#that could have been a life changing opportunity for a young or new artist

[inbred-mothman]

Hey guys just a little note: if you use AI art in any way shape or form, you can go ahead and block me. And if I see anyone I interact with using it, I'll block them immediately as well, there's no reason you should have to steal our jobs just because you "wanted art"... that's why we are here. That's why artists exist. There are countless artists who would die to get commissioned (me included) by ANYONE. But you have to go and show your fucking GREED by stealing our work. It is STEALING. by using AI generated images as a replacement for art you are putting artists as a whole at risk. I'm disappointed in some of the fandoms I'm in because of this. I thought we were better than that.

TLDR:

DNI if you use AI generated images

[whimsiwitchy]

Controversially Young Girlfriend 

Hugh Jackman x popstar!reader 

series masterlist & main masterlist

summary: y/n is a globally beloved pop star. She is known for her talent and dedication towards her craft. Recently, she has also been known for her preference for older men. After a breakup with her former older boyfriend, she had a run in with the hottest dilf right now, Hugh Jackman. Y/n tried to warn him, but what can she say, she has an effect on hot, older men. 

warnings: age gap (23/55), cursing, y/n used, implied shorter reader, afab reader, she/her pronouns. 

warnings will change as the story progresses! all descriptions of real people in this story are FAKE. i do not know these people and this is purely fiction. Please let me know if I missed anything! <33

authors note: this is an idea I had that I really needed to write. I’d love to make this a series if you guys want more, just let me know! This is only my second time writing fanfiction and my first time writing for Hugh, please be nice lol. Thank you for reading! <3

Part one: breakup and new beginnings 

Being a young girl living in the middle of bumfuck nowhere made it seem impossible to live your dreams of becoming a singer. You grew up in a tiny little town in Louisiana called Minden. With a population of less than 15,000 people, the closest ‘big’ city being Shreveport, growing up was pretty boring. You had big dreams of making it big and making it the fuck out of the country. Minden wasn’t always so bad. It was a nice community that had fun things here and there, but you craved more. 

Once you graduated highschool back in 2020, you focused on working and saving as much money as you could, only buying essentials and equipment to help make music. You took a few online classes on producing and tried your best to make whatever song was bouncing around in your head come to life. It took a year for you to feel confident enough to release your first few songs out into the world. So in July of 2021, you teased a song on TikTok to your small following. You started to gain a few more followers here and there, it was exciting. At the end of August, you released your first song titled ‘to the point’ and it blew up on the clock app. You gained a hefty following after that, on the brink of hitting one million. 

By the end of 2022, deciding on Los Angeles, you had finally saved enough money to move, so you were packing your bags and heading out. Your agent was ecstatic about the move because it meant more opportunities for your career. After releasing a few more songs over the past year, you hired Stacy to help you manage everything. 

Fastwording to 2024, your dreams have come true and you have been an established and respected artist for almost two years. You started to build a reputation as someone who was dedicated and passionate about their craft- always being involved in any creative process. It was bliss. Lately though, you’ve gained another reputation, the controversial young girlfriend, a whore, a gold digger. Since you’ve been in the spotlight, you’ve had your fair share of dating history and if they all happened to be older men, so what? It wasn’t something you had planned on but older men were just built differently. They were so much sexier and put together than the guys your age. They knew what they were doing and how to treat a woman right. You were so tired of being asked out through instagram direct messages, you wanted someone who wasn’t afraid to talk to you in person, and that seemed to only come from men twice your age. You weren’t complaining though, you enjoyed it. 

Your last ‘scandalous’ relationship ended up being far more public than you intended it to be. In the beginning, the men you were seen with were never anything serious, just dates or one night stands. Though with Pedro it was different. You dated him for six months before it all came crashing down and you felt heartbroken. He was the sweetest man you’d ever been with and it all ended because the hate from fans on our age gap was too much for him. It was an ugly breakup and you were positive that he wouldn’t want to be associated with you anymore, even as friends. 

-

“I should have picked a different song.” You huff in frustration. Today you were going to be performing on BBC’s Radio 1 Live Lounge and as requested, you'd be performing your own song and a cover of your choosing. When Stacy first presented this opportunity to you, it had only been a month after your recent breakup and naturally you chose to cover ‘THE GREATEST’ by Billie Eilish. Now that you were mostly over Pedro, the song seemed silly to sing and you weren’t feeling as vocally confident now that you were here. 

��Babe, you’re gonna kill it! Just let your emotions flow, give the fans what they want.” Stacy is sitting across the room as she comforts you. She’s fidgeting with your vocal humidifier, attempting to put it together before you start warming up. Her advice isn’t terrible, she’s right. You’d been pretty silent on the subject matter, steering clear of social media so you wouldn’t say anything stupid. Rumors of your breakup had been all over the headlines but there hasn’t been confirmation from either of you. Singing this song today would definitely stir the pot again and make everyone realize that it is done between you two. 

“You’re right.” 

“As always. Here, start warming up the money maker.” She laughs while handing you the humidifier. 

“I really hope he doesn’t watch it. I’d literally smash my head into a brick wall out of embarrassment…” 

Placing the humidifier over your mouth and nose, you sit there letting your mind wander. Having your personal life exposed to everyone really sucked and hiding your boyfriends wasn’t something you wanted to do, but you knew that in the future it was something that would have to happen. 

“I think I’m taking a break from men.” You let out proudly, glancing over at Stacy. 

“Whatever you say girl.” You could hear the doubt lingering in her tone and the roll of her eyes. 

“Ugh… You don’t believe me do you? I can totally break off from men and be my own person for once.” 

“I’m not trying to doubt you babe. It’s just…You tend to attract men like a magnet and you have some severe daddy issues.” She's typing away on her laptop as if she didn’t just completely disrespect you. 

“I don’t have daddy issues.” You say flatly. “I happen to have a very loving father who was always present in my life, so the whole dating older men thing does NOT stem from daddy issues. Thank you very much.” You say matter of factly. 

“Hm..Well I give it a week.” 

-

After a few sound checks for your mic and band, you perform your first song. You chose a more upbeat song off your debut album to start, given that you were about to lay your heart out of the line. It was honestly kind of awkward performing in this setting. There was a booth in front of you that had the sound board and all of the other electronic stuff that you didn’t understand. Then right to the left of that, the cameras were positioned with a group of crew members sitting behind them. It always felt awkward performing to smaller audiences. 

The first song went by smoothly, earning a few cheers from the people in the room. As the band prepared for the next song, you could see the door in the booth open and two figures walk in. You weren’t wearing your glasses or contacts since it was supposed to be a short day, so you really couldn’t make out who had just walked in. You assumed more workers came in and brushed it off. 

“All ready?” A man behind the camera asks and you give a thumbs up. 

You somehow managed to get through the song without having any vocal mess ups. It was a challenging song and you'd definitely have to text Billie later to give her some credit. A few tears slipped here and there, feeling the emotions that you thought were gone slowly be released. You pulled yourself together and you felt really proud of the performance as a whole, showing the world the potential your voice had. 

A few soft claps are dying out as everyone starts cleaning up the room. You’re reaching down to grab your water bottle when you feel someone rushing up towards you. 

“Ahhh you did great babe but um two hot dudes will be walking through that door any second!” Stacy is whispering and all you could do was give her a confused look before the door opens. You squint trying to make out the two figures. 

“God you’re talented!” You hear the voice before you see the face. 

“Oh um, thank you so much.” You let out not really sure who you were speaking to. Once the two men get into view, your jaw drops slightly. 

“HOLY SHIT!” You yell a little too loudly. Slapping your hand over your mouth, you hear a very rich man laugh coming from a very good looking man. For some reason, whoever is in charge of the fate of the universe has blessed you with the presence of Ryan Reynalds and Hugh Jackaman. 

“Oh my god i’m so sorry, that’s literally so embarrassing. I just couldn’t see who you were at first.” 

“It’s okay sweetheart.” They both wear big smiles on their faces. 

“I’m y/n, it’s so nice to meet y’all, i’m a big fan!” You gush out, trying your best to refrain from fangirling. 

“We’re big fans as well. We were next door interviewing for the radio show, when we heard you were recording over here. We ran over here to try to catch you.” Ryan lets out. 

“No shit! That’s so cool. I really appreciate it.” Before the conversation could continue, Ryan is being called over by someone, leaving Hugh and yourself alone. 

“Hows Pedro, haven't seen him in awhile.” Hugh asks genuinely, giving you a small smile. It caught you off guard completely. You racked your brain trying to think of a time in your six month relationship that Pedro mentioned Hugh at all but nothing came up. 

“Oh I uh- I wouldn’t know. We aren’t together anymore.” Your voice is soft, trying not to make this any more awkward. 

“Shit. I’m so sorry, with the way he spoke about you, I thought you’d be together longer…” He trails off. 

“Yea me too.. he couldn’t handle the heat I guess.” You shrug. 

“Well, his loss yea?” He smiles trying to cheer you up. 

“Yea..” You say softly, your voice matching your smile. You take a moment to really look at him and he’s beyond handsome. He’s aged but in a way that makes you wish you were able to see the years go by with him. He was tall, almost towering over you, and his muscles were practically popping out of his shirt. 

The same guy that was walking to Ryan, gathers the three of you for a picture for the BBC socials. You stand in the middle, both men placing their arms behind either side of you. Hugh’s hand was placed on the small of your back. You looked up at him quickly, his face already smiling at the camera. You hear the camera go off a few times, causing you to look that way as well. Once the cameraman was satisfied, everyone gave their goodbyes and the room cleared out. 

-

Later that night you were scrolling through your phone when a text popped up from Stacy. 

Stacypoo <33: I told you. You couldn’t even go a week. ;) 

The text is accompanied by a screenshot of a notification stating that “‘thehughjackman’ started following you!”. You rushed to open instagram and went to your followers to search from his name. You stared at his page for a few minutes before following him back. 

While you had control over your own social media, someone handled all of your business related content. You went on your page to see that the picture that was taken at BBC earlier today was already posted with one comment standing out beyond the rest. 

Thehughjackman: Great meeting you sweetheart! :)

Thank you for reading <3

part two

[drchucktingle]

It’s Carly Tingle’s big day, the release of her first traditionally published horror novel, Camp Damascus. Unfortunately, Carly’s having trouble enjoying this moment as fear and chaos begin to swirl around her. She wants the book to do well, of course, but it slowly becomes apparent there’s more to Carly’s ambition than meets the eye.

Things get clearer when Carly revisits an old erotica short she’d written, titled Eaten Right By The Physical Manifestation Of My Pride And Excitement That The Lead Character Of My First Traditionally Published Horror Novel Is On The Autism Spectrum Just Like Me. This sets off a chain of fourth-wall breaking events that will send Carly on an adventure unlike any other.

Now at the book shop, Carly will come face-to-face with the beautiful physical manifestation of her pride and excitement as an autistic artist, culminating in an erotic lesbian encounter that could inspire generations to come.

This erotic tale is 4,300 words of sizzling human on sentient physically manifested excitement in the form of a punctuation mark action and lesbian autistic pride love.

----

please enjoy EATEN RIGHT BY THE PHYSICAL MANIFESTATION OF MY PRIDE AND EXCITEMENT THAT THE LEAD CHARACTER OF MY FIRST TRADITIONALLY PUBLISHED HORROR NOVEL IS ON THE AUTISM SPECTRUM JUST LIKE ME out now for free but asking for donation to AUTISTIC SELF ADVOCACY NETWORK

MORE ABOUT THIS TINGLER:

hey there buckaroos i would like to use today to talk on something that is very important to me. i have talked a lot about my journey as a bud on the autism spectrum, and about how I LOVE BEING AUTISTIC.

my story on the spectrum is not a struggle. my way was diagnosed in early twenties, but because of way of masking VERY FEW BUCKAROOS WOULD EVEN NOTICE. it has given me ability to hyper focus and get large amounts of writing done, to find creative ideas neurotypical buds might miss, and to have a unique perspective on life on this timeline.

HOWEVER as man name of chuck my pride in this way used to make me uncomfortable, thinkin i should not share my story. there are many buds on this spectrum who have a MUCH harder time than chuck, and i want to respect the VERY IMPORTANT AND VERY REAL struggles of my fellow autistic buckaroos. for long time i did not feel like it was my place to share and say ‘personally, i wouldnt change my autistic trot for anything. i think being autistic is very cool’

but as tingleverse got more fans and buckaroos started listening to my words more i started thinking: THIS is an opportunity to prove love. part of the reason i am PROUD of my spectrum way is because FIRST INTERACTION with idea of this trot (was called aspergers way back then) was to realize that ALL MY HEROS were on this spectrum: david byrne of band TALKING HEADS being number one.

my FIRST INTERACTION with this idea was not ‘whoa this is tragic’ it was ‘whoa the coolest buckaroo on the PLANET is the same as me’

POINT IS i have been on this timeline a while now and now i am in this position myself. i can be the one buckaroos see when they learn this about themselves and think: WOW LOOK AT THIS WILD ARTIST I ADMIRE BREAKING THE NORMS AND CHARTING A NEW TROT THROUGH THIS TIMELINE WE ARE BOTH AUTISTIC THIS IS THE HECKIN COOLEST

most of the characters i write are probably a little on the spectrum because they are comin from inside chucks head. i look back and notice this and laugh, but other than a single tingler i rare actually OUTRIGHT SAY this character is autistic. i decided that FIRST BIG HORROR NOVEL WITH A TRADITIONAL PUBLISHER was a good time to change this. while i write erotica most of the time which means NO YOUNG BUCKAROOS ALLOWED, horror is a little different. buckaroos young and old can read CAMP DAMASCUS and think ‘i see myself in this autistic hero and I FEEL COOL’

EVEN WRITING THIS NOW makes me get teary eyed and emotional, because these feelings of belonging and positive representation were SO IMPORTANT to me. i would not be trotting here without these autistic heroes, and now i have been given the chance to create one of my own with CAMP DAMASCUS and WITH MYSELF just by being chuck and talking openly about my joyful, exciting, artistic trot on the spectrum.

WITH ALL OF THIS IN MIND i am releasing a brand new tingler called EATEN RIGHT BY THE PHYSICAL MANIFESTATION OF MY PRIDE AND EXCITEMENT THAT THE LEAD CHARACTER OF MY FIRST TRADITIONALLY PUBLISHED HORROR NOVEL IS ON THE AUTISM SPECTRUM JUST LIKE ME for free. HOWEVER i am requesting that if you choose to read you send your three dollars (or whatever donation you would like) to the AUTISTIC SELF ADVOCACY NETWORK. this way 100 percent of all profits will go to them. (WARNING this is actual erotica so no young buckaroos allowed for this one).

all ages (who are old enough to read horror) can preorder CAMP DAMASCUS at any bookstore. i also have a tingler name of NOT POUNDED BY THE PHYSICAL MANIFESTATION OF SOMEONE ELSE'S DOUBT IN MY PLACE ON THE AUTISM SPECTRUM BECAUSE DENYING SOMEONE'S PERSONAL JOURNEY AND IDENTITY LIKE THAT IS INCREDIBLY RUDE SO NO THANKS that is pound free so all ages can read so check that out if you would like.

thank you for blessing me with a space to explore these ideas. i am so thankful to be here with you and you have treated me so well. i am eternally grateful for our tort together and look forward to the future we craft on this timeline.

