#told you all my problems come to you in the form of penguin photos

[softglassangel]

[akimmito]

I’ll still be with you

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Chapter 3: Moon

Initially, I would only be in Paris for a couple of days, but that night changed everything.

No matter how much I think about it, I can't see that it was otherwise.

Nor do I want it to have been.

Red Robin jumps off Wayne Tower when he hears Red Hood calling for a backup in a showdown against Penguin's some goons, he's the closest to his location and the others are busy on the other side of town dealing with their own problems.

Nights like that, cold and with bright silver clouds that insist on hiding the moon, remind him of that night in Paris, of her blue eyes illuminated by a moon that managed to escape from the spongy trap in which it was. He smiles a little, even though he should be more focused on his mission, but the feeling of running and flying through the skies of Gotham is something he will miss, his nights are numbered.

Stopping the Penguin's goons isn't easy, they managed to cause them a couple of problems but they finish fast enough to hear Batman's words perfectly. Tim barely registers what Jason says next to him, focusing solely on Bruce's voice.

"When everyone's done, we'll see you in the cave."

Cold, distant, like a dagger lazily embedded in a lung. The tone he occupies when one of them has disappointed him, lately it's Damian who has received it, even though the teenager has stopped being the ten-year-old brat who came to the mansion, but what for them was four long years of struggle for Bruce it was just a few months. He didn't see Damian's growth, nor did he see his downfalls, nor did he see what ended up throwing down the barriers that had been created years ago between him and everyone else.

Batman doesn't see that his Robin is capable of leaving the nest, he just needs to realize that his wings are strong enough to fly alone. Tim had a hard time, but perhaps it was because of the chains with which he tied his wings himself, convinced that he needed them.

Back in the cave, Tim waits for Damian's arrival. They're not the closest, years of conflict don't disappear in months, but the last year has been difficult for Robin, stumbling again where it was already leveled ground and he cannot avoid the guilt generated by the thought that it was his obsession with bring back to Bruce what has generated the unhappiness of the youngest.

When Damian arrives, their gazes meet for a brief moment, but it's enough for him. Tim leaves the cape and hood on the back of the chair and walks out, not wanting to hear the inevitable debacle in which the Batman-Robin relationship will end, a relationship of partners that he fought so hard to reestablish and that, without being able to do anything to stop it, it has crashed into an unbreakable wall. This time it's not Damian's fault, no, it's Bruce's fault.

He enters the mansion and walks aimlessly, stopping in the dining room as he lets himself be invaded by the memories of his adolescence being Robin, then becoming Red Robin, the moments when he felt lost and the few times he thought were if not happy, enjoyable.

It feels as if tomorrow everything will disappear in front of his eyes, but it's only the inevitable goodbye to the only place he had ever considered home that forces him to reminisce about those times. These were not simple times, there is nothing simple about being a vigilante, but it was fun.

He settles into a chair and waits, the what? He's not sure, but he knows to wait. Learn to trust your instincts, she had said, you trust the facts too much, sometimes what the soul says can be right. Five months have passed since the last time they met, it will soon be her birthday.

"Master Tim."

"Alfred, how is Damian?" He doesn't look at the butler, knowing this is the last time he speak to him.

"Master Bruce has seated him on the bench indefinitely." The old man goes to the kitchen leaving Tim alone again, at that moment he directs his gaze towards him. He lets out a sigh before standing up, his gaze now fixed on the finely varnished table. "You know, Master Tim? The day you first arrived at the mansion, I didn't think you would become so important to this family. "

"Alfred..."

"Please take good care of yourself. Don't forget to sleep at least four hours a day, eat all three times of day, and send me photos of the family you will form. "Tim feels his eyes sting when he sees Alfred's kind smile, especially when the man hands him a small package of his name.

To: Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne

A memory of: Alfred Pennyworth

"I...Thank you…."

Tim hugs the butler tightly, feeling the hug, clinging to his understanding and affection.

"As soon as I settle in, I will get in touch with you.” He assures the man who became an example for him, Alfred was always a constant in everyone's life, always close, supporting them in the most difficult moments and comforting them when the anguish overcame them. The cornerstone of the Wayne family.

"I'll be waiting."

Tim allows himself a small smile, he will miss Alfred very much. He may be the person he will miss the most in the whole family, even above Dick.

"Al... Oh, Tim. Something happens?" Dick looks curiously at the hug, the atmosphere in the dining room feels gloomy, and it gives him the feeling that not only has he interrupted an important moment but he also just learned something that he should not, even if he does not know what it is.

"I'll go, Dick."

"You go? Why?"

"Master Tim has a very important mission." He smiles again, but without the shadow of goodbye reflected in his gesture.

A very important mission, indeed.

The next days he occupies to put Wayne Enterprise in order, weighing in whether to leave everything in the hands of Bruce or place Damian as a direct heir. He also begins to appear less and less as Red Robin, not for his family, but so that the city does not suddenly feel the disappearance of one of its vigilantes.

Subtly and gently he loses himself in his routine, cutting off communication with the family. The only thing that interrupts his final preparations is an unexpected visit from Dick, catching him off guard after returning early from a patrol.

Nightwing awaits him on the roof of his building, holding a box of cakes and two coffees.

The two guards settle on the old theater, both with a coffee and cakes in the middle of the two.

"When you go?" Dick breaks the silence, his gaze is fixed on the dark horizon.

“Two more weeks, there are still projects I need to oversee on Wayne Enterprise, plus an upgrade for the steeple that I want to get finished.”

