

I can’t force myself to feel invested in this whole Lena situation oh well

Family dinner

I’m bored of this. they’ve had this exact same conversation 2948 times in the last 9 years

But it’s worth noting that Eddie didn’t cross herself after the prayer which lol, will probably make some people mad (I’ll be lurking on the Facebook page later folks, behave yourselves) but I appreciate it. She’s not Catholic, she hasn’t become Catholic, hooray for reality or whatever.

Jamie & Erin’s case

Lol @ Eddie screaming Jamie’s name on this scene. I thought he’s only Sarge at work? 🙄

Related: you’re still trying to tell me nobody at their damn precinct suspects a thing? Bullshit.

Daaaaaamn @ this bar fight yo.

Jamie Reagan does terrible CPR. I die laughing every time that shit crosses my screen. It’s TV, yeah dude, but like, can we at least make it look a little more realistic? Get his hands in the right spot? If I ever die in a bar fight or dentist’s office somewhere, Jamie Reagan is not who I want responding.

Convenient of this drunk trashbag to admit to the crime as soon as he’s out of earshot of everyone else.

The dude survived all the way to the operating table? LOL NOT AFTER THAT SHIT CPR

ARe yOu CaLLiNg mE a LiAr?! All I can think of is this Classic Moment:

Jamie said “wHaT DiFfErEnCe dOeS iT MaKe?!” twice in thirty seconds, in case anyone still thought this show is well-written and not sloppy

Say TO MY FACE one more time, Jamie. To mY FaCe

Lol that scene in Erin’s office is... fine? It exists? I don’t care about anything all I can think about is where is Anthony’s sixteen-year-old foster son? 🙄

WHY IS ANTHONY TRACKING JAMIE DOWN AT WORK to intervene in his ~professional disagreement~ with Erin? UGH like what makes Anthony so important that he gets all these roles? He’s not A Reagan yet he gets solo scenes/storylines with Erin, Jamie, and Eddie this season?

Why does he even exist? To turn Erin’s lawyer storylines into detective storylines. It’s dumb and demeaning and doesn’t let us see Erin doing her actual job and “Anthony” should not even exist as a role on this show. In this essay I will

“THE BOY SCOUT’S GOT SOME SPUNK AFTER ALL” lol @ that entire sentence

God I’m only halfway through this damn episode someone save me.

LOL @ Anthony yelling at this poor Statue Of Liberty chick. And LOL @ the stabby ragey drunk with fancy lawyers dating some girl whose job is Performance Art in Times Square. 😂😂😂

And now Anthony’s yelling at both of them in his office? I mean I’m all for anyone yelling at Various Reagans but w.h.y. does Anthony exist.

Except LOLOL 4ever @ Anthony pouring himself two shots and then peacing out, CLASSIC.

THE FINAL DINNER SCENE: Frank Officially Meets Lena

Lol this opening of just Frank and Jamie is awkward af

Eddie’s so nervous and jittery. 😂 “I would like... to introduce you.... to my mom...? Maybe?” It’s funny and for once I’m not bothered by this whole Demeanor on Eddie (it makes sense for her to be nervous about introducing her mom to Jamie’s family) but also don’t start talking to me about how this could/should have occurred during Jamie and Eddie’s pre-engagement dating relationship that we were deprived of, it’s fine

Eddie and Jamie’s cute little “hey...hey” was like, the most meaningful/cute/appropriate-for-an-engaged-couple Moment they’ve had all season, so thaf’s where we’re at now.

Lol I’m so pleased @ how Nothing that scene was.

I’m going to go give my three dogs a bath. It’ll be more fun and interesting than this episode, so. ✌️

[independentartistbuzz]

7 from the women: Maya de Vitry

7 From The Women is a segment here on Independent Artist Buzz where we ask some of the industries finest seven questions. During this time of accusations and the lack thereof, we think it’s important to give women a voice. We chose to ask seven questions to honor the seven Wiccan clans.

Originally from Lancaster, PA, Singer/songwriter Maya de Vitry started out as the leader of the bad Stray Birds. The band was best known for it’s songwriting. She started her solo career with ‘Adaptations’ earlier this year.

What have you been working to promote lately?

I have been preparing a Kickstarter for my next record, which is called How To Break A Fall. The Kickstarter campaign will run Oct 29-Nov 26, and I am hoping to release this new music in early 2020! I actually recorded the album last January, but I just wasn’t ready to release them until now. The last year has been a big transition for me, as I left a full-time band that I was in for seven years - so for most of my twenties. I want to make the best art I can make, but I also want to take care of myself. For me, that meant working another job and staying off the road this past year to get healthy in my mind and my body again, and finding a routine and a new sense of balance - and taking the time to actually choose music all over again, because my relationship with music and touring and myself was pretty broken there for a bit. On How To Break A Fall I'm exploring a loss of balance, and reimagining some of the stories that become embedded in us in such invisible and powerful ways. As some of us learn how to take up less space, some of us learn how to conceal our tears. As some of us learn how to yield our power, some of us learn how to wield it. And sometimes we get caught in cycles and spirals, inside of these patterns and expectations. You can donate here.

Please tell us about your favorite song written, recorded or produced by another woman and why it’s meaningful to you.

There are so many, but the one that jumps to the front right now is Joni Mitchell’s song Cactus Tree. It’s the last track on her first album, and it’s just her playing solo guitar and singing, and this particular song and her delivery of it have just always really resonated with me. There are lines in it I love, like “they have laughed inside her laughter, now she rallies her defenses, for she fears that one will ask her, for eternity, and she’s so busy being free”. I tried to sit down and learn the song one day, but between her guitar tuning and the rhythm of her picking patterns - and the interplay between her guitar rhythms and her vocal phrasing - I realized that I can’t just sit down and casually learn a Joni song in an afternoon!

What does it mean to you to be a woman making music today and do you feel a responsibility to other women to create messages and themes in your music? 

For me, making music means that I get to be a part of making ceremony for people - music offers us a transcendent experience, where we can feel things collectively and feel surrounded and connected to each other in amazing ways. It really is magic. To be a woman making music, I do feel that I have a responsibility to hold space for other women, and to be in this business with the most collaborative, supportive, and nourishing approach possible, rather than a competitive approach. I absolutely feel a responsibility to be competitive with myself, to work hard and be my best, but I believe there is room for all of us to be doing our truest and best thing, because we are all our own individuals. I especially want to support other women in believing in themselves, rather than looking for external validation. I also recently went on the road with someone as a tour nanny for the first time, where I took care of a breastfeeding fiddle player’s 4 month old son while she played shows! That was really inspiring to be a part of helping her continue to travel and make music, even as a new mother. I think it’s important to show up for each other in those ways too.

What is the most personal thing you have shared in your music or in your artist brand as it relates to being female?

