#that by nature has to be more about churning out new fun exciting stuff over telling a truly fullfilling story

[lovejustforaday]

Sonic Youth Albums Ranked (Part 3)

6. Sister (1987)

Main Genres: Noise Rock, Alternative Rock, Post-Punk

A decent sampling of: Experimental Rock

This is the first LP in the Sonic Youth discography accessible enough to be labelled a true ‘Alternative Rock’ record. It’s still rough around the edges, but Sister is full of catchy hooks and thrilling guitar sounds. I feel like this record and Daydream Nation probably went on to spawn at least 200 new alternative rock bands by the time the 90s came around (not that I was there to see it or anything, just speculation).

Sister deserves a lot of credit for solidifying on tracks like “Catholic Block” and “Stereo Sanctity” what would become the dominant formula for the band’s sound throughout most of the rest of their discography. I think that's part of the reason why this is Sonic Youth’s second most acclaimed and beloved record. Perhaps some fans would even be downright offended that I only put this at #6 on the list, but trust me when I say that this is only because the band has made so many fantastic records. In fact, for most bands, this would easily be their greatest record.

I can still remember the first time I heard the opening to “Schizophrenia”, I had never heard anything quite like it. The guitars sound upbeat yet worn out and dejected, making me feel isolated and almost spiritually weak when I listen to this track, yet somehow also comforted. The song is partially inspired by Kim’s older brother who has schizophrenia, though the roles are reversed in this song with a brother whose sister is schizophrenic. It’s a deeply fascinating and memorable piece, and I can see why many fans consider this to be a top five Sonic Youth track.

Most of the rest of Sister is very scratchy and punkish with some very tight guitar work, like “Catholic Block” which boasts one of my favourite melodic riffs in the Sonic Youth canon. There’s also “Hot Wire My Heart”, another major highlight and a cover of the obscure British punk band Crime, where Sonic Youth takes their song and upgrades the guitars and drums while also adding a bold wall of feedback at the end.

Then there’s “Pacific Coast Highway”, a completely sickening song and one of Kim’s very finest moments as a lyricist and vocalist. This haunting noise rock jumble tells the story of either a unhinged stranger, or perhaps a resentful ex-lover, who is obsessively catcalling the listener from their car, with the not-so-subtle implication that you’re all by yourself somewhere and that this person intends to harm you. I have no idea if this was written about a personal experience, but I do know from listening to their voices that this is something many women have either gone through or live in perpetual fear of. Seriously fucked up stuff, but also one of Sonic Youth’s very best tracks.

"Cotton Crown” is an odd one out in the Sonic Youth discography; an uncharacteristically sincere but still off-kilter love song that Kim and Thurston sing as a duet. Their voices are a bit out of tune with each other, but i think that honestly fits the Sonic Youth aesthetic and it’s sweet in its own quirky way, although very bittersweet decades later with hindsight about the fate of their relationship. Sort of a noise rock lullaby almost, maybe even with hints of early shoegaze.

Sister does a really good job of taking the seemingly juxtaposing ideas of the ‘fun’ and the ‘grotesque’ and fuses them together. This album is both largely exciting and still somehow alienating and depressive. It’s textbook Sonic Youth, really. I will say that the best tracks are clustered together with a noticeably weaker middle portion, but really this is still a consistently great record throughout. Altogether, Sister is one of the many entries in the band’s discography from 1986 through 1990 where Sonic Youth could basically do no wrong. A classic record.

9/10

highlights: “Pacific Coast Highway”, “Schizophrenia”, ‘Catholic Block”, “Cotton Crown”, “Hot Wire My Heart”, “Beauty Lies in the Eye”

5. A Thousand Leaves (1998)

Main Genres: Noise Rock, Experimental Rock

A decent sampling of: Alternative Rock, Post-Rock, Neo-Psychedelia

I’m just gonna say this now: A Thousand Leaves is by far Sonic Youth’s most underrated record. It’s also the last truly amazing record that the band ever put out. Maybe it’s just the bizarre choice of an album cover that turns people off of this LP. Really, what the hell were they going for here with the minimalist hamster vibes? The beautiful title really suggests something a lot more visually stunning.

In all seriousness though, I feel like nobody talks about this one because it’s overshadowed by its predecessor Washing Machine, but if there’s one area that this record exceeds above all other Sonic Youth LPs, it’s that it perfectly captures that mellow feeling that the later Sonic Youth albums were inclined towards. Not a lot of Sonic Youth records put me at ease like this one does.

Likewise, this is maybe the most ‘feel-good’ record in their discography along with Murray Street. But where Muray Street is something you could put on in the background and enjoy pretty modestly, A Thousand Leaves is a largely experimental, out-of-body experience that pulls you into its surreal, flowery, evergreen world.

“Contre Le Sexism” is a perfect opener for this kind of record; this quiet daze of a waking dream is both dainty and delirious, alluding to Alice in Wonderland with Kim’s vocals never before sounding so gentle and bright. I swear I start to hear a door creak at the end. Maybe that’s the sound of stepping out into the rest of A Thousand Leaves.

What follows immediately after is “Sunday” which is actually one of the band’s poppiest moments, making it somewhat of an outlier on this highly avant-garde and immersive record. But the warm spring vibes of the melody fits right in. The wall of sound introduced during the bridge is a soft mesmerizing bliss more akin to a band like My Bloody Valentine, if not for the tiny distant screeches of atonality whirling around here and there. As a big fan of both bands, I’m all for this kind of sound.

“Wildflower Soul” is easily one of the best things Sonic Youth has ever written. Endless amounts of creativity are poured into this nine minute noise rock acrobatics performance along with a lyrical ode to love, nature, and childhood. The vibes of this one are really quite jaw-dropping given the fact that these are the same guys who wrote “Schizophrenia” and “Death Valley ‘69″. There’s such unison and harmony in the band’s performance here as they switch between different bpm and even time signatures, and the usage of the heavy phaser effect towards the end sounds nothing short of godlike. "Wildflower Soul” almost feels like an entire album experience in one song, and I’m beyond impressed every time I listen to it.

This makes for a hard act to follow, but A Thousand Leaves still has plenty of other highlights. “French Tickler” is a strange and satisfying track that switches back and forth between a playful melody and churning, stretchy distortion. “Karen Koltrane” is a murky but textured portrait of Lee Renaldo’s ex-girlfriend, who got addicted to hallucinogens and became heavily withdrawn from the rest of the world. “Snare, Girl” is a soothing spell where Thurston sounds like he’s trying to coax the listener into a never-ending slumber.

My only real complaint here is “Hits of Sunshine (For Allen Ginsberg)”, a lackadaisical jam session that sounds cool enough, but really overstays its welcome given the lack of development it achieves over its eleven minute run time. It’s a nice piece to vibe to, but it very noticeably disrupts the album’s flow. Take this one track away entirely, or even just edit it down severely, and this would probably be a 10/10 record for me.

Still, wow what a cool album. A Thousand Leaves is a great example of why I respect this band so much. Even this late into their career, Sonic Youth were willing to try so many new bizarre things while also building judiciously upon the foundations of their past work with great attention to detail. I wouldn’t recommend most people start with this one, it’s definitely a bit more challenging especially if you haven’t listened to some other really weird experimental rock records. But once you’re in the right headspace for it, it’s easy to get almost completely lost in A Thousand Leaves.

9/10

highlights: “Wildflower Soul”, “Sunday”, “French Tickler”, “Karen Koltrane”, “Snare, Girl”, “Contre Le Sexism”, “Heather Angel”

4. Goo (1990)

Main Genres: Noise Rock, Alternative Rock

A decent sampling of: Experimental Rock, Post-Punk

Goo was my very first Sonic Youth album, and I can definitely still feel some of the old teenage angst that I had at the time whenever I listen to this one. What probably adds to that feeling is the fact that this along with Daydream Nation is one of the two albums in the band’s discography that I’d say possesses a great deal of immediacy. Albums like Sister and A Thousand Leaves are a bit more subtle and they take a while to be fully digested. But this one, this one hit me like a brick wall.

Between “Tunic (Song For Karen)”, “Kool Thing”, and “Cinderella’s Big Score”, Goo is above all others the Sonic Youth record where Kim Gordon is really the star of the band, featuring not one but three of her most captivating songs. Likewise, I would also say that this is Sonic Youth’s most overtly feminist and socially conscious record.

I don’t know if anybody else feels this way, but to me the opener “Dirty Boots” really does sound like “Teen Age Riot” part 2. That’s not a bad thing of course, Sonic Youth making more songs like “Teen Age Riot” could never be a bad thing, and “Dirty Boots” is definitely one of the highlights of Goo with its massive build up of kinetic energy. That being said, I do have to say that I don’t think any song could do this particular kind of album opener better than “Teen Age Riot” already does it, but I still really do enjoy “Dirty Boots”.

“Tunic (Song For Karen)” is one of Sonic Youth’s most poetic and poignant songs. Kim’s sing-talking voice is even more solemn than usual as she takes on a surreal retelling of the final days of drummer/pop star pioneer Karen Carpenter from her perspective, highlighting the severity of her loneliness and the criminal negligence of many of the people around her who let her succumb to her eating disorder. Set to a backdrop of stark and droning alternative rock, I would say that this is possibly the band’s most depressing moment and certainly one of the biggest statements that they ever made.

A lot of the rest of Goo is actually pretty fun though. “Kool Thing” features Chuck D on guest vocals, and its a funny sarcastic take down of the subjugation of women’s voices in supposedly liberated spaces like the world of rock and hip hop, inspired by the time Kim interviewed L.L. Cool J and attempted to have a political conversation. The song mocks L.L.’s attitude towards women while also poking fun at Kim’s own self-perceived elitism. There’s also “Mote”, a sensational head rush that dissolves into noise rock weird-isms, sorta recreating the feeling of going from buzzed to totally black out.

“Mildred Pierce” is almost a practical joke but I kind of love the hell out of it anyway. A short track with lyrics consisting only of the song’s title, it starts with the band getting into a nice little riff before (without warning) bursting into a hardcore punk cacophony as Thurston screams the name over and over into the listener’s ears. Made me jump the first time I heard it.

And then there’s “Cinderella’s Big Score”. If “Schizophrenia” vaguely hinted at Kim’s estranged relationship with her older brother, then “Cinderella’s Big Score” confronts it dead on. Featuring some of the band’s most totally insane and disfigured guitar work ever, this song sounds harsh and militant, like the dawn of a nuclear cataclysm. It’s very hard to believe that Kim is 37 years old here; she reverts to sounding exactly like a hurt teenage little sister, rebelling against her childhood trauma and lashing out at her brother’s past bullying and now his cold indifference towards her.

The song grapples with some very painful emotions, but the experience is raw and cathartic. “Cinderella’s Big Score” is definitely somewhere in Sonic Youth’s top 10 tracks for me; it just doesn’t get any realer than this. Honestly, the record could’ve ended here. I like “Titanium Expose” enough as a closer, but this would’ve made a really powerful and lasting impression to end the album.

Despite that, Goo is an excellent Sonic Youth record that demonstrates just how much the band had mastered their craft after a decade of making all sorts of noises. Obviously I’m biased since it was my own first Sonic Youth record, but I really do feel like this is the very best place to start with the band. Goo is one of their more melodic and accessible offerings, but it’s also one of their most provocative records and it really captures the essence of Sonic Youth’s identity.

9/10

highlights: “Cinderella’s Big Score”, “Tunic (Song For Karen)”, “Mote”, “Kool Thing”, “Dirty Boots”, ‘Mildred Pierce”

3. EVOL (1986)

Main Genres: Noise Rock, Experimental Rock, Post-Punk

A decent sampling of: No Wave, Alternative Rock

If Bad Moon Rising was bleak and desolate, than EVOL is disturbed, uncanny, and deeply paranoid. Sonic Youth’s third record evokes the feeling of being all alone at midnight on a sketchy highway, complete with mental images of flickering street lights and looming shadowy figures. I mentioned earlier that I have to be in the right mood to enjoy Bad Moon Rising, but this record puts me in the right mood almost instantly whenever I put it on.

EVOL isn’t exactly a no wave album like their first two records. The highly experimental influence is still there, but the arrangements are starting to sound fuller and more intentional.

You could say that this LP marks somewhat of a transitional phase between Sonic Youth the no wave band and Sonic Youth the alternative rock band, and in many respects it has the best of both worlds. There’s a few catchy darker alternative rock songs here and there, sandwiched between tracks that could best be described as ‘mad scientist’ music, which altogether creates a varied and unique album experience.

“Tom Violence“ immediately establishes the tone of EVOL with crooked, scraping flashes of post-punk guitars. This track reminds me of heads hung low, bodies slouched uncomfortably, and the feeling of being completely wide awake at 2:00 am. There’s something very unfriendly that lurks beneath the dissonance of these sounds.

If “Tom Violence” is uneasy, then “Shadow of A Doubt” is an auditory nightmare, managing to capture something akin to the fear of being watched by an unknown stranger hiding in the shadows. Notes are gently plucked like icy cold fingers slowly crawling up the listener’s back while Kim whispers about murder plots and oneirophrenia. The “just a dream” lyrical motif is first uttered reassuringly, but eventually turns into a desperate plea as Kim begins to shout frantically and the music intensifies.

The album dials down the spook factor a few notches with “Starpower” and “In The Kingdom #19″. The former is an early example of Sonic Youth’s ability to combine melodic hooks with meandering chaos that would become refined on the next few LPs, while the latter features Lee’s first solo vocals (and one of his best performances) reciting a lucid, jet black vision of a car accident. Thurston threw firecrackers into the recording studio when they did Lee’s vocals on this track and you can hear it in the recording, and just like “Mildred Pierce” it really caught me off guard the first time I heard it.

“Secret Girl” is the scariest fucking thing in the whole Sonic Youth discography, and also just one of the scariest songs I’ve ever heard. It starts with a deep shuddering thud that sounds like it’s getting closer and closer. Then out of nowhere, a cassette-recording of an old detuned piano starts to play a simple, unnerving refrain while Kim offers a cryptic and uncomfortably suggestive spoken word piece. It feels like a scene that might play out in a horror film, where a television screen comes on by itself and the person on the screen begins to talk directly to the viewer.

Finally, there’s “Expressway To Yr Skull” (alternatively titled “Madonna, Sean, and Me”), which would be my #1 Sonic Youth album closer if not for the #1 album on this list. That being said, this song is still one of the biggest highlights of the band’s career. "Expressway To Yr Skull” starts off restless and spectacular, leading up to an utterly earth-shaking climax, and then it’s as if the song promptly dies, only to become a lingering undead entity that pulls you down with it. I still can’t get over how the ending really manages to sound like it’s dragging you down further and further into its barren depths.

To add to that, there’s actually a locked groove on the original vinyl release of this LP that plays the last little bit of “Expressway To Yr Skull”, meaning that if you let the needle sit there, it will forever loop that last little bit of droning at the end of the track. I really appreciate this little detail; it’s as if the pervasive darkness of EVOL is so encompassing that it could turn into a deep midnight that never ends.

EVOL is honestly so close to being a 10 for me, but just like Sister I find that it is decently weaker towards the middle. Still, I’m absolutely enamored with the atmosphere on this album. No gothic rock record has ever managed to sound so deeply unsettling to my ears like this little experimental record does. You really just have to experience this one for yourself. Honestly, don’t be surprised if in a year or two I’ve changed my mind and bumped this one to a 10.

9/10

highlights: “Expressway To Yr Skull”, “Shadow Of A Doubt”, “Tom Violence”, “Secret Girl”, “In The Kingdom #19″, “Starpower”

[rohad93]

Moonlit Masquerade: Shades of Autumn

Luz is early today. She’d been getting to school earlier and earlier as the weeks have worn on.

She always has been an early riser, just not an early to do anything after she got up, person. More content to lay in bed, enjoying the quiet of the morning till her alarm actually went off and she was forced to get up.

But Amity gets to school early, so Luz does too, of course.

Any extra time spent with her paramour Is enough to get her moving, even at the crack of dawn.

The air is cool and crisp with the onset of fall. The trees have begun to change color, though to her it’s strange to see because the foliage in the Isles is already such varying shades aside from the green she’s used to, the only way she can really tell is because the ones she sees every day outside the owl house or on the way to school have begun to change hue and flake off the branches. Greens are turning red and brown while the reds wilt into bright yellows. The woods are a rainbow of hues; she likes it.

Even if it is a constant reminder.

She takes a deep breath of the cool air and grins as she jogs towards the school, some fallen leaves crunching under her steps.

As she runs up the path to Hexside she quickly spots her girlfriend’s head of mint green hair near the steps, she grins and makes a beeline straight for her.

She’s talking to Gus and Willow who are apparently also early today.

“Hey, guys!” She smiles brightly as she comes to a skidding halt in front of them.

Hey, Luz.“ Gus and Willow grin and wave.

“Buenos dìas, mi amor.” She nudges Amity with her hip, who pinks a little but smiles at her tenderly. She’s spent enough time with Luz over the last month and a half to have started picking up some Spanish and it’s only when Luz starts her rapid, spitfire rambling in the language that she gets hopelessly lost, but she’s trying. She wants to learn, for Luz and for herself. She’d like to be able to say whatever she wants to her without fear of people overhearing things they shouldn’t.

It’s slow work, but Luz is all too happy to help her learn, even when she giggles at the stilted, choppy way Amity says things. Rolling her ‘R’s is another thing she’s having difficulty with.

She may have also managed to get a hold of a handy little Spanish to English dictionary, courtesy of Eda, from her pile of human trash. She’s been studying it in her spare time, hoping to surprise her girlfriend with things she hasn’t yet taught her.

“Morning…” She hesitates, hoping she’s not going to butcher this, “querida.”

Luz chokes on her own spit as her face turns red and Amity feels rather proud of herself, having brought her chatty girlfriend to stupefied silence.

“What’s going on?” Gus whispers to Willow who just smiles.

They’ve become pretty accustomed to Luz and Amity’s somewhat new dynamic since they started dating and all the strange, sometimes hard to follow conversations the two have. Though without any context Willow thinks she knows what’s going on.

She’s also picked up a little of Luz’s other language, and while she doesn’t know ‘amor’ or ‘querida’ the faces the two make tells her all she needs to know about the nature of these words and she rolls her eyes at the couple.

“They’re just being sappy, don’t worry about it.

“Oh…” Gus nods.

“Where did you learn that?” Luz finally sputters, still red-faced, and Amity grins, and maybe it’s a Blight sibling thing, but she winks and Luz feels like she might just melt into a puddle of human goo. She only thought she got flustered whenever one of the twins winked at her, this was a whole nother level entirely.

“If you two are done…,“ Willow started, drawing the couples embarrassed gazes. “I heard the Autumn festival is going to be in town this weekend, we should all go.”

“Yeah!” Luz quickly agreed before stopping. “What’s The Autumn festival?” she asks and Willow laughs while Amity can only roll her eyes fondly.

“It’s like a carnival but with autumn-themed food and games and all kinds of fun stuff,” Gus explains, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet and Luz joins him in excited fidgeting.

“Count me in!” Luz pumps a fist before turning to look at her girlfriend imploringly. Amity’s lips twitch at the large, pleading eyes now turned on her. Luz is the only one with this kind of power over her. Not that she would have turned down the opportunity to spend an afternoon with her and their friends.

“Sounds like fun,” she agreed.

Luz and Gus cheer, high-fiving while Amity and Willow share a look.

They talked a little while longer before the bell rang and they all had to make their way to class.

It was Thursday, and Luz had Bard and Oracle track classes today, so she bid farewell to her friends as she and Amity walked down another hall. Abominations were only one hall down from the bard hall.

When they stopped in front of the entrance to the bard’s hall Amity grabbed her arm.