"Alfred said it's an important mission, does it really require you to disappear?" Dick looks at him worriedly and Tim can't help wanting to tell him everything, to trust his brother like he used to, but he can't it.

"Yeah.”

"When you will return?"

"I'll not come back…"

They are both silent, focused on anything but each other. The truth told is too awkward and sour, the realization that it might be the last conversation they have and that they will never see each other again weighs heavily on their shoulders.

Small drops begin to fall on them, but neither is fazed.

"Tim. Take Damian with you."

"What?"

“He… Damian hadn't killed anyone, not even by accident, in three years; It sure feels bad on its own, but B doesn't make it any easier. I tried, Timmy, but I can't help him and if he keeps wanting to prove himself to B, it'll get worse. ”The rain begins to fall more insistently on them and is their signal to get up.

Tim lets him into his residence, allowing him to settle in while he goes over the words spoken by the older man, he removes the hood and leaves it on one of the sofa, revealing the dark circles and the paleness of his face.

"When was the last time you slept?"

"Five days, I need to finish everything..."

"You must rest a little."

Tim smiles bleakly and settles on the couch across from his brother.

"I'll rest when I get out of Gotham… About Damian, are you sure you want me to take him?" He examines the older man's face, his mask has been removed, and his expression lines reflect the tenseness of his entire body. "The last word is his, but if he accepts, you will no longer see him. You adore it, if you could you would have adopted him."

"And that's why I want the best for him, if I take him to Blüdhaven it will be the same. I never get rid of B nor in another city, will the same happen to him... I want Damian to be happy, to find his own path without fear of disappointing someone, without the expectations that being a Wayne puts on him. "

"Fine." He gets up and walks into his little secluded workroom, the only computers that aren't connected to either WE or the cave or the bell tower, has his own technology designed by him and funded by Drake Inc., no way let Batman know about the information stored there.

And if you are taking Damian, he must include him in his plans and let her know.

"Tim, what are you doing there?"

"You asked me to take Damian, I must have everything ready to offer to come with me."

Later, he goes into his work ignoring Dick, even ignoring the goodbye and the request to rest; Tim has all his concentration focused on the new documents that he must write and the legal papers that he must forge in case of taking Damian with him.

Damian won't accept it, least of all coming from me.

If I have the documents ready tomorrow, I will look for him... I hope this doesn't delay my plans.

------

Tag list: @incredulous-reader @dnsakina

[deepbutdazzlingdarkness]

hiiii! i was wondering if u had any recommendations for best caps fics? dirty or not. ALSO LOVE UR BLOG

First of all, THANK YOU FOR ASKING! I loove giving fic recs. Second of all…this is gonna be LONG lmao. I gave some Kuzy and Willy/Latts recs earlier here, so these are gonna be primarily Nicky/Ovi recs, with some smaller pairing ones too, and I’m gonna sort them by pairing that way.

SO, Nicky/Ovi (including some poly recs, which I’ll list the pairings for):

-First of all, literally EVERYTHING by Ferritin4. They were the first Caps author I read after blood pressure, and I’m going to limit myself to linking just three of them, but really, READ EVERYTHING.

King Meby Ferritin4 [E, 12k]

In which there is a small tragedy, a great success, and a lot to learn about someone Sasha thought he knew awfully well.

Dream the Right Dream by Ferritin4 [E, 14k]

They don’t do it like that in Sweden, which Nicklas mans up and valiantly explains to the room after he makes it back from camp. They don’t use humans as tools. All people are people, and Nicklas would never — he couldn’t imagine having a teammate inside him every time he fell into heat, however willing they might be. His body is his own, and they all touch him far more than enough already.

What Will Survive Of Us by Ferritin4 [E, 26k]

It’s going to be a big deal, his mother had told him, and Nicklas had listened.

His mom’s not an idiot.

It’s going to be a big deal, she’d promised, if and when you find them. It’s going to be more than you thought it would, and if and when you know it, you’ll know it for sure.

-Another author you should read everything by is screamlet. They have some non-Nicky/Ovi fic I will rec later, so I’m just gonna post a few of the Nicky/Ovi ones now

the arrival of 290287 backstromby screamlet [M, 18k]

Nicky has an asteroid named after him; that’s just the beginning.

the washington royals by screamlet [M, 45k]

Sasha doesn’t remember the very first time he met Nicky, but Michael Nylander is kind enough to remind them when he arrives to meet the team, carrying an honest to fuck laminated newspaper clipping of the first time Prince Alexander visited Sweden to meet his future husband, Prince Nicklas.*An arranged marriage—or, an arrangement and a marriage.

-One more author to mass rec: angularmomentum! They’re not solely a Nicky/Ovi author so I will be linking them more down below too, but for now:

running from the weather by angularmomentum [E, 21k]

Alex starts playing for Dynamo at sixteen.

kithbyangularmomentum [E, 12k]

Sasha makes prefect in his second to last year. It’s earlier than anyone but him expected, but right on track for his two year plan, which is: be head boy, get a contract to play Quidditch professionally, and beat Bäckström off in the baths.

-For the rest of these, I’m gonna sort them by rating! Lowest to highest (G-E)

Soft Hands by sadhockeytrashbaby (allofthefandoms)[G, 1k]

Alexander Ovechkin walks into the Capitals dressing room with a collar and the entire Washington sports press corps grinds to a stunned stop.