LOVE IS REAL - chuck

[m0thgutzzzz]

PIZZA HEROES

Peppino Spaghetti is the owner of a failing pizza shop. His coworker, Gustavo, seems to be the only person in his life that cares about him. One day he is called to a warehouse for a pizza delivery. Inside he finds four people surrounding a high tech device. A rat snatches up his box of pizza and runs into the device, causing an explosion. Peppino is able to escape the rubble of the building, and the other four caught in the explosion escape as well.

Peppino finds one day that he now has the ability to control and create pizza ingredients. Gustavo reveals to him that he is a superhero, Pawprint, and that the two should work together. Peppino takes on a new superhero identity to take down the people behind the recent crimes that have been sprouting up around town.

Name: Peppino Spaghetti

Super/Villain name: Chef Raider

Age: 39

Species: Human

Pronouns: He/Him

General story/Background: Peppino was born in Italy. When he was in his twenties, he fought in a war, then was discharged due to his violent tendencies towards other soldiers. He eventually moved to America and was able to start a restaurant with the small amount of money he had.

Name: Gustavo Fungo

Super/Villain name: PawPrint

Age: 38

Species: Gnome

Pronouns: He/Him

General story/Background: Gustavo was born in a gnome village deep within the forest. When he was young, he was gifted with the ability to control and communicate with plants and animals. He soon left the village and entered the city where he took up a job at Peppino’s Pizza. Gustavo often disguises himself as a human so people don’t recognize him as his superhero alter ego.

Name: Brick

Super/Villain name: Rattail

Age: 6

Species: Rat

Pronouns: She/Her

General story/Background: Brick was a lab rat mutated by a scientist. She soon escaped to the sewer where she started to grow! Giant rat! Gustavo heard her cries one day and took her in. Now the two work together as a superhero duo.

Name: Theodore Noise

Super/Villain name: The Noise

Age: 37

Species: Human-Rat hybrid

Pronouns: He/They

General story/Background: Theodore was a well known news anchor for the city. Totino convinced him to come to the warehouse, promising him that this new device could make him a lot of money. He was fused with the rat that caused the explosion and was shunned from the television industry because of how he looked. Now he resides with Totino and Phil, planning out heists so Totino can assemble a device to turn them back to normal.

Name: Phil Kalee

Super/Villain name: Pepperman

Age: 40

Species: Human-Pepper hybrid

Pronouns: He/Him

General story/Background: Phil was an artist trying to get his work off of the ground. Totino promised him that the device would get him famous. He was fused with the peppers on the pizza, and now helps carry out heists. The brawn of the group! Phil often fumbles missions because he insists he plasters each crime scene with graffiti as a calling card.

Name: Vigert Ebeneezer Lante

Super/Villain name: The Vigilante

Age: 41

Species: Human-Cheese hybrid

Pronouns: He/Him

General story/Background: Vigi moved from his hometown in the south after his grandfather passed. He vowed that he would bring justice and make the world a better place. Totino told him that this device could do just that. He was fused with the cheese on the pizza. Vigi soon confronted Totino about the changes, and Totino tried to deny them. Vigi was so outraged by his betrayal that he shot Totino, triggering his toon transformation. He is now one of the main targets of the gang (besides Peppino). Vigi isn’t afraid to kill in order for there to be peace. He seems rather neutral towards Peppino, and can either be fighting with him or against him.

Name: Toto “Totino” DiGiorno

Super/Villain name: Pizzahead

Age: 36

Species: Human-Pizza-Toon hybrid

Pronouns: Any

General story/Background: Totino and his older brother were adopted by a very wealthy couple, who only wanted the best opportunities for them both. Totino always had a big interest in science, so his parents arranged for him to have a job in scientific inventing when he grew up. After his parents passed, he quickly grew dissatisfied with how professional and “toned down” he had to be, and wanted more out of his inventions. Becoming a toon gave him the chance to be his true self, but also dialed up his behavior to a dangerous level.

(art by tinybubble330)

Name: Pɘqqino Ƨqɒϱʜɘtti/Fake Peppino

Super/Villain name: Anti-Raider/Fake Raider

Age: ???

Species: Dough Clone

Pronouns: He/They

General story/Background: After Totino went off his rocker, he became obsessed with defeating Peppino. So much so, that he created a clone to rival him. The clone was stable at first and resembled Peppino exactly. But after their first defeat, the clone began to melt. They now constantly follow after Pizzahead and are hell bent on one thing. Destroying Peppino and taking his place.

—

THIS IS AN AU I’VE BEEN MAKING WITH @tinybubble330 !!!! i couldn’t fit everyone in this post, so expect a part two… eventually if people show enough interest in this

[solei-eclipse]

[ ALNST SEASON 39 ] - A New Era Has Begun!

Exclusive interview with SIDE A : ROUND ONE stars CIRRUS & AZURE!

The stars have aligned yet again for a brand new season of ALIEN STAGE!

With four times as many contestants, the competition is sure to be four times more rigorous! What will happen? Who will win? Well, the sky's the limit!

ALIEN STAGE MAGAZINE is proud to present an exclusive pre-round interview of CIRRUS & AZURE.

[ contestants have been interviewed separately. ]

What have you been up to since your graduation from the Anakt Garden? How has your life and routine changed since then?

AZURE : A lot of performing and photoshoots, i could hardly keep up! This is all quite new to me since the change of crowd, been more sociable than usual. But this is the life that I should get used to if it means to be with you all.

CIRRUS : It’s certainly a lot different than what I’m used to, before ANAKT I spent most of my time alone and indoors. Now I’m around people a lot and it took a while to adjust, but I think it’s going pretty well. Photoshoots are rather fun and performing in front of other people has gotten easier as I’ve gone smaller events, I think it’s best to be prepared for what’s to come.

How do you feel about the start of the new ALIEN STAGE season? Are you feeling any pressure as the opening act of the show?

AZURE : I mean, who wouldn't? but nervousness does not even rival the excitement of performing to you all, so you could say that i'm looking forward to it. This season gives me the opportunity to showcase a new wave, one that's bigger than the past seasons. I hope that wave reaches to you.

CIRRUS : There is pressure, certainly, but I think it wouldn’t exist if not for this pressure. It is a form of entertainment, no matter how cruel. I am anxious knowing what the outcome may be, and I wish Azure the best of luck, but I know that I cannot change what happens in the end.

What do you think is your charm?

AZURE : I'll let you decide on that. Although, I do hear some people saying that it's my eyes with the company of my voice. They see it fit, and i'm glad to hear so.

CIRRUS : It is difficult to speak on one’s own charm when you’re unfamiliar with yourself, I think. I’d like to think it would be my eyes, but I’m aware they can be rather intimidating as well.

What are your recent interests?

AZURE : Exploring different concepts. My guardian has always been the artistic type, so I was pretty exposed to uniqueness ever since I was young. I do hope I could use these ideas in my performances.

CIRRUS : My interests as of late have been the human mind. It’s a very captivating subject. I would love to learn as much as I can about everyone, and what makes them tick…

Has your guardian been involved in your preparation for ALIEN STAGE?

AZURE : Of course, he is very excited, and I am too. Performing for you all is such a privilege, and I'm thankful that my guardian has given me such an opportunity. With that, i hope you all enjoy.

CIRRUS : My guardian has never been very physically present in my life, but as of late, they seem a little more interested, though not as much as everyone else, it seems.

How are you preparing for your performance with Cirrus/Azure?

AZURE : What is preparation without practice? I like to use my time polishing skills that i already have.

CIRRUS : It’s not been easy to find something that truly helped me feel prepared, but the best thing I’ve found is to simply give it my all in practicing both my communication and my singing. I don’t aim to make enemies, so I’d like this to be as fair as possible, and I want us both to do our best.

Speaking of Cirrus/Azure, what do you think of them?

AZURE : They're interesting. They have this certain vibe that could capture the audience, color me intrigued.

CIRRUS : Azure seems a lot like me, in a way, though I seem to be more interested in people. His mindset is quite interesting. I haven’t met many like him. We both have intriguing eyes, in my opinion. I wonder if they could be used as an intimidation tactic… I’m certainly interested to see what he thinks about all of this.

Do you think you can win?

AZURE : Oh? Let's leave the results for later, wouldn't want it to ruin the performance.

CIRRUS : I believe that either of us could win. If I’m honest, though, he seems to have more motivation. As much as I’d love to be able to see what happens to everyone else, in the end, I cannot change what the outcome stacks up to be.

Do you have anything to say to your opponent?

AZURE : I'm looking forward to performing with you, good luck.

CIRRUS : Let’s make this an illustrious opening, shall we?

© ANAKT GROUP, ALIEN STAGE MAGAZINE 30XX

Cirrus : @yunoftheclouds

Azure : @azureitri / @4listr

[simplyclary]

Taylor Zakhar Perez: A Storyteller and Latino Representation Advocate

(Photo edit by me)

In the ever-evolving landscape of Hollywood, certain actors stand out not just for their talent but for their dedication to telling stories that resonate deeply with both themselves and their audiences. Taylor Zakhar Perez is one such actor who has quickly risen to prominence in Hollywood, not just for his striking looks but for his remarkable ability to choose roles that resonate deeply with both himself and his audience. From his roles in "The Kissing Booth" to "Red, White & Royal Blue," Taylor's commitment to portraying multi-faceted characters and championing Latino voices sets him apart as an extraordinary storyteller.

Taylor doesn't just take on any role that comes his way; he carefully selects characters that offer depth and complexity. He is not content with being typecasted into the typical "hot boy next door" archetype. Instead, he seeks out characters that challenge him as an actor and provide a richer, more nuanced experience for viewers.

His portrayal of Marco in "The Kissing Booth" trilogy is a testament to his ability to bring multi-dimensional characters to life. Marco isn't just the "hot and athletic new classmate." He's a talented musician with his own dreams and struggles, which adds layers to a character that could easily have been one-dimensional and that makes him more than just a romantic rival. Taylor's portrayal of Marco resonated with fans who saw a character they could relate to on multiple levels.

In "Red, White & Royal Blue," Taylor takes on the role of Alex Claremont-Diaz, a character who navigates the complexities of love, identity, and political ambition. Alex is not just a love interest and the son of the U.S. president but a complex individual navigating his identity, love, and political aspirations. He is a young man striving to balance his personal desires with his responsibilities, making him a deeply relatable character. Taylor's portrayal brings authenticity and vulnerability to the role while also showcasing his ability to blend humor, intelligence and emotional depth, which resonates with audiences who see themselves in Alex's journey.

One of Taylor's most admirable qualities is his dedication to representing Latino voices and stories in Hollywood. In an industry that often relegates Latino characters to specific stereotypes, Taylor is committed to breaking these molds. He understands the importance of seeing diverse and authentic representations on screen and is determined to be a part of that change. His commitment to portraying multi-faceted, deeply nuanced characters sets him apart in Hollywood, and his dedication to representing Latino voices and stories adds a significant layer to his artistic journey.

Taylor is committed to breaking down stereotypes and showcasing the richness and diversity of Latino culture. Too often, Latino characters are relegated to roles in gangs or the mafia, but Taylor aims to change that narrative. He wants to highlight the varied experiences of Latino individuals and ensure that their voices are heard and seen. He wants to showcase the richness and diversity of Latino experiences, portraying characters who are doctors, musicians, politicians, and more. By doing so, he provides a platform for Latino voices to be heard and seen, challenging the industry's often narrow portrayals.

Taylor chooses roles that he knows will resonate on a personal level and strike a chord with the audience. His characters are often on journeys of self-discovery and empowerment, reflecting real-life challenges and triumphs. By immersing himself in these roles, Taylor ensures that his performances are authentic and impactful. He understands the power of storytelling and uses it to connect with people on a deeper level.

In his career choices and public statements, Taylor consistently emphasizes the importance of representation. He wants to provide opportunities for Latino stories to be told authentically and powerfully, giving audiences a more accurate and respectful portrayal of Latino life. By doing so, he hopes to inspire other actors and filmmakers to prioritize diversity and inclusion in their projects.

Taylor's commitment to representation extends beyond his acting roles. He is actively involved in conversations about diversity in Hollywood and uses his platform to advocate for change. His goal is to create a more inclusive industry where everyone has the chance to see themselves reflected in the stories told on screen.

In interviews and public appearances, Taylor speaks passionately about his desire to play roles that challenge stereotypes and push boundaries. He is not content with being typecast; instead, he seeks out characters that offer depth and complexity. His ambition is to pave the way for more diverse storytelling and to ensure that future generations of Latino actors have the opportunities they deserve.

Taylor Zakhar Perez is an actor who embodies the essence of a true storyteller. His dedication to choosing roles with depth and his unwavering commitment to representing Latino voices make him a standout figure in Hollywood. By challenging stereotypes and advocating for diversity, Taylor is helping to reshape the industry and create a more inclusive environment for all. His work resonates deeply with audiences, not just because of his talent, but because of his genuine passion for telling meaningful and impactful stories.

[themculibrary]

bottom!bucky x top!steve Masterlist

Links Last Checked: January 12th, 2024

Ain't No Rest for the Wicked (ao3) - Kellyscams E, 305k

Summary: Steve's just moved back to Brooklyn after spending ten years in California trying to make a life for himself as an artist right after high school. Having escaped to the other side of the country following the sudden death of his mother, Steve feels guilty about abruptly leaving all his friends for so long, unfulfilled, scared and nervous about started college at his age, and unbelievably lonely. So when he meets Bucky Barnes, a young sex-worker, at a bar the night before his first day of classes, temptations might be too high to resist.

One night paying for sex with the most sinfully gorgeous guy is nothing to brag to the papers about, huh?

S'not like he'll ever see him again anyway...

...Right?

Call Boy (ao3) - L1av E, 149k

Summary: Bucky Barnes was skyrocketing through promotions at his advertising firm. Now, a partnership position is opening and if Bucky wants to see his name on the building, he needs to impress not only Mr. Tony Stark, but his wife Pepper. To do this, it takes a team, a couple to be exact. Bucky asks his ex-wife Natasha to set him up with the perfect girl, blonde, tall, thick thighs and huge tits, but with the personality that’ll get Pepper all smiles.

What Bucky gets? Tall, blonde, thick thighs…and a penis. Can this male escort pretend to not only be Bucky’s fiance but also impress Pepper enough to win Bucky the promotion? Is he going to impress Bucky enough to get him to sleep with him?

Steve loves working for his tip.

Collar Full of Chemistry (ao3) - 2bestfriends E, 188k

Summary: Steve is very rich and desperate to feel in control of his life again after a recent divorce has left him feeling bitter and lonely. When he keeps crossing paths with a disaster twenty-something, an unconventional solution presents itself. Steve's always been one for following his instincts.

Bucky is very broke and can't seem to catch a break, especially after some asshole fires him for one fucking mistake. So of course, it follows that he should sign a contract agreeing to do everything and anything that same asshole wants for a whole year in exchange for a payout that could finally change his life for the better.

—

AKA a fantasy BDSM romance featuring heavy mutual pining, feelings denial, and enough kink to blackout a bingo card. We know what we're about, son.

G.I. Joes and 2AM Diners (ao3) - OhCaptainMyCaptain E, 100k

Summary: They look nothing like what they used to. Time and life have completely changed them. But as they sit there in silence, eating two halves of one cupcake, letting Brooklyn remind there where they came from, and enjoying a sky full of stars… They are those same little boys, somewhere deep down. For just a second, you’d be able to see them again.