With my first solo record, I released a music video for the song “My Body Is A Letter”, which was made by two Brooklyn-based artists, Andrew Benincasa and Amandine Kaye. Andrew and I conceptualized the video to represent the collective, inherited trauma of the female body. Amandine also works with sexual assault survivors, so she felt very personally connected to her role in the video. There is so much depth and resilience in the experience of being female, and that is one of the things I hope to share in my music.

Who was the first female artist you saw that made you want to create music?

I was probably about 14 at the time, and a violinist named Lena Neudauer was a guest soloist with the Lancaster Symphony in Lancaster, PA where I grew up. I remember that I was there with my grandmother, too. Lena performed a piece that I was familiar with, and I felt like I was living inside of it as she played, and I felt completely transported. She seemed so free and so fearless to me. I was pretty serious about classical violin when I was growing up, and I remember that that night was a pivotal moment for me in really digging in and being less afraid to feel the music with my whole being. It also felt like fresh permission to be obsessed with music in general. I don’t play classical violin much anymore, but that night was really important to my overall path as a musician.

Do you consider yourself a feminist? If so why and if not why?

Yes I do, and for me, being a feminist means working towards more full expression of humanity for every person. It’s very personal and internal work for me, too - I’m constantly unlearning and rewiring things I have been taught, limitations I have believed, and patterns of communication that have become so embedded that they feel “natural”. Our dominant culture is set up to reproduce inequality, so for me, being a feminist means that I have a responsibility to be awake and listening and questioning and learning and growing all the time, rather than being a passive consumer of the dominant culture. It means valuing a whole human being as a whole human being.

What was the most challenging thing you have had to face as a female artist?

I think the most challenging thing I’ve had to face is reclaiming sovereignty of my mind, my spirit, my body, and my time. I have experienced creative relationships that were jealous and possessive, where nurturing my own instincts and desires or needs was perceived as a threat, and I learned to disappear these instincts and needs. It’s been a journey to learn to trust myself again.

Connect via Maya de Vitry online via:

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https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCoowsQ9NsQTUwFYoyQpNjqw

[thesinglesjukebox]

THE HIGHWOMEN - REDESIGNING WOMEN

[5.30]

And yet they couldn't get Delta Burke to do a cameo in the video...

Joshua Lu: The Highwomen should, in theory, be a triumph for country music, at the very least because of the four amazing artists involved: Natalie Hemby (songwriter who's penned works for artists like Miranda Lambert, Kacey Musgraves and... Nelly Furtado?), Amanda Shires (singer/songwriter/violinist with six solo albums to her name), Brandi Carlile (responsible for one of the best albums of 2018 and for several other excellent ones) and Maren Morris (renowned hitmaker who recently sent "Girl" to #1 on the country airplay charts). Why, then, does "Redesigning Women" fail to muster the magic any one of the artists could deliver on her own? Vocally, the four of them blend together into each far too much; only Brandi's vocals ring distinctly, leaving the other three acting as part of her backdrop, including Maren, whose particularly potent pipes I shouldn't struggle to pinpoint. Lyrically, it's filled with signifiers for traditional vs. modern female roles, with requisite mentions of babies, the kitchen and hair dye, which make for evocative imagery but don't make for any meaningful message other than... that women's roles have evolved over time? It's too comfortable just describing the current state of affairs instead of demanding something more, and I'm left wondering what a listener is supposed to take away when the last guitar chord fades away. [4]

Michael Hong: The supergroup should involve a group of artists who know their strengths and weaknesses well enough that they're able to cover each other's weaknesses and emphasize their strengths in a way that wouldn't be possible as solo artists. The Pistol Annies worked so well on Interstate Gospel, not only because of the trio's harmonies, but also in the way that each artist brought something as a writer, like Monroe injecting some of her trademark dry humour into Lambert and Presley's wickedly smart small-town life observations. It comes as a confusing surprise then that across The Highwomen, less than half of all tracks are writing collaborations between the women, with Natalie Hemby being the sole member credited with writing their first outing. While Hemby has established herself as a great songwriter in Nashville, her strength was in the charming intimacy of her hushed vocals and finger-plucked guitar, but her own writing was hindered by her reliance on traditionalism that occasionally veered into cheesy nostalgia. "Redesigning Women" lacks the personal charm of Hemby's solo music and allows Hemby's penchant for cheesy traditionalism to seep through on awkward lines like "running the world while we're cleaning up the kitchen" and "changing our minds like we change our hair color." Confusingly, the track pushes this narrative where women have control, so long as they continue to provide in the more "traditional" gender roles. It makes for the track appearing to be a female empowerment anthem on first glance, but ending up being more outdated and restrictive, akin to Maren Morris's GIRL. Without the voices of Carlile, Morris, and Shires as writers, The Highwomen fall flat as a supergroup. While the four do sound pleasant across the track, pleasant just doesn't feel like enough on a track titled "Redesigning Women," which ultimately falls flat as another version of female empowerment written by the current Nashville songwriter du jour. [4]

Alex Clifton: In general feminist Americana/folk/country plays well with me, but where "Redesigning Women" gets really good is when all four women sing the title line. I hear so many older country superstars in their harmonies -- I could swear Dolly is in there singing along with them -- and it's a revelation. The lyrics are pretty good too, giving a light touch with lines like "breaking the jello mould" while still delivering a sincere message. The thing I have always liked about classic country is its strength, the confidence of the sliding guitars and banjos, how the singers sing out and loud, how even when there are quieter moments you still remain on solid ground. "Redesigning Women" does that while returning to an older sound that feels so rare these days, all the while making it fresh and glorious to hear. [8]

Alfred Soto: Shtickier and less distinctive than expected, "Redesigning Women" hews to a pattern -- a Jell-O mold? -- that acknowledges no middle ground between saints and surgeons; someone else, after all, a man, makes a woman a saint. It survives because Brandi Carlile, Maren Morris and Amanda Shires harmonize with the ease of women who understand how doing a job well is too often not reward enough. [6]

Jackie Powell: This song is an anthem and after my first listen, I didn't think I'd ever come to that conclusion. Country music for me is polarizing. But, each member of this quartet is Grammy-nominated in their own right and is enduring massive individual success. So why now for The Highwomen? "Redesigning Women" and the entire project coming from these four is selfless in nature. On CBS Morning before their debut at the Newport Folk Festival, Carlile referred to it as "a movement" rather than "a band." And the lyrical choices on this track are mostly consistent with that analysis. A goal is to inspire and that's admirable. Although I'll be frank, the first verse annoyed me; it reminded me of Girl Scout campfire songs. The chorus, however, is where The Highwomen shine. Each voice is heard, unlike the verses, and layered to provide a vocal texture that juxtaposes the nasal one you hear at the top of the song. I'm a sucker for alliteration and Hemby's serves as the best phrases in the entire song. But I don't love some of the female stereotypes referenced. Can we please move away from this idea that women almost always "need to look good," "clean the kitchen" or feel pressured to "feed the baby"? The Highwomen redeem themselves on the bridge which offers a call and response to a question that all who identify as female can relate to. Womanhood isn't black and white. There isn't a formula and if there is, then maybe you are doing it all wrong. The Highwomen have a broader audience than they think. I hope they take advantage of it as they continue to tell the stories of those who have redesigned and redefined their own womanhood. [6]