Eight + Eight (+ Nine) bysockitup [G, 2k]

Active players have started waking up in bed with retired players who wore the same number when they need relationship advice. It goes some kind of way.-*-Teemu pulls back and kicks forward at the same time so violently that he knocks both Paul and Ovechkin out of the bed.

street’s an empty stage by grim_lupine [G, 4k]

Over their heads, in this little dream world Nicklas has built, the sun is blazing at it’s peak, searing them where they sit. The light bathes Alex a molten gold. He couldn’t look any other way in Nicklas’s head, of course.

Nicklas is cracked open, exposed.

so play on, play on, play on by carissima [2k, G]

“Gonna give you the cup first,” Alex says, still too close. He’s in Nicke’s space like he always, always is. He’s grinning and Nicke’s grinning because they finally won the goddamn cup but his head is spinning now. “Brooks already had cup. Your turn first.”

raise my hands (paint my spirit gold) by seaqueen [G, 1k]

They break apart with chests heaving for air, and when Nicke looks Alex is burning with it, fierce joy and agonizing victory painted in every line of his body and Nicke loves him so, so much.

pledge my allegiance and bite my tongue by spock [T, 5k]

It’s a given that all droids will develop some form of their own unique idiosyncrasies, but none of them are as decidedly too much as Ovi’s is. He’s got too much style, too much personality; it’s a well known and much maligned fact that he’d nearly been recalled not all that long after his activation, but the test groups had loved him so much that he was granted an exception.

cherish the moonlight by haipollai [T, 6.5k]

“What is wrong, pup?” He asks again, wishing desperately that he could actually get an answer. Instead he settles for holding his hand out, palm up until Nicky takes the hesitant step forward to nuzzle against him.

The Dog Days Are Over by xihale [T, 8k]

In which alternate universe Boston had 4th pick and Washington had 5th pick in the 2006 draft, and in which alternate universe the NHL is kind enough make accommodations for players’ personal circumstances. For instance, to allow Washington to pick Alex Ovechkin’s absolutely true, definitely not fake, 100% not-made-up fiancé to come play for the Caps.

“You what,” Alex says. “Alex Ovechkin’s who?”

—and its aftermath, through the years.

Demons, Ovechkin and other Superhuman Forces by stumblebee [T, 2k]

Sometimes Nicky wonders, usually in moments like these, if there is something to it, if you need Canadians and the horrible things they chose to do to themselves as children to win it all. Maybe Don Cherry is right, at the end of the day, maybe you just can’t win without demonic assistance. Without sacrifice, as that insufferable spray tanned dinosaur always puts it.

something old, something newby bropunzeling [T, 5k]

“You,” Alex says, pointing at him. “Me,” he continues, pointing back at himself. “Married.”

“Oh,” Nicky says. “Oh.”

[It doesn’t go any smoother after that.]

Wait Until Tomorrow (You’ll Be Fine) by sunshinexbomb [T, 8k]          

In which Nicky is an accident-prone Auror and Alex is the Healer that always seems to be coming to his rescue.

Red is the Color (of Your True Love’s Blood) by Saebrin [T, 2k]

What are the odds that all of Jakub’s teammates are serial killers? Like, statistically that has to be impossible, right?

Literally by xabier [T, 4k]

In which Nicklas Backstrom is literally Andre Burakovsky’s father.

to have and to hold by oops_ohdear [T, 6k]

The problem with putting a fake engagement photo, complete with stupid smiles and a bottle of champagne, on Facebook, is that sometimes someone’s mother sees it.

This is not a problem Nicklas ever had before he knew Alex.

This Alone Is The Real Treasure by leyley09 [T, 10k]

A defiant trip to the Olympics gets Alex outed. The solution is obviously to marry Nicky.

Obviously.

Whatever happened to all this season’s losers of the yearby Thorne [T, 9k]

Alex loves his kids, he really does, but he also might kill them. That is, if they don’t put him in a goddamn early grave first.

(Cop bribing, theft of public property, and how to photoshoot your dick properly in order to seduce a teammate: all part of a captain’s responsibilities to his rookies.)

Baby Boom by WeagleRock [M, 7k]

Having babies gives you dad power. Dad power helps put hockey teams on the road to Sir Stanley. Sid sired a herd of little Penguins before Pittsburgh won its Cup. Toews might as well be running a Blackhawks baby factory.

Now it’s Ovi’s turn. If only someone had told him that impregnating your fuckbuddy might make things a little weird.

String Theories by WeagleRock [M, 14.5k]

Nicky knows what’s expected of him: Set up goals, mentor rookies, provide a steadying backbone for a struggling team …  and never, ever look at other men.

Then Ovi surprises him with a kiss, and Nicky doesn’t know anything anymore.

The Brook Horse by WeagleRock [M, 11.5k]

Nicklas Bäckström is a good person. Nicklas Bäckström would never risk Ovi’s life just to stay human.

It’s really too bad he isn’t real.

Holding Onto You by somethingnerdythiswaycomes [M, 6.5k]

“You can’t be picked if you’re married,“ Nicky says, like it’s obvious.

“I’m not married,” Alex replies.

“You’re marrying me,” Nicky says, his jaw set.

“You haven’t proposed.”

the laws of the world never stopped us once by punkassbookjockey[M, 6k]

Sasha points at him with his chopsticks. “Your powers,” he says. “Snowzilla comes, suddenly everyone’s mutants? Something happened there, no other explanation.”

Fault Lies by hoosierbitch [M, 6k]

Alex kneels.