And Bucky thinks to himself that maybe it’s little moments like these – fleeting as they may be – that remind him why life is still worth living.

Gimme Sugar (ao3) - geneticallydead E, 10k

Summary: Bucky wants to be Steve's sugar baby, and isn't exactly shy about it.

Of Broken Dreams and Mended Hearts (ao3) - Kellyscams M, 354k

Summary: When the House of Barnes is left in massive debt after the death of George Barnes, their oldest son and heir, Bucky, is forced to sacrifice his own hopes and dreams by entering an arranged married to Steve Rogers. Steve seems kind enough, has a prominent job in the government, and was even voted Society's Best Catch. But the House Rogers is significantly higher in status than Bucky's family, which means Bucky is marrying up in Society, and marrying up doesn't only come with rewards, it also comes with certain...expectations and losses--some of which Bucky might be willing to do anything to avoid. And those opportunities might come his way.

Unless, of course, he actually starts falling in love with his new husband...

Omega Interrupted (ao3) - pandafish E, 80k

Summary: Bucky isn't a normal omega. He hasn't hit his first proper heat yet, but still it feels like he's in an almost constant state of heat. His sexual dysfunction causes the omega boarding school where he goes to send him to a clinic meant to deal with this stuff - a massive brick mansion in the middle of the beautiful woods. When Dr Steve Rogers, expert in omega medicine, sees Bucky however he's perplexed. He's never seen an omega with this particular problem before, especially not in someone so young.

So Steve decides to take him in, and since he doesn't quite know how to treat him, he just needs to experiment. And soon Bucky finds himself spending his days strapped to a chair or bench being subjected to all kinds of pleasurable machines and medical treatments by a very handsome alpha doctor...

Omega Services: Rut Assistant (ao3) - roe87 E, 175k

Summary: Bucky and his family are in desperate need of money so he signs himself up to Omega Services, essentially agreeing to rent out his body to an alpha in return for a substantial amount of cash.

As it happens, male omegas are in high demand and Bucky gets assigned a cushy corporate gig. He is now the omega of some hotshot special agent in a secretive government agency.

Bucky doesn't know much about his new alpha, Commander Rogers, but that doesn't matter. Bucky's job and sole purpose now is to wait at home for his alpha with his legs spread, and make sure his alpha is satisfied.

Surely that won't be too difficult?

Orgasmus (ao3) - OhCaptainMyCaptain E, 13k

Summary: It had always felt like his life was nothing but decision-making; what with work, taking out the dames, making ends meet all the time at home - Bucky was always expected to have the answers. That’s how society told him he needed to be. When he was at home, though, things were different. The second his shoes came off and that front door was closed, the only thing Bucky had always wanted was for someone to take care of him.

Not ‘someone’, not really. Steve. Bucky wanted Steve to take care of him.

Salami (ao3) - L1av E, 25k

Summary: Everyone hears stories about the idiots who have to go to the ER to get random objects removed from their asses. If someone told Bucky he’d be spending his weekend in the hospital for one of the most embarrassing occurrences of his life, he’d probably laugh in their face and tell them to go fuck off. But here he is, in the ER with eleven inches of packaged, cold salami stuck up his ass. To make matters worse, his nurse is really hot. Really hot.

Join Bucky for one of the most awkward and yet comical experiences of his life that leads to self-discovery, trust and maybe even love.

Somnophilia (ao3) - OhCaptainMyCaptain E, 7k

Summary: In the bedroom, whatever Bucky wants, Bucky gets; and right now, Bucky wants Steve screaming by the time he’s finished with him.

Sugar Sweet (ao3) - ColorCoated E, 173k

Summary: College Student Bucky finds himself immediately attracted to Steve. He knows that Steve's a bit older than him, and that Steve himself is put off by the age difference. . . But that doesn't stop Bucky from wanting to climb him like a tree. AKA a Sugar Daddy AU that no one was asking for.

Take Me to Church (ao3) - neversaydie E, 124k

Summary: Steve Rogers is a struggling artist. It's not as romantic as it sounds.

What Steve really wants is a job as a session musician. He can play enough instruments that he could make a decent amount of money doing it, but in New York there are just too many talented musicians and not enough jobs to go around. So he takes jobs in hipster bars, hotel lobbies, at weddings and bar mitzvahs and office parties.

If he gets one more request for Let it Go, he swears he'll find it within himself to punch a child.

He lives in a tiny, shitty apartment with Sam, who was his sort-of-boyfriend for a few weeks until he decided Steve's very domestic relationship goals weren't for him. They're still pretty much best friends, luckily for Steve, because when the regular pianist at Sam's dance company runs away to Canada he's recommended his roommate and got him the job before Steve even knows about it.

Dancers. Steve's going to have to spend his days with dancers. Great.

The Simple Life (ao3) - howler32557038 E, 114k

Summary: "The simple life."

"You'll get there one day."

"I don't know. Family, stability...The guy who wanted all that went in the ice seventy-five years ago. I think someone else came out."

Bucky wants to be part of Steve's life. He wants to be an Avenger. He wants to be a good partner. Unfortunately, sometimes that means not telling Steve everything.

Think I'm Finally Clean (ao3) - fuck_me_barnes E, 4k

Summary: In which sub Bucky wishes for rougher handling by normally gentle dom Steve, and gets probably more than he bargained for.

We have not touched the stars (ao3) - sangha E, 21k

Summary: Steve is still adjusting to life in the 21st century. His life nowadays is mostly lonely. Though he appreciates her good intentions, he always rebuffs Natasha's efforts to set him up on a date; he simply isn't interested in pursuing anything romantic.

At least, until Steve gets drunk on Asgardian liquor and a ridiculously handsome stranger at the bar catches his eye.

[aeolianblues]

Jarvis Cocker: At the end of 1996, I had “a nervous breakdown”

Kate Mossman of The New Statesman talks to Jarvis Cocker, September 2021

The singer on nostalgia, hating David Cameron, and how crashing a Michael Jackson performance had “a toxic effect” on him.

Jarvis Cocker leans on a table in the courtyard of the House of St Barnabas, a members’ club and homeless charity, and one of the only bits of London’s Soho that does not bear the marks of the interminable Crossrail project. Cocker says he’s not one for conspiracy theories, “but there’s a lot of dark mutterings about what has happened while everybody’s been locked away. You can see it in Soho, where loads of building work’s gone on. They took an opportunity. Cement’s gone up in price because there’s none left.”

He’s not as tall as he is in your mind’s eye – a solid 6ft 1 – but he cuts a stately figure in green cords and a high-quality lilac shirt. Here, in a moccasin-style shoe, is the foot that was broken, along with his pelvis and ankle, when he fell out of a window in Sheffield pretending to be Spiderman. (He spent months as a young man gigging from a wheelchair.) Here is the rear that was waved at Michael Jackson, in a life-changing moment it still upsets him to talk about. Here are the long legs that bent like those of a freshly born foal on stage, and here are the glasses that were held on his face with an elastic band so he could execute his moves. These long, smooth fingers would frame his face, or flick his “V” signs. As sombre as he is, seating himself on a bench alongside the New Statesman, he is the only pop star that most people under 80, regardless of their artistic ability, could have a crack at drawing.

You feel wary of going straight in on “the Nineties” – it must be such a bore – yet Cocker brings them up right away, talking about a song called “Cocaine Socialism” which he wrote for his band Pulp in 1996, at their commercial and critical height. It was all about New Labour’s courtship of pop stars. The title was ironic he explains, because “cocaine will make you not give a fuck about any other member of the human race”. Cocker shelved the song because he thought it might actually stop the people of Britain voting Labour – a sign, he says, of his overweening ego at the time.

When I was 14, a friend gave me a perfectly executed cartoon of Cocker, drawn on squared paper in a maths lesson and titled “My future husband”. It is often a source of frustration for musicians when their biggest audience proves to be teenage girls, but this is to overlook the power of teenage girls – and teenagers in general – to work up an intensity of feeling that all but creates a career. Cocker should know, because he conceived of his future – conceived of Pulp, “planned my whole life out” – at the age of 14 in an economics lesson, writing it all down in exercise books which he recently unearthed in an attic. 

He had a written manifesto, “very earnest, about how we’re going to get famous, have our own record label and radio station, and help other bands, and break the tyranny of the major labels”. And he’d drawn pictures, too, of an arm, with “major record company” tattooed on it and a meat cleaver saying “Pulp Incorporated”, ready to chop off the hand.

“It was supposed to be some socialist empowerment of the people. It wasn’t just: ‘I’m going to buy a big house in Barbados and have a jet ski’.”

Cocker’s proudest moment in a 30-year career was when Martin Amis agreed with something he’d said, when they appeared together on a TV talkshow approaching the millennium. Jarvis had stated that, in the 20th century, fame had replaced heaven as our ultimate goal, our way of cheating death. His own moment of fame, when it came, was sizeable, but it took him 15 years to get there: Pulp formed in 1981 – they should have been a post-punk band rather than a Britpop one.

In 1996 Melody Maker judged Cocker the fifth most famous man in Britain – after John Major, Frank Bruno, Will Carling and Michael Barrymore. Two years later, the novelist Nick Hornby reflected, “Jarvis Cocker is an acute and amusing chronicler of our life and times… but sometimes… you wish he’d communicate via chat show or letter rather than song.” This he has done, and often. Jarvis has been Jarvis for the last 25 years, in radio, TV, the written word – and perhaps less so in music, in the popular imagination. When you have lingered so long outside fame’s door, fully formed and ready to go, you must be loath to make an exit. Only in the garden of a private members’ club can he go about peacefully; he cycles in London, without a helmet, so you suspect he is recognised often, moving at speed.

Cocker shows me photos of his new bike on an old iPhone – a Moulton small-wheeled cycle, described by Norman Foster as the greatest work of 20th century British design. There are racks back and front, “to put yer bag on”. “I have spent a lot of time on quite random, trivial things,” he tells me. When his beloved 1970 Hillman Imp car finally gave up the ghost, he had it crushed into a cube and gave it away to a fan.

Cocker was in the Paramount Hotel on West 46th Street, New York, in December 1996 when a girl called Imogen called from the New Labour office and asked for his endorsement. 

“I’d been to some event down Whitehall,” he recalls. “A kind of wooing event, and I’d felt really weird about that. It’s hard to imagine now. I was 16-17 when Thatcher got in, and a Labour government seemed like a fantasy. I felt very conflicted, because I really wanted it to happen but something just seemed wrong. Even at that time – a quarter of a century ago – I thought, ‘You should be doing politics, not trying to get some endorsements from some people in bands’. There was a desire for it to happen, and then this disease. It felt like getting chatted up.”

Imogen had tracked Cocker down during what he calls, perhaps surprisingly, a “severely traumatic part of my life”. At the end of 1996 he was having what he refers to today as a nervous breakdown. When the telephone rang in his hotel room, he assumed the suite was bugged. He’d gone to New York around Christmas time and, alone and anxious, found himself unable to face the crowds. But he also struggled to stay indoors, tormented by the aesthetics of his hotel room – “super designed, with a giant picture of a Vermeer painting, a woman pouring some milk out of a blue jug. You walked in to an art installation, and I was in a fragile state of mind.” 

Cocker’s descent – which seems to merge with the ascent of New Labour in a lurid kind of fever dream – began with his trespassing the Brit Awards stage in February 1996 during Michael Jackson’s performance of “Earth Song”. “I don’t really like talking about that particular incident,” he says, looking down at his knees. “People said at the time that it was a publicity stunt but it wasn’t really like that. It had a toxic effect on my life.”

There is a considerable mismatch between the folk memory of the moment, and the memory held by the perpetrator himself. To most, Cocker’s actions look more heroic as the years go by: the last cry of a bloated Eighties megastar defeated by British indie, or something to that effect. Jackson’s pageantry seems worse now than it did at the time: the white messiah robes and outstretched arms; the children lining up to embrace him; the rabbi bowing his head for a kiss. The pipe cleaner figure of Cocker floats on stage looking puzzled, wafts an imaginary fart at the audience (with his bottom clothed) and briefly raises his T-shirt. Hardly something to be arrested for (as he was, before being released without charge) but the 1990s are a draconian place, when you travel back in time.

[see also: Bridget Jones and the Blair years]

Cocker was represented, in his assault charge, by the comedian Bob Mortimer, a former solicitor. David Bowie’s personal film crew were able to provide tapes shot from a certain angle to prove that he had not, in fact, knocked into any children when taking the stage. But there was condemnation from Damon Albarn (“he’s got some very odd ideas about reality”) and Jackson (“sickened, saddened, shocked, upset, cheated and angry”).

The tabloids subjected him to feverish attention. Cocker had always talked about drugs – the liner notes of Pulp’s single “Sorted For E’s & Wizz” showed you how to make a drugs wrap (“Ban This Sick Stunt” said the Daily Mirror). And he’d always talked about sex – he watched a lot of porn in hotel rooms on tour. Now, there were kiss and tells, and an attempt by the Sun to engineer a meeting between Cocker and his estranged father in Australia.

What thoughts were passing through his mind when he stood up and walked towards Jackson’s stage? He won’t say. “One thing I will say is that people are still convinced that I pulled my trousers down and showed my bottom. And it’s really not true. That’s when I realised what a c*** David Cameron was.”

In November 2011, he explains, the Observer put celebrities’ questions to the new prime minister of the coalition. Cocker asked Cameron whether he really understood the phrases “futures” and “derivatives”. Cameron gave a long answer to prove that he did and added: “I was there that night, at the Brit Awards. I saw him led away. I saw his bum.”

Cocker stirs his Americano.

“I just thought, ‘OK, you are a liar. You’ve just shown yourself to be a liar and a complete twat’.”

In the New Statesman that year, Cocker wrote a reflection on hangovers, inspired by the one he had the day after Tony Blair was elected. The hangover lingered, as he criticised New Labour’s treatment of single mothers, students and the disabled. It lasted 13 years, he said. It ended when Cameron got in – not because things were better, but because that’s when he started drinking again.

There is a photograph of Cocker as a long-legged child pictured with his mother, granny, sister and aunties outside their terraced house in Intake, a suburb of Sheffield. With her red pixie haircut and large specs, his mother, an art student, looks just like an indie girl from the 1990s – or a member of Pulp – in a strange cultural collision of the original hippies and the Sixties revival decades later.

Cocker lived on the dole in the Eighties trying to get his band off the ground. During the Britpop era, Labour’s Welfare To Work scheme made such a life much trickier, inspiring a campaign by Oasis’ manager Alan McGee. The dole must have had a huge impact on people’s ability to pursue creative work?

“Probably for six months, and then you get lazy,” Cocker says. “Not wanting to sound like Norman Tebbit, but you do, and that’s what drove me away from Sheffield – people were dropping like flies, having drug overdoses or losing it, and I thought, ‘It’s only a matter of time before I end up there’. So that’s when I started hatching my escape plan.”

His ticket out – a place to study film at Central Saint Martins in London – produced “Common People”, one of the most famous songs of the 20th century. Pulp were more refined, classy, slippery and sardonic than other Britpop bands. The image of working-class life as seen through the eyes of the song’s Greek art student gets to the heart of Cocker’s use of irony: he was interested in perceptions of class difference, perceptions of the north-south divide, as much as the real thing.