Joshua Copperman: The Highwomen have an interesting idea here -- "Running the world while we're cleaning up the kitchen" is clunky but appears to speculate that while gender roles are changing for women, men aren't meeting that change halfway. So you have podcasts asking if Women Can Have It All, and entire empires built on the Plight of the Working Woman -- in this song, the progress society has made (lol) indicates that "traditional women" take on all the responsibilities and nothing has gotten easier, let alone more equal. It's a thought-provoking message, but the rest is delivered in a surprisingly corny fashion from four women that, as far as I know, have either evaded or embraced corniness. This project could be a midpoint between Case/Lang/Veirs and Bridgers/Baker/Dacus, but the monotonous verses only bring to mind "Children of The Future" in their presentation and messaging. Maybe it's because up to this point, I've presented and lived in the world as a cis straight male (regardless of my actual orientation or gender identity). But no matter how I present myself, I know for a fact that all parties involved have done better, and this is deeply underwhelming. [4]

Iris Xie: A title like "Redesigning Women" begs something a lot more radical, maybe even jumping on the whole cyberpunk/anthropocene/post-apocalyptic aesthetic. But no, we get a song that is emblematic of conservative, tired, "choice" feminism. Why is buying 11 pairs of shoes considered moving progress forward? Why is a song about the fatigue in women's gender roles lacking so much anger? Why does this sonically sound like a swallowed deference? "Redesigning Women" upsets me, because it's like the time when I was a kid and asked older women if they've ever heard what feminism and seeing them wrinkle their noses at it and be offended at my question, and when I asked DC immigration lobbyists if they've ever experienced sexism or discrimination in their work and they stared at me because they didn't know how to answer the question. It made me feel so confused in those moments, and realizing how effective obfuscation is in separating and talking about the ways oppressive systems function, and how we ourselves can be extremely complicit in perpetuating them while also surviving them. "Redesigning Women" is meant as a touch-and-go balm as an acknowledgment of life's hardships, but without providing any solutions other than "let's make the best of it, you aren't the only one suffering," which is the only time that collectivism seems to raise its head in this individualist capitalist society, for the moment you start complaining, you aren't doing your part in your Dream. Bioessentialism and gender roles aside, this is a song that puts forth several arguments that The Highwomen and any other women just living their lives is redefining the roles of women. The imagery in "Making bank, shaking hands, driving 80 / Tryna get home just to feed the baby" is wonderfully succinct, and pretty much wraps up why life underneath capitalism absolutely sucks, whether you are or are not able to access that life. The rest of the examples -- such as "breaking every jello mold" and "When we love someone we take 'em to Heaven / And if the shoe fits, we're gonna buy 11" -- mix relatable, down-home metaphors with ones that wouldn't be out of place when it comes to simple desires to be a little too much, to be a little more ostentatious and a little less modest and "for the family!", where your every move as a woman is judged harshly. The bridge itself hearkens to a place of moral simplicity, with "How do we do it? How do we do it? / Making it up as we go along / How do we do it? How do we do it? / Half way right and half way wrong," that seems so innocent and very "we can do it!" But in reality, who is the target audience for this? It's for the women with families and jobs, and for those single femmes (like me!) who are conscientious of those future realities, who are all trying to keep these impossible lives and demands afloat in this disaster called late crisis capitalism. This is supposed to be soothing and reminds me that we're "all in this together," but it honestly kind of hurts to listen to this song. [5]

Katherine St Asaph: Designing Women is a relic of the '80s-'90s deadzone, and though it's getting rebooted and reconstituted, and was just rerun on Hulu (if you even knew), it is no longer a cultural touchstone, let alone enough of one to effectively snowclone. Jell-O molds reside in questionable '70s cookbooks and not modern kitchens, even in the South. Rosie the Riveter predates even the '50s. Nothing about this, from fusty lyrics to fustier vocals to women-are-fickle-but-good-fickle feminism, suggests it was written in the 21st century, let alone by "Country's Ballsiest New Supergroup." Who is this for? The kids are listening to Kacey Musgraves and Lil Nas X. The grownups are listening to country artists -- including some of the solo Highwomen, probably -- whose songs sound like they're inhabited by real people, not the speechwriters for corporate retreats. Industry folks are undoubtedly listening to this out of pent-up goodwill, which would be better directed toward commissioning repertoire that doesn't sound like it'd be dated in 1989. Extra point because at least it's responsible for the best thing Dierks Bentley has ever recorded. [2]

Stephen Eisermann: The idiot members of the Deplorable Choir have been all over my Twitter feed this week, so much so that I almost doubted if I ever wanted to listen to women of country collaborate for a track. I'm so pissed this song didn't show up immediately after I first saw that horrendous performance because this track, with its rich harmonies and empowering lyrics, elevates country music in a way that melts the iciness that has developed around my heart in recent years. These are the women that are leading and should continue to lead us into the future. [8]

Thomas Inskeep: Better in theory than in practice, mainly because the song's lyrics are just the slightest bit kitschy. But goddamn if Brandi Carlile, Natalie Hemby, Maren Morris, and Amanda Shires don't sound great together, and are given perfect country production by Dave Cobb. Even though I wish I liked "Redesigning Women" a little more, it still whets my appetite for their debut album, because I know there's even better to come. [6]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

[beyondthedreamline]

You reblogged a post from my side blog about Thor! It made me happy because I’ve been following you for 2 years and I really respect your opinions. I was starting to doubt my righteous anger because I saw people say that those who didn’t like EG!Thor were fake fatphobic Ragnarok!Thor fans, no matter their reasons. I am glad to see we share the feeling of disappointment, even though I’m satisfied with Thor’s final development as a big bearded warrior and looking forward to the rest of his story.

Thankyou for that! I appreciated your post very much because itarticulated a couple of points that had bothered me a lot. ApparentlyI still have feelings on this subject, so be warned, you’re in fora bit of an essay now.

Firstoff, I care a lot about Thor as a character. I love Norse mythology,I love Douglas Adams’ The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul, Ilove nearly every iteration of Thor as a character that I have everencountered and I love him as a superhero. I enjoyed all of thestandalone Thor movies very much. I have more mixed feelings aboutthe Avengers ensemble movies, but there was no member of the team Iactively did not like and I kept up with most of their solo moviestoo, because I enjoy superhero films as a genre and because theMarvel universe is a very rich playing ground for a whole range ofstories.