“You’re smarter than me,” Trotz says to Nicky, “but I do know what I’m doing.” Right now, Nicky is fairly sure that he’s wrong on both counts. “Let me be his coach. Let me take care of him.”

no it’s not nirvana but it’s on the wayby ghosthunter [M, 4k]

Sasha does not miss the way Backy looks at him then, sharp and angry, and Sasha knows he deserves it. They sit in awkward silence until the waitress comes to take their drink orders.

A More Fascinating Name by pukeandcry [M, 38k]

Although Sasha had never made the younger Mr. Backstrom’s acquaintance, he was at least familiar enough with his reputation to know that chief amongst his qualities was the quite publicly known fact that Mr. Backstrom was as notoriously uninterested in achieving an advantageous marriage as Sasha himself.

Something, then, must have upset the order of things. What that was he could not say, but Lord Backstrom was now, it would seem, in active search of a husband for his son.

Better Than Heartbreak by the_glow_worm [M, 1.5k]

It’s morning in Vegas, technically, but Nicke and Alex aren’t about to go to sleep anytime soon.

Kärlek Redux by Saebrin [E, 3k]

“A successful marriage requires falling in love many times, always with the same person.” —Mignon McLaughlin

A.K.A. Four times Nicky (re)fell for Alex.

Perfect For A Person by mlyn [E, 18k]

Alex Ovechkin is near the end of his 30th year and still not married. In the US, that means he’ll either have to find a spouse at a Transformation Hotel before his birthday, or he’ll check out transformed into an animal.

Not if Nicklas Backstrom has anything to say about it.

You and me, Drenched in greenby xihale [E, 18k]

Nicky’s an omega with a heat problem. Ovi volunteers as tribute.

tell me in the morning by haipollai [E, 4k]

Nicky yanks himself back and away, almost hard enough to tip his chair. “You don’t know why I’m scared my very Russian friend and teammate is suddenly asking questions about me dating men?” He snaps.

anchor by pavses [E, 2k]

They’re not going to make up the three-goal deficit, but Alex sure as hell is trying to single-handedly score a hat trick in a minute.

You’re a work of art, baby by sirona [E, 7k]

FBI Agent Alex Ovechkin doesn’t mind working with others. He even likes working with Malkina every so often. What he doesn’t like is being lead by his dick nose. And yet, he can’t stay away from the Gray case.

Wolfborn by waspabi [E, 60k]

A wolfborn on an airplane was either unbearably reckless or a hockey player. Most of the time, both.

if you’re needing something by atrytone [E, 5k]

Nicke hates losing, but he’s grown out of letting it black out everything else in his mind. Alex can’t seem to do the same thing, not when they get on a roll like this, not when nothing he tries seems to make a difference.

Luckily, he has Nicke to help.

touch by itsahockeynight [3k, E]

When Alex does turn up, he walks across the locker room and straight into Nicke’s arms.

Eleven Years by waspabi [E, 2k]

The door inches open. Alex, of course. Bloodshot eyes, rumpled suit. His Conference Champions cap with the sticker still on the brim, the fucking Prince of Wales Trophy still clutched in one big hand.

Nicky/Willie Nylander:

weekender by screamlet [M, 5k]

William couldn’t imagine that Toronto would ever love him the way Washington loved Nicky.

Fingertips Putting On A Show by sunshinexbomb [E, 1.5k]

In which Nicky finds comfort in William during Worlds.

make me wanna hold on (make me wanna be all yours) by Pinkmanite [E, 4.5k]

It’s like Will instantly melts into a well-worn mold, one he’s been in many times before. The switch is flipped and he’s standing up straighter, painting on that pretty smile, the one Nicky loves so much, pentimento on the overworn canvas of his cheeks. He angles his chin so he can look up at Nicky through his lashes, batting them in the way that he knows gets Nicky all worked up.

Nicky/Ovi/Willie Nylander:

the elementary disposal of weighted objects by angularmomentum [T, 14k]

William, at eleven, was primed to tip over the cusp into nascent adolescence. He was big for his age and very competitive, and had no real idea that his obsession with beating Nicke was actually an obsession without caveats, because infatuation was a word he didn’t know.

right there where we stood was holy ground by babygotbackstrom [NR, 4k]

The revamped Tre Kronor line, of Nicky and his soulmates, is mesmerising.

Sasha is jealous again, and it is ugly, even though the team is leading the division.

copenhagen by screamlet [E, 10.5k]

William had already casually texted Nicky a photo of the sunset, a cool little haha bet you don’t have this in GÄVLE, but there was no response. Gävle had Nicky and William didn’t and it was bullshit.

Andre/Nicky and/or Ovi:

say all that you’re feeling by screamlet [T, 43k]

Andre Burakovsky/Alexander Ovechkin, Nicklas Backstrom/William Nylander

Much had happened in the past year, enough that Andre sat on the hill overlooking the lands he had been naive enough to call home until he pledged himself to Lord Laich and left his friends with barely a note. Now he had returned and—Who would want Andre now?A flash of lightning in the distance illuminated the one house he hadn’t yet considered.After a moment’s thought, Andre rode south.

a hundred dollar bottle of champagne like me by Pinkmanite [E, 6k]

Nicklas Backstrom/Andre Burakovsky, Andre/Various Caps

Nicke’s got a beer in one hand, uses the other to wrap his arm around Andre’s waist, grips his hip and pulls him in close, as close as he can be.

He tucks his face in the crook of Andre’s neck and hugs him tight, exactly like he’d done on the ice just hours before.

“I’m so fucking proud of you,” he murmurs, raw and genuine, just for Andre to hear.