Having lived in the south for 35 years, he tells me the BBC’s insistence on using regional accents for announcers is a patronising attempt to keep people in their place. His mother became a Tory parish councillor for the village of Carlton in Lindrick, Nottinghamshire. In 1998 she told the Mirror, in an embarrassing interview, that she admired Thatcher – until the third term, when the prime minister became a megalomaniac. “I raised Jarvis on Tory values that if you’ve worked hard all your life, you want to keep what you’ve earned,” she said. Her son tells me he doesn’t agree with his mother’s support of Brexit – “but you won’t find many people who are going to say that everything’s going to plan. We’re on the downhill, and everybody’s got their own theories of why that is.”

Unlike his mother, Cocker has voted Labour since he was old enough to vote. “I can’t imagine voting for any other party,” he says, but that doesn’t mean he’s excited by the current one. “Corbyn I was excited about. But having spent a lot of time moving between France and here, his inability to come to any position on Brexit finished it for me.” Keir Starmer’s Labour, he says, “feels like the politics of opposition. It’s happening to the left all over the world, isn’t it? People have started wondering what level of dictatorship would be OK.”

A few years ago he visited the Magna Science Adventure Centre in Rotherham which recreates the world of the steel mills. Watching the installation of a “big melt” – when molten steel was poured into giant electric arc furnaces – made him strangely emotional. “It must be some kind of folk memory,” he says. “It was awful work, and loads of people got f***ed by the time they were 40. But there was some result and that’s what people miss – that there isn’t anything to glue people together in that way. Imagine working in a shipyard. After six months, suddenly there’s this big, massive f***-off ship and you’ve been part of that.

“There is a nostalgia, not for vibration white finger or lung disease, but for times when people worked together and there would be a result. I’m not an authority. It’s not for me to tell the Labour Party what to do, but I think – well, I thought I stumbled on something.”

He still praises the Sheffield city council, once nicknamed the “Socialist Republic of South Yorkshire”, which allowed children to travel for 2p on buses. He once said that when things took off for Britpop, he thought he was going to be part of something that changed society, like punk did, but it just turned out to be showbusiness.

Of all the extra-curricular jobs Cocker has done, the one the public took to most, which really seemed to fit him, was his gig as a DJ on BBC Radio 6 Music, running his Sunday Service show. His voice was as much a part of his sex appeal for teenage girls as his looks had been. The show explored a mundane but deeply nostalgic aspect of British culture: that time on a Sunday afternoon when everyone felt flat because it was nearly time for the week to start again, and you hadn’t done your homework. 

He’d resisted radio for a long time because of his father. Mac Cocker walked out in 1970, when Jarvis was seven, leaving Sheffield for Sydney, where he began a 33-year career with the Australian Broadcasting Corporation. His gentle Yorkshire accent was appreciated on the airwaves. He had a show called The Night Train on Saturdays (Jarvis has a Radio 4 show for insomniacs called Wireless Nights); and a show called The Globetrotter on Sunday afternoons, and another called Vinyl Museum. High of forehead with long hair and large National Health-style specs, Mac wore a tank top not unlike those his son wore in Pulp. He sang with a band called Life On Mars.

Traditionally, Cocker doesn’t talk much about his father. As we begin to do so, a very tiny and very hairy caterpillar makes its way along the edge of the table in front of him. It is barely a centimetre long, with legs so fine they move in little ripples of dark and light. Cocker does what all humans do when faced with a caterpillar and tries to persuade it to clamber aboard the nail on his index finger. After two or three refusals, it does so.

Mac Cocker left his son with small bits of information about himself, like a copy of Harold Pinter’s The Birthday Party on the shelf. When Jarvis was 12, he came to visit, bringing records with him.

“That’s when I found out he was a DJ. He’d obviously just gone into some record label and picked up some records and gave me them. I ascribed a real meaning to them, but it was just promos. They were wank. They were just these really shit records! Anyway…”

Cocker wonders if he was propelled into music because of his father, but explains that any biological imperative, if it comes from an absent parent, remains a mysterious thing. “I know it must come from him, because my mother is so tone-deaf. But if you don’t know him, it’s like it’s come from somewhere supernatural.”

His family would say, you’re just like your father – “but usually as a negative thing. It was strange to be brought up with this cloudy non-presence.” Cocker and his father struck up a form of relationship eventually, whenever Pulp toured in Australia.

“You’re telling yourself that you sprang from the loins of this person, but if you don’t know the person, that disconnect is really uncomfortable. What used to drive me mad was having really inconsequential conversations. When you tried and go on to the deeper stuff, it was just words… I could tell he was always very uncomfortable, and I’m not exactly the world’s best person for talking about emotions, so I was always terrified that an awkward silence was going to descend.”

Did they at least share music? What kind was Mac into? “Jazz,” he says, in disbelief. His father left a record behind in the Sheffield house – an EP by the Sixties French singer Gilbert Bécaud. “You know when singles have those big centres? He’d made a centre for it by cutting a bit out of a Player’s cigarette packet. That had always been in the house. I knew it was his, because his name was written on the back of it.”

When Mac was dying, Cocker visited him in Australia and took the Bécaud EP with him.

“I just Blu-Tacked it on his wall. It was the only thing I had of his. I just thought, because he went a bit away with the fairies before he died, I thought, that’s something from his past. I just stuck it on there.”

And left it?

“Yeah.”

In October this year, Cocker will release his own album of French music – songs originally sung by Françoise Hardy, Serge Gainsbourg, Jacques Dutronc – to accompany the forthcoming Wes Anderson film The French Dispatch, which is set in the 1960s. It features a fictional pop star called Tip Top who is modelled partly on Cocker. Anderson directed his intonation, his delivery, in the studio. Cocker’s French, he says, is “something I should be ashamed and embarrassed about”, despite the fact he got to A-level standard, was married for six years to the French stylist Camille Bidault-Waddington, lived in Paris, and has a French son. He regularly travels to France to visit Albert, now 18, and stays in an apartment backing on to the Hotel Amour. Albert looks just like him. During the pandemic he got around the social distancing rules by hugging him through a bed sheet.

In 1998 Cocker told the Sydney Morning Herald “I just want to find a way of being an adult without it being boring.” Does he feel he’s achieved this? “I know I’m still slightly immature,” he says. “I mistrusted adults as a child. But there’s something really grotesque about people who refuse to grow up. When I became a father, people were always saying [he whines] ‘You’re going to change’. But actually it doesn’t change you, it just opens up a new bit of you. It was a real revelation to me, to realise I had that instinct. I found it liberating. As you move through life, these little doors open. The other ones are still open as well.”

He thinks all human beings believe they just missed a golden age. For him it was the Sixties, the decade in which he was born, “when the Beatles were still a group. They came to an end as the Seventies came, and I was six or seven. That’s the same year that me dad left. It felt like, OK, you’ve had your fun.

“When you’re a kid and you’re looking at the adult world,” he ponders, “you’re only looking at what’s current at that time. Like me wanting to be a pop star. By the time it happened, pop stars were on their way out. By the time you’re old enough to be part of it, it’s gone. So in a funny way, kids live in the past.

“I think that’s the fatal flaw in the whole Britpop thing. I don’t like to say that word, because it was an invented label – but that was the fatal flaw, and it takes us back to the fatal flaw of electing a Labour government and believing it would be the same as it used to be. Let’s make the Beatles again… Oasis really tried to do that, but you can’t make a period in history happen again.”

As a songwriter, Cocker telescoped himself into the future with “Disco 2000” and “Help The Aged”. The former felt open-hearted but the latter, intended as a kiss-off to youth-obsessed politics, sounded sour at the time.

“It always used to drive me mad, people going on about, ‘Oh, you’re so ironic’,” he says. “It would be rubbish to devote your life to doing something that was insincere. I guess I’ll often undercut what I’m singing about as I’m doing it – and that’s just because of the way my mind works. As I think one thing, I’ll think the opposite as well. Later in life, you discover that you are allowed to have two thoughts: it’s a natural function of the way your mind works.”

Some would say that, as you progress through life, you get better at trusting your instincts?

“I think if you just follow your instincts your whole life, you’ll be a monster.”

Cocker brightens, perhaps because our interview is ending. When he talks about his hobbies, he gives a big leonine flash, raising his silvery eyebrows above the frames of his glasses.

I phoned him a few weeks later, after the summer, to see what he’d been up to. He was at a secret location in Spain, making a movie he wasn’t allowed to talk about. A pandemic spent going through his loft, and noticing priceless keepsakes among the rubbish, has inspired him to write a book about pop and nostalgia – Good Pop, Bad Pop – to be published next year.

He is dying to be back on stage after two years off it. “I’m touching a wooden table now. We’ve already had to postpone this tour twice.” And he talks about Labour again – he really seems to care! You think back to his manifesto, his teenage sketch of a meat cleaver chopping off a hand. Then you look at a life lived gently, moving between projects, ponderings and “random trivial things” – and you wonder what his revolution would look like.

Jarvis Cocker’s new album “Tip Top: Chansons d’Ennui” is released on 22 October.

[partofmycharm]

The Placeholder - Yautja x OC

Originally posted on AO3 under the same name.

A/N: Just something random that I came up with and thought would be fun to write. I also have a Predator/Alien server on Discord! We’re a very welcoming community and would love for you to join. 

Pairing: Yautja (Male) x OC (Female)

Word Count: 5916

Content Warnings: partner betrayal, depression, mentions of suicide, NSFW

Description: Beth hasn't had much luck with relationships. It gets worse before it gets better.

Aun'ta = (awn-tah) Ya'yti = (yah-yih-tee) Yithou = (yih-thow) s’he’ie-te u’sl-kwe = (seh-heh-ee-teh ooh-sel-kweh)

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Beth wasn’t stupid. She wouldn’t consider herself intellectually gifted, either. But she was emotionally aware and empathetic — she could read a room the moment she stepped into it.

So, it didn’t go over her head when she noticed the change in Aun’ta’s behaviour. It started small. He seemed peppier — not unusual, sometimes his moods fluctuated, and that was okay. Beth couldn’t exactly pinpoint the day his spirit lifted, but she did notice the gradual increase in effort. This, as a whole, was unsurprising. Recently, the clanship had been visited by a group of martial artists for a temporary program in which Yautjas and humans trained together, all in preparation for the Space Olympics the following year. Aun’ta loved hunting, and, naturally as the himbo that he was, he’d signed up for the program, for which he would dedicate three months of his time. He was partnered with an old hunt brother of his, from which he’d known since they were young, and they’d quickly rekindled their friendship. They worked together to teach two other humans, and it wasn’t nonsense to attribute his spike of energy to that.

Life in a clanship was boring. That, Beth could appreciate. She had joined four years ago under the health program as a Medic Assistant, two of which she’d spent in a relationship with the male Yautja. Aun’ta. He wasn’t exactly the smartest. The best he could do was hit two rocks against each other and figure out it makes sound (Beth would never say that to his face because, alas, she loved him). It wouldn’t be necessary to say anything, however, because Aun’ta knew he’d never been built for any of the complicated clan jobs. He’d taken a fancy to the Arbitrator title, and he’d been pursuing it for as long as he could remember, even if he didn’t really understand the full details of what it entailed. As a result, the most he contributed to the clan was food, as he spent most of his time hunting and honing his skills. With experience came wealth, however, and Aun’ta was lucky enough to trade a lot of the stuff he’d accumulated for the bigger and better. But when he met Beth, his trips became less and less frequent. The last time he’d left the clanship was seven months ago, and Aun’ta was bored.

Beth had encouraged him to take up any of the less complicated jobs. She suggested being a temporary caterer, clothesmaker, blacksmith, anything! She’d even pushed for him to enquire about becoming an Assistant Medic. But he refused! He liked nothing else but the hunt, and he didn’t really have any hobbies besides sex and beating up other Yautja in the kehrite. Beth had given up in the end. Aun’ta was stubborn. His skull was thick. So, when this new program came into talks, they were both ecstatic about the opportunity. Peppiness at this time wasn’t suspicious.

It did become a little strange when Aun’ta grew cuddlier at night. Beth wasn’t opposed to this; he just wasn’t a touchy-feely male. It was different. But perhaps the shakeup of routine had invoked an inspiration for a personality change. And, besides, Aun’ta was large and warm, perfect combinations for sleep, and Beth found herself melting into his embrace every night.

Sometimes shifts as an Assistant Medic were long. The clanship was massive, there was never an empty day, but this particular one had seen quite a few Unbloods. There had been a brawl, and Beth was the lucky assistant to get stuck with the aftermath — lots of blood, bone, and open flesh. The Yautja Medics had also been quite unhappy with this development, as it was the time of the season for the females to start giving birth. They took priority, so it was obviously an annoyance for the invasion of immature, raucous males complaining about their losses. But they weren’t the worst. It was the Unbloods who preened with their chests puffed, the ones who thought their shit didn’t stink because they beat up a fellow child. Most of them refused to get treated because they didn’t want to lose any ‘battle scars’. Whatever. Beth just pretended she didn’t hear them purring to her.

It was a late finish that day. When Beth arrived at their shared room, Aun’ta was already there. That wasn’t a surprise. But it was the first time they didn’t have sex before sleeping, and Beth had told herself it was because she was tired, and sex was the last thing on her mind after the last few hours of chaos. It didn’t hit her until reflection that she realised he hadn’t even tried to initiate anything.

Eventually, sex became a scarcity. And that’s when Beth started to become suspicious. Love blinded people, and she felt nauseous when she realised how much the rose-tinted glasses stayed on. There was a brief period where Beth worried she wasn’t appealing to him anymore, but those washed away when they coupled on the day that had them stuck in their room together, with nothing to do.

With so many individuals on a clanship, most jobs were demanding and busy. Stress was no stranger, and Beth felt it throughout the birthing season. As a mere assistant, she couldn’t do much, but the days were jam-packed, and the clan welcomed over thirty new pups, pure blood and hybrids alike. Beth loved her job, and even though the long days exhausted her body and mind, she’d been talking with the Head Medic about promoting her. Of course, it would entail a lot of study, but Beth was willing to sacrifice an arm and a leg to become a qualified Medic — that alone could even allow her to work as a doctor in human hospitals, the opportunities for these positions new after the alliance recognised and allowed credit for prior learning. This prospect was probably the biggest news she’d learned thus far in the past four years, but she couldn’t share the excitement when she left to retire for bed that night. Aun’ta was growing more and more distant, becoming quieter, and he’d blamed it on the stress from his rigorous schedule (he trained for only half a day cycle, and never more than five cycles in a row).

Beth could empathise. But she wasn’t stupid.

They were almost strangers now. They slept in the same nest, and lived in the same room, but they hardly acknowledged each other anymore. When Beth woke up, Aun’ta was gone. He came back later in the night cycle, sometimes he never returned at all. And when the rose-tinted glasses finally fell off, Beth could see the situation in its entirety. It would take a fool to not see what was happening, and the very idea opened chasms in her heart.

It was a lucky day when Yithou came into the medbay. He was Aun’ta’s old hunt brother, the one who he’d recently rekindled his friendship with. Beth was cleaning the surgery tools from their previous patient when Yithou entered for a bone resetting. While Yautja were taught first aid, they never learnt much beyond that unless they wanted to become a Healer. It wasn’t necessary for them. Emergency first aid was essential during the hunt, anything beyond that could be life-threatening, even if it was easily treated by trained professionals. And besides, resetting bones was actually harder than it seemed, and many injuries had occurred from stupid people thinking they could lend a helping hand. The worst thing for Yithou was getting someone like Aun’ta to reset it for him.