“I won’t be able to meet you today, my mom wants me to come straight home after school.” She frowned and Luz resisted the urge to pout, she knew Amity didn’t like it anymore then she did so she simply nodded.

“It’s okay, I’ll see you tomorrow and I’ll message you tonight.” She smiled and Amity’s frown vanished in the face of it. She wanted very badly to close the short distance between them and lay a quick kiss on her mouth but there were students all around them, though none close enough to hear them.

“I’ll be waiting for it, querida.” she grinned as she walked away from her again short-circuiting girlfriend.

~ ~ ~

Luz was worried

She’d waited until sometime after dinner before sending Amity a message on her scroll as she laid in bed. Usually, Amity replied within a few minutes.

She’d waited a few hours, checking her scroll periodically, eventually feeling antsy and moving about the house.

Eda and Lilith seemed to pick up on her behavior pretty quickly as she wandered around the kitchen and living room, frowning.

“Is something the matter, Luz?” Lilith was the first to ask.

“Hmm, Amity hasn’t messaged me back yet and it’s been four hours…,” she mumbled, plopping down on the floor, opposite the couch where the sisters were sitting.’

“That’s it? Your girlfriend hasn’t messaged you back yet?” Eda cocked a brow. “You were wandering around here looking like someone was being murdered.” She crossed her arms.

“You don’t understand, Eda!” She threw up her hands. “She’s never not responded to me before… and her mom wanted her to come home right after school today… I’m worried.” She glanced down at her still silent scroll.

The women shared a look before turning back to Luz.

“I’m sure it’s gonna be okay, kid. If her mom wanted her home it must have been for something, she’s just busy.” Eda tried to comfort her apprentice.

“Surely if something were wrong she would have messaged you first,” Lilith followed up.

“Yeah, kids head over heels for you. If she needed you, she’d let you know.”

“Hmm, I guess…,” Luz grumbled.

Eda frowned at the glum look on her kid’s face and stood.

“Come on Luz, let’s go get ice screams,” she said, ruffling the girl’s head as she walked over to the door.

A tiny smile pulled at her lips at what she knew Eda was trying to do. They were probably right, Amity had a tighter schedule than most adults she knew, she was probably just busy.

“Okay” She hopped up to join Eda at the door.

“King, let’s go, we’re getting Ice screams!” she yelled, and upstairs a loud squeal of excitement echoed back. “You too, Lilly.” Eda jerked her head.

“Very well.”

~ ~ ~

Luz was very worried now as she walked quickly to school.

Amity had never returned her message and according to the little text next to it, she had never even read it.

That was not like her and it made Luz’s stomach tight with worry.

She shot right out of the house as soon as she had gotten dressed when she’d checked her scroll to still see no sign of Amity.

Students were milling about the front of the building. If she wanted to avoid people Amity would get to school just before the bell rang so she could use it as an excuse. She’s done it a couple of times since they started dating, though never to Luz.

Just as she predicted, she could see her girlfriends bright green head as she walked toward Hexside’s main steps.

“Amity!”

She froze stiff at the call, but she didn’t look like she was going to try and run.

“Hey! I was worried about you, you never messaged me back last night.” She stopped at Amity’s side so their conversation was hushed as kids walked by them.

“Sorry, Luz… I got busy last night, I didn’t mean to worry you…” She turned to look at her with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Luz noticed it immediately.

Amity’s hair was a bright new shade of mint and the auburn roots Luz adored were gone, now the same shade as the rest of her hair.

“Your hair…,” Luz mumbled and Amity clutched her books tighter to her chest. She knew Luz would notice right away. She didn’t know why she thought she could avoid this.

Luz pursed her lips as she looked at the uniform color and remembered what Amity had told her about it. She’d held her tongue before about the subject, but this clearly caused her girlfriend distress if the way her hunched shoulders and the way she couldn’t meet Luz’s eyes meant anything.

“Did your mom make you re-dye your hair last night?” She knew she hit the nail on the head because as soon as the sentence left her mouth Amity flinched, hunkering in even further.

“Yes,” she answered after a long moment, just as the bell rang. “I gotta go.” She tried to walk away but Luz grabbed her shoulder.

“Amity, wait…”

“I really don’t want to talk about this right now, Luz.” She pulled away and ran inside leaving Luz to watch her go from the bottom of the steps with a frown.

Her stomach was churning with worry for Amity and anger at her girlfriend’s mother. She’d never met Mrs. Blight, but she knew already without a doubt, she didn’t like her.

~ ~ ~

Amity could hardly pay attention to her classes. She was mad at herself.

She knew eventually her roots were going to reach a point where her mother was going to ‘suggest’ that she fix it. She knew by the length that the time was approaching and she should have told Luz about it, knowing that she would notice right away and that she knew her and her mother’s… secret agreement, if that was what she wanted to call it. Amity sniffed at that.

Even Ed and Em didn’t know why she colored her hair, they’d teased her mercilessly about it after the first time, saying that if she wanted to be like them she’d have to try harder then that.

Hell, she wasn’t sure her father even knew. Having inherited her warm auburn hair from him, he’d seemed a little disappointed after the first time her mother had ‘asked’ her to color it, in that cloying sweet way that meant she wasn’t really asking.

She sighed to herself, she hadn’t meant to ignore Luz last night, but having her hair recolored had put her in a very bad mood and she didn’t think she’d have been good company.

Then this morning… she groaned quietly.

Of course, Luz would be able to put two and two together and see that she was upset. She always was the first couple of days after having her hair fixed. She really shouldn’t have blown her off though. She would send her a message later, apologizing.

There wasn’t much she could do about her hair. She wished she could just let it be the color it was; It frustrated her.

When class mercifully ended she took her time gathering her things. She knew in the back of her mind it was just to avoid Luz, even though she really wanted to see her.

After last night she just wanted to let her girlfriend hold her. She was always happiest and at peace whenever the human wrapped her arms around her and let her just bury her face into her neck.

But Luz also asked too many questions and felt righteous, indignant anger for others much too strong to simply ignore this, it was one of the things Amity loved about her. She cared so much, but this was something beyond her, and Amity needed to find a way to explain it to her so she would let it go.  

Luz thought the emperor was tough? She’d never met Odalia Blight and if Amity had her way, she never would.

She was walking down the quiet empty halls tiredly when a classroom door swung open and someone grabbed her pulling her inside. She didn’t even have time to cry out as the door shut and she was standing in the middle of an empty classroom.

“It’s just me!” Luz quickly soothed her panic.

“Luz!” Amity hissed. “What are you doing?” She held a hand to her chest over her rapidly beating heart.

“Sorry, I was waiting for you.”

“You could have just waited outside for me…,” Amity grumbled.

“So you could take off running the second you saw me?” Luz frowned, not glaring but it was a very stern look that made Amity frown guiltily.

“I’m sorry…,” she mumbled.

“Don’t be sorry, just talk to me, Amity” Luz pleaded. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, amor”

“You can’t help with this, Luz.” she shook her head, looking at the floor. “This is just… something I have to do… I know you want to help but you can’t. So please, can you just forget about it?”

“No!” Luz flings out her arms. “How can I just ignore it when it makes you like this?!” Luz can’t understand why Amity just can’t talk to her about this.

Maybe she can’t do anything, but she’s there for Amity to lean on even when she needs her, when she’s hurting, even when they can’t do anything about it.

She doesn’t have to shove it all down and pretend she’s not bothered when she clearly is.

Frustration is bubbling up in Amity’s stomach like a boiling cauldron. Why can’t Luz understand that this is just something she has to do?

“It’s just hair, Luz!” She’s not shouting but it’s much louder than it needs to be.

“If it was just about hair then you wouldn’t be so upset and miserable about it!” Luz’s tone also raises. “You wouldn’t be hiding from me!”

“It doesn’t matter, I have to do this, you don’t know what my mother is like!” she is yelling now.

"I would if you would just explain it to me!” She shouts back, just as loud.

Amity turns away from her, shaking. She hates this, hates how angry she is, hates her mother, and that Luz can’t just let this go. Just this once, she wished she didn’t care so much.  

Luz frowns. This wasn’t at all how she had wanted this to go. She takes a breath, calming herself.

“Hey, it’s okay… maybe I don’t get it…” Luz starts quietly and reaches out a hand towards Amity’s shaking shoulder. “But my mom…”

Amity is just so frustrated by everything she spins around to face her surprised girlfriend and snaps:

“Stop, your right, you don’t get it and your mom isn’t here!“

Brown eyes go wide and the hurt couldn’t be clearer.

Just like that, all her frustration drains out of her and she wants nothing more than to take the words back, pull them back and swallow the vile things before they leave her mouth, but she can’t. They’re out there now and she has to live with that.

Live with the deafening silence that fills the empty classroom as she and Luz stare back at each other with wide eyes, gold filled with horror and brown with shock and hurt

Her stomach drops into her feet as Luz’s lips begin to tremble and her eyes turn glassy.

She wants to say something, anything, but for the life of her, she can’t get her mouth to form the words.

Luz bursts, choking on a sob before she turns and runs, wrenching the door open. It slams against the wall, the bang echoing through the room as she flees down the hall.

"Luz!” Amity calls finally able to make her body respond and she runs after her, but Luz is fast, much faster then Amity realized as she bursts out of the schools front doors in time to see the other girl vanishing into the woods at the edge of the school grounds, she stops at the bottom of the steps, helplessly watching her girlfriend disappear from sight amid the trees.

“Amity!?” She looks to see Gus and Willow, standing at the edge of the steps looking at her with concerned faces. No doubt they had seen Luz run by sobbing.

“What happened!?” Willow asks.

“What did you do!?” Gus accuses, pointing a finger at her and glaring.

‘I…” she stammers, then bites her lip and after a long minute trying to form coherent thoughts, she slowly explains what happened. The two friends’ faces change from shock to outrage and alarm by the time she’s done.

“Why would you say that?!” Willow is all but shouting at her as Gus crosses his arms and glares as if she didn’t already feel bad about what she’d said to Luz.

“I don’t know!” she wails. “It was stupid and cruel and I don’t know! I didn’t mean to, I was just frustrated, she wouldn’t drop it and it just came out…” She buried her face in her hands miserably.

Willow is pinching the bridge of her nose beneath her glasses. She knows what she’s about to say is going to make Amity feel so much worse, but it needs to be said.

“You don’t know how cruel…,” she starts and Amity is looking at her with worried eyes at the miserable tone of her voice. “Summer is over Amity, Luz was supposed to go home almost two weeks ago…,” she trails off and Amity’s mind shifts gears, spinning into overdrive as she takes in the meaning of those words, understanding slapping her in the face.

“Oh… oh, Titan, no!” She covers her mouth with her hands but the horror In her eyes is clear. In the midst of the cloudy haze of their blossoming relationship, Amity had lost track of the days.

Somewhere in the human world, a mother is desperately searching for her missing daughter and Luz knows this, Amity, Willow, and Gus know this, and Amity had only, no matter how unintentionally, dug the knife in deeper.

Her knees are on the verge of giving out and she drops on the bottom step before they can buckle of their own accord.

“Why am I so terrible!” Amity shouts, reaching up to pull at her hair, shame is the only thing she can feel and it makes bile threaten to rise up her throat; she thinks she’s about to be sick as water pools in the corners of her eyes.

Willow sighs and kneels down on the ground in front of her, thinking about what to say.

“You’re not terrible, Amity,” she said slowly. “I know you didn’t mean it and I’m sure Luz knows it to…”

“I hurt her…” Amity whimpers, and she’s never been so disappointed in herself as she is at this moment, knowing that she’s hurt the one person she cares about more than anything.

Willow and Gus share a look before turning back to the girl cracking too pieces in front of them.

“You can still fix this, Amity.” Willow reaches up and lays a comforting hand on the trembling girl’s shoulder. “You need to talk to her, now.” Willow impresses the urgency upon her.

She nods, wiping away the tears that are threatening to fall and she stands.

“I gotta go…” she takes off toward the owl house without another word.

When she’s finally standing in front of the house she’s panting, having run all the way.

She takes a moment to get her breath back before walking up to knock on the door. Hooty is strangely quiet as he looks at her from his place in the door.

After a moment it opens and the owl lady is standing there looking at her with a frown.

“Is Luz here? she asks, trying not to cower as Eda looks down at her.

Eda simply regards her for another few seconds before saying anything.

“Yeah, ran through here crying. Your doing, I take it?” It’s not really a question.

“Can I talk to her…, please?” She’ll beg if she has to. She has to make this right.

Eda continues to stare at her for the longest few seconds of Amity’s life before she steps aside and Amity shoots through the door and up the stairs, not even acknowledging King or Lilith sitting on the couch.

Luz’s door is closed but she can hear her quiet muffled crying through the door and it tears at her heart. She lifts her hand to knock but hesitates, and swallows, but her mouth is dry.

Finally, she taps on the door and the cries quiet.

“Not now, Eda…” her voice is quiet and it cracks. Amity takes hold of the handle, gripping it tightly before pushing it open.

It’s dim in the room, stray beams of light are streaming through the drawn curtains, just enough that she can see.

Luz is curled up on her bed, facing away from her.

She must have heard the door open.

“I just wanna be alone, Eda,” she choked quietly.

Amity licks her dry lips.

“Luz”

The girl goes still before her cries pick up again, though she’s trying to muffle them.

Amity’s feet are heavy as she walks across the room, but hesitates at the bedside, not sure what to do with herself.

Finally, she settles for kneeling on the floor, so her face is level with Luz, hands holding onto the edge of the mattress. The old, worn wood bites into her knees but she ignores it.

“Luz…, I am so sorry,” she finally says. “I didn’t mean to say that… or to yell at you… I was just frustrated and I know that’s no excuse for it, I just…” she chokes back her own tears. “I’m sorry, I’m just so sorry.” It’s all she can say as she stares at her girlfriend’s quaking back, tears dripping down her cheeks. Her head drops and she clenches her eyes shut as more tears fall, dripping off her chin to the floor, leaving little wet circles in the dry wood.

She stays right there for several long minutes before the bed shifts and she looks up.

Luz has rolled over to face her, staring back at her with wet, red-rimmed eyes.

She’s still crying as she holds up an arm and Amity stares back at her with wide eyes.

“C'mere,” she croaks and Amity scrambles into the bed, wedging one of her arms between Luz and the mattress to squeeze her close, burying her face into her chest.

Luz’s grip on her is just as tight as she nuzzles her face into bright green hair.

They just lay there for a while as their tears slow, eyes closed

They don’t hear the Clawthorne sisters outside the door.

“Edalyn!” Lilith hisses as she follows her sister down the hall to Luz’s room. “Do you honestly think they’re in there making out again?!” She asks with quiet outrage.

“After last week I’m just checking!” she hisses back. “They know the rules, door open!” she says quietly.

Lilith rolls her eyes, scowling. “Luz was in tears!”

“I know. Do you know how many crying people I’ve 'comforted’?” The younger finger quotes and Lilith’s scowl only intensifies; for multiple reasons.

“Do you really think so lowly of Amity?” she growls.

“No, of course not, but I need to check on my kid!” Eda growls, looking at Lilith over her shoulder. The elder only frowns but says nothing else.

She’s silent when she turns the door handle and opens it just a couple of inches to peek inside. the first thing she sees of course is the two teenagers curled up together on the bed, and she’s just about to throw the door open when she hears it.

Crying.

Both of them are huddled together on the bed crying.

She closes the door as silently as she opened it and backs away.

“Well?” Lilith asks lowly and Eda just shakes her head.

“Leave 'em be,” she says as they walk back down the hall.

When the crying has stopped the two are just laying there quietly, absorbing each other’s warmth, still sniffling on occasion as Luz runs her fingers through Amity’s hair while the other clenches and unclenches her hands in the fabric of Luz’s shirt.

Finally, Amity finds the will to speak.

“I lost track of the days…,” she starts quietly. “I completely forgot when you were supposed to go back…”

Luz hums.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Amity finally finds the courage to ask.

Luz just shrugs, frowning into Amity’s hair.

“I didn’t want anyone to worry about me. I especially didn’t want you to worry about me. Worrying about it isn’t going to fix it…,” she trails off.

Amity makes a frustrated sound in her throat and pulls back just enough so they can look at each other. Both their eyes are red and puffy.

“That’s not how this works, Luz! I’m going to worry about you whether you want me to or not, that’s how love works!” She’s more than aware of the hypocrisy of her words as they come out of her mouth, but more so as those deep brown eyes lock with hers, but she goes on. “I want to be there for you, even if I can’t do anything, I want you to be able to lean on me.”

“Then why won’t you let me be there for you?” she shoots back and Amity flinches. The words hold no anger, just sad confusion.

“I…,” Amity sighs. She’s been thinking about this too and has finally come to the answer. “I don’t know how…” her voice is so soft Luz barely hears it. “I’m a Blight… I’m not supposed to need anyone. I should be strong enough on my own.” She closes her eyes, unable to stare into Luz’s any longer, she can’t bear whatever she might find there.

“That’s stupid.”

Her eyes shoot open to look at Luz, who is frowning. She looks angry but Amity realizes it’s not directed at her as she presses her forehead against hers.

“Everyone needs help sometimes, no matter what their name is, and… we’re supposed to be there to help each other, no matter what, that’s what this is.” Her grip on Amity tightens. “Like you said, that’s what love is. Us against the world, but you have to let me, Amity.” Her voice is thick with raw emotion.

Luz is getting blurry as tears fill Amity’s eyes again and her fingers dig into Luz’s shirt in a death grip. Luz is smiling at her sadly as they begin to drip down her cheeks to the bed. She nods shakily.

“I know…,” she hiccups.

“You said I don’t understand. So explain it to me,” she breathes, and Amity sniffles. “Please, mi amor. Tell me.” Luz whispers.

So she does.

They lay there a long time, so long, the sunlight in the room disappears, casting the room in darkness as Amity explains exactly what it’s like growing up in Blight Manor, with parents that are too busy most of the time to even remember they have children unless it’s convenient to them. With a distant father who is usually too busy to spend time with his family or know what is going on and a mother who when she has the time, uses it to try and sculpt all her children into perfectly painted figurines for her to display to their friends and acquaintances at parties.

Nevermind that the paint just hides the many chips and cracks beneath.

Luz only holds her all the tighter the longer they lay there and her heart aches the more Amity speaks as she realizes that Willow and green hair dye are only the tip of an iceberg lodged in her girlfriend’s heart.

“Oh, Amity,” Luz breathes, holding her as tight as she can without crushing her. “I’m sorry,” she finally says when Amity is finished. “I should have left it alone…”

Amity shakes her head

“No…, I should have talked to you about this instead of just trying to ignore it,” she sighs “I know you, Luz. I know how much you care and want to help… I love that about you… I guess part of me just didn’t want you to know what a mess I am,” she mumbles, gold eyes sliding to look anywhere but Luz. She squeaks as Luz’s grip on her becomes crushing.

“You’re not!” she growls, anger burns in her belly like she’s swallowed fire. She’s never felt such intense hatred before as she feels at Amity’s mom right now. “You’re amazing and I love you so much.” She squeezes harder still. “And what your parents do isn’t your fault,” she asserts.

“Luz, too tight…,” Amity squeaks.

“Sorry, sorry!” Luz smiles sheepishly and relaxes her death grip on Amity, who can finally take a full breath. “Really, though. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed. When you tell me to leave something alone I need to listen…,” she says with a frown, which makes Amity frown.

She draws her hands back from around Luz’s back and wedges them between them to wrap her fingers around her neck, thumbs brushing her cheeks.

“And I need to learn that I can rely on you, no matter what,” she says and Luz smiles, making her own lips pull up.

“Always, mi amor.” she affirms, leaning into Amity’s touch.