Therewas a lot of emotional investment in these last two films –Infinity War and Endgame are the conclusion to years ofworld-building and character development, weaving in dozens ofbackstories and in jokes, all the hellos and goodbyes and moments ofcatharsis that we have been waiting on for years. That is a massive askof any storyteller and there were always going to be disappointments,because with the best will in the world there is no chance ofpleasing every viewer. And this is fandom; perfection is unachievable and disagreement isinevitable. The best we can do is handle disagreements with grace and respect one another’s perspectives.

All.That. Said.

Forme, Infinity War andEndgame failed pretty much everycharacter, one way or another. Other people have written eloquent posts on theway these storylines failed the female characters of the franchise,whose motivations are mostly subsumed by the wants and needs of themen around them. Gamora ismurdered by the man who abducted and abused her, but her death isframed as hissacrifice, a way to advance hisjourney. ClintBarton becomes a grief-driven vigilante serial killer in otherpeople’s countries, but he gets absolution and Natasha ‘red in myledger’ Romanoff dies the martyr’s death in his place. PeggyCarter, furious brave Peggy Carter, becomes a literal trophywife in a goddamn Gordion knot of time-travel nonsense. SteveRogers brought war onto thesoil of a peaceful and well-defended African nation and a whole armywas sent out to fight because he couldn’t face losing a friend, butat the very end he ditches every single friend he’s got in the 21stcentury in order to experience a white picket fence of a happy endingthat erases all of his character development since TheFirst Avenger.

Andthen there’s Thor. Over the course of his three solo movies, he’slost his mother, his father, his brother (multipletimes), his girlfriend (thankgoodness she’s still alive, but it looks like she got Darcy andEric in the break-up), his planet,most of his peopleand all peace of mind.Throughout that litany of suffering, he is kind. He is patient. Hegrows as a man and as a leader, listening to the knowledge of thepeople around him in order to make decisions that benefit everyone,not just himself. He isintelligent, though often underestimated even by those closest tohim. He is capableand resourceful and a friendto anyone who needs him, the very definition of what a superheroought to be.

I’mgoing to talk about schema here for a second. A schema is a cognitiveframework. It’s a psychology term referring to how we organiseinformation based on preconceived ideas. Stories shape perception,telling us what is good and what is bad, what can happen and whatcannot. There is a very narrow pre-existing framework defining what asuperhero can look likeand it’s a shock to the system when that gets challenged. I wasshocked by seeing a fat Thor, and I’m glad of it – it means I hadto think more criticallyabout my personal preconceptions. Thiscould have been a wonderful storyline,dealing with PTSD, bodyimage and negotiating self-perception in the wake of grief andregret. It could have been apositive portrayal of a fat superhero, which outside of maybe comics– which I don’t read and can’t speak for – is absolutely anew and needed thing. It could have offered a vital reminder that howa person’s worth and strength and skill is not bound to theirphysical appearance.

Itdid not do that.

Asyou pointed out in your post, Thor was turned into a sidekick. Morethan that, he was turned into ajoke that revolved around his weight and his trauma, like he was notentitled be anything other than brawn.While Tony Stark gotan emotionally charged reunion with his long-dead father, Thor’sdialogue with Frigga soundedlike a badfirst draft, a scene rushed through with no respect for eithercharacter. He calls her ‘mom’; she tells him to ‘eat a salad’.He walks straight past Loki, the brother he wept over time and again,who died under absurd narrative contrivance about five minutes ago byAsgardian standards. Steve Rogers wasallowed the time to starewistfully at a woman he once lovedbut Thor wasrushed through his own reunion like he waswasting everyone’s time by being sad.

Thoris not permitted to contribute to the narrative in any meaningfulway; where every other lead Avenger hits a beat, however dubious orminor, that establishes theirpurpose in the story, Thoraccomplishes nothing of significance in strategy, battleor reconstruction. The powerdisplayed in Ragnarok and,in a more hit-and-miss style, in Infinity War, isabsent in Endgame. Hissignature weapon is actually handed off to another Avenger. He’snot even allowed to remain a leader of his people. And, look, I loveValkyrie as a character, but she spent centuries as a boozed-upmercenary enslaving gladiators for a glam-rock despot and it took theactual apocalypse to get her to give a damn about the fate of Asgardagain, so the idea that Thor taking a few years off to grieve in away that only harmed himself somehow makes him unfit to rule is atruly staggering double standard. Instead of continuing his growth as a king, he gets shoehorned intosomeone else’s franchise to bicker pointlessly over who gets tomake any decisions at all. I don’t know if Chris Hemsworth is upfor making more movies with Marvel, but I do not trust them to give Thor ameaningful arc any more. Where can he go from here?

Thiswas not an ensemble movie – this was the last Iron Man movie, withCaptain America taking second billing and every other characterscrambling for scraps of narrative significance. Endgamemademe resent characters I usedto like. Italienated me from a series that used to be a source of comfort.It hurts. Not as muchas it did, because I’ve emotionally checked out of the MCU for now,but apart from any other consideration, that level of storytellingfailure offends me.

Iwill acknowledge that Thor’s hair was very good in the big battlesequence. That’s one of the few positive things I have to say aboutEndgame. Great braids.

Youknow what I’d have loved? I’d have loved Wakanda to offer asylumto Asgardian refugees and for a miniseries to revolve around theircross-cultural community building. Two advanced civilisations reelingin the wake of recent upheaval but working together to build a sharedfuture, and Wakanda actually getting something out of it for onceinstead of taking a hit on behalf of the Earth. Shuri would adoreAsgardian tech and she might get to ride a flying horse, whichshe deserves; T’challa andThor would have a lot of common ground what with the disappointingfather figures and modern warrior king lifestyle. Thorwould get heavily involved in agriculture and have fun playing crashdummy for Shuri’s wilder experiments. He’d arrange a travel visaso that Jane Foster could come and play with all that beautiful shinytechnology and they wouldn’t get back together but they would befriends, like they always were underneath the first glow ofattraction. Loki would be there, because to pretend he’ll stay deadat this point is just an insult to our collective intelligence, and he wouldimmediately imprint on Queen Ramonda like an extremely defensive,resentful and heavily-armed duckling.Valkyriemight get to talk through her complicated feelings about duty andbetrayal with the Dora Milaje, particularly Okoye, who couldempathiseafter the Wakandan royal family’s disastrous power struggle.Wakanda could send outintergalactic ambassadors, headed by Nakia, to start playing a rolein the wider universe. The other Avengers could visit sometimes, ifthey behaved themselves.

Soif you’re wondering where Thor goes next for me personally, that’sthe answer.

[homesoutofhuman]

Bluebeard John Wick/reader Chapter 10: Make our sun stand still

You lie under John for what seems like an eternity until you realise nothing more is going to happen. Trapped as you are between his hard body and the hard floor you push at him to let you up.