When Beth knew Yithou was treated and recovered, she slyly stood by him before he was signalled to leave. “So, how’s the program going?”

“Better than expected,” Yithou said.

“You’re partnered with Aun’ta, correct?” Beth asked. She sprayed the medical tools with an antibacterial cleanser.

“Yes. And with two ooman females.”

Beth’s face remained placid. “So he told me,” she lied easily. “Are they nice?”

“Stubborn,” Yithou said. “Rude.”

“Well, Aun’ta seems to think otherwise. He’s taken a special liking,” Beth said casually.

“You know of their relations?” Yithou cocked his head.

Big, beefy, and brainless. There was a small demographic of them on the clanship. It seemed like-minded individuals attracted like-minded individuals.

Beth smiled. “You knew they were together?”

“Yes.” Yithou cocked his head to the side. He looked her up and down. “I am sure you will find a more worthy male.”

“I’m not counting on it.”

Beth was thankful Aun’ta never returned home that night. It gave her extra time to think of what she would say to him, and extra time to cry alone in the washroom without worrying about intrusions. She’d suspected as such in the beginning when his cuddliness had bordered excessive. The thoughts had been fleeting but loud, watered like seeds even more so when the wall began to build. Beth thought herself to be confident, however, she couldn’t help but reflect critically upon herself. Perhaps she’d been the problem. Perhaps she’d been too boring.

The dejection didn’t last long; it eventually paved way for deep-rooted anger, nursed by the inner turmoil that stormed Beth’s insides. She’d put up with Aun’ta’s sorry excuse of an ass for two years now — from his tumultuous mood swings and incessant need to speak only of his adventures (while impressive, they grew repetitive, and there was only so much someone could milk their own ego). His personality was as bland as a bowl of white rice, and Beth had fallen head over heels for the only male that had ever shown an interest in her.

But the longer Beth sat with those thoughts flitting back and forth in her mind, she realised that could have just been the anger talking. Aun’ta had been good in the beginning. He’d gifted her skulls, while scary at first, the gesture had become endearing when she’d learned the meaning. He’d been affectionate, with those gentle grazes here and there that she craved towards the end. They’d ridden on a high for the first few months of their relationship, and Beth had quickly grown addicted to the feelings that blossomed in her chest when she was around him.

But it always came back to Aun’ta’s ‘house arrest’, self-imposed, for the most part. Beth had never asked him to abandon the hunt and his chase for the Arbitrator title, though he hardly seemed worthy of it now. But she had always felt there was a level of resentment on Aun’ta’s behalf, and the very idea made Beth see red. Even more so now, in hindsight.

It was halfway through the next day when Aun’ta finally returned. He wore nothing but an unwashed loincloth that Beth swore he’d worn last week. That was something that had always irked her — his laziness. As someone who thought his shit didn’t stink, everything else sure did. Not literally, but Beth had been confounded when she’d learned not all Yautja shared the same hygiene habits. Again, rose-tinted glasses.

“I wasn’t aware the program ran overnight,” Beth said from her position on one of the lounging seats.

Aun’ta paused in the middle of the room. “Sometimes the humans request extra training. It can run overtime.”

“Oh, yeah?” Beth asked casually. “What kind of moves are you teaching each other? Missionary, cowgirl, or doggy style?”

Aun’ta straightened. “Speak plainly,” he said.

“Cut the dominance bullshit.” Beth scrunched her nose in disgust. “Only a coward would go behind their mate’s back.”

“I am no coward,” Aun’ta barked immediately. His chest puffed out at the insult, at the mere insinuation that he was less than a capable, honourable male. He was going to become an Arbitrator, and Arbitrators weren’t cowards.

“You haven’t proved to me otherwise, since you don’t even have the guts to tell me what the fuck’s going on,” Beth said. She could feel her own anger resurfacing, the remnants that had bubbled and boiled for hours before they cooled. The flames had been ignited again, however.

“If you so wish,” Aun’ta said. “I have been waiting for the right time to inform you that I wish to no longer be mates. I have found a female who I believe to be my life-mate.”

That felt like a punch to the guts. No, several punches. Beth tried her best to keep a placid expression despite how winded she felt. Her mouth went dry almost immediately, and though she wished to not clue him in on how she felt, she knew that Aun’ta could taste the change in pheromones immediately.

“Life-mate?” Beth asked. It seemed to be the only words she could speak at that moment. Her mind and heart were racing, and she felt like she couldn’t get a grip on any sense. Aun’ta had never even uttered that term before, and while Beth was familiar with it, she had been naïve to assume… that, well, perhaps he viewed her as that.

“Yes.”

So simple, yet it felt so cruel.

Beth tried to think of something to say, but she couldn’t find anything that was appropriate. After a few seconds of staring down at the floor in an attempt to regather her thoughts, she looked back up at Aun’ta, who stared with such little regard in his eyes it scared her. “So, what about me? The two years that we spent together? It meant nothing to you?”

“You are… a kind female,” Aun’ta said slowly. “But I never felt you were my life-mate. I have found someone more worthy.”

Worthy?! There weren’t many words to describe how Beth felt — gobsmacked, blindsided; that was a good starting point. She knew he’d been cheating, but never in a million years could she imagine these words coming from his mouth. They felt to be more in affront, purposeful to rile her up.

“So, I was just a fucking placeholder for you until you found someone better,” Beth said quietly, more to herself than him. “Cool.”

“It is the Yautja way.” Aun’ta almost shrugged, but he stopped.

“No, Aun’ta. It’s your way.” Beth shook her head. She looked up at him after taking a few deep breaths. “And I’m not going to let you stand there and degrade me. I deserve better than that. Whether you like it or not, your actions are cowardly. No real male would feel the need to go behind someone’s back, and no real male would feel the need to use someone like this.”

Aun’ta sneered. “Then perhaps you don’t have what it takes to live among Yautja.”

He was just trying to offend her. Beth knew it was a self-preservation technique; he felt emotionally threatened, and that much was obvious to her. And though she wanted to play into his pathetic game and snap back, doing so would solve nothing. Beth sighed and stood up. “I thought better of you, but obviously I was wrong. That’s really disappointing.” There was a multitude of things she could say, and as much as she wanted to, there really was no point. Getting through Aun’ta’s skull was like getting through a brick wall with a needle. He had it coming to him — patience was a virtue.

As Beth started walking towards the door, Aun’ta flared his mandibles. “You are best to take your—”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Beth interrupted. While she wished she could slam the door shut, Yautja’s tended to build automatic sliding doors. It made for rather uneventful exits.

Beth had expected the transition to be easy — the past two months had entailed alienation between the pair of them. They had barely had a conversation, let alone touched each other in bed. But once the anger heightened and dissipated, she felt a particular sense of darkness loom over her head. Something heavy pinched her heart, and it seemed to weigh more with each passing day.

Her work performance suffered; the pungent permeation of her pheromones distracted a lot of the patients and the Medics. To the Yautja, human sadness smelt like a particular white plant that grew on their clan’s moon colony. When in bloom, it possessed a strong odour, while not wholly unpleasant and invasive on their olfactory senses, it smelt heavy and loaded with invocations of melancholy. Sometimes, when the plant was consumed during bloom, it invoked such intense feelings of misery that animals oftentimes committed suicide to end their suffering. The Yautja referred to this curse as s’he’ie-te u’sl-kwe, which, in English, translated as ‘to weave final rest.’

But Beth was of no curse, no s’he’ie-te u’sl-kwe, even if she smelt like it. This was a different kind of curse, one born of heartbreak and self-hatred. Though the Yautja had developed an antidote (necessary, of course, for the stupid Unbloods who thought it funny to consume the white plant as a challenge), this type of misery could not be cured with an antidote.

Beth had gathered her things from Aun’ta’s room when he was gone, and she’d been relocated to the small human quarters a few floors below. The room was tiny in comparison, more like a studio. It was different to fall asleep every night not being able to smell Aun’ta’s strange, alien scent. Like a brewery; cold alcohol with hints of coriander, strong and masculine. It had taken a while to get used to, but Beth had ended up liking the scent, and she always found herself falling to sleep wrapped in it.

Now, it smelt like… nothing. Her nose no longer buzzed with Aun’ta. It felt strangely empty. Beth tried very hard to remain angry at him, but she couldn’t help the heaviness that weighed her head and shoulders down.

It hurt even worse when she finally saw the woman that Aun’ta had left her for. A skilled martial artist, indeed, confident, perhaps a little too much. She was bossy, and arrogant, Aun’ta oftentimes found himself stumbling after her, left in the dust of her parade. She was cocky, and thought of herself too highly, heightened even more so when their relationship became public. It was distasteful behaviour; she thought herself superior for having a Yautja mate. And though Beth reserved judgment, she couldn’t help but laugh at her replacement.

Aun’ta had never been a chaser, but now he was scratching his head at his ‘life-mate’. He very quickly realised their incompatibility, but the sex had been all too appealing. Or perhaps it was the secrecy that made it fun, and while he’d felt a little guilty in the beginning, he rather enjoyed knowing something no one else didn’t. But entering a state of domesticity with her had brought out their flaws. Hell, the room hadn’t been cleaned since Beth left, and Aun’ta had started to feel icky in his own hide.

It wasn’t until about a month later that things started to really change for Beth. She had been more than disappointed to discover that Aun’ta’s new ‘life-mate’ had decided to stay after the program finished, and she’d finish up her Space Olympics training here, which, in turn, forced her instructors to remain on the clanship, too. But, alas, their paths never really crossed, so Beth had nothing to complain about beyond the fact that she was her replacement.

On one random cycle, a small group of Elders returned from a negotiations trip with another clan. Well, that’s what Beth heard, anyway, but she assumed two months was a long time for that sort of business. She didn’t really know how that stuff worked — her concern was in the medbay with the injured and sick.

Beth and Aun’ta’s mateship had been no secret, and their split hadn’t been, either. The sight of him with a new human female had turned a few heads, especially the Elders that had finally returned. One of them was Ya’yti, with a pebbled hide of liquorice brown and jasmine yellow, but his deep, dark green eyes were most capturing.

He was no stranger to Beth. She had never spoken with him directly, but she had often seen him around the clanship. Wherever she needed to go, he always seemed to be there. His gaze was capturing, alluring, intense, scarily so. Beth had always felt intimidated in his presence as if every bit of her was being scrutinised and picked apart just by him. There were times he’d seemed to linger in the medbay, often talking with the Head Medic in their native language, so Beth had easily assumed Ya’yti to be directly involved with the medical team.

So, it was a surprise when Ya’yti approached her when she was alone in the medbay the day after his arrival. He wore nothing but a black loincloth and his thermo-net, and Beth was immediately hit by his overwhelming scent. It was warm, earthy, like digging your toes into soil, with complements of burning sage, all of which permeated her pores and warmed her insides. Her extremities tingled, and her head felt fuzzy.

“Where is Aun’ta?” Ya’yti asked. Of course, that had to be the first thing he ever said to her.

Beth didn’t look at him as she continued her work, all the while trying not to get wrapped up in his scent. “Fucking his new girlfriend.”

Ya’yti clicked thoughtfully. He stood watching her for an extra second or two, before he grumbled the human equivalent of a hum and then calmly walked off. Beth only looked at him as the door soundlessly slid shut, and only then did she release the shaky breath she’d been holding.

She had expected that to be the end of it. Beth almost fainted in the middle of the corridor when Ya’yti stopped her the next day. He got onto one knee and bowed his head as he offered his most prized skull.

“For Beth,” he rumbled.

There were others watching, Beth was keenly aware. She was also aware of what the gesture meant, though she admitted it befuddled her. Ya’yti had never shown any interest in her before. Well, at least, to her knowledge. But she kept thinking back to how she felt the moment Ya’yti stepped into her vicinity. It was nothing she’d ever experienced with Aun’ta.

Beth accepted.

They moved slowly at first. Beth wasn’t really sure what they were to each other, she couldn’t really say she knew much about him. So, when he invited her for a night at the viewing port, she accepted again. It was a private, rounded room that allowed a front row to the breathless views space had to offer. Beth had never really taken the time to stop and appreciate the beauty around them, but she quickly grew to fall in love with the sights.

Ya’yti touched her for the first time that night. It was a mere caress on her face, so gentle and feathery, it was almost as if he was afraid of hurting her. He purred deeply that time, so different to Aun’ta, but Beth couldn’t deny it felt so right.

Meeting in the viewing port became somewhat of a normality. Nobody ever really ventured there; only a few times did another Yautja or human show up for some downtime. Beth learned a lot about Ya’yti. He didn’t tend to speak much, but he found himself talking more and more with each passing night. He’d been a renowned Hunter in his prime, and he’d been the clan’s most sought-after weapons maker. When he reached Elder status, he retired from those days, and he’d joined the clan council, where he worked for the better of his people. Beth had been surprised when he said that, no, he’d never been much of a Medic or a ‘Healer’ as the Yautja’s called them.

Anyways, there was a scary amount of intelligence that simmered within, the likes to which Beth found herself becoming attracted to. He was wise beyond comprehension; articulate in his words and thoughts. Ya’yti still enjoyed the occasional hunt, but he much preferred exploration, and taking advantage of everything life had to offer. He’d tried his hand at being a green thumb but found that plants often died in his care. He didn’t really know what he was doing wrong, but he swore he’d nurture one through its entirety.

“You are lucky. Ya’yti has never considered a female before,” the Head Medic mentioned one day.

“I never expected it to be me,” Beth said.

“He has liked you for a long time. You were just too busy with that lump of a male to notice.”

Surprisingly, Beth found herself quickly forgetting Aun’ta. She never really saw him anymore, anyway, and with Ya’yti, he grew to become somewhat of a distant memory. She felt things she’d never felt before, experienced things she’d never experienced before.

Those innocent, curious touches they shared became frequent. Ya’yti held her for the first time in the viewing port. He wasn’t buff like Aun’ta, but he wasn’t particularly lean, either (his thighs, though… they were another story altogether). His arms, with his defined, rippling muscles, encircled her smaller body so delicately, she felt like fine china. Beth had never really been held like this before, and she fell asleep with her cheek pressed to his warm chest, lulled by the rhythmic beating of his twin hearts. They fell silent that night, just enjoying each other’s presence. Ya’yti almost fell asleep, too, because, for the first time, he felt safe with someone else. He felt as if he could be loved by someone else; he could love someone else.

As imposing as Ya’yti was, he was a warm-hearted individual — for Beth, anyway. She felt confident enough to touch him, too. Grazes along his face; gentle caresses over his mandibles and tusks, eliciting soft, hypnotic purrs and half-lidded eyes. Curious explorations of each other’s bodies, following lines and curves of muscles and scars. Ya’yti would roll her hair between his fingers and then he would gently weave them between the strands and brush out any tangles before resting his palm against the back of her head. He’d become fond of hand-holding, the concept completely human and unnatural to him, but he felt closer to her when they did. His fingers often sought hers, and hers often sought his.

A month after he first courted her, Ya’yti held her in the viewing port. Stars twinkled, an expansive array with barely any space between them. In the distance, a blueish-magenta nebula, so very far away, leaving much to desire. Beth wanted to get closer, see it in its full glory. She thought this as she lay tucked into his side, her head on his chest. Ya’yti held her close, his other hand gently running up and down the side of her face. Affection had also been a strange concept for him, but it felt completely natural here, with her.