Amity closes the incrementally small distance between the two to press a soft kiss to her girlfriend’s smiling mouth.

When she releases her she sighs happily but exhausted.

“We’ve been here a long time… you probably need to get home.” Luz frowns, not at all happy about having to send Amity home now that she knows exactly what that home is like.

The twins can only help so much, they too are just teenagers in the same boat as their sister, even though it seems to Luz that shielding Amity from as much as they can is their priority; for which she could never be more grateful.

Thankfully Amity just shakes her head.

“They left for the weekend this morning… it’s just Ed and Em at home,” she says.

“Then stay,” Luz says without even having to think about it.

Amity jerks up to look at her, eyes blown wide and cheeks pinking.

“I… don’t think Eda will be okay with that after what happened last week” the pink turns red.

“She will if I explain It to her…,” she says. Amity looks unsure of that. “We need adults in our corner, even if they’re both wanted criminals.” She grins and Amity can’t help but giggle at her. Even when it’s dark, Luz has a way of lighting up her world.

“Okay” she moves to sit up but Luz pushes her back down with a hand on her shoulder.

“You stay here, I can do it, amor,” Luz assures her. Amity wants to argue, but she feels drained after explaining it all to Luz, so she just nods.

Luz pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth and crawls off the bed, moving to the door.

Amity bites her lip before calling out.

“Hurry back, querida.”

Luz freezes and Amity grins, knowing even without being able to see her face as it’s turned away and dark that Luz is blushing.

After a second she just looks over her shoulder and smiles.

“Siempre volveré a ti, mi amor.” She says before opening the door and disappearing down the hall, leaving Amity confused but flustered.

She pulls out her scroll and calls her sister who picks up on the second ring.

“Mittens, are you okay, where are you?” She sounds worried and Amity feels a little guilty about that.

“I’m fine, Em. I’m at Luz's…”

“Oooh, and what are you two up to I wonder…?” she says with a knowing lilt, but she does not have the energy to be angry at her older sisters teasing.

“Emira…” the tired and almost sad way she says her sister’s name makes the sound on the other end go quiet for a moment.

“What’s wrong?” Emira sounds serious now, and with a weary sigh she explains the last few hours to the twins after Emira has put her scroll on speaker, which includes finally telling the twins why she’s been dying her hair green for years; they don’t like it. Not one bit.

After about twenty minutes Luz peeks her head in the bedroom door and seeing her on her scroll, gives her a thumbs-up as she walks quietly into the room to sit on the end of the bed.

“Titan, Amity…” she hears her brother say quietly.

“I’m going to stay with Luz tonight, I’ll be back in the morning and we can talk about it later,” she says before he or Emira can say anything else.

There’s a long moment of silence and Amity can just see the two of them, looking at each other having one of the silent conversations they’re famous for.

“Alright, we’ll see you tomorrow. We love you!” The two chorus at the end and Amity rolls here eyes, but smiles.

“I love you too.” The scroll beeps as the call ends and Luz reaches out to grab her hand and squeezes reassuringly.

“Eda said we’re good to go for tonight and that dinner is ready.”

It isn’t until she says this that Amity realizes how absolutely starving she is.

“That sounds nice.” She nods.

Luz grins and leads her downstairs, hand still threaded through hers.

Eda looks up as they walk into the kitchen.

“Have a seat, kids.” She motions to the table where Lilith and King are already sitting, waiting.

They do, and they all smile, and for once Amity is glad that Lilith is here.

Maybe she hasn’t forgiven her yet, but she’s trying, and after all this talk about her mother, she’s glad for anyone else.

She gives Lilith a small smile and the woman seems surprised, but it’s quickly replaced with a reassuring look.

When dinner finished and everything is cleaned up, Amity insists on helping, the two head for the stairs only to be stopped by Eda, poking her head out of the kitchen to look at the two as they start up the stairs.

“Luz” her mentor calls, and they both turn back to look at her.

“You two can sleep up there, but that door stays open, no funny business, or this is the last time anyone stays here; got it?” They both turn bright red but Luz nods.

“No funny business,” she squeaks. she’s not going to even attempt to argue that nothing is going to happen, she just agrees; not willing to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Good. Night, kids.” Eda grins and the two hurry up the stairs, mumbling to each other and faces red.

[7gt9ubkeqga7]

A Few Reasons To Attend The Ryder Cup Is The Best Event In Golf

There is no golf event like the Ryder Cup. It's the closest golf comes to creating the kind of competition and atmosphere you get at other sporting events. The Golf Channel's Brandel Chamblee has even claimed it's as close as the sport can get to an Alabama-Auburn match. While it's an extreme claim however, it's clear that a new and exciting dynamic will emerge during the Ryder Cup. It's easy to access rydercupfreak.com as well as 2021 Ryder Cup Golf live stream.

The major championships could have the history, tradition and career-defining glory but none are more fun or unique than the Ryder Cup. David Duval, a former world No. 1 player in the world and major winner, called the 1999 Ryder Cup the "greatest golfing event of my life." The 1999 Ryder Cup was referred to by David Duval, the major winner and the former No. 1 golfer on the planet, as the "greatest golfing experience" of his life. This is the greatest event in golf, and it's not the Masters. Here are the reasons why.

Play the man and not the course.

Match play is a type of game that top players around the world have no chance to play nowadays. It's the exact game they were taught to play and what the regular hacks play on weekends. It is one of the two weekends during the year that stroke play is omitted and the player is able to play against an opponent, instead of himself and the course.

The format ratchets up the intensity and confrontational nature of the event. There's gamesmanship all around, stuff you never get during normal tournament play. Paul Azinger calls Seve Ballesteros the master of gamesmanship in this event and the two frequently had a fracas when they were playing each other in the Ryder Cup. Azinger is still talking about how Ballesteros was "clearing his throat" loudly during their game at Kiawah in 1991. Jose Maria Olazabal, Ballesteros and his teammate and a friend, was confronted by Chip Beck and Azigner for playing with the wrong format during an alternate shot. The match was stopped abruptly after the two teams faced off against each other with a rules official on the fairway's side.

Cheering for poor shots and missed shots!

Nick Faldo said it didn't take him long to realize he was playing in the Ryder Cup until the American fans roared in joy when he failed to make a putt. This isn't the case in any other setting in golf. The most boisterous and whipped up crowds in the game. While there are occasions when a heckle could create some debate but it's fairly common to cheer, point and laugh at the jerk who just duff'd it.

Although some traditionalists might be irritated that fans aren't cheering for every shot, it's the essence of the game to laugh at and cheer on the misfortunes of the team in opposition. Look at the hostile scene that Olazabal had with his Boston fans in 1999.

Fan apparel

Although it's not as good as World Cup standards, the Ryder Cup has the most outrageously dressed golfers. It's a celebration of national pride, and any odd outfits that could dig up.

The pressure

The general consensus among players, or even captain it, is that it is the most pressured golfing experience of their lives. Nick Faldo said the Ryder Cup was the only time that his stomach was churning for the whole 18-holes on the course. After losing what was thought to be the most important match in 1991, Mark Calcavecchia wandered away to Kiawah in tears. Then he panicked, and sank to sleep an hour later. The team believed that he would have to be examined by an ER doctor.

Player attire

It's extremely rare to have millionaires in a crowd and middle-aged people sporting the same sloppy sweater vest or an oversized golf shirt. Both in function and form, some uniforms have proven to be disastrous for both sides. This is one aspect of the Ryder Cup you can point out and laugh about.

Strategy

The Ryder Cup is more strategic than any other event. The impact a captain's actions make on his team's performance cannot be overstated, but they do have control over who is selected for the final three or four roster spots, who gets paired together and in what order the captain would like to send players out in each session.

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Is It Really THAT Bad?

Dr. Seuss is no stranger to cinematic adaptations, and even less of a stranger to animation. And whenever Seuss gets animated, you can typically expect good things, as opposed to when his work is live action, in which case you can expect…

Yeah…

Anyway, imagine the excitement people must have felt when the creative team behind Despicable Me and the writing team behind the underrated gem Horton Hears a Who got together to do a fresh new take on The Lorax! This was in Illumination’s heyday, before they ended up showcasing that they’re more interested in churning out cheap products for maximum profit, so there was plenty of hope that this could be good. Then came all the commercial tie-ins.

Now, this alone shouldn’t be indicative of the final product. Maybe stuff like this is just a bunch of suits horribly missing the point of the original story! Maybe the actual film will be better! Well… while the film was no flop, and while it certainly got a better reception than most of the films I’ve talked about here, the film was derided by many for being an extremely shallow and lacking adaptation that adds unneeded junk to a story that didn’t need it in such a way that ultimately dilutes the message. It turns a story that operated on shades of gray and turned it into a cartoonish spectacle that would make even Captain Planet blush. Not helping was the rabid fanbase on Tumblr who shipped the Once-ler with… himself… or Jack Frost… forever tainting the film in the eyes of those on the internet.

Things got so bad eventually even the [REDACTED] Critic reviewed the film in his usual over-the-top, accentuate the negative style, and as some people still treat his word as gospel, this has most likely colored the perception of the film. So while it’s certainly not to the same level of infamy as the usual subjects of Is It Really THAT Bad? I still wanted to put this movie on here and ask one simple question:

How ba-ah-ah-ad can it be?

THE GOOD

So let me just get it out of the way: the movie’s villain song, “How Bad Can I Be,” legitimately is awesome and is frankly one of the best villain songs ever. No, I’m not kidding. It’s just a fun, rocking number with some neat visuals, and while it’s a shame the cut rock opera-esque “Biggering” is probably the better song, this one is definitely more fun and meme-worthy. Shake that bottom line!

Now, the casting is, for the most part, pretty fantastic. Minor characters like the grandma played by Betty White are a lot of fun, but really, the main piece of awesome casting is Danny DeVito as the titular Seuss creation. DeVito as the Lorax is just so incredible, perfect, and inspired that it boggles the mind how anyone could possibly come up with such amazing casting.

As far as antagonizing forces in the film go, the Once-ler’s awful, vile family are enjoyable in a “love to hate” sort of way. While it’s certainly kind of iffy that they felt the need to give the Once-ler more of an excuse for his actions beyond just simple greed, it isn’t so bad that what they came up with was familial pressure. In fact, they’re actually much better at antagonists than O’Hare, the actual villain of the film, and the fact the movie give him so much focus despite having such fascinating characters that would have had a really great thematic purpose; hell, they should have been the rulers of Thneedville instead og O’Hare! There’s so much untapped potential with these, quite frankly, very interesting characters.

I guess I should say the Once-ler is a pretty decent character in and of himself, but he very much suffers from the same problem the Jim Carrey Grinch does – he’s a good, enjoyable character in his own right, but he’s not a very good Once-ler. In fact, he at points borders on “in name only” territory. Still, he does have a pretty solid arc, and that villain song slaps, so… I think he’s solid, and Ed Helms does a good job voicing him.

THE BAD

Jon Lajoie, while in character as his misogynistic moron rapper MC Vagina, said this:

When I first heard this lyric, I didn’t understand it… but his words were a prophecy, because that is, in all honesty, the plot of this film. Our flavorless protagonist Ted really just wants to get the Truffula trees back so he can get into the pants of the local smoking hot redhead hippie, Audrey. It gets to the point where Ted’s motivations are so boring and shallow that Audrey actually would have made a far more interesting and compelling protagonist, seeing as she already has an inexplicable knowledge of the trees and cares about nature. When they already changed so much in the story I don’t see why they couldn’t just make the protagonist a girl while they were at it. As it is, she barely has any presence and feels like a waste, which becomes all the more awful when you know she’s being played by a stunt casted Taylor Swift instead of an actual voice actor or even an actor period. At least Ted is Zac Efron, an actual actor, though he doesn’t do a particularly good job himself.

Then we have our villain, O’Hare. O’Hare has all the subtlety of a Captain Planet villain but none of the cheesy goodness and fun. Sure, Rob Riggle does some good delivery and gives O’Hare some memetastic moments, and sure, his selling of canned air is oddly prescient of things that happened in real life in India (though technically President Skroob Spaceballs beat him to the punch by a few decades) but it doesn’t really redeem O’Hare from being an excessively weak villain who is shoehorned into the plot solely to turn the story into a black and white morality tale. It… doesn’t work at all. What also doesn’t help is that O’Hare has an absolutely repugnant character design, looking like if Edna Mode got mangled by a sixteen wheeler and left in a ditch on the side of the road.

Finally, this movie just doesn’t really respect the story to any great degree. As mentioned above, it waters down a story that presented arguments from both sides and, while still ultimately showing the Once-ler to be wrong and shortsighted, did have him make some valid points. Here, the story is presented as there being a clear cut good and evil in a horrendously unsubtle and unpalatable way. Yes, we get that extreme deforestation and overuse of resources is bad, you don’t need to beat us over the head with it. It doesn’t help that the film also crams in a bunch of cringeworthy pop culture humor that really doesn’t add much to the story; say what you will about the anime scene from Horton, at least there was a bit of substance and reason for it. Having characters sing the Mission: Impossible theme is just making a reference for the sake of making a reference.

Is It Really THAT Bad?

So I’m gonna say that I don’t particularly find this movie to be good, per se. It’s very dumbed down and more than a little undermined by the various brand tie ins. It is a poorly executed black and white morality tale that was crafted from a very deep and engaging piece of children’s literature, and on that level, I don’t think this movie works even a little bit. Still, there’s some enjoyment that can be mined from this, particularly from some of the more so bad it’s good moments, as well as DeVito’s performance and some actual good moments of story and character. There’s some stuff to like here if you dig a bit, but really, I don’t think you really should have to do a deep dig into The Lorax to get some enjoyment.

Overall, I wouldn’t really say this movie is totally bad, but it’s definitely not good, either; it veers more into the territory of “so bad it’s good,” which is a shame but also kind of refreshing. It’s definitely an interesting film to talk about, and there are a few things about it that work, but ultimately it’s not enough to really raise the film to the level of the classic animated Seuss adaptations or even to the level of Horton. At its best, it’s okay, and at its worst, it actively undermines its own messages. I think the 6.4 it has is pretty fair… maybe a bit too fair, if I’m being honest. I’d give it something like a 5.7 or 5.8.

Again, it’s not the worst thing ever like some might tell you; hell, the adaptation of How the Grinch Stole Christmas Illumination would go on to make is probably a worse movie. But it still doesn’t really do anything that adds to the story its telling, and it ultimately comes off as saccharine, forgettable childish fluff. It’s really a harmless movie, but it’s still probably gonna grate on anyone who holds the original story in high esteem. The {REDACTED] Critic was a bit hyperbolic in his review, but I do think he was right in principle. This movie feels like a calculated, corporate adaptation meant to be as inoffensive and marketable as possible much like every Illumination film post-Despicable Me. And if there’s one thing The Lorax shouldn’t be, it’s “inoffensive and marketable.”

[forevfangirlwrites]

Roses and Regrets

A/N: Thanks to @yourtrashyfangurl​ for selecting the prompt from here!

She hasn’t talked to Percy in two weeks.

She’s acutely aware of the fact too. You’d notice if one of your closest friends suddenly stopped talking to you. Well…not that suddenly. If she thinks back, the distance had been growing between them as unspoken tension lingered in the background and unsaid words grew heavier.

But even then, the off-kilter feelings and friction between them seemed to have come out of nowhere. It just doesn’t make sense to her.

But everything is like that with Percy. Nothing ever really makes sense. He is like a whirlwind of emotions and half-sentences and loose puzzle pieces.

A honk shakes her out of her thoughts, as she catches sight of Luke’s car outside. It’s a shiny silver, very clean, and he gets out of the car to open the door for her, offering a smile and a single white rose.

It’s very nice.

He tells her she looks beautiful; she blushes, and they talk over a quiet radio and arrive at a nice restaurant. And from there they follow the beats of a date: dinner, sweet smiles, dessert, a kiss good night.

She sighs when she shuts the door, a pleasant smile on her face. It’s been a nice day, no tensions, no fighting, no whirlwind. A good time with nice company and she feels calm for once.

Fishing out a vase, she puts her single white rose in water. Simple and perfect. She thinks maybe she’s finally got what she wants.

-.-

Luke makes sense, she realizes while walking in the park (she’s supposed to be jogging but has absolutely no motivation to do so). She can understand him, his actions, his goals, his personality.

As if on cue her phone rings. It’s him, of course, calling exactly when he said he would.

She picks up and he’s polite and charming, asks her how her jog is going, and chuckles when she tells him it isn’t and it’s nice to feel comfortable.

Her mind harkens back to Percy (without her permission, she might add) and how by now he would have made a teasing comment about her getting out of shape if she continued on like this (even though his homemade cookies that he always brought over were the problem). But even though he’d obviously be teasing, it’d annoy her enough to make her jog twice the distance she would’ve just to prove a point.

Even just thinking about it has her a little worked up and she shakes him out of her mind. Luke is asking her about dinner and she readily agrees, finally admitting defeat on her jog in favor of going home and getting ready.

Dinner is nice, as is everything with Luke, and by the end of the night she gets another white rose and a sweet kiss to show for it.

When she gets home, she puts the white rose next to the other and they sit there next to each other, pristine and perfect.

She goes to sleep with a smile on her face.

-.-

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Luke says as they’re debating going barhopping over the weekend. A lot of her friends are going, and it’ll probably be fun but…

“It’s not that I don’t want to go, I just…I don’t know!” She’s frustrated⁠—she hates being indecisive⁠—but bars and parties aren’t that much her thing so she’s on the fence about it and…

Luke puts his arm around her and continues in his calm voice, “It’s alright, Annabeth. We’ll do whatever you want.”

It’s such a stark contrast to what Percy would do. By now, Percy would have declared his opinion and would probably be pushing her towards going to the event with that stupid wide grin on his face.

She huffs at the thought. She tells Luke she doesn’t want to go.

So, they don’t. She ends up with another white rose and goes to bed mostly content with her decision.

The next day all her friends have posted about how fun the event was. She stares at her white roses and thinks it’s probably alright.

-.-

A week later she’s hoisting up groceries to her apartment, huffing and puffing by the time she gets to her door. ⁠

She makes a face as she sets the bags down and toes off her shoes. She hasn’t been out of breath like this in a long while, especially since she’d been building up a better tolerance for cardio through her daily jog⁠—

Except…she hadn’t actually jogged in weeks.

Her frown deepens as she puts the food away. She needs to get back into the habit, but she doesn’t know why she stopped in the first place.

Her phone dings with a notification that Piper has posted something on Instagram. To fulfill her best friend duty, she immediately opens it up to like it.

The post is about the bar hop event that she missed and features a grinning Piper, Thalia and Jason all holding microphones, captioned with “never sang Eye of The Tiger better!!”

She likes the picture and comments a heart emoji, but her frown isn’t going away. She really should have gone…she just…

She’s frustrated again. It’s been like this for a while now, everything seems kind of off and she can’t put her finger on why. And she’s frustrated more often than she ever wants to be.

She sighs. She’s just had a bad run of it, it’ll be alright. She’ll get back into the swing of things.

Lost in her thoughts, she doesn’t realize her frown has settled on the white roses sitting prettily in the water.

-.-

Luke drops her off at the coffee shop she’s meeting Piper at. The smile she’s been faking slips away and the frown settles back on her face as she aimlessly fiddles with the with today’s⁠— of course⁠—white rose.

“Hey Beth!” Piper is one of two people in the entire world who can call her that. She tries not to think of the other person.

She gives her best friend a hug. “Hey Pipes.”

“What’s with the white rose?” she asks, dropping her bag to the floor as she sits down.

Annabeth shrugs. “Luke gives them to me.”

Piper raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

She shrugs again. “I don’t know, to be nice?”

“But you don’t even like white roses?”