Don’t You Worry Child by Capbuckyang [M, 2k]

Nicky pats his thighs and Andre drops, just like that. It’s not like it was the first time, when the boys all watched in a hushed silence, but it does quiet down a bit.

It isn’t that hard, boy, to like you or love you by Two_for_Slashing [M, 3.5k]

Nicklas couldn’t pinpoint exactly when he had become desirable.

Lop-sided on the Side of the Angels by babygotbackstrom [NR, 2k]

The sun doesn’t make vampires sick anymore but that doesn’t mean Nicklas Backstrom is a morning person.

for the taking by chartreuser, thegraceinyoureyes [E, 4k]

Of course Nicky knows Andre wants him.

Nicky/Ovi/Other:

Sharp Suits and Sly Smiles by SomebodyOwens [T, 5k]

Nicky/Ovi/Holtby

He chased them so hard that they caught him.

A seduction in 5 (+1) parts.

Wayward Mayday by xihale [E, 6k]

Nicky/Ovi/TJ

Nicky and TJ are fucking around, and one of them starts mouthing off about Ovi, how Ovi might join the two of them, how hard he’d hold them down, how hard he’d ride them.

Naturally, Ovi walks in.

intermittent melting by blushingsweet (sunflowered) [E, 3k]

Nicky/Ovi/Tom

“I don’t think he wants to leave,” Nicky says, looking up at him, smug and a little cocky. “Do you want to leave, Tom?”

“No,” Tom says. He’s pressing his hands into his jeans, shifting on the floor. Alex wonders if his knees have started hurting yet; Nicky’s kept him there for a long time.

Andre/Holtby:

-These are all part of a larger Caps ensemble series w/ a variety of pairings, but I’m singling the Andre/Holts parts out, which can fit together w/o reading the whole thing

All We Are Is by somethingnerdythiswaycomes [M, 5k]

Braden notices everything in the dressing room.  He’s seen enough that, sometimes, he can guess what’s brewing before it really erupts in the locker room.  And maybe, because he saw Brooksy and Burky, that’s why he wasn’t able to see himself and Andre.

Just to Please Them [E, 3k]

Andre’s in a tank top and jeans and his neck is tantalizingly bare.  Braden keeps staring at it, and Andre keeps catching him and honestly it’s getting a little embarrassing.

Don’t Think About Why [E, 13k]

Andre Burakovsky/Brooks Laich, Andre/Holtby

“What about Brooksy?” Andre asks quietly.  Nicky’s fingers still on the back of Andre’s head, and then start petting over his curls again a second later.

“He has a reputation,” Nicky says carefully.

Or: Andre tries, and then tries again.

Comfortability [E, 6k]

Andre/Holtby, Andre Burakovsky/Braden Holtby/Nathan Walker, Braden Holtby/Nathan Walker

“How’d you sleep last night?” Braden asks Walks, when they’re all sitting down for breakfast.

“I hope we didn’t keep you up,” Andre says innocently, and Walks chokes on his omelet.

Match Your Weakness With A Name by leyley09 [T, 4k]

In which Braden gets talked into playing spin-the-bottle with his teammates and - surprisingly - doesn’t live to regret it

Words Just Get in the Way by somethingnerdythiswaycomes [T, 8k]

“You’re pretty gone on him, huh?” Mike asks him.  Andre nods.  “And you don’t know anything about him?” Andre nods again, glumly.

“This is the semester,” Mike proclaims with enough conviction that Andre almost believes him. “This semester, you’re getting him.”

 field testby matskreider [M, 1.5k]

When he cracks his eyes open, he sees a rather determined pout coming from Nicklas’ favorite underling, a new guy called Burakovsky. “Sorry, 0070. I was going to offer to debrief you, if you were waiting for Q. He’s, um…going to be busy for a while.”

Andre + Willy and/or Latts:

Kickstart The Fight by MermaidSmiled [T, 9k]

Tom watches as Andre’s knuckles scab over and heal and split again after a hard practice until they’re finally healed, pink and shiny. He watches Andre’s eye blacken where a fist or an elbow caught him and charts the flow of the blood pooling under the skin as the days go by.

It’s something so unfamiliar to Tom, seeing these things he’s used to seeing when he looks down or in the mirror on Andre. He ignores it as best he can.

come under the covers by ghosthunter [M, 4.5k]

Andre meets him at the airport. He has a tan and he looks good. Not that Tom thinks he, himself, does not also have a tan and look good, but he’s not picking himself up at the airport in a foreign country either.

Something So Pleasant About That Place by somethingnerdythiswaycomes [E, 5k]

Tom turns his head to look at Andre, sprawled out on the other bed dicking around on his phone.  “Hey, wanna fuck?”

Andre glances at him, and rolls his eyes.  Tom doesn’t know if he should be offended by how not-surprised Andre is.

Or: Andre and Tom have a ‘List of Cities We’ve Fucked In’

#capsexroomiesby forks[E, 7k]

André doesn’t mind living in his own place now, but sometimes he does miss seeing Mike and Tom being sexy together.  Good thing he has his new camcorder along this time so he’ll be able to watch whenever he wants.

Tale as Old as Time by Kerfluffle [E, 5k]

Andre breaks his hand. Tom provides an assist.

champions by angularmomentum [E, 2k]

Tom had a problem. To be more accurate, Tom had several problems but that was the way of Tom’s life. He often had a few running in tandem. Tonight they included but were not limited to: bruised knuckles (regular problem) forgot his toothbrush (also a regular problem) and a boner for Burky (definitely NOT a regular problem.)