He grasps your shoulders and shakes his head in warning.

“You’re okay?” he whispers, looking down at you, thumb pressing into your cheek and eyes running over your face for any injuries.

“I’m fine. John..I’m fine!”

He doesn’t seem to believe you, thumb scraping your cheekbones and down to cup your chin, making you look at him. He stares deep into your eyes and you see real concern there. More than concern, there is something so desperate in his gaze you are shaken, pushing at him to move.

“John…” you whisper harshly “you’re squashing me…”

He grumbles but relents, rolling off you in a smooth motion. He stands and you wait for him to help you up. He doesn’t so you flip to your feet, a gymnastic move you learnt years ago and never got the chance to use.

The look on his face is priceless.

“Stay here..” he mutters, once recovered. “I’ll see what it is.”

He stalks out of the room and of course you follow him, seeing over his shoulder the source of the noise, a brick laying amongst smashed glass on the kitchen floor, and a hole in the window where it entered.

You yelp and look around for Hero, your first thought that she might be hurt. She is in her bed in the corner of the kitchen and you move without thinking to grab her.

“STOP!” John yells and grabs you by the waist.

You struggle against him instinctively and he lets you go with a frustrated  growl.

“Your feet…” he gestures to your bare feet , you almost stepped right into the broken glass.

“I’ll get her…” John crunches over the glass and grabs Hero in one large hand, picking up the brick with the other and glaring down at it.

You can tell he is pissed, and you feel like you’d be terrified if it was aimed at you, but you can sense it is fully aimed at those who have dared disturb the sanctuary of John Wick’s home and...his...family.

He deposits the puppy into your arms and moves to inspect the offending item further. You peer over his shoulder.

“Is there a note?”

“A note?” John speaks sharply to you in his alarm.

“These kind of things usually come with a message.”

“Oh yeah? Got a lot of experience in this have you?”

“Actually i have. My father is a powerful man, he used to get threats like this all the time. And I suppose now you’re...linked to him they’re coming for you.”

“No, it’s not that it’s…” John pauses and shakes himself, as if realising he was speaking out loud for the first time.

“I have to go make a phone call.”

He crosses the room to you in a few easy strides and kisses Hero on the head, speaking low as if only for the puppy to hear.

“Look out for your mistress okay, dog? Make sure she behaves and doesn’t go getting herself hurt.”

Then, with a dark eyed, meaningful look he is gone, locked up in his study. The message is clear, do not disturb.

You put Hero safely in another room and walk around the kitchen, trying to find any clues that may have been left behind.

Amongst the broken glass is nothing but brick dust, so you move outside, slipping your shoes on first, to inspect the broken window. Stupid John for living in a stupid house of glass, you mutter to yourself.

You can’t see much, but realise whoever throw the projectile into your house could have been driving by as they did it, there are tyre marks on the road which don’t look like they belong to John’s godawful Mustang.

You look up and down the road but it is deserted. Sighing, you move back inside and ponder what to do with yourself.

----John-----

John knew he was in trouble. He’d got the call to come to the big house and obeyed without thinking. He had known this man was a big deal, and could probably furnish him with enough gold to retire with impunity should he wish to.

But it turned out the business arrangement was not for gold, but for a wife. He couldn’t understand why he would ever agree to such a thing. He had his life, solo, and he was satisfied with it. A woman to mess with his routine and pry into his personal secrets well, he was not looking for that.

He had planned to meet with the old man and decline his offer with the utmost respect. Called to the plush library he was rehearsing the speech in his mind when suddenly, like a hawk spotting its prey he saw or rather sensed...her...hiding in the curtains at the end of the room.

She was good he’d give her that, 99 men out of 100 wouldn’t have heard her breathing, but he was John Wick, and he was the 100th man. He stared towards her hiding place for a few moments, mind reeling with intrigue. This was the one who would be his wife? Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

He left the room, plan abandoned, and told the old man he’d consider his offer. Moving outside to leave he spotted her, lined up with the household staff.

So she was beautiful as well as talented. Even more interesting. John dared himself to touch her, just to see her reaction and what happened when he did shook him beyond belief. He felt her pulse fluttering against his fingers as he slid his fingers round her throat, saw a look in her eyes a combination of horror and desire and he knew he was lost.

He’d agreed to the match next day before he could realise what he’d got himself into.

Unfortunately, as he had feared, the girl was spoilt. Used to getting her own way with her father she pushed at him every chance she got. Slowly, and insidiously she crept into every aspect of the house, turning his world upside down in the process.

He found himself making healthier meals, trying to please her fussy palate. Rejoicing one day when she no longer turned her pretty nose at the plate in front of her, and devoured the plate of pasta making satisfied moaning noises which set his nerves on fire. Now he didn’t know which was worse.

His laundry room was suddenly filled with lacy things, her underwear hanging from the rack and John felt too dizzy to ever go back in there. He noticed one of his shirts had gone missing and suspected her of taking it to sleep in. The thought made him uncomfortably hard against his zipper and he started taking more cold showers.

She was messy, leaving books and coffee cups with red lipstick marks all over the place. He followed her trail around the house, trying to rub it out, but she was too wily for that. Always seeming to be one step ahead, she turned his sterile, empty house into a living breathing home.

Worst of all, he felt she was invading him. If she came and sat near him while he was watching a movie, he couldn’t settle unless she was in his arms, her scent in his nostrils and her soft skin under his fingertips. He found himself making excuses to touch her.

He repeated his vow every morning, that he wouldn’t do anything...at least not...all the way, until she had decided of her own free will to stay with him. He knew the secrets he held, closets stuffed so full of them they were bulging, skeletons stacked high and threatening to expose him at any time.

He repeated the vow, while he watched her swim in his pool, swimsuit barely covering her curves, while she walked around the house in nothing but a towel, wet footprints taunting him, while she bit into an apple with sharp white teeth and left it half eaten on his desk. The vow was on the tip of his tongue as he pressed the apple to his mouth, lips against her tooth marks in an almost kiss. Truth was, he wanted to devour her.

But he was a man of control, and he had controlled himself pretty well so far. The years and years of self-denial paid off. And when it really got bad, he would sneak into the shower and let his fantasies take hold, washing his shame down the plughole.

In time though, he’d got used to having her around. When she wasn’t in the house it felt far too quiet, when she was gone he felt at a loose end, fingers itching to have something to do, even to clean up after her.  Every room in his house not locked now smelt of her, Most of his waking moments revolved around trying to make her happy. He was different, he spoke more, smiled more, started wearing less black. He could only hope the metamorphosis wouldn't be permanent.

Now, something was threatening to disturb the fragile peace of their life together and John found he didn’t like it at all.

-----

“A little morbid keeping that here don’t you think?” You nod towards the brick, now on John’s desk.