It’s true that she had once declared she didn’t care for white roses and would carry red roses instead at her own wedding. Granted, that had been a few wineglasses and years ago, but she supposes it still rings true.

She shrugs for the third time, suddenly anxious to get away from the topic, and sets the flower down a little ways away. It’s bright against the dark wood of the table.

She turns towards Piper and asks her about Jason.

-.-

It’s two am and she cannot call asleep. Her mind is spinning with way too many thoughts and she can’t turn any of them off. One thing just leads to another and another and another until sea green eyes fill her mind and she’s thinking about Percy.

It’s been a month and now in the darkness of night she can admit that she misses him. She doesn’t even know why. Everything was a mess with him, nothing made sense, it was all complex and chaotic emotions. He pushed her buttons, pulled her away from comfortability, and it was a constant whirlwind.

With Percy it was all breaking down and coming undone and an almost roller coaster kind of rush. She swears he’s insane but⁠—

But she still misses him, despite all that.

She curses his name, turns over, and tries to block out the memories of hearts beating fast and the strange freedom that came with screaming in the rain.

-.-

She’s ready early, because Luke always shows up on time, looking aimlessly out the window for signs of the shiny silver car.

Her gaze naturally lands on the vase of white roses, still looking pretty and pristine, and suddenly they’re making her frown instead of smile. They’re suddenly too elegant, too perfect, and it makes her stomach churn.

It’s such an intense emotion and it comes out of nowhere and⁠—

It doesn’t make sense.

Strangely enough, the thought makes her smile. Things not making sense? She’s used to that, used to figuring that out, used to it because Percy⁠—

Percy motivates her to jog when she doesn’t want to (because he knows how she hates herself for it afterwards if she skips out). Percy pushes her towards new experiences that might be a little out of her comfort zone (and it’s those experiences she remembers the most vividly). Percy is a mess, he’s rain and screaming, puzzle pieces that don’t quite fit and a rollercoaster she didn’t know she missed.

Percy doesn’t make sense.

And Percy is everything she nee⁠—

A honk breaks her out of her thoughts.

Percy is late.

The beat up, messy, blue Prius is a sigh for sore eyes. He doesn’t get out of the car to let her in but invites her in by turning up the volume and belting out Rick Astley’s Never Going To Give You Up.

He offers a wide grin, telling her she looks absolutely stunning, and a few seconds later she’s screaming along to the lyrics with him.

She’s jogged everyday for the past week, they’re on their way to some event downtown that she’s not sure of, but Percy’s look of excitement is everything.

As quickly as he had turned it up, he lowers the volume suddenly, and when she turns to look at him questioningly, he’s just staring at her.

It’s a little uncomfortable and completely out of left field and of course it doesn’t make sense.

But she’s used to it, used to figuring it out.

So, it doesn't take her long to figure out the look of love in his eyes.

-.-

She sighs when she shuts the door behind her. It’s been a great day, she has tingling lips and a smirking Percy in front of her to show for it.

His next kiss causes her to lose all brain functions and she wonders if maybe she’s the insane one. Her hands let go of her stuff and it falls to the floor as she tangles her fingers in his hair.

It’s messy and wild and she feels the whirlwind inside of her. She never knew she could feel this much.

They stumble further into the apartment, giggling and happy. It’s been a long time coming.

And on the floor by the door lay shoes, a purse, and a single red rose.

A/N: Thank you so much for the prompt! I hope you liked it and this little fic (with a hint of The Way I Loved You by Taylor Swift) fulfilled what you were looking for when you chose the prompt Roses!

[porchwood]

Hi just so I understand cause i keep waiting for it and it doesnt seem likely to happen have you kind of fallen out of love with wtm? and everlark in general tbh? cause ive been following you for a while now and you always had lil quotes and pictures and things that reminded you inspired you whatever it was about katniss and wtm and now alllll it is is gadge i followed you because personally i love what you did with everlark and im just wondering if thats gone and not foreseeable any time soon?

I’ve been thinking a lot about how to answer this… It’s afair question - to a point. If you’re more of a drop-in person (like me) thanlive-on-the-dash, coming back to find my blog awash in Gadge might have beenquite upsetting. There are several reasons for the current state of things:

1. Life has been driving me into the ground since December26, 2013. (Yes, going on six straight years.) If you were a WtM reader from thebeginning, you may recall that I was pretty energetic and prolific in 2012-2013.Oh, there were tough times, but nothing like what started on the aforementioneddate (a car accident where I was in the “bystander” vehicle and it still got totaled)and has continued relentlessly ever since. Sometimes adversity leads to greatcreativity and sometimes it turns you into a depressed, exhausted, reclusivelump, and the past 5+ years have seen periods of both from me. These past 18months have been exceptionally awful (and expensive), resulting in very littlewriting at all, about any pairing.

2. Writing WtM takes a lot out of me. I don’t know whether thisis common knowledge or not, but it’s the gospel truth. I love that world, Ilove that version of Everlark, but every chapter requires so much hard work, itmakes me tired just to think of it. Not to mention, over the past couple of chaptersEverlark have been pushing for more intimacy than the plot/timeline allows, andso I’ve been struggling with how I want to handle that. Do I fight them andstick to the plan? (I can’t advance the timeline for several reasons.) Do I tryto figure out a cheat for them? They’ve got minds of their own and have changedmy plans multiple times, but this is something they genuinely can’t have, and Ihave to fight them on it. ☹ Which is sad, frustrating, and exhausting.

3. I’m a multi-pairing shipper, and have been from about 3chapters into WtM. Which means that my Everlark fics almost always feature asecondary pairing (or more than one), and sometimes I’ll get a plot bunny for afic about a pairing other than Everlark. Most writers in the THG fandom exclusivelywrite their OTP, whatever the plot bunny, but I find that some plot bunnies don’tfit Everlark as well as they do another pairing. (This is why I’ll never write aBeauty and the Beast Everlark fic unless Katniss is the “Beast,” if you will.)

4. The Everlark fandom is…tricky. I’ve never fit in there. Idon’t write Everlark the way the majority of fans see them (except for Peetabeing “sweet,” I guess), I hated the movies (I refuse to see MJ 1 or 2), and I’vemanaged to really rub some people the wrong way over the years –unintentionally, and for a variety of reasons – all of which leaves me feeling kinda down about Everlark in general. Don’t misunderstand me: I love Everlarkand WtM, but it’s really isolating to be this sad little island of unpopularopinions and unwelcome side-ships. That’s the part I really wish I could makeyou understand. For six years I’ve had Christopher Plummer in my head saying, “You’llnever be one of them,” and he’s so, cruelly, right. I want to cry every time Ithink of Embracing the Season (my E-rated Everlark modern AU oneshot for Lovein Panem - lots of daring for me!) because I poured heart and soul into that andit still wasn’t the Everlark that people wanted.

5. About a year and a half ago (when Strawberry Time reallytook off of its own accord) I participated in Gadge Day 2017, working my buttoff to find and schedule (and tag) over 100 carefully chosen Gale/Madge/Gadge aestheticposts, and for lack of a better way to say it: it turned on my Gadge-dar. After that, thosekinds of posts just leapt out at me whenever I had a chance to scroll, and forseveral months I wasn’t sure what to do with that. With a little encouragementfrom @ghtlovesthg, I came up with #march madgeness – wherein I turned my Tumblrinto Madge/Gadge-land for one month, and it was a blast. (Side-stepping Gadgefor a moment: Madge is a highly underappreciated and underused character,especially in fic/on Tumblr and I love splashing the dash with Madge-love.) Thenext month I launched a run of pent-up Everlark posts (i.e., regularprogramming), but I missed my Madge, so I instituted #madge monday – one day aweek when I could splash the dash with Madge/Gadge. At every juncture I gavepeople tags to block if they didn’t want to see this content (though I stillget unfollows every time I post, alas). I participated in last summer’s THG Reread– on the fringe of it, but my posts (reblogs and meta) were strongly Everlark-focusedagain during that time. So there’s definitely still been Everlark on my blog,but if you’re just dropping in (or for that matter, glancing at my archive), you’regoing to see a majority of Madge/Gadge.

6. Frankly, Gadge is fun. It’s a completely different dynamicthan Everlark, with less pressure to create something transcendent, and whenthe chips are down, I’m more likely to work on something that isn’t my six-years-runningopus. This spring, in the midst of lots of awfulness, I finally wrote a piecethat I’ve had in my head for years – The Best Part of Waking Up – with a differentpairing featured in each drabble “chapter,” including Gadge, Luka/Johanna (whoI’ve been wanting to put out there for AGES) and Jack/Raisa. I haven’t beenable to write quickly in years, and I think I finished those three “chapters”in about two days, maybe three. I completed the Raisa drabble in a couple ofhours and I consider it one of the best things I’ve ever written. (Honestly, ifa pairing was going to topple Everlark in my heart, it would be Jack/Raisa, i.e.,Mr. Everdeen/Mrs. Mellark. I love them to distraction.) Once upon a time I could drabble/sprint Everlark too – notoften, but I could manage it. Maybe it’ll happen again someday, but for thetime being, when I write in quick eager bursts, it’s usually about aside-pairing.

7. Because I just need to say it: about a year ago, I set up a secondary Tumblr for almost all my side-interests and ships outside of THG. When I first joined Tumblr, porchwood was just a fun page where I posted whatever struck my fancy (pretty things, funny things, whatever I liked), and over the next few years, I honed it into a pretty “writer’s notebook” for WtM and my other THG fics (related quotes, aesthetic posts, writing check-ins, etc.). When Star Wars: The Force Awakens came out, I shared a handful of posts pertaining to a new ship (not a new direction for my blog or writing, just sharing my excitement) and it was made very clear to me that people didn’t want to see that content on my page. So when I started watching Voltron: Legendary Defender, I had a sneaking suspicion people wouldn’t want to hear about those ships either. So I started an entirely new Tumblr for that content, and every so often I accidentally post something to the wrong page, which I immediately correct in horror, but people still unfollow. Point being: this blog is THG (and a few personal life updates) ONLY, with a pretty consistent aesthetic. I hide literally everything else that I’m interested in so you don’t have to be bothered by it. Is it really so unacceptable for me to have side-ships (complementary to the main pairing, not threatening to them) in the same universe??

8. Believe it or not, I’ve been working on WtM all along,just not making any massive strides. I tried to chip away at the current chapterduring Camp Nanowrimo last July, and it was a disaster. I thought joining awriting group would be helpful, but I didn’t realize that Camp Nano is basicallya lot of writing sprints in which you try to churn out as many words aspossible, which you then report to your “cabin” – and that’s the onlyinteraction with your fellow writers. I can’t write like that anymore (seeabove) and especially not when it comes to WtM, so I got discouraged veryquickly and sort of drifted away. I reattempted Nano on my own in April and wrotealmost 15K words, but in that instance I was really just using the Nano platform toset and reach a goal (which I didn’t ☹ ); I wasn’t in a cabin and didn’t interact with anyother writers, except my friend @ghtlovesthg, who read the finished portion.

9. I want to finish this dang chapter so much, and frankly, theonly way that’s going to happen is if life gets a little better and I holemyself up with my laptop for hours on end for weeks at a time – and somemagical being comes to support/cheer/comfort me while I do so. It’s currentlysitting at about 25K and I anticipate it will need to be at least double that,which is beyond ridiculous, but that’s the nature of WtM. The chapters are asmany words as it takes.

TL, DR: I still love Everlark and I’m still working on WtM, but my life has been extremely difficult for a very long time and I don’t have a great Everlark lifeline. Gadge and all my other ships are fun, and most of the Gadge you see on my Tumblr is aesthetic stuff for themed days/months/occasions. Anything non-THG goes on my sideblog.

[chelseawolfemusic]

Chelsea Wolfe Interview / Cover Story // Revolver

Full feature via REVOLVER

Chelsea Wolfe has escaped into the woods and she's not about to come back. You'll find the singer-guitarist in the mountains of Northern California, hours from her Sacramento hometown, where the closest she gets to city life is in some tiny, ancient hamlets left behind from the Gold Rush days.

It's quiet up there, which might help explain the acoustic direction of her next album, a mostly solo project she's been writing and recording in her living room, her garage, wherever there's space to dig into Wolfe's new songs that are both intimate and biting, delicate and fierce. As an artist, she was already hard to pin down, with elements of folk, goth, post-punk, industrial, metal and more woven deep into her grooves. "I move in extremes, hot or cold," she says. "I tend to combine those two things at all times."

The still-untitled album is a left turn from the explosive rock guitars that dominated 2017's acclaimed Hiss Spun, with its churning songs of white noise and epic melodies. This year, she returns to her core inspirations, and the playlist Wolfe is spinning on infinite loop are recordings by Townes Van Zandt and Neurosis, Johnny Cash and David Bowie, disparate songwriters who cut deep. That makes the new album a kind of follow-up to her smoldering 2012 release Unknown Rooms: A Collection of Acoustic Songs, which gathered leftover folk tunes of a certain understated volume that hadn't fit on her other albums.

This one is different in that Wolfe is building this collection from the ground up, intentionally working within her own version of folk on songs written over the last year. She has longtime collaborator Ben Chisholm co-producing and engineering, and occasional guest players to add subtle layers of sound, including drummer Jess Gowrie. But she is determined to make this a solo project as raw and as cooked as the early country music and folk she heard growing up, with a modern message suited to the moment.

With Hiss Spun, her following only grew wider, and she's seeing fans with her lyrics tattooed to their skin. Wolfe is responding with new songs that both embrace and challenge, exploring the trials and triumphs of feminism, present and past, within an ever-changing world order that she's encouraged to see has a new wave of women rising to power in the U.S. Congress.

"I just follow my instincts and I follow all the strange and different voices that live inside me and I don't hold them back," says Wolfe, "especially not anymore."

photograph by John Crawford

YOUR LAST ALBUM, HISS SPUN, HAD A LOT OF EXPLOSIVE GUITAR MOMENTS. IS THIS ACOUSTIC RECORD A REACTION AWAY FROM THAT? CHELSEA WOLFE Honestly, I didn't know exactly what I was going to do next. I was so completely enveloped and focused on doing that record. And it was cathartic for me. That record felt very internal, but very explosive, as well, letting a lot of things out I hadn't thought about or talked about before. Maybe the natural reaction to that is to retreat into the wilderness and just write a really quiet album. It's introspective, but it's also about the history of women and what we've gone through over these years and how a lot has changed, a lot hasn't changed.

IS THAT INSPIRED BY RECENT EVENTS IN THE WORLD? I'm sure it is. Part of it has to do with just being a woman and getting older and understanding things more and just feeling that really visceral reaction to the way women are treated and seeing it on the daily in our society and on the news.

THIS ISN'T YOUR FIRST ACOUSTIC PROJECT. DO YOU GET A DIFFERENT FEELING ONSTAGE WHEN YOU'RE ALONE VERSUS BEING WITH A BAND AND HAVING AN ELECTRIC GUITAR IN YOUR HANDS? I haven't done shows by myself onstage in a really long time and it's not so easy for me. It's definitely more comfortable to have your band with you and to be able to lose yourself in all these sounds and things that you're creating together. But I also feel really ready and excited to do that, even though it's scary. I like to push myself into new territories musically and physically. Heavy music can be really intimate, and solo can be very intimate. So in a way it's the same thing, being up there and baring your soul for people.

HOW IS THE NEW RECORD BEING MADE? I'm recording it at home. Originally, I really wanted to do everything myself. Sometimes as a female artist, if one man is involved with one little thing on your record, they end up getting a lot more credit for it. I was being a little defensive at first. But as I started approaching it, I felt like that was actually a very lonely way of doing things and it didn't sound like much fun. So I decided to involve Ben, and he's helping engineer it so that I can just focus on recording the parts and not having to run back and forth to the board or computer.

I really wanted to play every song just with me and an acoustic guitar. That was important for me. So they all started in that way. We might add some electric guitar, or some kind of electronic beats to it.

I sat down with Ben and that really helped me finish everything — we would talk about a song and then I would run upstairs to my writing room and suddenly have all these lyrics that finished a song.

HOW ARE THE NEW SONGS RELATED TO SOME OF THE QUIETER MOMENTS ON HISS SPUN? I think it's different. I did Unknown Rooms, which was a compilation of a lot of acoustic songs I'd written over the years. They were just written with the idea of playing them as a solo artist in mind. I think every record definitely is going to have some heavy moments and some soft moments. Abyss had "Crazy Love" and Hiss Spun had "Two Spirit." It's just part of me to oscillate between the two.

CAN YOU TELL ME ABOUT ONE OF THE SONGS? One is called "Be All Things." It's very introspective and it's very triumphant. Conceptually, it's about a Victorian-era woman who is a maiden but very much wants to be a warrior — and just thinking about nature and environmentalism and how long that has been a problem and how we're trying to make changes but still we're just destroying the earth. Just when it seems like something's changing, it just gets worse. I think my music in general represents the soft and the strong, embracing the feminine and masculine of myself. This album is very much along the theme of that dichotomy. And I think a lot of people can relate to that, as well, whether it's a man or woman, a non-gender-specific person. I think a lot of people are starting to embrace that about themselves, the soft and strong, and then really finding that empowering.

DID THAT COME AS A REACTION TO SOMETHING? It's a bit of a reaction, but it's also just something that's really been a part of me for a long time. I'm not just one thing. You can't really put me or my music into a box. Sometimes that's frustrating for me because I think maybe it holds me back in a way, but then sometimes I think that is why I've been able to do what I do and why I have any kind of success as an artist and a musician. I'm saying in the song: "I want to be all things." I don't want to be held back anymore and I don't want to feel like I need to quiet my voice. I just want to be who I am and be free.

IT SEEMS LIKE A LOT OF PEOPLE FEEL THAT WAY. JUST LOOK AT HOW MANY WOMEN WERE RECENTLY ELECTED TO CONGRESS. Exactly. It's amazing. And I think it's very indicative of this time and more and more women and non-gender-specific people are really starting to speak up for themselves and let go of the fear of that. So that's definitely a strong theme with this new album.

HOW HAVE YOU EVOLVED AS A LYRICIST SINCE YOUR FIRST RECORDS? I'm a much better writer and I'm taking the time to really make sure I'm saying the right thing. As a younger artist, I would just write a song and then that was it. I never really went back and fixed up the lyrics or changed a word if I didn't like it. I love words and I love reading and I love thinking about language and how to make something sound the best way but also infuse a lot of meaning into even just a short phrase. On this new album, I'm using some archaic language to talk about new things.

HOW ARE YOU USING ARCHAIC LANGUAGE? I was spending some time with my great-grandmother before she died and I would often write down a word here and there that you don't hear anymore. Jess is very much like that, too. She was raised by her grandparents, so she has a lot of cute old phrases that she says that you don't hear very often. There's a moment [on the record] with the word "daylight plumed my skin." That's something I've probably read in some old poetry books. It's something sensual, and I'm always trying to bring sensuality into language and keeping that alive because I feel like sometimes that is a dying art.

ASIDE FROM YOUR OWN TOURS OVER THE LAST YEAR, YOU DID TOURS WITH MINISTRY AND A PERFECT CIRCLE. HOW DID THAT GO? I'm such a big fan of Ministry and they're really great — but I don't think their audience was as open as I thought they might be. So it was a little bit tough if I'm honest. I got really aggro on the Ministry tours because sometimes it felt like their audience was just looking at us with disgust. Not all of them. Of course, there were some really nice people that wanted to be open to it. It ended up being fun and it brings you and your band closer together, too. I just took it as another learning experience.

Al [Jourgensen] was so great and he would invite us onto his bus after the show and just talk about music and stuff for a long time. We would overhear him describing us to other people, talking about me and Jess: "They're women and they're angry and they're making good music!" It was really cute.