“My Beth,” Ya’yti said, quietly, as if afraid to disturb the peace.

“Yeah?”

“Come. Live with me in my quarters.” Ya’yti purred as if to drive the idea home. He’d mentioned once that, as an Elder, his quarters were larger, much more luxurious than those of lower status. He’d said there was plenty of space, especially if they wanted alone time, but Beth was sure she couldn’t get enough of Ya’yti, anyway.

Beth pushed herself up to look at him. She looked between his eyes, so beautifully green she found herself entranced every time she even so much as glanced at them. “You’re okay with that?” She asked, trying to hide her smile.

“Of course,” Ya’yti said. He brushed Beth’s hair behind her ear.

“Okay,” Beth whispered. Her fingers ghosted his lower mandible.

“I have one more question.”

“Yeah?”

Ya’yti took a deep breath, the likes of which fanned across Beth’s face. “Will you be my mate?”

This time, Beth didn’t even try to hide her smile. She pulled herself further up his body. “Of course,” she said. She pressed a soft kiss to his lower mandible, before moving up to his upper one and then the space between his eyes. Ya’yti sighed in contentment, the action encouraging a light purr that rumbled through both of their bodies.

Beth moved in the next day. And Ya’yti was right, his quarters were luxurious. Large, spacious, and even finely decorated. He had a particularly large nest filled with the softest of furs, a sizeable alcove in the floor that was their bathing chambers. It’d been decorated to resemble a natural pond, and the water was comfortingly warm. Ya’yti even had a kitchenette-like area in the corner of the main room, and another corner dedicated to his gardening. There was currently a rare plant he’d been trying to nurture, but the leaves were dying. Beth would fix that.

For the first time that night, their touches went further. Surrounded by the plushness of the furs Ya’yti had accumulated himself, they found each other in close embraces, hot breaths fanning over each other’s faces. Beth had never felt so tingly and warm, so safe in Ya’yti’s arms, the weight of his body pressing gently against hers. Her fingers threaded through his greying tresses; the warmth, fleshy protrusions squeezed softly in her grasp, encouraging shuddering growls from Ya’yti, and harsher bucks that drove him deeper inside her. Beth lifted her hips, pressing kisses to his mandibles as a moan breezed past her lips. His gentle thrusts slowly brought her to a cresting peak, a heat like no other building like a tight knot in her lower abdomen. Beth had never known sex like this; intimate, romantic, they came together as one. Their hands explored their bodies in a way they hadn’t before, and their tongues met in a passionate dance, tasting each other in ways neither had done so with anyone else. And when that tight knot finally snapped, and Beth quite literally felt a white glow encase her body, she vocalised his name and squeezed his tresses, her heart tattooing rhythmic affection, leaving a permanent place for Ya’yti in those chambers. And his beat similarly when he felt a tightening and tingling sensation, his thick ropes of cum filling her inner walls, blooming a hot, intense heat.

Beth had started studying. She was to become a Medic — a qualified Yautja Healer, a human doctor. She still worked part-time in the medbay to continue her contributions to the clan. Every day, she felt ever closer to Ya’yti, an experience she never quite had with Aun’ta. Months continued; she never saw him anymore. Beth was to be qualified in a few short years if she kept at that pace, Ya’yti took her to places she never dreamed possible, he made her gifts, she made him gifts, and they spoke of pups in the future. The scent of s’he’ie-te u’sl-kwe, while not exactly that, was only a distant memory.

It was one night Beth found herself alone in the viewing port. Ya’yti and the clan council were in a meeting with another clan, something to do with a trade route that had been recently disturbed by Bad Bloods. They were working together to rid of the problem, each side offering their best Arbitrators for the job. Ya’yti told her everything — there were no secrets between them.

That night, the door slid open. Beth would be lying if she said her heart didn’t stop when she caught Aun’ta’s reflection in the glass. He stepped down onto the padded platform she was on and sat just a few ways from her.

They were silent for what felt like an eternity.

“Beth,” Aun’ta eventually awkwardly acknowledged.

“Long time, no see,” Beth said lowly. She stared at the distant nebula, hoping that she could get lost in its beauty to avoid this conversation.

“I have been searching for you,” Aun’ta said. He wasn’t exactly a great conversationalist; Beth had quickly come to find out early in the beginning.

“Yeah? Your girlfriend know about that?” Beth asked.

Aun’ta flexed his mandibles in discomfort. “She is… no longer my mate.”

That’s unsurprising. Beth finally looked over at him — he appeared worse for wear. It was pitiful even glancing at him. “I thought she was your life-mate.”

“We are too different,” Aun’ta said. “She is leaving in a few cycles.”

“What does this have to do with me?” Beth asked. She dreaded the answer. She picked at the material of the dress Ya’yti had made for her.

“I was wondering if you’d like to move back in with me,” Aun’ta said slowly. “And try again.” He never met her eyes.

Beth exhaled quietly. She’d been expecting it. “No, thank you,” she said, though Aun’ta hardly deserved the pleasantries. “I’m with Ya’yti now.”

It was a surprise Aun’ta didn’t know that. Perhaps he’d been so caught up in his personal drama, he’d lost his awareness. At least the clan life wasn’t boring anymore. Or perhaps he did know, and he was just so self-entitled, he didn’t care. But when Beth closer observed him, she couldn’t exactly pin it on self-entitlement. It felt like desperation; a last claw at normality before giving up. He probably wanted his old life back, and any semblance of that would remedy the shame and self-hatred that bubbled like lava in his blood. He could have realised what he’d lost, but in that realisation, Beth had learned just exactly how unfair the relationship had been.

Nevertheless, she wasn’t an ornament he could put on his trophy wall when he wasn’t interested. That was the problem with Aun’ta, and at least this way, he could learn a very important life lesson. Karma always made its deliveries, sometimes faster than expected. Beth wasn’t complaining, she just wished he saw her as more than a trophy. A living, human being, with thoughts, feelings, likes and dislikes, goals, and family, and friends. It wasn’t a matter of love, it was a matter of respect, to which Beth quickly realised, she would receive none.

Aun’ta never responded. He kept his head lowered. Beth eyed him for a moment longer. “You’ll find someone one day, Aun’ta,” she said quietly. When he didn’t respond again, Beth pushed herself to her feet.

The male quickly rumbled a response. “What if I don’t want someone else?”

“You will,” Beth said. She trusted Aun’ta would learn to let go as she had. It was never an easy process, another trial to overcome. But through that, Beth had found Ya’yti. And though she despised what Aun’ta put her through, harbouring animosity was a sure way to ensure the mind never healed. “I wish you the best, Aun’ta. You still have so much to live for.”

Aun’ta would never respond. He kept his head low, and Beth took this as her cue to leave. Ya’yti would have finished his meeting by now, and she wanted to see him before they slept. He probably hadn’t eaten much the last half of the cycle, so she could make him something to eat and then, whilst he held her in bed, he would tell her of his day, and she would tell him of hers. And while it seemed boring to others, Beth couldn’t help but feel as if she was floating.

And though Beth thought she’d moved on, leaving the viewing port that night after her brief conversation with Aun’ta helped her feel as if she was truly walking away from that aspect of her life forever. Aun’ta would live to move on, to achieve what he wanted, and Beth would, once again, go home to Ya’yti, her real home, to achieve what she wanted, with her life-mate.

Aun’ta would never respond. He kept his head low, and Beth took this as her cue to leave. Ya’yti would have finished his meeting by now, and she wanted to see him before they slept. He probably hadn’t eaten much the last half of the cycle, so she could make him something to eat and then, whilst he held her in bed, he would tell her of his day, and she would tell him of hers. And while it seemed boring to others, Beth couldn’t help but feel as if she was floating.

And though Beth thought she’d moved on, leaving the viewing port that night after her brief conversation with Aun’ta helped her feel as if she was truly walking away from that aspect of her life forever. Aun’ta would live to move on, to achieve what he wanted, and Beth would, once again, go home to Ya’yti, her real home, to achieve what she wanted, with her life-mate.

[sk8termikey]

Chapter 10 of 21 Questions

better interface on wattpad

Twenty years old. Nick, Matt and Chris had officially lived for two decades and survived.

If someone had told them when they started their YouTube channel a couple of years ago that they would have achieved so much at the young age of twenty, they would have never believed it.

After a first tour at the beginning of the year, the triplets had announced a second one that would take place in autumn: the Versus Tour, where they would compete against one another in a fun and friendly atmosphere. They had also recently hit five million followers on YouTube which led them to release a special merch collection. Finally, their new format of content – a podcast named Cut the Camera – seemed to be very well welcomed by the fans.

Individually, each triplet was also very successful and could easily observe his own improvement.

First, Nick had bleached his hair and released a very personal video regarding change. Whether they were considered good or bad by the person experiencing them, changes were essential and as Nick would often say: “everything happens for a reason”.

Then, Chris had the wonderful opportunity of meeting his favourite artist of all time who is the singer Lil Skies. Being a fan for years, Chris would have never expected to meet him and even go on stage with him during a festival but it did happen. Now, Chris could be proud of calling Skies one of his friends.