Andre/Other:

conversation superseded by by ghosthunter [T, 1k]

Andre Burakovsky/Christian Djoos

Somewhere along the line, some signals got crossed.

or: andre is dumb

sugar by ghosthunter [M, 4k]

Nicklas Backstrom/André Burakovsky/Marcus Johansson

Nicke’s almost ready to leave, his jacket still off, his tie around his neck. “He’s fucking with you,” Nicke says quietly, coming to stand next to Andre as he ties his own tie. “And you looked at his ass when he walked away.”

So Press Record, I’ll Let You Film Me by Petalpants [E, 3k]

Andre Burakovsky/Brooks Laich

Hey, ur hot! If ur interested in doing sum amateur porn, lmk ;)

Ergo: Homo by R_Gunns [E, 14k]

Andre/Various Caps, Andre/Original Male Characters, Andre/Original Female Characters

In which André no-homos his way through casual sex, bro-snuggles and the discovery of something between his captain and his A, before Braden kindly hits him with a clue bat.

Or: self-discovery is a bitch.

TJ/Carly:

press my nose up to the glass around your heart by nighimpossible [T, 6k]

“I swear to God,” TJ says, covering his face with his hands, “if I get an inkling that a bond is starting to form, I’m truly going to kill you, John Carlson.”

“It’s Carly,” Carlson grins, leaving him behind in the locker room. “And I’d like to see you try.”

toss, turn by alotofthingsdifferent[M, 3k]

John’s neighbor – the one who has a lot of loud, enthusiastic sex – is really, really hot.

John is in so much trouble.

do you even know the miranda rights? by nighimpossible [E, 9k]

Sidney Crosby’s brother swap program is going to be the death of TJ.

Inside My Bones by somethingnerdythiswaycomes [E, 3k]

TJ’s riding the high of winning a Stanley Cup Final Game, before John’s hand comes down hard on his shoulder, gripping him tight through his pads.  He knows what that hold means, what it means when John’s fingers dig into the soft spot just next to his armpit through the gap in his pads.

“You’re lucky we won,” John murmurs in his ear, hot breath fanning over TJ’s neck.

but then you say “please” by Anonymous [E, 2k]

“Quite the charmer,” TJ goads. His feet are a little more under himself now. “Bet you could get anyone you want, kissing them like that.”

“Cut the shit,” John says, but he’s smiling, running a thumb over TJ’s cheek.

TJ/Other:

hold me tight and i’ll sink in by thermocline [NR, 2.5k]

Willy/Latts/Oshie, Oshie/Carly, Oshie/Various Caps

The thing is, it’s happened a few times, during the season and mainly during first round.

TJ’s always been touchy. Not needy. Just better when he’s given touch. He works best when he’s receiving.

i’m a prisoner to my decisions by orphan_account [E, 1.5k]

Oshie/Willy

Lauren makes him forget the things he’s been running from since high school.

Tom makes him remember.

staying put by thegraceinyoureyes[E, 7k]

Nicky/Oshie, Oshie/Various Caps

There are bodies—hands all over him, all around him.

Other:

Covered in the Colors by sunshinexbomb [T, 12k]

Nicklas Backstrom/Mike Green

In which Nicky and Greenie pretend to be soul bonded so they can be road roommates.

Taste of Bavaria by JessamyGriffith[T, 7k]

Philipp Grubauer/Braden Holtby

Philipp Grubauer is a tour guide, resigned to spending yet another day introducing American tourists to the beauty of Bavaria.

Braden Holtby, star goaltender for the Washington Capitals, is looking forward to a nice day seeing the sights of Munich on his vacation.

Happily, neither of them is going to have their day go quite as expected.

drop by savedby [T, 2k]

Devante Smith-Pelly, Ensemble

five times the Washington Capitals welcomed DSP to the team and one time he did it for someone else

Tell The World by sunshinexbomb [M, 10k]

Nicklas Backstrom/Braden Holtby

Three times somebody finds out about Nicky and Braden and one time they decide to tell someone on their own.

feels like summer by Thorne [M, 30k]

The unglamorous fact of the matter is that lifeguarding, particularly at a community swimming pool, is much less about the dramatic rescues and slo-mo dives into the water that Baywatch has tricked people into believing, and much more about janitorial work that’s either tedious or gross, spiked with the occasional scraped knee or elbowed nose or no-holds-barred ice cream vendor death-match in the parking lot.

(Or, Karl’s in love with his best friend, all the local community pools in the Metropolitan county are at prank-war with each other, and also there are ducks.)

Oh, but how were we to know? by orphan_account [NR, 12k]

Tom Wilson/OMC

“How’d it feel skating with Gavin for the first time as teammates?” a reporter asks in the locker room after their first preseason game, played against the New York Islanders. “He cites you as such an integral part of his development into a player. It must be rewarding to see it come full circle.” 

When condemning the whole body by anonissue [E, 6k]

Braden Holtby/Nate Schmidt

There’s more than one way to cure the hiccups, as Braden Holtby has the misfortune to find out.

Wide Open by Ferritin4 [E, 2.5k]

Braden Holtby/Nate Schmidt

Braden opens his mouth again, because he’s glad it’s okay but he didn’t mean no, he just meant give me — give me a minute, give me —

[moonduskt]

BOOK TWO: Trixie and Katya’s Guide to Modern Womanhood

“Trixie and Katya’s Guide to Modern Womanhood”

Author: Trixie Mattel and Katya Zamolodchikova

Year: 2020

Publisher: Penguin Randomhouse

Note: Possible spoilers, for those who’s uncomfortable with them please read the novel first, okay? Thank you.