A Perfect Circle was very different. Their audience was a lot more accepting of us for some reason. Definitely bigger venues than I've ever played. I have a long way to go in knowing how to work a room of 8,000 people because that's totally different than what I'm used to be playing. Maynard actually invited us out to his winery. We got to experience his wine and homegrown vegetables and stuff. It was really cool.

YOUR FANS SEEM WILLING TO FOLLOW YOU THROUGH YOUR SHIFTS IN TONE. AND NOBODY REALLY KNOWS WHAT THEY LIKE UNTIL THEY SEE OR HEAR IT. That's true. And I think it makes you a better artist when you do things that people aren't expecting. It's like when I heard Black Sabbath doing the song "Changes" the first time — after hearing all their other heavy music. Them doing something so touching and intimate helped me understand the freedom to just sing whatever song is calling to you.

[builder051]

The sound of snowfall

Jonestown (Natasha Romanov/Jessica Jones Avengers-JJ crossover ‘verse).  Contains alcohol, emeto, a bit of angst, a bit of romance.  

_____

Picking up Jess for work is Nat’s first task each day.  Sometimes it’s as simple as rolling over in bed and pressing a kiss to Jess’s pink lips, parted slightly and always inviting.  Nat wishes that was the case every morning.  It feels natural, Nat rising with the sun.  Gently pulling her lover back into the land of the living.  Coaxing out a smile from the haze of drink and sleep.

It would never work, though.  They’re probably only so happy together because they aren’t always together.  Neither of them is cut out for domesticity, and the schedules of spy rings and overnight stakeouts are hardly accommodating.  But Nat can’t complain.  She has the low-slung black sports car for a reason.  It’s almost as sensual to watch Jess leave lipstick marks on the lid of her Starbucks cup.  Almost.

It’s snowy today.  A heap of the white powder falls from a ledge somewhere up above as she steers out of the tower’s basement garage, the door whirring up and letting her out onto the street.  There are a few shallow tire marks in the snow on the street, but not enough to churn it into dirty grey slush.  Nat feels ice crunch beneath her tires.  She takes it easy, letting the car roll forward with gravity before chancing a tap on the accelerator.  

It’s the kind of weather that closes schools and gives way to red-nosed newscasters bundled in knockoff Burberry, imploring the public not to leave their high-rises.  Nat laughs to herself, pushing the car up past 30 as she plays chicken with a yellow light.  She’s the only vehicle out and about this morning, so it’s not like there’s utility in slamming on the brakes.  And she’s not even speeding.

With the absence of traffic and slickness of the ice, it doesn’t take Nat long to navigate to Hell’s Kitchen.  She only slows when she turns, snow spraying in arcs around the wheels.  A thrill of excitement flutters in her stomach when she starts to fishtail.  Nat grins, then catches the eye of her reflection in the rearview mirror.  She could stand to cool her jets.  

Nobody in Jess’s building seems to have left for work, so there’s no place to park.  She doubts any brave souls will venture out anytime soon, so she doesn’t feel too bad about pulling up parallel to a yellow mustang with a 10-inch cap of snow.  It looks like an over-frosted sugar cookie, delectable and absolutely ridiculous.  There are so few cars in the city that it makes sense for parking options to be limited, but this one’s owner must be nuts.  Who leaves such a flashy vehicle parked curbside for any length of time?  Well, Nat does, but her sanity’s so far gone that she doesn’t count.

She locks up and picks her way across the sidewalk, making pointy tracks with her high-heeled boots.  She sinks up to her ankles, and she shivers when some of the powder falls into her shoes.  Years of ballet and aikido and cheap, unbalanced treadmills have loosened the neural connections in her feet, but she still wishes she’d worn socks.

Jess’s building is hot and wet-smelling, like the collective population of inhabitants have all thrown their damp mittens over the radiator to dry.  Nat heads for the stairwell, where the draftiness and mist of cigarette smoke provide cold comfort.  She jogs in tight circles up the switchbacks to Jess’s floor, glad she’d had the boots re-soled in rubber.  It’s better for both the grip and the quietness.  It’s a little disappointing to stride across a hard floor without the purposeful clicking to announce her arrival.  But save an aura of sexiness, there’s no good reason for her to have loud shoes.  And besides, she doesn’t need to put on airs for Jess.  Jess tells her she’s beautiful in a hoodie and sweats.

Nat isn’t the one in a hoodie and sweats today, though.  The frosted glass panel in the door is meant to discourage prying eyes, but Nat knows how to interpret the fuzzy shapes behind the lettering for Alias Investigation.  The greyish, rounded silhouette of Jess’s head and shoulders rise past the line demarking the surface of her desk.  She’s already working.

“Hey,” Nat taps on the glass with one knuckle.  “Open up.”

Papers shuffle, and Jess gets up to let her in.  “Hey,” she says, raising her eyebrows at Nat through the crack as she releases the chain.  

“You gonna wear that to the office?” Nat asks, giving a meaningful look to Jess’s baggy sweatshirt before shaking the last bit of snow off the top of her shoe.  “Not that you shouldn’t.  But, you know…”

Jess shrugs.  “Did you watch the news?  Government stuff is closed today.”

Nat didn’t, but she’s not interested in sharing that.  “What, for this?”  She gestures vaguely toward the window behind Jess’s desk.  “It’s not that bad.”

“Yeah, well, the transit authority has apparently never been to Minnesota.  Or Moscow.”  She flashes Nat a smile.  “That’s what they’re worried about.  Car crashes.  It ‘s not like New Yorkers know how to drive anyway, in, like, regular conditions.”  Her grin falters.

“Seriously, though,” Nat says, stepping into Jess’s kitchen and taking a mug from the drainer basket.  “A snow day?  Aren’t we too old for that?”

“Oh, I’m with you there,” Jess replies, trailing a few steps behind.  “If you wanna build a snowman, go ask somebody else.”

“Aw, you’re no fun.”  Nat reaches toward the cabinet that sometimes contains instant coffee.  But not today.  There’s only Jack Daniels and Smirnoff.  

“No, I’m totally fun,” Jess deadpans, grabbing a bottle of whiskey and tearing at the lid’s plastic coating.  “Want some breakfast?  I’ve got case files, too, but this is better.”

“You sure SHIELD’s closed?” Nat asks suspiciously.  “I’m not getting a DUI when we get called in for a mission or something.”

“It’s a snow day for evil geniuses too.”  Jess swigs straight from the bottle, then breaks the seal on the vodka and holds it over Nat’s mug.  A drop of clear liquor shivers at the lip and falls like a loose diamond.  “All plots to take over the world are delayed till tomorrow.”

Nat laughs.  It’s stupid to let her guard down so much, but Jess is right.  Statistically speaking, at least.  More crimes are committed in the summer, regardless of scale.  Even terrorists don’t like going out in the cold.  “Ok,” she acquiesces.  “Sure.  But you owe me if I get a parking ticket.”

“You won’t,” Jess says.  She fills the mug almost to the brim.  

Nat takes a sip and looks at her questioningly.

“Government’s closed, doofus.”  Jess bumps Nat’s shoulder with hers, and Nat has to quickly gulp her drink to keep it from spilling.  “That means fewer cops, and they’re all gonna be responding to fender benders.”

“You owe me if I get in a fender bender, then.”  Nat nudges her back.

Jess rolls her eyes.  “I don’t think you’re drunk enough.  You’ve really got the dumb today.”

Of course Nat doesn’t think she’ll actually crash.  She drives like a stuntwoman when she’s sober, and still better than the average soccer mom when she’s intoxicated.  She tosses her hair back even though it’s not in her eyes.  “Then maybe it’s a good thing you’re keeping me home.”

Jess laughs and kisses her.  She tastes like whiskey and sleep, and she rises on her tiptoes so she can give tongue.  After a moment, her forehead starts to slide down Nat’s nose.  “Take off your fucking tall shoes and come’ere.”  

The overexcited thermostat makes it comfortable to strip to underwear.  They lie on the couch, squashed together at one end, kissing and blushing and not quite watching Good Morning America.  They decide to start a new game, drinking every time someone on TV mentions the snow.  Quick sips for regular programming.  Long ones for special reporting interruptions.  

They play until they start to forget the rules.  The animated map of swirling rainbow weather systems seems to jump up and down, vibrating the sofa like a deck chair on a cruise ship.  Nat plants her hand to ground herself and finds the culprit is Jess’s rib cage, shuddering with silent giggles beneath her.  

“You have to keep going,” Jess says breathlessly, reaching clumsily for her bottle.  “This is the lonest fucking snow report I’ve ever seen.”

Nat starts giggling too, even though the situation is tilting decidedly towards not funny.  Her gut feels watery and heavy.  Or maybe that’s her mouth.  She’s an overfilled mug, ready to spill, but still sipping anyway.  It had helped last time.  

Nat’s hand goes clammy against the warm glass.  The bottle is half-empty and unwieldy.  The liquor splashes back and forth, toward the neck, then toward the bottom.  Jess’s face distorts as Nat looks at her, going huge and then tiny as the tide rises and falls.  Her mouth moves, and Nat knows she’s speaking, but it takes several seconds to disentangle her voice from what’s coming out of the TV.

“…ok?”

“Huh?” Nat asks into the vodka bottle.  A sick hiccup sticks in her throat like a cork about to pop.  She doesn’t trust herself to move.

“Nat?  You ok?”

“Uh-huh.”  But as she says it, she feels the bottom drop out of her stomach, a springboard compressed and ready to launch.  If the TV wasn’t humming, she thinks she’d be able to hear the blood draining from her face, like the sinister trickle from vein to vial in the overly-quiet doctor’s office.  

“No, you’re not.”  Jess sits up, jostling Nat and sending vodka all down the front of her camisole, both from the bottle and rushing up from her throat.  

“Oh, geez.  Sorry,” Jess says, yanking the bottle out of Nat’s hand and cupping her palm beneath her chin.

Nat wants to tell her it won’t do any good, though when she opens her mouth, Jess finds out anyway.  The sick is clear, but it smells like stomach acid.  The kind it’s easy to forget needs to be cleaned up until it dries and becomes a permanent odor.  It spills between Jess’s fingers and pools in Nat’s lap until she gains the wherewithal to lean forward over the floor.  

“Ok.  Alright,” Jess mumbles.  It’s half comforting and half drunkenly confused, like a stumbling coed looking for the pizza box that turns out to be in her hand.

Nat wants to tell her it’s not her fault, that it would’ve happened anyway.  She wants to tell her that she hardly ever pukes when she drinks, that this is weird, that she’ll clean it up.   But she’s still too nauseated to move her jaw.  Her breath comes in a wet rattle when she inhales.  And Jess already knows.

“Come on.”  Jess hauls Nat off the couch, supporting her easily with one hand while keeping the other, vomit-coated one under Nat’s face.  Nat thinks she’s going to be deposited in front of the toilet, and her stomach prepares to heave, but Jess pushes her into the shower instead.  She lets go for a second to close the glass door, and Nat retches.  Her shoulders fly toward her knees as her legs give way.  A weak stream of alcohol comes up and runs between Jess’s feet.

“Ok, easy.”  She props Nat against the tile wall.  Nat expects it to be cold against her spine, but it’s not.  It’s warm like the wall of a sauna.  Jess keeps her fingers wrapped around Nat’s arm as she reaches to turn on the spray.  

“’M fine,” Nat chokes.  She drags her shaking hand across her mouth and chin.  A blur of red and yellow stains the back of her wrist.  Nat hopes it’s a hallucination, carryover from the technicolor radar picture embossed on her retinas.  But she feels Jess’s eyes boring into her, burning the marks of mucous and blood.  

Nat wipes it on her thigh.  “It’s nothing,” she slurs.  Nothing good will come from a lie, and she doesn’t think she’ll be able to come up with something believable, anyway.  She does her best to downplay the truth.  “Just… a thing that…happens sometimes…”

“Ulcer?” Jess guesses, taking down the showerhead and aiming it at Nat’s leg until the smear disappears in a pinkish swirl down the drain.  

“How’d you—”  Nat swallows hard and tries to convince herself the heat in her throat is just from the steam.

Jess shrugs.  “It’s a thing that happens sometimes.  More common than you might think.”  Her voice is steady, but her smile wavers.  “But I think I owe you for this one.”

“But… it isn’t a…?”  Nat can’t remember the stipulations of recompense she’d set earlier.  Something about cars.

“This is worse, isn’t it?”  Jess holds the showerhead over Nat’s hair, moving it over the crown of her head so the limp auburn strands fall out of her eyes.  

Nat considers.  “I mean…”  She thinks about forcing a laugh, but she doesn’t quite have the breath for it.  “It’s not ideal, but… I can think of worse ways to spend a snow day.”

Jess’s cheeks are as pink as her lips, and a halo of frizz decorated with tiny water droplets rings her head.  “You poor, deprived girl.”  She lets the showerhead fall, the spray keeping it from bouncing off the tile.  Jess grabs the shampoo, and the scent of flowers overtakes the notes of vodka and bile.  “If you’re lying to make me feel better…”  She trails off, shaking her head.

“I’m not,” Nat says.

“I know.”  Jess works a lather into Nat’s hair, her touch extra gentle on Nat’s scalp.

“Then why’d you say it?”  Nat says, trying to look up without straining her eyes.

“I wanted to know if you actually would.”  Jess’s voice goes up at the end, even though it’s not a question.  “Be honest, I mean.”

“I was.”

“Yeah,” Jess sighs.  “I probably shouldn’t’ve questioned it.”  She slips into a mumble.  Nat isn’t sure if it’s from alcohol or emotion.

“If you didn’t, you’d be stupid,” Nat says.  A line of foam drips down her temple.  She watches it leave a white trail in her peripheral vision.  Nat catches it with her thumb and smears it across Jess’s cheek, right under her eye.

“What are you doing?”  Jess looks at her in a pitying way, her eyebrows raised and her forehead crossed with worry lines.

“Giving you an excuse.  You keep saying I’m dumb, but you’re the one crying because you got soap in your eyes.”  Nat gives a dramatic eye roll that makes her head pound, but an ember of satisfaction glows in her chest as she sees a tear cut the streak of sudsy war paint.

“It’s shampoo.”  Jess begins to carefully rinse Nat’s hair.  The corner of her mouth twitches.  “Shut your eyes.”

“Well, excuse me.”  

“I always will, Nat.  You know me.”

[adventures-in-progress]

life updates!

so in the spirit of radical authenticity imma be completely transparent about some life stuff shaking out for us right now and why i’ve kinda been on and off the grid for a little over a year now. i’ve realized it’s really difficult to create meaningful connections with people when both parties aren’t being honest and true, so here’s me laying it all out. basically butt naked. i’ve only shared this with like 2 people in real life, so what the heck might as well share this with a bunch of total and complete strangers for the sake of meaningful connection! this is probs gonna be fairly wordy so here’s a page break so i don’t eat up someone’s entire dash haha.

1. since undergoing a lot of personal growth stuff and trying to define what this big adventure called life means for me, it’s been really hard for me to post on here. it just hasn’t felt in alignment for me to do so and trying to be present on here otherwise has felt a lot like forcing it any slapping on a happy face when, in all honesty, there’s been a lot of feeling very not happy. i’ve also felt like i’ve had to fit this certain image that i was when a lot of faces decided to join me on my journey, and so posting on here started feeling a lot like doing it for other people than continuing to do it for myself. so, i stepped back. i didn’t feel like people would understand, i didn’t feel like wanting to remember some heartache and icky stuff that happened, and i didn’t want to post stuff until i wanted to post stuff for me and because it was fun again. it was a healthy break and much needed.

2. i’m finally getting out of a funk that’s lasted a couple months and has been really not fun. i feel like my natural, uninhibited state is joyful and bright and optimistic and that got really tainted and hidden. i lost my hope in humanity and felt like all my dreams and goals were impossible and far from reach. things just felt kinda hopeless and that feeling was so scary because that’s so, so not me. i’m the girl that everyone calls childlike and naive because i believe in dreams and fairies and angels and magic and that love always prevails and that everyone should do what they love, with their soulmate, and live happily ever after. i lost that, and that was terrifying, because i didn’t know how to get back. but i think when you get deep enough into the self help arena, you reach this point where it all really comes down to being happy and doing what you love. regardless of anything. and i think we’re all just looking for permission to do that big, terrifying thing that makes our heart flutter and our stomach churn in knots. at the end of the day, you were born here, on this green and blue ball whirling through space, with your specific dreams and desires for a purpose. and i believe you are meant to do something with that, regardless of whether you receive money, or fame, or recognition for it. i realized over the summer that i’ve spent sooooo much time and energy and emotional investment trying to fix things for people and save people and help them accomplish their dreams, all the while completely neglecting and ignoring my own desires and dreams. and honestly, that’ll slowly kill ya. if you’re not living your life for yourself, why the heck are you even here???? what’s the point???

3. me pursuing running was a total cop out. it’s been my backup plan because i’ve been too terrified of pursuing ~the thing~ and getting my heart broken, so this was the safe alternative. minimal emotional investment. still get to achieve things and work towards something. but here’s the dang thing. the universe/god/whatever you want to call it wants you to do the thing, and is going to do what it can to get you there. cue multiple running injuries and setbacks. like one after the next after the next. it just was not working. and when i finally got to that place where i realized that this was not working, i lost it. because it made me realize that i felt like i couldn’t have running or the other thing. but not because i couldn’t do the thing, but because my brain killed that option off in my head because it wasn’t safe. the emotional risk was too high. what if i gave it my all and failed???? what if it never worked and i never got there???? and many other numerous intense irrational fears. BUT if you don’t ever go for what makes you feel excited to get out of bed even if it makes you want to pee your pants and question your sanity, WHAT IS THE POINT OF ANY OF THIS???? to live a boring, stable, mediocre life? to live a safe life is to choose boredom and misery for the rest of your life because it’s “comfortable” and “safe” according to your brain, and i reached the point that i just couldn’t do it anymore. i couldn’t be miserable and “safe” anymore. it was killing me.

4. so last month, i spent a couple days in an intense, intense internal emotional battle with myself. wanting to commit (let alone admit that i even wanted) to pursuing my dreams, but being so fucking terrified at the same time. and i understand that it sounds so stupid! like looking back, i’m like WHY was that SO hard???? your brain can be a huge pain in the ass, let me tell ya. sweet dan snuggled me one night when i was really struggling and talked me through things while being the voice of reason to my irrational fears and got me to the place where i could finally admit that i wanted to do the thing. and holy moly just admitting to something like that will change your dang life. it was like a woosh of tension and stress and weight just left my body. like that. done.

5. so here i am, like 3 weeks later, finding myself. going back to 7 year old me with the dreams and the joy and the possibility. looking for the good and finding it. mentally committing to going for it, whatever the hell that means or will even look like. but it has radically transformed my life in the best of ways. i’m killing any and all “have tos” and “shoulds” in my life. i’m doing what feels fun and breezy and brings the light back into my eyes. it’s all baby steps, and i still falter and fall, but i can feel where i’m going to be and finding my way back easier and quicker every time. i’m telling you, this is what makes life worth living. 