Finally, Matt felt lucky enough just being able to see his two brothers enjoy their lives to the fullest while growing up with them. Trying to deal with his anxiety and help his viewers live with it, Matt managed to be even more open about it which made him more confident to start projects on his own – that he hoped to reveal to the world one day. One other person had motivated him during his journey: a girl who came into his life not long ago but was surprisingly on Matt’s mind as he reflected on how unbelievable his life had been since the start of his and his brothers’ career.

~~~

As they had simply spent their twentieth birthday with their family and friends, the triplets mostly decided to vlog at the end of the day as to summarise it. They were grateful for everything that had happened since becoming content creators and wouldn’t change it for anything else in the world.

How would they have survived without one another? No one could ever tell, but none of them was able to imagine a life where he wouldn’t be a triplet. They were all ready to keep experiencing the adventure that was life together, and excited to see what was waiting for them in the future.

Thank you for reading. Votes and comments are always appreciated if you like this story :) The story is co-written w @/little_grapejuice on wattpad

[clairelsonao3]

AITA for being suspicious of my boss/ brother's new protege? (Tag Game)

Another awesome open tag I haven't seen anywhere else, and I had to jump on from @smzeszikorova. This one was hilarious and gave me an opportunity to do the unreliable narrator thing and get into the POV of one of the villains from Good Slaves Never Break the Rules, although, for the maximum fun factor, I wrote it as if it could be a real letter from someone in our world.

Instructions: Write an AITA question from the POV of one your OCs.

This one's kind of involved, I know, but if anyone wants to try it, it's a good character-building exercise! Gently tagging:

@romanceandshenanigans @mysticstarlightduck @tabswrites

Anyway, for anyone who hasn't read the story and doesn't care about spoilers (or even if you have), I'm curious, based just on this, who do you think is the asshole here:

My half-brother (45M) and I (41F) are the most important people in each other's lives.

Below the cut are possible spoilers for Ch. 22 onward and mentions of noncon, trauma, and child abuse:

We were subject to severe abuse as children and our bond was the only reason we survived. Although we lost touch for a few years as kids, we eventually reconnected after he became financially successful. He's been a mentor to me ever since and even paid for my entire education, and now I work for him in his multimillion-dollar business as his head of research and development. I'm leading up a project that means a lot to both of us personally, a project so important it could disrupt the entire economy and change people's lives for the better all over the world. Achieving it is our lifelong dream!

The problem is, he's recently hired this new guy (19M) -- who has no formal education and has never even held a job, by the way -- who he seems convinced is scientifically gifted and that he is determined to make his protege in the business. They're hanging out together all the time and seem to be becoming BFFs. Plus, he's paying this guy almost as much as he pays me, gave him money for a brand-new designer wardrobe, and even a Porsche! And he's always talking about how great this new guy is; it's like he thinks he's the son he never had or something.

But I'm convinced the new guy is a complete fraud who must have somehow conned my brother into hiring him. First of all, he's telling my brother that I'm mentally unstable and I threatened and assaulted him (okay I admit it, I did, but it wasn't my fault! I'm traumatized from a childhood full of abuse and have trouble controlling my impulses sometimes. I'm working on it in therapy -- or at least I was before I got thrown out for allegedly trying to grope my therapist, but it was all just a misunderstanding.)

Even worse, the new guy is always snooping around the office and going places he shouldn't. He claims he's looking for his missing sister (17F), who used to work here, but I don't know anything about that! He's even gone so far as to claim that I'm defrauding the company and exploiting and harming the young women who work for me, which is ridiculous. In exchange for them helping me with my research, I'm giving them money, housing, support, and a better life than they ever dreamed of, which is more than I got as a child!

Bottom line, I think he's a liar, a con artist, and is trying to alienate my brother from me so he can take over the business and destroy everything we're building.

I told my brother everything, but he doesn't believe me! He claims I'm just jealous and paranoid and that I must just want to bang this guy (okay, maybe, but that's beside the point, and besides, I feel that way about pretty much everyone. What can I say, I have a healthy sex drive). And also that I'm just trying to distract my brother from the fact that my project is stalled and making no headway -- even though everyone knows groundbreaking research takes time and can't be rushed!

I can't believe my brother isn't supporting me in this. He knows how fragile and traumatized I am, but he sometimes forgets, which is why I try to remind him of it as much as I can. AITA for being afraid of losing my brother and everything we've worked so hard for?

[a-d-nox]

Hi this is my natal chart with asteroids in it I was curious what your thoughts are on it?

Thank you for everything you do 💖💖

libra (7°, 19°) vertex: these people tend to get into acting at a young age - they're love for theater grows from a single moment in youth (it might have been romeo and juliet or it could be ballet and the nutcracker). either way this person's early introduction to culture and fine arts shifts their whole world. otherwise, a life altering moment can appear via some sort of companionship or social/intimate gathering. from the artistic realm they can learn about beauty and aestheticism and from the social realm they can learn about loyalty and friendship. it is from these moments that this person's life will be changed for the better. it can also be that these people have a natural awakening to recognize the beauty in all things and have a great ability to remain friendly to all those around them. so it is best to remain open to new friendships and new opportunity to experience the artistic realm.

6h vertex: a medical portion of live can change their whole world this lifetime. it is possible that an injury can occur that leads them to change their lifestyle or an injury can lead them to meet someone important. either way this person's health, hygiene, and day-to-day life will be forever altered at some point in their life. these people often become inspired to help heal others or become involved in the day-to-day wellbeing of others. they could meet someone in the armed forces that changes their life forever as well.

hope this helps.

a.d.

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want a personal reading? click here to check out my reading options and prices!

© a-d-nox 2023 all rights reserved

[succubusphan]

Two Man Team - Chapter 1

Summary: This is the story of two struggling friends who after many trials and tribulations find their way back to each other and build the life they've always dreamed of.

Or how Phil changed his life by talking to random strangers on the internet.

Rating: E

Tags/warnings: Friends to lovers, Friends with benefits, mental health issues (mainly anxiety), Slow burn, Dan is a psych student. Canon divergence (the timeline is altered and some things never happened), Slutty Phil, Angst with a happy ending. The fic spans many years.

Author's Note: Written for the OSPBB 2023 @oldschoolpbb. Thank you @effingmeteors for being my life saviour and beta as usual and to my artist Lin @anironsidh.

Edits and the art will be added at some point, we are busy bees.

POSTING EVERY DAY UNTIL IT'S COMPLETED.

Total Word Count: 75k ish

Read on Ao3

CHAPTER 1: Somebody to Love

June 2005

Phil threw himself onto his bed and looked around at his neon green walls and carpet thinking how little time he had left in his childhood bedroom. He had one last summer in his hometown before uprooting his entire life and moving to York for uni. It was weird, in a way, to be in this sort of limbo where his basic education was over; he no longer felt like a child but didn’t feel like an adult either. It could be because he didn’t feel like he was fully himself, not to anyone he knew - not even his friends.

Could he really call them his friends if they didn’t know who he truly was, if he couldn’t share his attraction to boys like the others shared their crushes on girls and their flings? Maybe it wasn’t fair to think of them as near strangers, it was not their fault that he didn’t feel ready to talk about it. They had all been there for him his entire childhood and he still wasn’t ready. That was on him.

On the other hand, York presented him with a new opportunity, a chance to live his true life and finally get a boyfriend. That’s all he wanted, just - someone to cuddle with. Ok, also other stuff, but he wanted a proper boyfriend. It didn’t hurt to start looking now though.

Phil sat up and reached for his laptop, lifting the screen and connecting to the internet. He clicked on the Explorer icon and waited for everything to load for a few minutes. He logged into a random Yahoo chat room as per usual and greeted the 60 strangers chatting and sending emojis in the hopes of catching someone’s attention.

Snowdude: Hi. Anyone around 18? ;)

A private window popped up immediately.

DanTheMan: hi snowdude XD i’m dan

Snowdude: Hi. als?

DanTheMan: 16/m/reading. u?

Phil hesitated for a moment. It wasn’t often that dudes messaged him. Still, “Dan” was too young and still in school. Well, he didn’t have anything better to do than speak to him.

Snowdude: 18 m York. Are you in school?

DanTheMan: yeah just the A lvls to go. What’s ur favourrtie game?

Phil’s eyebrows shot up at the typo and he snorted. 

Snowdude: Final Fantasy 7 is ace.

DanTheMan: ace XD favourite show?

Snowdude: Buffy obviously. What is this, an interview? What’s your favourite subject in school?

DanTheMan: ouch, geography and psych and theatre.

Snowdude: hate geo, you act?

DanTheMan: don’t laugh. i always have but i’m cool.

Snowdude: nothing wrong with it. I’m a terrible actor. 

Looking at his ceiling, Phil felt bad for making Dan feel insecure by bringing up school, pointedly marking their age difference. He knew what it was like to be looked down upon by the older kids. He quickly typed another message.

Snowdude: I signed up to art because I thought it would be easy and almost failed. Seems like i suck at art.

DanTheMan: ROFL. ur weird.

DanTheMan: let’s be friends.

Snowdude: Lesbifriends

DanTheMan: forget it lol. I regret asking.

Snowdude: noooooooooooo 

DanTheMan: i have to go my mums calling. add me on msn i’m danosaurXD@hotmail.com.uk

Snowdude: Rawr xD. ACe. Good luck with homework

DanTheMan: fuckoff with your capitalistion and good grammra ttyl

And just like that, Dan exited their chat. Phil smiled and logged into MSN, hesitating only for a second before adding his new friend.

Ian opened their conversation with a buzz as per usual and invited him over to play games with the girls. He hesitated, but another notification popped up and it brought a smile to his face.

GoThic chiK (Anja): coming or not phL?

Phil rolled his eyes, at least Anja would be there and even if he didn’t like girls like that, Anja was always cool. She was like a girl, but also not. Well, she was a girl of course, but she felt like a guy, but not - like him. He didn’t fit in as the kind of man his dad wanted to see in his son and Anja didn’t impress her mother either. Maybe they were losers but they still had each other.

Phil Strikr: omw Annie tell Ian

GoTik chiK (Anja): told you to stop butcherin ma name.

Phil laughed and sent her a buzz before logging out and getting into his favourite blue jeans and a green T-shirt.

--

The night went by in a breeze, with loads of pizza, drinking and a few rounds of TEG that ended in disaster. He mostly enjoyed it until the topic of dating came up yet again. All the guys had some sort of girlfriend or arrangement and Phil had barely anything to show for. For the umpteenth time, Phil considered coming out to them but he could never bring himself to do it. Maybe one of these days when he was drunk enough.

“Phil, Phil!” Someone said.

Anja snapped her fingers in front of his eyes, startling him and causing him to drop the dice he had been shaking for who knows how long. “Mate, what is it with you today?”

“Uh, nothing. I was just thinking about Buffy,” he said.

Anja gave him a look that let him know she was not buying it, but the rest rolled their eyes and continued with their conversation. For a moment Phil thought he was off the hook but Ian looked at him expectantly.

“What?” Phil asked.

Ian sighed heavily. “Sandra asked about you again, mate. When are you going to ask her out?”

Phil tried not to look like a deer caught in the headlights. “I think it would be weird to date your cousin, we are like brothers at this point.”

Ian snorted and shook his head. “We are like brothers but not actually. It’s not like incest or anything.”

“Ew, don’t say that,” Phil said, paling at the thought of Sandra and her wandering hands. He was not going to repeat the mistake of asking her out. One sloppy kiss was more than enough.

Richard, Noah and Keith laughed at the face he pulled but Ian merely smiled at him.

“Oi! Phil is mine, let him be,” Anja said, shuffling closer to him and resting her hand on his thigh.

Phil’s eyes widened but she gave him a small wink before looking back at their friends.

“What? Are you his girlfriend now?” asked Richard with a frown.

“Yeah,” she said, looking uncomfortable at the question. Anja didn’t like Richard like that, she loved him as a friend, but he had a huge crush on her and he was terrible at hiding it. Phil didn’t need to read her mind to know she didn’t want to break his heart or risk their friendship but it was bound to happen eventually.

Wrapping his arm around Anja’s waist loosely, he set his head on her shoulder. “Tell Sandra I’m taken,” Phil said and Anja relaxed against him, letting her head gently rest on his.

Richard looked disappointed but didn’t press the issue any further.

Eventually, the board games stopped being fun and the alcohol ran out so they declared the party over. As soon as Phil said goodbye and stood from his spot Anja followed him, making the others laugh and howl at them, half whispering about what they were going to do in Phil’s bedroom.

Once they were out, Phil turned to look at her. “Do you want me to walk you home?” He asked, hopefully.

“Nah, I was expecting to crash in your bed.” She began the walk back home and Phil followed her.

“What?” Phil squeaked.

Anja laughed and turned towards him, but her eyes looked a bit misty. “Don’t be daft, it’s not that.” She poked him gently, looking into his eyes. “I just feel sad and I don’t wanna be alone right now. I know I can trust you like that.” 

“Alright,” Phil said, still walking at her side. “Do you want to talk about it? What happened?”

Anja looked away from him, her eyes focusing on the moon for a moment as she spoke. “I was dating someone but they are not sure about it anymore and it sucks.”

Phil stopped walking and pulled her into a hug. “An- you know you can tell me anything, come stay with me too.”

“I know.” She returned the hug tightly only for a moment before stepping back. “Come on!” She said, grabbing his hand and pulling him along. “Kath will be fuming if we are not there before midnight.”

He snorted and laced their fingers together. “I’ll tell my mum you call her Kath behind her back one day, you know?”

“Meh,” Anja shrugged. “She loves me. I’ll live.”

They stayed silent for most of the 20 minute walk home and had to sneak in, but soon enough they were in his room. Phil gave Anja a big T-shirt and a pair of joggers and slipped into his own pyjamas while she changed in the bathroom. 

Five minutes later they were looking up at the ceiling as they lay under the covers in the small bed.

“Hey, Phil?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think Richard will get over his crush eventually?”

Phil turned on his side to look at her. “Probably, he has gotten over the others.”

She nodded. “Are you seeing anyone that you haven’t told us about?” she asked in a drastic change of topic.

Phil sputtered. “As if anyone would be interested.”

“You have pretty eyes and perfect eyebrows. I wish I had your eyebrows,” Anja said. “You should dye your hair black though, it would make your eyes pop.”

“I don’t know… Would you do it for me?”

“Of course, ginge,” She laughed.

“I’m not a ginger!” Phil whined.

“Course not.” She poked at his stomach. “Good night.”

“Good night, An,” he said and shut his eyes, letting sleep claim him.

---

It was a weird summer. Anja remained sad for the majority of it but refused to talk about her boyfriend, choosing to focus on giving Phil an extreme makeover instead. She dyed his hair black, took him to the mall to pick up black skinny jeans and to the stylist that had given her her emo haircut to tame his mane.

By the end of it, Phil had perfected a nice image for his MySpace page. He had even ventured into eyeliner for some pictures when he’d gotten bored waiting for Anja to get ready for a party. He’d enjoyed the results and even Ian and the guys said it looked cool on him. Even Dan thought he looked really cool when he saw the pics.

He got to talk to Dan quite a few times as well before going off to uni and caught up with life. It was amazing to learn that they were actually super compatible, liking many of the same games, music and shows. The best part was that Dan said there was a chance he would go to York like him so they could hang out and Phil liked the sound of that, even if Dan was still a full year away from it. Dan was honestly super cool and Phil really had come to consider him a friend in the last few months so it would be super fun to have someone close to hang out and play games with. It sounded like a great plan.

Daydreaming about their potential meet-up was a nice distraction from Dan’s home life, which seemed to be in constant turmoil as Phil came to find over time. There was a reason Dan barely mentioned his younger brother and he had vaguely complained about his father’s rage issues, so Phil always let Dan talk first, and let whatever was troubling him be aired so that he could offer his support or advice if it was needed. Phil also shared some of his issues and insecurities, but his problems were not nearly as bad as Dan’s so he tried to keep things on the positive side and help Dan out.

But Phil wasn’t expecting to catch Dan in a lie only weeks later. As it turned out, Dan had never been 16, he was a 14 year old kid. It was a silly lie, but it still hurt Phil, so he asked Dan to never lie to him again. Dan was very apologetic and begged him not to break their friendship, which Phil had briefly considered, but decided against, especially because of the kind of bullying Dan suffered at school on the regular. After the initial shock had worn off, Phil reassured him that they could be friends, even if they would have to be long distance.

Dan deserved to have supportive friends. He needed someone to be there for him and Phil knew he could be that someone. At an appropriate distance, of course.

It was a bit of a rough patch between them, but after they had resolved the issue, life went on as usual. Phil dived head first into his uni life and there were so many changes. He moved into the dorm and met new people at uni, but sadly, he wasn’t able to stay in touch with his friends back home as much as he’d have liked due to his schedule. In a way, he had inadvertently severed most contact with his life back home, but no matter how much things changed, some stayed the same: his lack of a love life and being trapped in the closet.

He decided that it was time to take his life by the horns and that marked the beginning of a new chapter for him, an exploring phase of sorts. After some consideration, he opened a profile on a dating website, hoping to find a nice guy he could date. His new look did seem to help a lot, but his popularity applied mostly to MySpace. The dating scene seemed a bit dry, or maybe he was just too awkward. There weren't a bunch of messages flooding his inbox by any means.

To be honest, he was starting to get really discouraged, thinking he would never meet someone, but his luck finally changed on a mighty weekend when in a hidden corner of a pub, he got his first taste of freedom. He was blonde and tall and three years older than Phil and his lips were on Phil’s, quickly taking him to heaven, making his blood rush south and his stomach tingle. His hands were inside Phil’s T-shirt and struggling with his jeans’ zipper in less than five minutes. It wasn’t too rough or something that Phil didn’t want, but the speed of it all scared him a bit. It was too much too soon and he wasn’t ready even though he wanted to be, so he took a step back and apologised.

“I’m sorry,” he said, still trying to catch his breath. “Listen, I’m not out yet, not even to my friends back home, my new uni friends or my roommates.”

The guy nodded and smiled at him. “That’s alright,” he said. “Could I get your phone number? Maybe we can meet up some other time.”

Phil nodded and saved it in the other’s phone, but he was not going to trick himself into thinking he was going to get a text. His chances were slim.

They parted ways with a quick kiss, which surprised Phil. He let out a deep sigh as he watched the blonde disappear into the crowd and surveyed the pub in search of his friends. 

Towering over most people did come in handy and allowed him to locate his roommates in under a minute. Phil tried to put on a brave smile as he made his way to them and accepted a beer, taking a zip and groaning at the bitter taste. It was performative and he knew it, but he didn’t know what else to do, so he followed along with what everyone was doing. He got drunk - and even made out with a girl briefly just out of boredom. 

He felt nothing, nothing at all, but his roommates cheered him on and the girl seemed happy enough. 