“It’s evidence.” he mumbled, barely looking up at you.

You sigh, putting the plate of food down next to him. “John...you’ve been in here for hours...you should get some rest.”

He grunts, ignoring you so you touch the taught line of his back, kneading his shoulder “John….” you say, more softly.

He turns in his chair and looking up at you “I need to find out who did this.”

“And you will.” You reassure him. “But it’s probably just some kids messing around. No one got hurt…”

“But they could have!” he interrupts, voice raspy and passionate. “If someone hurt you I….” he trails off, realising he has betrayed himself.

“You would hurt them back….” you say, with certainty, not sure how you know this, and strangely not shocked by it.

“Yes.” he bites out, looking at you openly, as if waiting for judgement.

“I understand...that impulse.” You swallow and see his eyes track the movement of your throat.

You pick up one of his larger, callused hands in yours, turning it over and brushing the lines, playing at palm reading.

“You’ve hurt people before.”

“Yes.” his voice is a gruff whisper now, staring at you as if spellbound.

You bring his palm to your lips and kiss it.

“You could hurt me.”

He whimpers, but does not shake his head.

You let your tongue slip out to taste the salt of his skin.

“But you won’t.”

“No.” he moves his palm over your mouth for a moment and you feel it engulf half your face. He could stop your breath if he wanted to.

Instead John caresses your lips with his index finger, then pushes gently, asking permission for entrance.

You open your mouth and let him push his finger inside, but bring your teeth down to gently bite at the pad of his fingertip, before sucking on it.

From the look on his face you can tell, this is something that has never happened before to John Wick.

“You’re a dangerous girl….” he says in that low scratchy voice you’ve grown to crave hearing.

“Hmm….” you hum, enjoying the sensation of the rough pad of his finger against your tongue, but most of all, you enjoy the effect you’re having on him.

“Your father should have kept you locked up...so no man ever had to suffer this…”

You know he is teasing you, pushing your buttons, so you grab his wrist, letting his finger drop from your mouth

“You won’t lock me up though will you John?” you say, coyly, before sucking both his index and middle finger inside your mouth

You can see a bead of sweat at the side of his forehead, but the man is doing a very good job at hiding how affected he is by you.

His eyes though, you’ve always been able to read his eyes, and right now, they are delicious to see. He looks torn between throwing you across the room and throwing you you down in quite a different way.

“I should. “ he grinds out, managing an amused smirk. “Should tie you up so you can’t hurt anyone.”

You let his fingers fall from your lips again with a ‘pop’ that makes John close his eyes and swear under his breath.

“Maybe I would let you….”

“Goddamn it child…”He grabs your face and kisses you hard, forcing his tongue into your mouth, sucking on your tongue as you did his fingers.

Before you know it you are on his lap, which is becoming one of your favourite places to be. You like the feel of his silk tie against you and his firm thighs supporting you, you rock against him, lost in your own desire.

He holds you and lets you rut against his thigh for a bit, watching you, half amused, half entranced.

“You like that?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak, pushing down and leaning in to mouth and bite at his jawline

“If you like that….” he continues, as if you had in fact spoken “then you’re really going to like it when you’re grinding down on my cock.”

Your skin is on fire and you want to retort, want to make some witty remark about his fingers and your mouth but you can’t, you are totally gone, and are probably leaving a wet spot on his perfectly laundered trousers.

John grabs a handful of your hair and tilts your head back, to make you look at him. You try, through lust filled eyes to focus on him.

You feel annoyed, teased, on the edge of something, why won’t he just give you that release?

“But right now i’m working….and you shouldn’t disturb me…”

He grips your behind, almost longingly for a moment keeping you on him, then with a sigh he pushes you up and off his lap.

You glare at him in shock, hurt, and  robbed of your climax you are even more mad.

“Fine. we’ll solve this fucking mystery. You do it your way and I’ll do it mine. We’ll see who gets to the truth first.”

You rush out of the room and slam the door, the sound reverberates like a judgement, you can’t believe you’ve just challenged John Wick.

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

Yikes that was long.

Love you guys

Title from To his coy mistress Andrew Marvell

[permian-tropos]

TIME TO GUSH ABOUT TLJ cause I was looking through screenshots and here’s a bunch of things I might not have mentioned before and a few that I have

1) Paige Tico!!!! PAIGE TICO! her entire time in the spotlight is such a perfectly crafted, perfectly tense scene

2) UM THE OPENING SPACE BATTLE IS SICK the bombers have such striking silhouettes and this is used for some amazing shots

3) PAIGE’S DEATH BEING PRESENTED AS TRAGEDY (and not being softened heavily with the promise of being part of something meaningful the way R1′s deaths are) 

4) Captain Candy Crush’s death is given gravity too and I stan this, he’s not made sympathetic and still there’s nothing triumphant about people being blown up. war is not good

5) Finn’s pod is very flattering and angelic even though his water suit is silly. he basically has a halo and no filmmaker would accidentally give a character a halo so jot that down

6) Snoke’s throne room being utilitarian AND extravagant at the same time is impressive. also I still love the way that Snoke’s real form was made to be this exaggeratedly WASPy old man with the skin texture and wrinkles and pale tufty eyebrow hair, and you know what else? the fact that the camera favors showing the undamaged side of his face. I fucking stan the fact that Johnson took another disfigured villain and played up his old caucasian grandpa looks and made his disfigurement blend into his age. Snoke is a caricature of horrid old white men, possibly the first successful caricature of whiteness in speculative fiction. he looks like Henry Kissinger

7) Kylo Ren’s bandaid has a pattern on it. we ask ourselves. why. did he get to pick out the pattern. are there multiple patterns. are they all edgy and black. I’m now completely invested in whoever decided that they would have patterned bandaids but not make them TOO fun

8) the movie is so pretty im just. the fuckign. aesthetic. all of it. the palette seems to have been taken from a thunderstorm and it’s perfect. the use of gray is a reason I happen to think people didn’t like the film. they were like what the fuck is all this gray in star wars. star wars shouldn’t be gray. but it’s so unique, it’s not the gray of lazy color grading, it’s the gray of someone who knew that the feeling of haze and uncertainty needed some gray and rolled it in like a fog. I’m going to have to post more screenshots

9) I like the fact that the puppet porgs, as opposed to the CGI porgs, are actually kinda ugly cute

10) everything mark hamill does is perfect. every line, every facial expression, every pose. every moment from luke in tlj is unbelievably iconic. alec guinness would be so jealous 

11) Luke perking up and genuinely smiling when he sees R2D2 is the purest moment I have to just 

my eyes are moist

12) the architecture and set design is so amazing too? I love this shot introducing Rose, the harsh contrast that draws your eye away from her, the way she’s fading into her corner of brownish-gray, it’s so good for evoking... idk, just how the world seems too bright and too stark and made of shapes, after someone you love dies