6. dan’s also realized his life calling and dream this past month (yeah. october’s been real big for us hahah)!!! he’s gone from working at the fbi in d.c. to going to become an agent for the fbi office in milwaukee to meeting me (love will change your life in more ways than you realize) and not realizing what the heck he wants to do, to landscaping, flipping houses, and over the summer realizing he wants to be an architect that specializes in modern, organic, sustainable architecture. we’re looking at schools for him for next fall. :)

7. right now, dan’s boss just bought a new house on lake michigan as the next flip. we’re doing a proposal for a modern flip to this two story ranch in the next week or so, so if that goes through, prepare to see some fun house renovation progress pics! we’re really excited for the opportunity, and my dad (a prominent architect in mke) is overseeing our project and helping dan which is just going to be so, so cool. it’ll be soooo much fun if it happens, so fingers crossed!!!!

oh! if you’re wondering what the heck the thing is for me, it’s horses. it always has been. it’s been in there since is was 5 or 6. i don’t know how this dream is going to shake out, but it’s mine, and i’m owning it.

if you need permission to go for it, if you need a sign, this is it. it is worth it. the universe/god/whatever is not going to give you a dream that it will not fully support you in achieving. you just gotta fucking go for it. it’s scary, but we’re all in this together and there’s nothing more badass and fulfilling than going for it. if you need a dream buddy, reach out. i will 100000% support you.

[faintblueivy]

Is She Beautiful? - Borusara fanfiction - Chapter 5

Woo-hoo!

Woo-hoo! Finally another update from me. *Wipes sweat* So, I'm now a third year student in University and life's gonna get tougher. Enough with all that stuff for now anyway.

Disclaimer : Naruto/Boruto franchise is not mine. *sobs in a corner*

This chapter was beta-read by @roopshasil​!

Chapter – 5

Confessions and Answers

Things have been becoming more and more complicated and troublesome lately.

Sarada's fanboys were getting bolder and bolder with each passing day and if that wasn't enough, for some reason, he too has been hounded by girls because of some weird reason. Most of them exclaimed how amazing he is for defeating a monster and saving the day or how cool and talented he is and even praise him for being Hokage-sama's son and go as far as claiming that they admire and like him.

What the hell is wrong with everyone?

He now understoid how annoying all this is. It isn't exactly fun when you are old classmates. Even a few people you have never even seen before walk up to you and declare their feelings and expect you to return them. Denying their proposals and telling them that their feelings are unrequited stirs up nothing but trouble. The hurt, confusion and anger really stings when they run away crying.

He hates how people look at him after that. The weird notion that the society has ingrained into itself is very irritating. He is a boy. And he isn't supposed to make girls cry. If he does that, he's very mean. What kind of logic is that? And his outstanding stupidity at the chunin exams and the fight against Momoshiki is another factor that is vexatious.

He made a girl cry! He's mean!

Ungrateful brat, he dishonoured Hokage-sama's name and demeaned Konoha in front of entire five great nations and if that's not enough, he's making a girl cry now!

When he defeated that monster and saved Hokage-sama I thought he was good but now seeing him make a young girl cry…he's so mean. He doesn't respect people's feelings.

This is so stupid! It's not as if he's ever shown interest in anyone that way. Heck, he has never thought of something like this. And definitely it is impossible to return every one's feelings. That would be so wrong as well.

To think that Sarada has been going through this for such a long time made him hiss and it made him want to protect her even more. She didn't deserve this treatment. Nobody did.

Even Konohamaru sensei looked annoyed when the normally vacant training ground that they used to occupy for training was beginning to get crowded. Exclamations of "Boruto-kun!" and "Sarada-san!" were becoming a common thing now a days. The continuous disturbances were definitely hindering their progress. Sarada who has been learning to make her chakra control more refined in order to properly use her sharingan was hardly able to focus. Similarly, he too was trying get a hang of his nature changing vanishing rasengan which was becoming a very difficult task.

Sometimes Boruto cringes to think what would happen when Sasuke oji-san would come to know about these admirers of his daughter.

He better not imagine that scenario.

…

"Man, I'm so exhausted with today's mission." Boruto complained as he slid into the booth with a tray of extra hot schezwan burger and some new soft drink.

"No kidding." Inojin groaned as he closed his eyes and made himself sink into the chair.

Shikadai looked as tired as they felt, resting his cheek against the palm of his hand and sipping his drink sideways. Only Mitsuki continued to look unfazed and kept smiling his usual smile which was not at all surprising.

As they chatted away about the recent release of videogames when Inojin told them that a new game based on their favourite movie character - 'Kagemasa' - is coming up. Boruto immediately jumped up with delight and leant forward towards Inojin with a big excited grin on his face, "When is it coming out, Inojin?! I've to asolutely get it! At every cost!"

"Whoa there! Calm down! I don't know yet. They said that they would be announcing the release date by the end of this week." Inojin sweat dropped at his friend's unbound enthusiasm as Shikadai and Mitsuki chuckled.

"Boruto-kun!" a feminine voice calling Boruto's name startled the group as they turned their heads to look at the girl standing in front of them. Shy posture? Check. Pink cheeks? Check. Twiddling fingers? Check. Another confession or proposal coming up. And Boruto couldn't help but grimace at the thought.

"Um-yeah?" Boruto responded, trying his best to keep an unpleasant expression off his face.

"I was wondering if you would like to come and have an ice cream with me." The girl asked shyly.

Mitsuki, Shikadai looked upon the scene with interest and Inojin was trying to hold back a snicker. And Boruto, at that moment, hated his friends more than he ever imagined.

"Now?" he asked apprehensively.

She nodded with a big hopeful smile on her face.

Boruto sighed internally, mentally bracing himself for the girl's soon to be coming hateful glare.

"I'm sorry. Actually, you see, I've some training scheduled with my sensei."

Boruto watched apologetically as the girl's smile turned wobbly before she glared at him and left with tears at the corner of her eyes.

"Damn." Inojin whispered with raised brows.

Boruto banged his head against the table top and let out a moan of frustration. "I just don't understand what did I and Sarada do to have these people following us!"

"Well, you did bring yourself into this mess." Shikadai mumbled.

"What?" Boruto looked shocked.

"Do you remember when someone asked you, sometime ago, if you and Sarada were dating?" Shikadai tilted his head.

"Yeah, I do. I denied it." Boruto nodded as the memory of that incident flashed across his mind.

"That's the problem."

"Eh?"

Shikadai exhaled a sigh at his friend's cluelessness. "Look, Sarada and you've been very close since the beginning – no matter how much you two deny it. After Sarada gained popularity among the boys lately, people kept their distance because they thought that you two liked each other. But after you said that she was just your 'friend' – they deemed her available. And the word must have gotten out that you apparently don't have interest in Sarada, so the girls who like you have decided to use this as a chance to score a date with you."

Boruto looked stunned and even troubled at the revelations.

"You mean…this is all my fault?" Boruto asked in a small voice.

"Well…yeah? Technically?" The shaken expression on Boruto's face made Shikadai hesitate.

It took a moment for Boruto to recover before he jumped out of the booth with a determined look on his face. "If this is my fault then, I-I have to make it right."

As he turned to leave Mitsuki spoke up, "What will you do Boruto?"

"I don't know. But I have to do something! At least say sorry to her for dragging her into this mess."

Mitsuki smiled, "She must be on the training grounds now. Number 51."

Boruto grinned.

He'll make this right.

…

As he raced to his destination, his anxiousness increased. Well, she talks to him now but still not the way they did before. He was not sure how this conversation would actually go but the least he can do is make an attempt from his side.

Lately, he has been finding himself apologizing a lot more. He has hurt a lot of people thanks to his childishness. And he learned his lesson the hard way. Those piercing eyes full of hurt looking at him like that had made his stomach churn.

He'll never be able to forget those eyes.

But a part of him hopes that those same eyes will be able to look at him with pride someday.

When he reached the training grounds, his eyes roved across the entire landscape in search of her before realising that she must have decided to train in the inner areas to avoid confronting her admirers. But her plan must have not worked because he could still detect multiple chakras around her.

Before he knew it, he was gliding through the trees with urgency. He could read the chakra spikes from her every now and then which made him realise that she was actually mad but was trying to avoid conflict. What they could've been doing to make her so mad was beyond him. But not once did it occur to him that he was able to read Sarada's mood just with the nature of her chakra movement so fluently.

The moment the small clearing came into sight, Boruto was stunned by rage. Sarada was standing there but not alone. She was surrounded by a group of boys, glaring at them. It was then his eyes flashed upon an object that was being passed to one boy to another. It looked like they were fighting for it and Sarada was trying to convince them to give it back to her.

Her favourite kunai!

The same one that Sasuke oji-san had brought for her some time ago. The one she treasured so much that she had not hesitated to run half a mile back in order to retrieve it when he had lost it when fighting against the enemy.

Boruto growled in anger. He could already see desperation in her eyes. She was angry and upset and these boys didn't care about it. All that mattered to them was satisfying there ego and to date one of the most popular girls in Konoha, not at all caring about what she wanted.

Stupid self-centred boys!

He hissed and was about to jump into the fray when a sudden thought occurred to him, stopping him dead in his tracks.

What are you to her? She isn't even properly talking to you now a days.

The little injury of self-doubt crippled him enough to be unable to move. But the shout of his name in a familiar voice startled him.

"Boruto-kun!"

…

Her feet hovered over the grass before she decided that she had to do it. Today, she will finally confess her feelings to Boruto Uzumaki. Her former classmate and her saviour.

Sumire doesn't remember a time when she was not made to think of revenge against Konoha. Infact, she was raised by her father for that sole purpose. The joys that she had experienced in the loving presence of her mother became a distant memory and before she knew it, she was walking down a path of darkness, aided by just her father's hateful desires, all alone.

The large empty hole in her heart kept growing. The friends she bonded with in the academy began to seem like a hindrance to her goal.

How was she supposed to destroy the same people she had begun to care about?

But then he entered in her life. Like the bright sunshine he was. Illuminating the darkness inside her and letting her know that it was all right to choose the path she wished.

He had saved her.

It did not happen overnight, but slowly her feelings of thankfulness and respect towards him grew into love and admiration. She had held herself back because the closeness that Boruto and Sarada shared had not gone unnoticed by her. But after coming to know that he did not think of Sarada that way, it made her think that maybe she should also take an attempt to reveal her feelings to him, and even if he doesn't return them, then at least he'll know how thankful she was for his efforts to save her.

With that thought in mind and a renewed determination, she went in search for him in the training grounds where she had spotted him earlier.

When she discovered him, he was crouched on a tree staring at something with utmost concern and before she could stop herself, she called out to him.

"Boruto-kun!"

His head swivelled towards her and he gave her his signature grin. At the sight of him, her nervousness increased tenfold. But gathering all her wits, she jumped to the branch he was occupying and sat beside him.

'What's up? Class rep? Haven't seen you in a while."

She nodded at him with a smile. "Yes, Boruto-kun. How are you?"

"Oh me? I'm good! How about you?"

"I'm fine. Well, Boruto-kun, I actrually have something to say to you." She twilled her thumbs as her face coloured to beet red.

He tilted his head to indicate that he was listening.

"Well, y-you s-see that I, w-well, I think…I m-mean I like yo-"

She didn't continue because he was not looking at her. His eyes were cast down towards the small hole in between the canopy and jaw set into a grim line. As she peeked over his shoulder, she realised the cause of her troubles. Sarada stood there, surrounded by a bunch of several boys who seemed to annoy her. The uncomfortable expression on her face was clearly visible.

Sumire sighed as a bittersweet smile bloomed over her lips. She softly brushed her fingers over Boruto's shoulder which startled him and he looked at her before suddenly breaking into an apology.

"I'm so sorry class rep! You were saying something and I didn't listen! Sorry! Could you repeat it?

Sumire paused before smiling at him gently, "Yes, Boruto-kun. I was saying that you should go and help Sarada-chan."

"What?"

"She clearly needs you. You remember, you…saved me back then, because I was your friend. Sarada-chan is your friend too, isn't she?"

"But I don't know what-"Boruto hesitates but Sumire cuts him off, "Please Boruto-kun. You're clearly restraining yourself. I can see that. And Sarada is not fine. Look at her."

"You think I should do it?"

"Yes, there'd be no one else out there who would be able to make Sarada-chan feel safe. Please."

As a look of determination flashed across his face, Sumire found herself smiling genuinely. It was sad and funny to see them caring so much for each other obliviously. There was a slight tug in her heart but she was not surprised. A part of her had always known that this was inevitable.

These two cared for each other so much but yet…were blind to each other's affections.

As she watched Boruto move towards Sarada through the canopy swiftly, she hoped that at least one of them realises the true meaning of their own feelings soon. She smiled sadly.

Those two were truly fortunate to have each other.

Looking forward to your thoughts for this chapter. Honestly, my heart hurts for Sumire but she'll definitely be fine. She's such a sweet girl, though.

And don't forget to send me feedbacks for this chapter!

Thank you!

See you again!

You can read my other stories here.

My ffnet and ao3 accounts are here!

[amazingdanielhowell]

We Should Be Friends

Based on this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0OZeqcX1VyQ

Tw: alcohol/drunk phan for one scene

The moment the bell rang, Dan pushed himself out of his desk chair and zigzagged around the hoards of students beginning to crowd the hallway. The sound of lockers opening and closing made him move faster, squeezing through any available space he could find to get to his locker. He had to get there so he could ‘accidently bump into’ the new kid again. Despite school being in session for a handful of weeks now, Dan had only met the boy yesterday when he got to his locker and dropped a stack of papers he was holding. While most people pretended not to see so they wouldn’t have to help, the new kid bent down on his knees and helped Dan gather his notes.

“Oh, you don’t have to—,” Dan began, bringing his head up and meeting the most beautiful colored eyes he’d ever seen.

“No worries, it’s not a problem,” New Guy replied pushing himself off the floor. “Cool locker.”

Dan turned and looked at his locker door where he had hung a MCR poster he got from a magazine and the little white board his mum insisted he put on his locker so friends could leave notes which was as clean as the day she bought it.

“Yeah?” Dan replied, though it sounded more like a question.

“Yeah.”

New Guy smiled at Dan one more time before heading down the hallway. He didn’t mean to, but Dan watched New Guy, noticing that his locker wasn’t too far from his, but far enough that it would be weird for him to go down that way when the front entrance was in the opposite direction. Dan knew the only casual way he could talk to the him again would be to get to his locker before Hazel Valley’s newest student walked past. Nearly out of breath, Dan arrived at his locker and opened it, pretending to look busy while taking quick glances through a sea of students for a head of black hair.

“Hey!” Dan said too excitedly upon finding who he was looking for.

“Oh, hi,” the boy giggled.

“I—um, remember yesterday when my papers fell? I don’t think I said thank you,” Dan forced out trying his best to act natural. “So, thanks. For that.”

“You’re welcome,” the new kid smiled making Dan’s heart skip a beat. “I don’t think I introduced myself yesterday. I’m Phil.”

“I’m Dan,” he paused for a moment. “How are you liking HV?”

“It’s definitely bigger than my old school, but I’m getting used to it. I’m having more trouble figuring out what people do over the weekends here,” Phil admitted with a small laugh. “My parents keep pushing me to go out and do something but I have no idea where anything is.”

“I usually just stay at home and play video games, but every once in a while, someone will throw a party with insane amounts of alcohol which is always fun. I’m terrible to drink with in public though,” Dan laughed recalling a moment from the party right before school began where he woke up snuggling with a bottle of Malibu Rum in the middle of the host’s backyard.

“Well that’s definitely something I won’t be telling my parents I’ll be doing. If I ever get invited to a party I mean. Being the new kid in secondary school really sucks. Everyone already has their group of friends and aren’t really looking to make new ones.”

“I definitely can relate. Most of my friends from primary school didn’t come here so I had to figure something out. I know some people that are pretty great, but I kind of consider them acquaintances.”

“I wish making friends now was as easy as it was back in pre-school. You just tell a total stranger that they’re your friend and that’s it,” Phil half smiled. “Anyways, it was really nice talking to you, Dan. I hope I see you around.”

Dan smiled feeling his stomach churn. He found that talking to Phil was easy, so why can’t it be like pre-school? He knew he had to say something, but couldn’t find the right words, so instead he said, “I hope so too,” and watched Phil walk away towards his own locker.

Dan threw some books in his bag and threw it over his shoulder getting ready to leave when an idea popped into his head. He grabbed a pen from his pocket, sucked in a deep breath, and walked halfway down the hall to Phil’s locker before his brain could talk him out of it.

“Let’s make it like pre-school. I don’t know you, but I would love to meet you. I think that we should be friends,” Dan said quickly, grabbing Phil’s hand and scribbled his cell phone number on his skin.

Phil looked from his hand to Dan, his face breaking into a huge smile.

***

It had been a few months since that day; snow had fallen and covered the grass in a thick blanket of white only to be trampled by hundreds of boots from students running out, excited to begin winter break. People threw snow balls at each other as they exited the building while others looked absolutely miserable bundled up in layers of coats, hats, and scarves.

“Want to come over?” Phil asked Dan as they walked out of school together.

“Sure, just let me drop my stuff off at home.”

Since that first day, both boys had walked with each other to and from school after finding out Phil only lived a few blocks away from Dan. While they didn’t share classes, they made up for lost time during the day on their walks home which usually turned into Phil coming inside Dan’s house ‘just for a drink of water’ but somehow ended up in hours spent playing video games.

“Oh, mum and dad are leaving today to pick up my brother from uni so they won’t be back until Sunday. She demanded that I get proof from your mum that it’s okay you’re over without parental supervision,” Phil giggled, his cheeks turning red. “She’s weird about leaving her baby home alone for a few days so if you want to spend a couple nights, she would love you forever.”

Dan laughed knowing his mum wouldn’t mind him staying at Phil’s at all. In fact, all he would have to do is tell her he’d be spending a few nights there and call once or twice to let her know he’s still alive and she would be okay with that. Still, Dan promised to get it in writing for Mrs. Lester so that would be one less thing she would have to worry about.

After dropping his things off, getting his mum’s note, and packing an overnight bag, Dan and Phil made their way back to Phil’s house. Phil rang his mum and read Mrs. Howell’s note of approval and promised to stay out of trouble until they came back.

“Mum says thanks for spending the night with me,” Phil reported after hanging up the phone. “I swear, she treats me like I’m 6 sometimes.”

“All mums are like that,” Dan replied. “I’m sure mine would do the same to my brother if I were away at school. Perks of being the oldest.”

Phil rolled his eyes playfully at Dan trying to mask his face into one of disgust, though his smile gave him away. Making his way to the fridge, Phil moved some bottles around before pulling out a bottle of vodka and two shot glasses.

“Wanna play drunk Mario Kart?”

“Where did you get that?!” Dan asked in disbelief. “I never took you for a vodka drinker.”

“I asked Martyn to buy me something strong before he went back to school in the fall. Mum and dad think the bottle is his, and all it took was a month of chores, plus the cost of the bottle,” Phil smiled triumphantly. “We’re on break and that calls for celebration!”

“But vodka?” Dan asked, scrunching up his nose. “Why not rum? Or at least a flavored vodka?”

“Yeah, not my first choice either, but it has a high alcohol content so we’ll be feeling great after a few shots.”

“Fine, I’ll do shots with you, but I’m grabbing orange juice for a chaser.”

Grabbing the bottle of orange juice, both boys hopped up the stairs into Phil’s room. Despite knowing no one else was home, Dan still closed the door behind them.

*

“You’re fugging terrible at this,” Phil slurred 6 shots in.

“Shuddup,” Dan giggled crashing into a wall. “I’m still waaay better than you.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yeah huh.”

“You’re dumb,” Phil laughed pushing Dan over who just fell to the floor and lay there rather than getting up.

“The room is spinning. Lay here with me, look.”

Phil plopped down on his back next to Dan and closed his eyes taking in Dan’s familiar scent mixed with alcohol.

“Boop, wake up,” Dan said in a high pitched voice poking Phil’s nose.

“I’m gonna bite your finger off,” Phil playfully threatened opening his eyes just enough to see Dan’s.

“Noooo you’re not cause it’s not a worm,” Dan burst out laughing. “Like when you were 8.”

“That was one time! Cause Martyn made me,” Phil pouted trying not to smile knowing he was failing anyways.