That made one of them.

--

Once back in his room, Phil put his phone to charge and turned it on. There were a few missed calls and texts from Dan, asking if he was free to talk. Phil got a bad feeling about it and tried to call him but Dan didn’t pick up. Maybe it was too late and he had fallen asleep. Biting the inside of his cheek, Phil hesitated before sending a text.

“I’m sorry I missed your calls, I was out until just now and my phone had died X.x . I’m free to talk in the morning!”

Phil lay in bed for what seemed like forever, the room spinning a bit around him, as he thought about the blonde guy, the boring night, the girl he kissed - and Dan. He wished he would have stayed home and talked to Dan, maybe played some games, or talked about school. It was sad that he got along better with a 14 year old than his own friends. What did that say about him? He fell into a fitful night of sleep just as the sun rose above the clouds.

The talk with Dan didn’t come the next day, or the following one. In fact, Dan stopped replying entirely for over a week and Phil’s stomach was twisted into knots. Over twenty messages unanswered could only mean bad news, right?

The following weekend, Phil sent yet another text: “Please, Dan. Just let me know that you are ok.”

Ten minutes later, his phone finally vibrated. “im ok. stop.”

Phil’s eyes welled up with tears. “I’m so sorry, Dan. I’ve been worried about you. I went out and had so many calls and missed texts, I thought something had happened and you needed to talk. It’s ok if you don’t want to, I just didn’t want you to think that I didn’t care. Sorry I missed your call.”

His screen lit up with a call immediately and Dan’s raspy voice greeted him on the other side. “Hey, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s ok,” Phil said, trying to calm himself down, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. He swallowed thick and attempted a small smile, even if Dan could not see it. “What did you want to talk about?”

Dan was silent for a moment, but then he let out a tired sigh. “Nothing much, it’s fine.”

“You can tell me, you know you can,” Phil said with a frown.

“Last weekend I went to the mall and I had some problems with the usual shitheads…” he trailed off.

“Did they throw rocks at you again?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t care. And on Monday -” Dan paused.

“What happened on Monday?” Phil asked, frowning at the pain he could hear in Dan’s voice.

“One of the idiots grabbed me by the neck and slapped me for like 5 minutes,” Dan mumbled. “And I know what you’re going to say, one of the teachers saw and did nothing. He even laughed.”

“Dan,” Phil said, his heart breaking for his friend. “I’m so sorry, you don’t deserve any of that. I wish I could be there to help you.”

“It’s fine,” Dan said in a monotone voice. “I didn’t react, I didn’t want to give them that satisfaction.”

“It takes a lot of courage not to fight back. You were very brave.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Dan muttered. “Almost gave them another satisfaction.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m so tired sometimes, you know? Just so tired.” Then, Dan cleared his throat. “Anyway, I’ve been staying with my grandma since Tuesday, so I’m ok.”

Phil had to clear his throat too, trying not to get choked up by what Dan was implying. “You have to get good grades so you can get into uni and we can hang out, ok?”

Dan snorted. “As if you would hang out with me. You’re cool and I’m just a 14 year old loser.”

“You’re not a loser. You’re kind, and funny, and one of the coolest people I know. I know that one day you will be a great guy. Maybe you’ll be a famous actor, like you’ve always wanted.”

“Yeah… maybe,” Dan said. “Wanna play Mario Kart later? I have homework.”

Phil looked at the time, it was already late, but a few races wouldn’t hurt. “Sure. Text me when you’re done.”

“Thanks, Phil,” Dan said and Phil could picture a little smile on his face.

“No problem. See you later.”

“Yeah. Hey, can I follow your MySpace?” Dan asked.

“You can follow me anywhere,” Phil said. “We are friends.”

“Yeah, ok,” Dan snorted. “See you later, Philly.”

Phil rolled his eyes and hung up the phone.

Letting out a deep sigh, he decided to do the “adult thing” and study a little more for the exam he had the following morning so that he could join Dan online later. It was not a lot, but he felt better now that Dan knew Phil was on his side and he cared.

That night, Phil stayed on his DS until 4, but he managed to get a passing grade on the exam anyway. He rewarded himself with a 10 hour nap afterwards.

--

All through his first term at uni, Phil tried his best to keep in touch with Dan, but with his tight study schedule, the weekends pretending to be straight and attempting to not stress himself half to death with his new chaotic life, it was getting increasingly difficult.

Before long, Phil had to make a drastic choice. Something needed to change and he knew exactly what was the worst stressor for him: his straight-sex-maniac persona. And so it was decided. 

He invited his four roommates to their very limited common space and paced in the square foot of floor he had available to himself waving his hands around without uttering a word until one of the guys asked if he was ok. 

No, Phil was not ok at all, he was nearly crawling up the wall, so instead of giving a carefully planned and rehearsed speech, he stopped short of the wall, turned around and said: “I lied… I am not super experienced, I don’t have a lot of sex experience. In fact, I have zero experience, because… because I’m gay. I’m sorry that I lied, I just wanted you guys to like me, you are all so cool. I wanted to be your friend. I didn’t mean for it to get so out of hand. I-”

Peter got up from the armrest of the sofa, causing Phil to take a step back just in case, and gave him a hard pat on the shoulder. “It’s ok. We are all figuring things out,” he said. “Also, Sarah will be happy to know that you are not disgusted by her presence, you’re just thick as all fuck and gay. Right, Sarah?”

“You like me?” Phil squeaked, turning towards the popular blonde girl. She was super nice and also pretty, but she was still not a guy, so there was not even a chance.

“I do. I did, but it’s ok. We can be friends,” she said with a smile.

“We can?” Phil croaked.

Sarah nodded. “You’re a good guy, Phil. Why wouldn’t I want to be your friend? And the fact that you are not opposed to a little makeup also plays in your favour.”

Peter clapped once and rushed to the fridge. He got the Malibu out of the freezer, messily pouring the alcohol into various glasses and mugs and other liquid-holding implements before turning around to face the group and raising his glass. “To Phil, the gayest emo York has ever seen - and a good friend too!” He downed his drink without waiting for anyone else.

Sarah walked over to the kitchenette and grabbed a shot glass, raising it towards Phil with an encouraging smile. “Cheers,” she said and downed her drink. She then passed a repurposed laundry detergent cap full of Malibu to Phil. 

“Thank you,” he said, hoping that his eyes could convey the gratitude he felt. “Cheers,” he said and drank the entire thing.

Jimmy and Callan, who had been quiet until now, stood from the sofa and grabbed a mug each, raising them to Phil. 

“To Phil, the gay emo,” said Callan with a smirk.

“We can still be friends even if you’re gay and your willy is bigger than all of ours,” Jimmy said with a nod and necked his drink.

Phil laughed. “Stop talking about my dick, Jimmy. You saw nothing!”

“I will when it stops looking back at me every time you sit,” Jimmy cackled. 

Phil threw the laundry detergent cap at his head, hitting the target and causing the group to laugh.  Hours later, he crawled into his tiny bed and felt the effects of all the alcohol he had consumed rock him gently, like the waves in the sea. He let out a sigh of relief, a smile appearing on his lips as he remembered how the night had started. His coming out had been awkward but still a success. Now he could truly be himself, at least in York, and he couldn’t wait until he was able to live his life fully everywhere.

[fellow-traveller]

A slight rant, I suppose. But it's more frustration than annoyance.

(under the cut because I don't want to spoil someone's day with this discourse)

I'm pretty much active in Twitter/X mainly because of the 1 Day 1 Hol Horse thing, but when I ventured deeper into the JoJo fandom, I realised the anti-proship discourse is just a huge WHY for me.

Like, why does this mess have to exist?

Why does one have the need to not interact with other fans in the same fandom, especially if they also share a similar preference?

Why can't everyone just like what they like, and leave what they don't, without harming actual fans, like sending death threats, trolling, doxxing, rallying hate etc?

To clarify, I've only known about this new definition of anti-proship about this year, when I got active again in the JoJo fandom. And it came to me in the form of being forced into a voting poll without my knowledge, and the fans that voted for or against my account labelled me a proshipper based on "problematic" fanarts from my Japanese friends and moots that I liked and shared.

It was the very first time I learnt what the bastardised definition of a proshipper is to these group of people.

Because during my anime/manga era, some good 20 years ago, proshipping basically means shipping whatever one likes and accepting that others may ship things one dislikes. We had terms like OTPs and NOTPs and BroTPs, and we use them freely to express love and acceptance, while also acknowledge what we prefer and what we don't.

Yes, there will occasionally be fans who will throw a tantrum about what others ship. They were the ones we call antishippers - the most intolerant of fans. They started ship wars, they send death threats, they doxx. They are the unhinged that most likely would kick a baby if given the opportunity.

Proshipper is actually a very positive word, and we love proshippers, because they're very tolerant, they work as middle men in ship wars, and by all things divine, most of them have really great artistic skills. Antishipper, nope, we don't want to be that. We hate that. We despise that.

But somehow the new generation seemed to shift the blame of all things bad on proshippers by changing the definition of it.

Depending on who you ask, proship could be a short to "proactive shipping", "professional shipping" or just "pro shipping" (as in pros and cons). All positive words. Now the new generation who most likely was never thought of how to explore fandoms at a young age, deemed proship as "problematic shipping".

The audacity to simply change the definition is palpable. Especially when I find out the kind of "problematic" things that they try to justify hating on.

Kids. Teens. Young adults. My dears.

Whatever "problematic" things you've seen in a fandom /ship /character now IS NOT NEW. It's not something that just happened to exist in a recent fandom to spite the younger gens. It has been there 20 years ago when I was underaged and older fans were making fanart of their favourites both "problematic" and not. Heck, probably way longer before for them as well.

If only you utilise some reading skills and maybe your library card, you can find the history of anime-manga was filled to the brim with "problematic" topics. It's a way of expression, it's a way of coping, it's a way of criticising certain factors like politics and people. Anime and manga has always been "problematic". That's a hard fact.

Virtue signaling especially if you're from the West is not gonna change that.

Also, I cannot stress it enough that fiction does not equate to reality. At best, it is an imitation of reality, in a form safe for consumption and indulgence that require no harm to real living beings. Once people can differentiate these, trust me, life will be so much easier.

While the definition of proship had seen a pretty twisted change, antiship didn't. They still did the same things, only now, the minors were dragged in.

Despite all, I won't deny there are absolute rotten eggs on both sides. There will definitely be proshippers who are so disturbing it scares even Junji Ito. There will also be antishippers who will do anything to spread more hate in the fandom, making it rather unlivable. And both sides have the capability to influence an attack on each other, or worse, take advantage of gullible, ill-informed fans, especially minors.

But if we stop lumping everyone into "proship dni" and "antis dni" lists, and openly, properly communicate and explore about likes and dislikes and preferences like old times, I'm sure complaints from antis like

"Why is this fanartist who draws / fan who like [insert ship] has to be a proship?"

"I like this fanartist's artwork but they are a proship, so now I can't see their stuff."

"There's not enough fanart of [insert ship/character]."

would be way, way less.

And I always wonder if these antis, who were mostly young teenagers of a sound mind, have a pending curiosity to explore something adult through fictional characters. Hence why, while they despise proshippers and anything not sfw, they still talk about it among themselves and draw lemony drawings, even to a detail I personally wouldn't share so openly. And why they still invade not sfw spaces even with a clear warning.

Because, I get that, I've been there, most likely as early as 12. Exploring sexuality is not wrong at that age, and it's already a correct method to use fiction for it.

But by pushing away people who had been there, who can actually help, is gonna continue making these antis be a hateful, intolerant bunch. And more easily influenced by actual real life predators.

And for the "proshippers", it's also pretty frustrating to see themselves being harrassed, blocked, and talked about behind their back from antis who never thought of maybe, just maybe, getting to know them first. Especially if they are not from the West.

So my advice to these antis and especially the antis who practically had no reason to be an anti, don't confine yourself into a small container and scream why it's too small. Fiction is there for you to explore reality and things that you can and will never do in real life. Exploring it is way better than suppressing yourself, as long as you know your own limits. Preference and discomfort are only evident if you communicate in a proper manner, not by bashing someone without them knowing and shift the blame of the discomfort you caused yourself on them when they had no intention to even present it to you.

We're in the same fandom. Sharing the same love for the same character and ships. I don't see why we should cut it down so meticulously just because one cannot separate fiction to reality.

As a pretty much seasoned anime-manga fan, especially in JoJo (I've been with the fandom since 2001, tbh), keep your mind open. Block and mute are always your friend if things get too overwhelming, but hatred shouldn't be the main motivator. Communication is key. If you want to know more, express your discomfort, discuss on characters / ships / fandoms...always communicate first. Never assume, never stab on the back. You might be surprised how helpful proshippers can be if you're just, for once, be nice.

That's all.

[alarrytale]

I have really conflicting thoughts. I keep seeing posts and sometimes long essays about why HL can't come out and it's because of homophobia, loss of privacy, loss of fans and money and opportunities and it ending their career, the list goes on. I wonder where people get this idea from because everyone who is coming out now is getting a career boost, gaining more opportunities and gaining new fans. It might have ruined careers a decade ago but definitely not now. I also wonder why people think they can't have a private life when they come out. They've managed it fine so far so why would a coming out suddenly change that? Also they might want to be public about their relationship when they come out. However on the other hand the industry has been slow in letting people come out so it's obviously more profitable to be straight or else everyone would be out. So I think that if people come out it wouldn't hurt their career, but the industry will have details of sales and they'll know their client's audience and who's spending money. So is it a case they know better than us as they have all the details, or are they really out of touch and going off an old business model. In a way I feel like they're depriving people of lgbtq+ artists. They're not given a chance to show they can be successful. Also, is the average person that homophobic? Ofc homophobes exist but I think the average person isn't thinking about someone's sexuality when watching a movie or listening to a song. Idk, I'm very confused by it.

Hi, anon!

I've mentioned this before, but it's not about homophobia. It's about people being attracted to and being fans of celebrities and artists who they can relate to, identify with, can look up to and admire, who are deemed cool and who they can project their fantasies onto.

I think the industry is reluctant to take the risk and let their artists/celebrities come out because they're afraid their artist/celebrities will lose relevance and interest among the heterosexual gp majority. I think there's little experience and statistics to lean on in regards to how target audience will react to a coming out. I think each individual artist/celebrity needs to know their target audience and calculate the reception it will get. I also think that if you're talented enough or already established and have a loyal fanbase, it won't matter much. They'll be fine. If the seeding is done well, they'll be fine.

I think it's harder for artist/celebrities who's got a exaggerated heterosexual image, who's selling point is their good looks and their sex appeal, and who's target audience is young het females/young het males. Their whole shtick is their heterosexuality. If your music is average, personality and charm is average and your talent is average, they might struggle. They need to create new selling points to appeal to the same target audience. They could also change their target audience, but that's hard because you're already branded and your old target audience will feel disappointed that you are no longer catering to them.

I think most target audiences will be supportive of a coming out, but they still need to be able to relate to the artist/celebrity. For an artist, the audience still need to be able to relate to the lyrics or the experience that's portrayed. They still need to find the artist's journey and life experience entertaining and captivating. They still need to find them original and inspirational.

So if artist/celebrities can keep their relevance and still interest and captivate a majority het general public after they come out, they'll be fine. They'll also most likely be even more successful as an out artist/celebrity because they're now also reaching other target audiences. Just look at Billie, Miley or Elton John. If you want to see how not to do it, look at Jo*o Si*a.

[uncloseted]

Can you tell me again why you dislike like Lana? I remember seeing your original posts and agreeing. I like her but ugh sometimes I want to shake her

I talked about it here, but it’s a few different things.  I think in general she glamorizes a lot of things that need to be handled with more care when so many young people see her as a role model.  Lana presents herself/her character (which she insists is not a persona) as someone who loves sex and drugs and partying and abusive relationships and mental illness and suicidal ideation for the romance and aesthetic of it all.  A lot of the “romantic” songs she’s written are versions of “this man is bad/abusive/the worst and I will love him forever/die for him/am nothing without him/can’t imagine my life without him,”  and I don’t think that’s a good message for young people who look up to her to be getting about romantic relationships.  There are ways to discuss abusive relationships, low self-esteem, drug addiction, and mental health issues that aren’t inherently glamorizing those issues, but that’s not what Lana is doing and it’s not what she’s trying to do.

My other big issue with her is that she refuses to grow or learn. I talked about this at length when she was under scrutiny for a “shady” Instagram post she made, but whenever she’s (rightly) criticized, she insists that she’s a misunderstood victim because she’s a sexy sexy woman and isn’t willing to consider that she might actually be in the wrong.  And this pattern has been happening for ten years straight.  She keeps being given opportunities to grow and mature (opportunities that other artists, particularly WOC, do not get) and she keeps squandering those opportunities.  Her whole schtick was sort of understandable when she was 20, but she’s 38 now.  At a certain point, we all have to take responsibility for our actions and work on improving ourselves, and Lana isn’t exempt from that.

I also feel like she's kind of an opportunist.  Her “shady” Instagram post wasn’t even really about feminism or wanting people on the internet to be nice to her.  It seemed like it was a ploy to get people to pay attention to her so she could hawk her poetry book and new album.  Social issues are so hypothetical to her that, in that time of incredible social upheaval and change, she’s willing to co-opt that for her own benefit.

And that’s not to speak of her other “minor” controversies, like cultural appropriation (that she continues to engage in), her aestheticization of poverty, something she, as the daughter of a millionaire who funded her music, has never experienced, her tone deaf Twitter arguments, her rejection of feminism, her refusal to accept that a music critic might criticize her music, putting her fans at risk by doing a meet and greet during the pandemic where she didn’t social distance and wore a mesh, netted mask… in my opinion, there are a lot of reasons to dislike her and a lot of artists who are doing what she does but better.

And I feel like for the record, I should say that I don't think she's a bad musician. A lot of her songs are really well crafted and incredibly evocative. But I struggle to get on board with the way she presents herself publicly, and I think it's done a lot of damage to young people who relate to her and aspire to be like her.