13) I really love how much time we spend on Ahch-To, and how none of it has any campy space action. you’d expect to see some training there, but a lot of people were clearly hoping that Luke and Rey would leave the planet. but we linger so much on the setting, a setting which wholly embodies Luke’s state of mind

14) old luke is a handsome gent. i don’t see enough people with the hots for old luke. this is a big mistake

15) this shot foreshadows Kylo Ren becoming the Supreme Leader IMO. we see him surveying the war machine, watching the instruments of death be constructed, set apart from everyone -- a glimpse into Kylo’s desire for absolute power without anything being direct. maybe he’s contemplating his isolated existence, how much he doesn’t belong in the Order. or maybe he sees an allure to all this. this is what he wants to possess. it’s probably a mixture of both

16) Rey and Luke!!!!!!! everything about how the film frames them develops their relationship!! even as Luke is testy with her, we get shots like these where they’re sharing a warm sunset light and having deep heart to hearts. 

and you know what you know what what what

the fact that Rey starts asking WHO her parents are after meeting Luke is uhh clearly suggesting that she’s wondering if maybe Luke is her dad. I love in this one shot how he’s slumped and she’s sitting up straighter, making him the vulnerable one. I love how the sunset light highlights Rey’s buns. I love that she keeps her buns for a while. I love that people have headcanoned she kept the buns so that her parents would recognize her, and she has the buns in the whole time she’s trying to get Luke to act like the hero she believes in. like she’s trying to get him to recognize her

Rey adopts Luke as her dad and it’s beautiful get out of my face

17) ye there’s a lot of dead children but also I hadn’t really thought about the fact that R2 watched this as well? and R2 was powered off for so long, until the end of TFA? R2 was traumatized and grieving too, and he’s seen this before, he remembers all the way back to when it was Anakin

18) hors!!!!!!!

19) what the SHIT is this why is this movie a fucking painting why does it keep outdoing itself in paintingness argh the way this film uses the day-night cycle is unbelievable, having Rey and Finn’s stories be connected by having the same time

THE HCKING MOON THOUGH 

20) Ok we could talk about how the cold blue moonlight of uncertainty has become the warm orange light of companionship but we can’t forget what firelight also represents re: Kylo cough burning temple nice little double meaning, is Rey making a new friend or is she being tempted, is he going to warm her or burn her

but also I haven’t thought about how fucking awkward Kylo looks!! is he sitting on that barrel?? like since he’s not there is he just sort of compositing himself into the scene? using a convenient barrel

21) see what I mean about blue being cold. blue = asceticism, red = indulgence, the two extremes 

22) Luke sinks into darkness

23) BUT HE DOES ONE THING! the thing that breaks him out of his depression. he takes the fire -- which represents the burned temple, represents Ben Solo, represents the humanity of the Dark Side -- into his own hands. we see the fire symbolizing destruction, then intimacy, then change, in such short succession

fire represents light-dark, something that is both at once. we’ll get back to this

24) you could say that balance is about making your own light in the darkness

also this is why Poe’s line about being the spark that will burn the First Order down isn’t ~too violent~ cause fire has become a symbol of change, of destruction reclaimed as something restorative, thank you very much 

25) can we talk about the fact that between this being like a coffin and the way Rey is holding the saber, this actually has the heaviest resemblance to the way medieval knights were depicted atop their sarcophagi. I don’t even know what it means but maybe it hints that Rey sees herself as a martyr and a crusader in this quest to redeem Kylo and prove her valor

26) the fact that Poe isn’t the only one who gets in on the coup. because the Resistance isn’t a real military it’s a few thousand antifas gathered from all around the galaxy and their numbers are dwindling fast. people kind of put it all on Poe but Connix and Finn and Rose and this woman and this man and this alien were part of it too, and they could have told Poe to cut it out. I like how the blonde woman seems like she’s not sure what’s going on, she’s evaluating the situation 

27) you know what I stan? I continue to stan aspects of how Snoke is portrayed. I stan the fact that he gets all close up in Rey’s face and grabs her cheek and it kind of mirrors the way Kylo gets in her personal space in TFA but even less so than in TFA, Rey is not framed in the way girls often are when they’re restrained and in distress. when she’s being tortured, we’re not given any tantalizing views of her body. Snoke floating her around the room has her stiff and awkward, and the close-up of her screaming in pain puts the camera behind her head so we see this from her POV, we’re not voyeuristically staring at her, we’re experiencing this indignity with her

28) Kylo Ren killing Snoke has the exact same light on his face as when he killed Han Solo. this is very very interesting

here I am in my corner of Kylo having twisted affection for Snoke as well

29) I wish I could ship this more cause I don’t need all this talk of fairy tale weddings and force pregnancies when here they are slicing up lobster boys with laser swords

30) oh but this is where he makes Rey look sad and thats where!!! you know hes gonna have to pay!!! basically everything about the scene where Kylo tears Rey’s heart out and stomps on it and then asks her to be grateful is extremely well done and it did its intended job of making me Big Mad At Kylo 

also look the fire is back its Symbolic

31) you know what I can’t show in this post? the FUCKING SOUND THAT COMES AFTER THE HYPERSPEED RAM. that sound is the most glorious sound I’ve heard come out of a movie. it’s like a massive metal whale’s death scream. Star Wars has always run on sound design but literally that sound (along with the scene it’s attached to) outdoes everything that has come before it holy wow

32) Finn WHACKING Phasma. he didn’t use a lightsaber in this film, but he uses the baton he picked up the same way he used the lightsaber, and it even glows blue for good measure. and we can’t forget that this movie shows a boy holding a broom like a lightsaber, and Rey practicing saberplay with her staff, so -- objects that are not lightsabers symbolizing lightsabers is a thing 

33) I didn’t think about the fact that the Supreme Leader’s throne room is designed to display a view of the outside, or be cloaked in red. possibly it could display anything it pleases. this is great fun for imagining First Order characters making it display things they want to see, like beautiful vistas, or holofilms. possibly it can recreate whole scenes, like a Star Trek holodeck

34) I don’t have to talk about how Leia is framed by the dawn on Crait do I? we already got the picture when it comes to the day-night cycle and how beautiful it is

35) BABY 8 I can’t believe this droid gets belly scritches and nuzzles from Poe

36) fucking love when Kylo finally snaps and starts throwing petty tantrums again at the end of the film like he holds back his brattiness for 12 hours and then here comes the screaming and foot stamping and flailing

I have thrown too many temper tantrums in my life to not want to see one on the big screen in its full glory. no one has pushed him to the point where he’s just ugly crying on the floor, spewing snot and tearing at his hair

I got vicarious pleasure out of Poe’s outburst on the bridge too. people being angry and not being in the right. it’s something I need for catharsis