“That’s okay,” Dan finally replied wiping a fake tear from his eye once he calmed down. “You’re pretty. Your eyes are pretty. I like them. They’re like…I dunno, like pools or something. I could go swimming in them.”

“I like you, Dan,” Phil said suddenly, trying not to slur his words.

“I like you too,” Dan replied drunkenly.

“No, like…really. How like, you know how Ms. Mooney looks at Mrs. Bey but they can’t cause she’s married? Like that kind of like,” Phil explained.

“Oh,” Dan nodded trying to shake off his drunken haze.

“I’ve been scared to tell you because I like that you’re my friend and I didn’t wanna mess things up but now I’m drunk and I’m saying everything in my head.”

“I like you too. From the first day with the papers. That’s why I talked to you,” Dan admitted feeling his cheeks flush, though he wasn’t sure if it was from the alcohol or finally admitting his feelings to Phil.

“Your face is red,” Phil laughed, poking his tongue out between his teeth.

“So is yours,” Dan rebutted trying to cover his face. “Are you still gonna like me when we’re sober?”

“Duh,” Phil said rolling his eyes. “I wish I told you I liked you sooner. Like when I was sober. Why didn’t you tell me you liked me?”

“Not telling,” Dan slurred shaking his head.

“Come ooon,” Phil begged. “You gotta tell me now!”

“Never ever, ever,” Dan snorted making a sloppy ‘lock and key’ motion with his hand.

“Not never ever, ever! Tell me!” Phil whined slowly pushing himself up so that he could climb on top of Dan. “I’m gonna tickle you.”

“You can’t mess with me, I’m drunk,” Dan laughed making absolutely no effort to get out from under Phil as he began wiggling his fingers over Dan’s stomach.

“You gotta!” Phil replied laughing along with Dan while doing his best not to fall over.

“Okay, okay!” Dan shrieked with laughter when Phil got to Dan’s neck making him arch his back up. “I’ll tell, I’ll tell! Just not the neck!”

Phil sat on Dan pulling his hands away from his neck and rested them on his chest to steady himself.

“I didn’t say because I thought you were so good. Like so pretty and nice. Just so stupidly perfect. And you would never like me back and I know I would miss you if you didn’t wanna be friends because I messed up and said the secret,” Dan stammered trying his best to make sense.

“You’re silly,” Phil giggled. “I would never stop being your friend.”

Both boys fell into comfortable silence for a few seconds before Phil spoke again.

“I can feel your heart beating.”

“That’s a good thing, I’m not dead,” Dan replied thinking it sounded much funnier in his head as he put one of his hands over Phil’s. “Can I kiss you?”

“Only if I can kiss you,” Phil smiled leaning down.

Due to his drunken state, Phil fell faster than intended and instead of kissing Dan, their noses bashed together making them erupt in a new wave of laughter as Phil rolled onto his bedroom floor.

“That was the worst first kiss attempt ever,” Phil breathed through giggles.

“Try again,” Dan smiled now that they were both lying on the floor on their sides.

“I did try, it’s your turn,” Phil challenged grabbing Dan’s hand in his.

“Let’s just lay here for a minute and get not drunk,” Dan decided. “Then I’m gonna kiss you so good.”

“So good,” Phil repeated as Dan rested his free hand on Phil’s cheek.

***

“Ugh, I hate this song!” Dan whined turning off the car radio. “Why is every song the same?”

Since starting their last year of school, Phil’s mum decided to let Phil drive the family car as long as Dan was with him to make sure he wasn’t being reckless. Both boys’ parents didn’t know about their relationship, not because they were afraid of their reaction, but because they knew they would never be left alone together if they told their parents they were more than friends.

“Hey, my car, my rules,” Phil joked turning the radio back on as he turned into Hazel Valley’s car park. “If you hate every song on the radio, why don’t you just write one yourself? Put those forgotten piano lessons to good use.”

“Playing a piece of music that’s already been written and writing the music myself are two very different things,” Dan giggled. “And it would probably sound like everything that’s already written because I have no creativity whatsoever.”

“You know that’s not true,” Phil replied as he pulled into an empty spot. “I heard if you write about something you love, it’ll just fall right out.”

“I can’t write lyrics! And I’m not writing a song about something I love because that ‘something’ is you and that’s what every song on the radio is about,” Dan smiled resting his hand over Phil’s.

“Every song on the radio is not about me,” Phil joked missing the point on purpose leaning in for a kiss from his boyfriend. “It could be romantic.”

“It definitely wouldn’t be,” Dan laughed. “It would be like, ‘hey I don’t know you, but I think that we should be friends for a few months then get really drunk when we’re 16 and make out.’”

“We didn’t make out. We didn’t even kiss! I fell on your face and almost broke both our noses,” Phil laughed loudly recalling his fondest memory with Dan.

“So romantic,” Dan smirked peppering a few more kisses on Phil’s face then neck.

“Don’t start this here,” Phil sighed wishing he could indulge. “We’ll get written up for being late again.”

“So?”

“So, they’ll call our parents and they’ll put the pieces together.”

“You really are a mood killer, you know that?” Dan pouted sitting back in the passenger seat. “But you’re right. Maybe during lunch we can come back in here and make out?”

“I can’t believe I ever thought there would be a romantic bone in your body Dan Howell,” Phil laughed hopping out of the car.

Dan climbed out behind Phil and followed him into the building, tucking his lyric-filled notebook under his arm promising to himself that he would finish the song he started writing the day after his hangover at Phil’s house.

[thesoupoftheafternoon]

6.5ish years T, 5.5ish years post top

Updating because of a surprise revelation regarding my dose & how it relates to my mental health. Also because I haven't posted on this for two years!

First off, general changes. Dose stuff at the end. (TL;DR dose stuff--by accident I lowered my dose by .1 mL and despite never having felt much of a difference mood-wise from changing my dose before, I feel fucking great and actually happy for the first time in a while! Surprise, your levels should also take into account your age and you shouldn't use the same reference range for the whole time you're on T!)

Under cut--this is mad long. [And cw for mental health talk including v mild suicide ideation, also alcohol/drugs]

T stuff:

I posted pretty much the same thing last time, but I'll reiterate that the vast majority of these changes are basically subtle things that no one else notices and that probably have more to do with just getting older/diet/exercise than being on T. My facial hair range is exactly the same as it was two years ago (literally just ‘stache and chin directly below the mouth) which checks out based on my dad/my entire family. I shave about once a week. Happy trail a little bit happier, lil more arm hair, lil more leg hair. Haven't been checking super closely but I think I have more hair around my butthole. Dick size is the same. Appetite has dropped a bunch--I can't scarf down food the way I used to. I’m read as male all the time, haven’t been misgendered based on my appearance since like 2013. 120-125ish pounds.

Chest stuff: (I had keyhole btw)

Nipple sensation is back, I repeat, nipple sensation is BACK! They're healthy and super perky, which I used to be kinda insecure about since they stick out a bit, but also like, who gives a shit? I would say they feel about 90% as sensitive as they were before surgery, and after a bit of touching they do start feeling a little less sensitive, but they never go completely numb. I'd say they've been at this level of sensation since early 2017. Left nipple is more sensitive than my right. My right nipple used to kinda bulge outward on the bottom but I guess the scar tissue has broken down somewhat since it's lying a lot flatter these days. The numb chest patches are smaller and way less numb and it takes less pressure for them to register touch. Drain scars look kinda like bug bite scars. Under-areola scars are very hidden, basically invisible. 

Lower surgery??

It’s on my mind but it’s always been a little on my mind. It’s not a priority. A hysto/oopho may be in order someday. But I’ve been thinking about what I want my junk to look like and be like as I get older, and whether my current setup and how I relate to it is going to be sustainable. I genuinely don’t know whether I would rather get metoidioplasty or phalloplasty. There’s a lot more thinking to be done. 

Dose stuff: 

I started T in 2012 with .5 injections every other week. With 200 mg/mL that averages out to 50 mg of T per week, although I'm sure my levels were different from someone on a weekly schedule. Around the 2.5 year mark my bloodwork came back saying I had super low T. I upped my dose to .5 every week, so 100 mg/week (which is famously a pretty common dose, there's even some trans merch company called .5cc.) Over the next year or two (I really don't remember exactly when) my bloodwork showed me now at very high T levels, nearly and in some cases exceeding the upper threshold of my doctors' reference ranges, so I lowered my dose to .4 and then to .3 mL/week, or 80 and then 60 mg/week. Of course I worried about T aromatizing into E, but my doctor at the time didn't test my blood for estradiol until I had already reduced my dose down to .4, and said my E levels were fine (I don't remember the exact number.) 

Even at 60 mg/week my T levels were still high. I and my doctors chalked it up to the fact that I work out a lot and/or maybe my body was just like that The general consensus was that "if your period isn't coming back, your E levels are fine," usually followed with some question like “how are you feeling on this dose?” or “are you feeling good?”

And what I kinda knew then then, but what’s even clearer to me now, is that I HAD NO FUCKING IDEA. My I-guess-it’s-anxiety, my on-and-off idk-if-it's-depression, my garbage sleep cycle, my self-doubt and second-guessing and skewed perspectives, have all been around in some form or another, so it's very hard for me to parse out what I'm even Really Feeling sometimes, never mind what might be causing that feeling. For the last several years if I felt bad I would usually conclude one of the following:

I feel bad because I’m actually a shitty person and feeling bad is natural for how bad and awful a person I am.

I feel bad because the world is fucked and society is crumbling and feeling bad is natural for how literally everything we love will be swallowed by the sea and/or be salted and burned in worldwide conflict.

Which is obviously not conducive to trying to figure out any other external factors or triggers for my shitty mental health!!

Plus it’s not like I was exactly excited to have less testosterone in my body. I was genuinely nervous that lowering my dose lower than .3 a week would just be an experiment that wouldn’t do anything except make me less buff and maybe even bring back my period. And I’d always been a little skeptical about the extent of hormonal effects on mood. T certainly affected my mood positively when I started, that was an obvious cause/effect, but I figured (and still do think) that had SO much more to do with finally being seen as a guy and having a masculine body than any sort of direct T-on-brain action. I did notice some increased irritability, but it wasn't much, and also I was still 16 lol. I noticed changes over the course of months or years--never within the course of a week. I can’t relate at all to folks who talk about spikes or troughs in their levels or getting a rush or feeling low based on where they were in their shot cycle. So I'd always tell doctors that I felt fine on whatever dose I was on because, well...I guess I felt fine!!

For the last several months--maybe the last year and a half, tbh--my mental health has been pretty bad. Over the course of any given day, the things I felt were generally limited to annoyance, panic, self-pity, drunk, stoned, and horny, and usually in that order. And that's a relative statement, because I'm pretty functional and haven't ever hit clinical levels of whatever, have always been able to find enjoyment in some things and get endorphins from exercise and complete necessary tasks on time, but hey, if you're reading this and feel like it's normal to constantly have "I hate myself, I fucking suck, why don't I just die" churning around in your head even if you're "not going to act on it," or that it's normal to drink and smoke weed until you basically pass out 6 days out of 7, or that it's normal to feel convinced every bit of positive affirmation you're getting is out of pity, Honey You've Got A Big Storm Coming. Like, again, considering how shit awful our current sociopolitical climate (and also the literal Earth's climate) are, it's no surprise I felt these were understandable feelings, and like, I guess they kind of were? But just because a feeling is understandable doesn't mean it's a good thing that I'm having it. Which seems remarkably obvious in hindsight!

Anyway, about a month ago I underestimated how much was left in my vial and had to do a .2 mL shot instead of .3. That's 40 mg for that week: even lower of a dose than when I started T. As the week went on I noticed I actually felt consistently happy: not just "someone's giving me attention," not just "nihilistic fun," not just "I guess the things I'm looking at right now are pretty," but actually satisfied, content, grounded, having emotions that felt like they came FROM ME. 

And since I’m always one to consider alternative explanations, there’s plenty of other factors that might have led to this improved mood. When I lowered my dose, I had just gotten accepted to two new jobs. I’d met up with friends I hadn’t seen in a while. But it’s not as though before I lowered my dose I never felt happy. It just never stuck around. These days I’m able to retain a positive emotion beyond the precipitating event and not just have the same boring self-hating thoughts over and over again. Which is huge!! I feel like I’ve really broken the thought cycle that’s defined much of my thinking for the last few years. So many of my emotions have been about my emotions, and a big part of why I felt so awful was feeling so helpless against these thoughts, and understanding completely deep down that it was irrational, that it really didn’t make any sense for me to feel this awful. That of course tapped horribly into my endless guilt complex and fed it and it just went on and on. 

I haven’t gotten my levels tested again yet--that’ll happen later this month. (My doctor knows and is cool with this reduced dose.) I’m especially interested to see where my estradiol will be at. My T will probably be more reasonable for someone my age--I feel like my crazy 1000+ ng/dL T levels were okay when I was like 19-20 but now that I’m a whole 23 years old (yo!!!) it makes sense they should be a little lower. I’m not a doctor, though--but then again, real ass certified doctors have made hashes of my medical care in the past, so I’m comfortable trusting myself a little on this one. 

General life update and thoughts on being trans in this world:

I’m much more relaxed and much more okay with being trans these days. Comes with being a lot more sure about myself and who I am, which is a continuous process and one that was happening even before I lowered my dose and was suddenly way less depressed. While I still get hives at the thought of anyone outing me without my permission, I’m a lot more comfortable outing myself to people, even large groups of people, even folks who I might not really know. I’ve come to appreciate the parts of me that are definitely and absolutely because I am trans or that reveal I am trans, and the connections I can make with people by sharing those parts of me.

I’m not sure I’d say I have a career at this point, but definitely most of the work I’m doing these days is in social justice, non-profit, LGBTQ-related, activist work. My resume more or less outs me as at the very least a deeply committed trans ally, lol. I think growing up and realizing I was trans I hated the thought that it would define who I was and what I did. I didn’t want to touch activism or trans spaces in general with a trillion-foot pole. 

I’ve since gotten over myself and like...let myself enjoy things, I guess? I really do find nonprofit work super rewarding and I finally admitted to myself I fucking love chilling with other trans people and talking about trans shit and that I do love, if not the fact that I And My Body Am Trans, the existence of community and the thoughts and ideas that we share. And a lot of the time I do like my body. And I’m kinda ready for this newfound happiness to stop feeling so fresh and exciting, because I know it’s a bit weird and inappropriate to be talking about how happy I am that I feel great when, again, The World’s Some Shit Right Now. 

But I think in general--not just about being trans--I’m letting myself feel the happiness that I have, with so much less guilt and shame. I always knew intellectually but am finally putting into practice the fact that simply denying myself happiness or feeling bad that I feel happy doesn’t bring happiness to folks who don’t have it. 

that’s it for now ! 

[aion-rsa]

As Spider-Man Rumors Persist, Andrew Garfield Reveals a Downside to its Fame

https://ift.tt/3ke7kIP

Andrew Garfield’s personal life can currently be described as events that occur when he’s not publicly denying rumors of involvement with Spider-Man: No Way Home. The actor, who broke big from relative obscurity with his two-film run in director Marc Webb’s abruptly-ended duo of The Amazing Spider-Man films, has been bombarded by questions—in some cases accusations—that he, along with preceding portrayer Tobey Maguire, will appear in Marvel’s multiverse-threaded threequel alongside current star Tom Holland. While he is undaunted in his denials, the actor is also reflecting on the path that playing Spidey has set for him.

Garfield’s Spider-Man turn will probably always be overshadowed by its status as an ignominiously forgotten casualty of industry events. Indeed, the grandiose franchise aspirations of the 2012-2014 Sony-licensed Amazing Spider-Man films were unceremoniously abandoned for a historic deal with Marvel Studios to bring about Tom Holland’s shiny new version of the Wall-Crawler. This was especially shocking for those who recall the pure, palpable passion Garfield displayed for the role, both on and offscreen. It also yielded him an (eventually-ended) IRL relationship with onscreen co-star Emma Stone, who played Spidey’s inevitably doomed love interest, Gwen Stacy. Yet, notwithstanding the nature of its end, his recent comments to Total Film paint an intriguing picture of his (maybe not so bygone) Wall-Crawler days.

“I don’t know about reincarnation, and if there is one opportunity for me to be alive, and I get offered the opportunity to do a prolonged dress-up as my favorite character of all time, there’s no way I can say no,” says Garfield. “And, yeah, the only thing that I knew was going to be a challenge was the fame aspect, and I knew that a lot of good would come with that as well. I knew it was going to provide a gilded prison… As a creative person, I knew I would have to balance it out with theatre and with waiting for the right movies to come along that would make sure that I stayed an actor, rather than this idea of a movie star. I love movie stars. I love The Rock. I fucking love Tom Cruise. This is in no way a detriment to them.”

For Garfield, the opportunity to play Spider-Man for a major release was too powerful, despite being a stage-driven actor-type who seems to prioritize the craft over the commercial. In fact, so great was the opportunity that it superseded any apprehension he may have had about the inevitability of instantly taking on the kind of merchandise-friendly fame he seemingly eschews. Yet, his apprehension was shared by a significant portion of the general public, since the 2010-reported initial news of the movie project that would become 2012’s The Amazing Spider-Man was widely perceived as Sony’s cynical attempt to spin an unnecessary reboot, especially since the Maguire-headlined previous iteration’s last outing, 2007’s Spider-Man 3, was still relatively fresh, and rumors of a fourth film remained ubiquitous and topically diverse.

However, the early days of Garfield’s sentence in his proverbial gilded prison was nevertheless permeating with optimism. Details were slowly starting to be divulged about an updated, more serious version of Spider-Man—in contrast to the often-outlandish tone of Raimi’s films—emerging to match the significantly raised level of comic book movie pathos of the money-printing MCU movies. Moreover, Garfield provided a monumental moment at 2011’s Comic-Con, in which he appeared in a fan Q&A during the film’s promotional panel disguised in a cheap, pajama-level Spidey costume, at which point he ripped off the saggy, eye-holes-poked mask to reveal that he was the genuine article for the then-upcoming film, creating a raucous wave amongst attendees and those watching later on YouTube. Indeed, Garfield was anxious to prove himself, and, as he now reveals, his preparation for this layered, loftier, conspiracy-unravelling iteration of Spidey involved a significant amount of research.

“My intention… I started studying myth, which is the basis of comic-book films and comic books generally,” he explains. “And you go, ‘Oh, right. The responsibility of modern filmmakers is the same as the person telling the story around the campfire.’ Stories are the things that remind us of who we are as human beings, and we actually have an opportunity to provide deep wisdom and medicine and guidance. So, for me, it was like: How do I help to infuse this with as much soul and universality as possible, knowing that millions of young people are going to be watching? So, it’s not an exercise in selling t-shirts and mugs and Happy Meals, but it’s giving young people the opportunity to feel their own extraordinariness, and their own ordinariness, and seeing someone who’s just like them struggle with those two things living inside of themselves. So, for me, it was about that. And then, you know, there’s everyone else that’s serving their own masters.”

Read more

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Spider-Man: No Way Home Trailer Breakdown and Analysis

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Spider-Man: No Way Home – Breaking Down The Sinister Six Villains

By Joseph Baxter

The tchotchke-churning franchise prospects were initially validated when The Amazing Spider-Man went on to gross $757.9 million worldwide in 2012, creating an upsurge of studio plans for not only the obvious sequel, but an Avengers­-esque team-centric megamovie focused on Spidey’s coterie of archnemeses, the Sinister Six; plans that, even now, purportedly remain in place. Indeed, Garfield, in a recent interview with Collider, intriguingly shed some light on the state of things at Sony regarding that never-realized project, which had tapped a genre veteran in writer/director Drew Goddard. “I don’t know how close it got, but I definitely had a few meetings, and it was really exciting,” recalls Garfield. “I’ve got to say, because I love Drew so much, and I love Cabin in the Woods, and the other stuff that he’s made. We just got on like a house on fire. I loved his vision, he’s so unique and odd and off-kilter and unconventional in his creative choices. So that was definitely a fun couple of months, but life.”  