I have an endearing little problem in life. Amusing enough to make me chuckle and save it on my phone’s memory, yet also more than enough to annoy me to no end. 

My juniors at uni like to call me a Boomer these days, or  an old lady, whichever is best used in the moment; they cackle and giggle and tease me fondly. All of that because I consciously seldom myself from the madness of social media. That way, whenever they’re talking about something viral and the most important news of the day, or latest meme and high-charted funny song, I never, ever, understand any of them in full context. That is how they start with their old woman jokes. 

So I, in my early twenty years of age, need to find a way to prove to them that I am not the old hag they accuse me of. A modern woman with impeccable taste, a futuristic and visionary one if possible. Hence, the moment I have a hold of Trixie Mattel and Katya Zamolodchikova’s “Trixie and Katya’s Guide to Modern Womanhood”, I read it as soon as possible like it is my only Bible to the future.

(No, I’m just half joking. I read the book because I love Trixie Mattel and Katya Zamolodchikova, too, from the north pole to the south pole and back to the north pole again.)

As the title suggests, “Trixie and Katya’s Guide to Modern Womanhood” is a guidebook, or a life-advice book, for the women (but not limited to men) to be the baddest modern woman out there, ready to tackle the society’s expectation successfully. Written in various methods, the book is divided into three important parts: beauty and style, homemaking, and relationships.

As you may guess, through the ‘Beauty and Style’ part, Trixie and Katya told us how to be dazzlingly beautiful from the physical realm until the inner self-love we all need in order to achieve it successfully. From the basics such as hair, makeup, heels, personal style, and  personal hygiene, to the side-quests we need to be aware of like alcohol, drugs, and most importantly self love. Presented in an advice columns, a questionnaire, bullet points, and even a short essay of their own experience meticulously, we would be the shining, shimmering, and splendid pretty women (and men) ready to face the world by the time we turned the page for the second part of the book.

It turns out that being beautiful inside and outside simply isn’t enough to be a modern woman according to these two biological women. We need to be knowledgeable in our home affairs too, especially money concerned matters, because it is very expensive to survive in this world as a woman. Another important thing we need to be masterful of is our kingdom of digital platforms. How to put out the correct persona on the internet and manage it carefully to avoid any unwarranted problems because of the internet’s unforgiving harsh judgement, and most importantly how to take a rest from the madness of it for some time, the world that never sleeps.

I feel like I resonated through this chapter so much. I used to be a very active user of social media platforms, especially twitter. In my younger days, I was this utterly stupid, embarrassing clown who should’ve been banned from the community for existing alone. Then I realized how foolish I was, and some other reasons slipped in the middle of it that made me stop using any social media platforms other than WhatsApp and YouTube. It takes time to build the courage to take care of social media again, and I need to always stay alert in case I make the same mistakes as the past, too.

From the words of famous Barbie dolls collector Trixie Mattel, decorating your own home is an important thing to do, too, since it shows who you really are. Your own home is one part of you that other people don’t get to judge, a part of personality that should be barricaded from the harsh opinion of the outside world. Related to this theme was the decluttering part of having your own home. Sometimes we get too little too attached to the things we don’t actually need anymore.

Relationship is another condiment element of our life that we couldn’t not talk about, but don’t worry, because Trixie and Katya lightly guided us through the art of meeting new people and how to properly hooking up. After those cheery cherry on top advice, these women also gave us the ultimate how-to’s on breakups and friendship. I will write it in here because I think these two were the most important advice pieces from the third part: 

One, Trixie said that the thing you need to do when you just broke up with someone is to not let yourself succumbing into the sadness to much, you have to be rational about the break-up too because parting ways with your ex is not the end of the world and there is still a lot of possibilities of love out there; 

Two, in friendship, it is actually good not to be possessive of your friend. Just because you don’t spend your every waking time, every minute, every second of your life talking with them that it means bad. No, sometimes it’s healthy because both you and your friend do have your own life and need the space and time to breathe. It’s okay to stay away for awhile, and it’s okay to catch up.

About this book, I thank God in Heaven that there’s nothing I don’t like in this book. To be honest, I promise myself I will close this book as soon as I feel like I am being scolded for the poor choices I make my whole life. It is an important thing to note, because I have a personal vendetta against any kind of motivational or life advice’s materials, even if it is given in the form of magical words on a best-selling book or the alluring vocals in a heart-wrenching song. No particular reason for my hatred towards motivational bullshits, it’s just in my nature to reject any hopes that certain people are trying to inject into society.

“Trixie and Katya’s Guide to Modern Womanhood” is an easy to read book, sometimes with self-deprecating jokes, humorous advice, or flippant statements that never fails to make me grinning from ear to ear. A lot of the advice given inside isn’t even that serious, I think, but when it is actually serious, it never makes me feel offended or anything. If there is any reaction extracted from me, is that I am seriously thinking and considering the point given by Trixie and/or Katya. Instead of telling me what to do with steps too demanding and expecting instant perfect results, like the other life-advice and motivational books out there, this book is giving me options with rational reasons behind it. This book urged me in a joking way, yet sternly, to do better. This books told me that it’s okay to fucked things up because human do fucking shits up most of the time, as long as we try to do better and actively trying to make amends about our messy past.

Isn’t that what life-advice books are supposed to be doing?