37) miniaturized Death Star technology aka BIGGEST LIGHTSABER. Kylo stop compensating

but AU where a ginormous person uses the cannon as an actual saber

38) I’VE TALKED ABOUT HOW FINN’S MOMENT IS IN MY TOP TWO FEELS MOMENTS (top one is the hyperslice) but basically if you don’t think he was affected by seeing the slave kids on Canto Bight, what do you think he’s so angry about here, what do you think has him in a blinding rage?

why do movies have to spell everything out for people in exhaustive detail? the only new thing Finn gets from his experience with Rose, is seeing how the First Order isn’t this isolated enclave of evil. the most powerful people in the galaxy have been supporting it all along. he stops trying to run away because he realizes there is nowhere he can run that won’t have injustice. and he’s seen villagers being massacred, he’s seen the Order attack people he cares about, he’s been personally threatened and had one-on-one duels, but on his trip with Rose he sees children being beaten into submission with electric whips

can’t believe people think Finn wasn’t affected by that when it’s the one thing motivating his character growth

every time he sees civilians getting hurt -- children and families -- he sees himself and the family he’ll never know in them, and is so overwhelmed that he does something brash and radical and self-endangering every time, and his arc is about learning to live with that anger. he runs away from feeling and his angst is so beautiful

and I’m still in the camp of Finn having had a Zuko-like arc when he was a teenager because that boiling frustration at not being able to express his natural empathy is what drove Zuko to angst so hard

FINN IS THE SOLIDARITY KING! HE CARES SO FUCKING MUCH 

39) fire. Luke facing his demons involves him walking through a gate of flame, out of the darkness, into the light

I will say that this is also very Buddhist imagery -- the flaming sword symbolizes wisdom, which cuts through the veil of illusion, specifically the illusion of duality

“Mañjuśrī is depicted as a male bodhisattva wielding a flaming sword in his right hand, representing the realization of transcendent wisdom which cuts down ignorance and duality”

and of course fire being the bridge between light and dark has come up before in the film. the veil is visibly burning here, Luke having fully reclaimed the image of fire, which was earlier in the film held by Kylo Ren 

I mean. just. YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

40) something about this shot is extra special. everything that’s going on on the salt flats is like on this higher dimension, this spiritual plane 

41) for a moment it looks like Luke and the First Order are standing against Kylo. gives you a glimpse into Kylo’s state of mind. is the Order his weapon, or his enemy? it’s both, and he’s absolutely terrified of it

also I’ve talked about how Palpatine’s Contingency plan is about getting revenge on his Empire because he hates its power as much as he revels in it, and he dedicates a good deal of time plotting ways to kill it, because he needs to prove that he is more powerful than it

being the Emperor or Supreme Leader carries with it the distinct horror of knowing that you can never be more powerful than the thing that has empowered you

42) 

43) Luke achieving 100% maximum Buddhist allegory

44) the slope of the floor is the slope of the opening crawl of a Star Wars film 

all right that’s all folks

[for24k]

MOIM Interview with Soo

Hello, Soo! Congratulations on the release of your first solo album on December 22nd!! I want to use this interview to with Soo, who’s taken his first steps as a solo artist, and to have him answer various questions and an album introduction for Naver Music

Q1: Could you tell us about the title song “Sweet Lie” which is also the album title and self-composed!

A1: Sweet Lie is a really heartbreaking farewell song. It tells the story of someone who once really loved but had to say goodbye. I wrote this song about a man who still loves a woman, in the lyrics, there are lyrics that say “Stay with me/Even if you’re lying”, it shows the heart of a man who wants to hold on to the woman who left. 

Q2: The main title song, “Sweet Lie”, was a mournful ballad, but what about the sub-title song “To The Stars”?

A2: “To The Stars” is a really warm and sweet song unlike “Sweet Lie”. It is a story between a couple who secretly love each other, the man is a shy person who gains the courage to confesses to a woman and go see the stars. The guitar sound is very impressive, the sound of the guitar represent the way the stars twinkle~ This song is recommended for people who like a song with simple and powerful emotion!

Q3: This is your first solo album and you were involved in all of the songs, what do you usually get inspiration from for your lyrics and compositions? 

A3: When writing/composing it usually comes from my own experience.  It’s like writing/composing a song based on things I had experienced myself or stories I had heard from friends around me. On this album, I wrote a song called “Goodnight” from the things I saw and felt in my dreams. Haha…

Q4: Although you may have love for all the songs from participating in the writing/composition, which song do you like the most among them?

A4: As you said, they were all from my first solo album and I care about all of them, they are all precious songs. But if I have to pick one of them I think I am most attached to the 4th track “The Two of Us”. It’s the first song I’ve written and composed, I wrote it while thinking about my mom who is precious to me. “The Two of Us” can also mean “You and I, a Lifetime Together”. *My mother's name is "Lee Doori", which is also in the title that includes mother itself "My Mother, the Two of Us”. I'm very attached to the song because it has many meanings.

*(t/n: Lee Doori (이둘이) and the two of us (우리 둘이)

Q5: If you have any anecdotes from your album preparation, please let us know.

A5: I remember when I was shooting the "Sweet Lie" music video, it was a really cold day. The temperature dropped down to five or ten degrees, all the staff and I had a hard time being in the cold. During the video shoot, the most memorable scene for me was brushing my teeth. When I heard "You're going to have a scene where you brush your teeth", I thought I could easily get through it. But there was a lot of NGs, I think I brushed my teeth around 20 times. I remember having a lot of pain in my mouth afterwards.

Q6: Every Wednesday, official SNS is receiving a lot of attention because of “Wednesday Song” where videos are uploaded of you covering songs of other artists, what are your future plans for “Wednesday Song”?

A6: I've been so busy preparing the album lately, I feel sorry that I haven't been able to show you well. I plan to continue "Wednesday Song" and share them with a lot of people. To be honest, the videos have meaning, I think they show my growth. I want to show myself, my supporters, my friends, people who just know me, I would like to show them that I have grown with this process and these challenges. I plan to go as long as I have the time and opportunity to do so. Please give me support and cheer a lot!

Q7: Lastly, please say goodbye to Naver Music and tell us your future plans and activities.

A7: I’m truly grateful to Naver Music and everyone who supports me. This is only the beginning. My voice may be well liked by some and not by others but I will work hard to be a good singer with heartfelt songs. Please keep an eye out for Soo and show your support.

One more thing! The celebration for my first solo album release will be held on Friday, January 5, 2018 at 7:30 p.m. at Red Big Space in Hongdae. To give a good show, I am preparing not only the songs of my first album but various other songs and events, I want it to be a warm and meaningful performance ~ Until now this has been Soo. Please show “Sweet Lie” a lot of love ~~ !!

interview ©    translated by for24k take out with full credits *may contain inaccuracies!