Pertinently, the professional drawbacks Garfield divulges about his otherwise-fulfilling Spider-Man cinematic sojourn might be another form of denial amidst the wave of rumors that currently consume his days regarding Sony’s MCU-adherent Spider-Man: No Way Home. Said rumors snowballed significantly upon the long-awaited release of the film’s trailer, which confirmed the long-rumored notion of its plot centering on Multiverse concepts wrought by the magic of Benedict Cumberbatch’s Doctor Strange. In fact, Garfield found himself in denial mode earlier this week during a remote appearance on The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon, where the host confronted him over recently-viral pictures of what is believed to be him on the film’s set. Perhaps at a point in which he’s used to his denials being met with instant incredulity, Garfield takes a light-hearted tone with his answer—in contrast to the exasperated tone of previous denials—stating, “I heard about it. And I did see it. And it’s a Photoshop. Look, if they want to give me a call at this late, late stage in the game, you know, I’m just sitting here in my tracksuit.”

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Regardless, it will be interesting to see if Andrew Garfield’s internal struggles over commercialism as an artiste will ultimately lean a certain way for a nostalgic big screen trip as his angstier, skateboarding version of Peter Parker/Spider-Man in the live-action manifestation of the Spider-Verse for Spider-Man: No Way Home, which is scheduled to hit theaters on Dec. 17. In the meantime, fans can witness his chameleonic transformation (that, in no way, was a reference to villain the Chameleon,) as disgraced televangelist Jim Bakker, in The Eyes of Tammy Faye, opposite Jessica Chastain’s equally uncanny title role.

The post As Spider-Man Rumors Persist, Andrew Garfield Reveals a Downside to its Fame appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[golittlebiggirl]

The grass is always whiter on the other side...

There’s a lot of eye rolling in this house when mummy churns out one of her old ‘Boomer’ phrases and, outraged, cries: “What? Have you never heard that expression?”

I love language you see; I love idioms and proverbs and I love giving my son new…oh alright then, old… ways of expressing himself.

I also like to customise them, although this did backfire once. My son came back from school and told me he ‘got told off’ because he argued with his teacher that Practice Makes Progress. It happened because I’d noticed that I had unwittingly passed on to him my somewhat faulty perfectionist trait – and so I’d decided to try to phase out in him the need to strive for perfection while beating himself up for anything ‘less than’. So, I started repeating to him that practice might not always make perfect, but it makes progress. ‘Practice Makes Progress’ became a thing, and worked just fine until his Year 3 class (loosely) studied proverbs. Poor boy. When his teacher told him what he’d written was wrong, he argued that she was wrong! (I like to think that she has now seen the error in her ways and will help spread this improved proverb far and wide).

I’ve customised another one this winter, although this one is a bit more niche: The grass is always whiter on the other side.

Here in beautiful, coastal South Pembrokeshire, the very westernest edge of West Wales, snow – let alone settled snow – is rarer than Action Man’s tears.

Four times in the past month I have blinked in disbelief because I’ve seen snow on the weather forecast. Twice it even heralded the imminent arrival of “heavy snow”. Three times I have got seriously over-excited. And three times I have been utterly crushed when I’ve woken up to heavy rain. I’m not the only one. A friend told me the snow looked like such a cert last week that they’d already lined up their sledges the day before. Sledging doesn’t work so well in a torrent.

Now you probably don’t need me to tell you that disappointment in these virus-spoiled times is amplified beyond all reason, and can morph into dejection and hopelessness if you’re not watching.

The third, crushing, no-snow-blow resulted in me declaring an afternoon off work and home-school as I hurriedly organised a No Snow Festival. This consisted of camping out in a tent in the lounge and basically doing any activity I could think of to prove (to myself, mostly) that it was possible to have fun without snow. We put on ‘festival’ clothes, munched brownies while watching old Glastonbury footage on iPlayer, forced our dog to perform in the ‘Dog Agility Arena’, enjoyed a Dance Workshop with Oti Mabuse, held ‘No-Snow’ themed colouring competitions and a culinary masterclass in which we let our son ‘teach’ us how to make guacamole… there was more.

Meanwhile, all over Facebook my friends across England, Scotland and mid Wales could be seen frolicking in the beautiful fluffy white stuff. The first time that happened I was happy for them. I loved seeing their (smug) snowmen and (joy-filled) sledging videos. But then it happened again, and again, and again… and all of a sudden, they’d had more snow in 3 weeks than we’d had in 17 years! To my shame, my responses to their good times became increasingly bitter (always with some smiley emoji to disguise the pure venom).

I know I have been a total bore about it and – snow-blessed friends, I am sorry.

But the thing is there is something worse than FOMO, and this time it was my son who customised the phrase. He said: “Mum this is not FOMO, this is AMO. Not just Fear Of Missing Out, but Actually Missing Out.” Damn straight, kid! It sucks!

On the fourth time snow was forecast I determined not to allow myself to get excited. (I’m a slow learner). This was also because my (increasingly wise) boy had said to me: “Do you sometimes wish there wasn’t a weather forecast?” I stopped looking at it. I couldn’t cope with any more disappointment. Here goes a proverb, from actual Proverbs in the Bible: “Hope deferred makes the heart sick.” No need to customise that one.

Naturally, of course – and feeling like a reward for my new-found wisdom – that’s the one time it actually snowed. A teeny, tiny little speckledy smattering. Up against the walls and in corners it settled. And there was GREAT REJOICING! We pulled on whatever clothes were closest and rushed out to play! I mean, just look at this epic snowman!

After about ten minutes of excitement and freezing-fingered fun, when it became clear we weren’t getting any more, the little man said to me: “I can’t work out whether to be happy or disappointed.” Seems it’s possible to feel both, because I did.

But then, we’re by no means the only ones who’ve been experiencing AMO during this EWL (Evil Winter Lockdown).

We may have no proper snow but we sure do have proper beaches. It may take us over an hour to walk there, but our two local beaches are pretty much the most beautiful in the country.

During the first lockdown I experienced an awful lot of that most useless, energy-wasting of emotions: guilt. Guilt over the fact that we had not only a garden, but also a field, for daily exercise. Guilt that we could walk to the woods, which lead to a National Nature Reserve, which leads to two of the loveliest beaches in the Pembrokeshire Coast National Park. Guilt knowing that not only were we Covid-free and didn’t work in the NHS but that we enjoyed such privilege – being able to access such beauty and playgrounds – while others were going through the toughest of tough times and with none of that on tap.

My snow-happy, land-locked friends have often expressed their own envy at our ‘living on holiday’ because we live by the sea. I also imagine that if you live in fire-ravaged California or Australia, where the sun always shines, you might take the occasional wistful look at the green, green grass of wet West Wales.

The idiom goes “The grass is always greener on the other side.” It’s thought to originate centuries ago, possibly stemming from the ancient Roman poetry of Ovid who wrote: “The harvest is always more fruitful in another man’s fields.”

But in truth, the grass is greener, or whiter, or sandier, or wetter depending on where you are standing.

Comparison really is the thief of joy. I am yet to be able to pass on any wisdom as to how to overcome the punishing tendency to compare yourself or your circumstances with others.

I guess the challenge is to tend to your own grass as best you can and extract the pleasure from its upkeep without needing to check on how your neighbours’ grass is looking.

I’m not great at that, if I’m honest. Ah well, Practice Makes Progress. 😊

[wineanddinosaur]

10 Things You Should Know About Aperol

Aperol looks like it belongs in a Wes Anderson movie. The bottle design is gracefully dated; the liqueur itself a quirky rosy-orange color (the kind we could see on Gwyneth Paltrow’s character’s nails as she takes falconeering lessons from Bill Murray, as himself (#becauseWesAnderson). As bar ingredients go, it’s both incredibly unique and fairly flexible (think low ABV, high-complexity-leaning-toward-edgy-and-bright-flavor palate). And unless you get to know it, it’s exactly the kind of bottle that has potential to gather dust on your back bar over the course of some very unfabulous years.

Here are 10 more things to know about the plucky Venetian aperitivo (cue awesome soundtrack).

Aperol is not Campari. (Well, sort of.)

Maybe the most important big thing to know about Aperol before you get started knowing all the fun cocktail party trivia things: It’s not Campari. It’s easy to get them confused, not least because the Campari Group actually owns Aperol. But as far as the liquid products Campari and Aperol go, confusion is natural: They’re both sunsetty-hued Italian bitter liqueurs with flavor profiles that read like someone spritzed citrus into a mysterious apothecary. There are several differences better explained here, but one big, portable takeaway: Campari is more. It’s darker in color, higher in alcohol, and has more up-front “can-you-deal-with-that?” bitterness in the flavor profile. Aperol is gentler, lighter, the kind of thing you can sip over the rocks poolside without making a bitter-pucker face and ruining the Insta moment.

Aperol is a low-alcohol drink.

For a drink with so many bold elements in its flavor profile, it’s actually kind of surprising to learn that Aperol is only 11 percent ABV, about the same as you’ll find in a Pinot Grigio, except here you’re getting a brambly forest of roots and spice and secret citrus groves for a flavor profile. Considering Aperol came out in 1919 and low-ABV drinking is just recently getting national notice, you can say Aperol was on-trend about a century ahead of time.

The Aperol Spritz is so popular, some people hated it for a minute.

Aperol is a pretty buttoned-up liquid on its own: again, low ABV, tightly knit flavors that tend to bloom over ice. But add Prosecco and some club soda and you’ve got the stuff of a summer drinks craze to rival all slushy and bro-y variants of rosé. So no shock, Aperol Spritz had its moment (including a dedicated Instagram account) and everything got annoying for a while, so much so that there was a brief war between The New York Times and the rest of the drinking internet (a.k.a. The Internet) about whether the Aperol Spritz is actually a good drink. (Quoth the internet: It is.)

It’s both refreshing and bracing.

The key players in Aperol’s flavor profile are sweet and bitter oranges, tart rhubarb, and some secret herbs, roots, and spices. You could imagine a similar seasoning profile for some kind of roasted holiday protein, but the brothers Barbieri did a good job at incorporating just so much of each strong flavor to create a profile that’s surprisingly delicate, where bitterness acts as a sort of bracing, sturdy frame for the mystique of the rest of the flavor profile.

It’s proof beyond Nintendo that Italian brothers can work together.

We all know Mario and Luigi aren’t like, best friends, but when it’s time to take out King Koopa and save The Princess, they band together.

Aperol is also the brainchild of two Italian brothers — Luigi and Silvio Barbieri, who inherited their father Giuseppe’s liquor company in 1912 and decided to do something a little unexpected with it. Instead of churning out a standard-strength spirit or liquor of some kind, they wanted to make a uniquely low-alcohol aperitivo. Where ABV was down, however, flavor would have to be heightened. Hence…

It took seven years to perfect the recipe.

It took Silvio and Luigi seven years to come up with just the right recipe, which, like pretty much every European liqueur, is a sort of a secret (see below). After inheriting their father’s liquor business in 1912, they worked for seven years to formulate Aperol, which made its debut in 1919. Given the results, those seven years were well spent, unlike, say, the Ph.D. some of us got in comparative surgery (turns out there’s only one kind). To this day, the recipe hasn’t changed.

It’s named for what it’s meant for.

Aperol really is a drink of contradictions (the good kind, not the torturous time travel “Black Mirror” episode kind). It’s complexly flavored yet low ABV and meant to start (not end) your night of drinking. Just look at the name: Aperol is named from the French word “aperitif,” a term for the kind of light, palate-exciting pre-dinner drink Aperol was designed to be. That’s like if Gatorade were renamed “Hangover Juice” or milkshakes were called “Because You Wanted to Drink Dessert with Your Burger” (hell yes I did).

There’s a weird reason German Aperol is stronger.

Aperol in Germany is 15 percent ABV. Why? Their Einwegpfand law. Yes that reads like a desperate (or drunken) Scrabble move, but it’s actually just a container law, part of their Pfand plastics and glass re-usage system, whereby a .25 euro tax is added to glass and plastic bottles if the liquid inside is under 15 percent ABV. (The goal isn’t to deter drinking with random math, but to reduce environmental waste by single-use plastic, and it seems to work.)

It goes with gose. (You can add it to beer.)

Aperol has that bittersweet fruity thing with a hint of thirst-quenching salinity. Gose beer has that tart, prickly refreshing vibe with a hint of thirst-quenching salinity (the style is brewed with salt water). Ahem… (This is the point in a romcom where both hot but awkward leads realize they were both hot the whole time.) But Aperol and gose could go well together, and pave the way for next-level spritziness in beer cocktails in general. (There are already some decent-looking gose/Aperol concoctions out there.)

Aperol knows how to target our hearts (with ads).

Aperol had early success in marketing with a 1960s-era commercial spot in a popular Italian TV show, where Italian actor Tino Buazzelli first enunciated their catchy tagline, “Ah…Aperol!” Like, of course, you sly little bottle of delights. But our favorite Aperol spot has to be this one from Italian director Stefano Salvati in the early ‘90s, for the short-lived super-low-ABV Aperol Soda, because it has ’80s/’90s hair (’80s/’90s very brushable dude’s hair), unapologetic vest-wearing, and Aerosmith, and it all seems to take place in an Italian version of the Tom Cruise movie “Cocktail” that we hope is actually the Welcome Lounge to Heaven.

The article 10 Things You Should Know About Aperol appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/aperol-spritz-cocktail-guide/

[johnboothus]

10 Things You Should Know About Aperol

Aperol looks like it belongs in a Wes Anderson movie. The bottle design is gracefully dated; the liqueur itself a quirky rosy-orange color (the kind we could see on Gwyneth Paltrow’s character’s nails as she takes falconeering lessons from Bill Murray, as himself (#becauseWesAnderson). As bar ingredients go, it’s both incredibly unique and fairly flexible (think low ABV, high-complexity-leaning-toward-edgy-and-bright-flavor palate). And unless you get to know it, it’s exactly the kind of bottle that has potential to gather dust on your back bar over the course of some very unfabulous years.

Here are 10 more things to know about the plucky Venetian aperitivo (cue awesome soundtrack).

Aperol is not Campari. (Well, sort of.)

Maybe the most important big thing to know about Aperol before you get started knowing all the fun cocktail party trivia things: It’s not Campari. It’s easy to get them confused, not least because the Campari Group actually owns Aperol. But as far as the liquid products Campari and Aperol go, confusion is natural: They’re both sunsetty-hued Italian bitter liqueurs with flavor profiles that read like someone spritzed citrus into a mysterious apothecary. There are several differences better explained here, but one big, portable takeaway: Campari is more. It’s darker in color, higher in alcohol, and has more up-front “can-you-deal-with-that?” bitterness in the flavor profile. Aperol is gentler, lighter, the kind of thing you can sip over the rocks poolside without making a bitter-pucker face and ruining the Insta moment.

Aperol is a low-alcohol drink.

For a drink with so many bold elements in its flavor profile, it’s actually kind of surprising to learn that Aperol is only 11 percent ABV, about the same as you’ll find in a Pinot Grigio, except here you’re getting a brambly forest of roots and spice and secret citrus groves for a flavor profile. Considering Aperol came out in 1919 and low-ABV drinking is just recently getting national notice, you can say Aperol was on-trend about a century ahead of time.

The Aperol Spritz is so popular, some people hated it for a minute.

Aperol is a pretty buttoned-up liquid on its own: again, low ABV, tightly knit flavors that tend to bloom over ice. But add Prosecco and some club soda and you’ve got the stuff of a summer drinks craze to rival all slushy and bro-y variants of rosé. So no shock, Aperol Spritz had its moment (including a dedicated Instagram account) and everything got annoying for a while, so much so that there was a brief war between The New York Times and the rest of the drinking internet (a.k.a. The Internet) about whether the Aperol Spritz is actually a good drink. (Quoth the internet: It is.)

It’s both refreshing and bracing.

The key players in Aperol’s flavor profile are sweet and bitter oranges, tart rhubarb, and some secret herbs, roots, and spices. You could imagine a similar seasoning profile for some kind of roasted holiday protein, but the brothers Barbieri did a good job at incorporating just so much of each strong flavor to create a profile that’s surprisingly delicate, where bitterness acts as a sort of bracing, sturdy frame for the mystique of the rest of the flavor profile.

It’s proof beyond Nintendo that Italian brothers can work together.

We all know Mario and Luigi aren’t like, best friends, but when it’s time to take out King Koopa and save The Princess, they band together.

Aperol is also the brainchild of two Italian brothers — Luigi and Silvio Barbieri, who inherited their father Giuseppe’s liquor company in 1912 and decided to do something a little unexpected with it. Instead of churning out a standard-strength spirit or liquor of some kind, they wanted to make a uniquely low-alcohol aperitivo. Where ABV was down, however, flavor would have to be heightened. Hence…

It took seven years to perfect the recipe.

It took Silvio and Luigi seven years to come up with just the right recipe, which, like pretty much every European liqueur, is a sort of a secret (see below). After inheriting their father’s liquor business in 1912, they worked for seven years to formulate Aperol, which made its debut in 1919. Given the results, those seven years were well spent, unlike, say, the Ph.D. some of us got in comparative surgery (turns out there’s only one kind). To this day, the recipe hasn’t changed.

It’s named for what it’s meant for.

Aperol really is a drink of contradictions (the good kind, not the torturous time travel “Black Mirror” episode kind). It’s complexly flavored yet low ABV and meant to start (not end) your night of drinking. Just look at the name: Aperol is named from the French word “aperitif,” a term for the kind of light, palate-exciting pre-dinner drink Aperol was designed to be. That’s like if Gatorade were renamed “Hangover Juice” or milkshakes were called “Because You Wanted to Drink Dessert with Your Burger” (hell yes I did).

There’s a weird reason German Aperol is stronger.

Aperol in Germany is 15 percent ABV. Why? Their Einwegpfand law. Yes that reads like a desperate (or drunken) Scrabble move, but it’s actually just a container law, part of their Pfand plastics and glass re-usage system, whereby a .25 euro tax is added to glass and plastic bottles if the liquid inside is under 15 percent ABV. (The goal isn’t to deter drinking with random math, but to reduce environmental waste by single-use plastic, and it seems to work.)

It goes with gose. (You can add it to beer.)

Aperol has that bittersweet fruity thing with a hint of thirst-quenching salinity. Gose beer has that tart, prickly refreshing vibe with a hint of thirst-quenching salinity (the style is brewed with salt water). Ahem… (This is the point in a romcom where both hot but awkward leads realize they were both hot the whole time.) But Aperol and gose could go well together, and pave the way for next-level spritziness in beer cocktails in general. (There are already some decent-looking gose/Aperol concoctions out there.)

Aperol knows how to target our hearts (with ads).

Aperol had early success in marketing with a 1960s-era commercial spot in a popular Italian TV show, where Italian actor Tino Buazzelli first enunciated their catchy tagline, “Ah…Aperol!” Like, of course, you sly little bottle of delights. But our favorite Aperol spot has to be this one from Italian director Stefano Salvati in the early ‘90s, for the short-lived super-low-ABV Aperol Soda, because it has ’80s/’90s hair (’80s/’90s very brushable dude’s hair), unapologetic vest-wearing, and Aerosmith, and it all seems to take place in an Italian version of the Tom Cruise movie “Cocktail” that we hope is actually the Welcome Lounge to Heaven.

The article 10 Things You Should Know About Aperol appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/aperol-spritz-cocktail-guide/

source https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/10-things-you-should-know-about-aperol