For some people claiming that they don’t really like to read books and are amateur writers, sure Trixie and Katya write a very excellent piece of book. It’s suspicious enough to make me think that they’re just bluffing about it. This book feels like it was written by veteran writers who write as their main job, and not a couple of drag queens who are busy touring and appearing on various YouTube channels with every other side jobs and business they currently own.

What an effortless read, this book is. It’s not that serious like more heavy-weight non-fictional or super engaging like the fictional one, I can sit it out for few hours and when I get back to it, “Trixie and Katya’s Guide to Modern Womanhood” will welcome me with open arms to read it again like I never leave in the first place. Trixie and Katya choose to write it with such simple words for simple sentences, and my illiterate ass is so grateful for that. Yet behind the unassuming sentences and the never-ending jokes, hids all the brilliant tricks to make those paragraphs magnificent and elegant while the clown make-up is still on. The power only Trixie and Katya has, all of you (and me) should take note of it. 

Last thing about their writing style, I need you to know that Trixie and Katya knocked me on the head and told me to read my dictionary more, since there were some words that I never knew existed in English. I have to say that I bought a very thick notebook since late June, intended to write all of the unfamiliar English words I come across inside the books I read, yet I haven’t done anything with it until now. This book is the proof that I need to do better. In a way, this book motivates me to be better just like Trixie and Katya. 

(Whether I proceed with that motivational sentiment is another topic to talk about another time.) 

What I also like from this book is that as much as it is a life-advice book, it is also a life-style magazine in very thick pages, perhaps a super super special edition one. “Trixie and Katya’s Guide to Modern Womanhood” is very cute in interior design, despite the fierce red of the cover. Splashes of pinks and pastel blues, cute big quotation and tips column, and the photos! Lord in Heaven, the photos! I can’t stop looking at every picture for more than two minutes, happily observing every silly pose Trixie and Katya made, and little trinkets and wigs and the costumes they’re wearing on those shoots. I feel like I’m having a special photobook of the K-Pop artist that I like. 

(No, I never bought a K-Pop album before, nor a K-Pop photobook, so I’m just talking out of my ass.) 

I’m so happy that I have the chance to read this book until the last page, and I also feel grateful because this book is kind and takes care of me well. For someone who doesn’t like reading motivational or life-advice books like me, I can guarantee you that you will love and cherish this book so much, whether you like Trixie and Katya or not. They won’t judge your every inch of life, nor they will kick your asses for being you. I’m hoping that Trixie and Katya will write another book next time. Cheers to these two biological women!

[7livky]

Dionysus - Park Jimin

CHAPTER 7

I'm now in front of the door to the world The cheersI hear when I get up on stage Can't you see mystacked Broken thyrsus At last I'm reborn

- Dionysus by BTS

Diona's POV

Black hair like ebony, the hardest and highest quality domestic wood, of which the price could not be compared in any way. Small strands of hair that appeared in the layered haircut, which were difficult to see in this light and to assign to a colour because my eyes had not yet been able to get used to the  surroundings.

His movements resembled  those of a snake. He only had to use his waist very slightly and it  seemed as if his dancing, his body controlled the music - not the other way around.

With his almost wine-red tongue, he licked over his incalculable lips before he gave a dirty smile.

Yeah, dirty. Why? Because he knew he was insufferably sexy. Slowly but surely, he was  running down the stairs, step by step, meaning he was getting closer and  closer to all those people. I didn't want to look at him anymore. His presence brought me nothing but breathing problems and a dry throat.  Following him was a big mistake.

Oh, really? And at home?  Wouldn't you have done the same there? Looking at photos and watching  videos of him for hours until you had engraved him deep in your mind?

I shook my head. "Be quiet", I replied and quickly closed my eyes.

Am I losing my mind? When did I start talking to myself? Since when did I dream every goddamn night and hallucinate the next morning?

Since those seven files were opened.

Now I understood them. The fans. They weren't called that for nothing.

ARMY.

Whether danger exists or not, they would not only stand in front of the boys as if they were  their protective weapon, but they would also cover their backs so that  they would not have a single scratch burning on their skin.

Only one week since I was trapped in their world and I already couldn't find a way out.

Usher's voice suddenly stopped echoing across the room, it was dead quiet. When I opened my eyes, my breath was taken away.

His pupils were the first to meet my own. He was standing in front of me. In front of my feet. I gasped.

A dark steam formed around his figure when no one could get closer to him. Except me. My  head bowed against my will without the courage to look at him.

"Diona,"

And in that precise moment, my heart stopped pumping blood into the vessels.

"ancient Greek Dionysia,"

His hand around my neck, his lips on my ear. Like this. This is how he spoke,

"who consecrated to the god of wine, Dionysus."

No, no, no, no, don't phunk with my heart

In a matter of seconds he grabbed my hand and I found myself with him in the center. Turning me  around, he hugged me from behind.

I wonder if I take you home Would you still be inlove, baby

"Welcome to my world", he spoke up while the music was getting louder. When I felt his hot  breath on my ear, my cheeks heated up like lava. He turned me quickly  before our eyes met.

"A world of madness and ecstasy." He went through his straight hair, he then showed around. But my eyes followed his lips and voila! There it was. That familiar half  smile.

From my dream.

Girl, you know you got me, got me With your pistolshot me, shot me And I'm here helplessly In loveand nothing can stop me

I licked over my lips after grabbing the drink from some girl's hand and drinking it all at  once. The alcohol kicked out like a shotgun, so I just dropped the empty  glass.

When Jimin saw this, he burst out laughing so loud that his eyes became very tiny. " I think I  know that one from somewhere", he grinned after looking at the broken pieces on the floor.

You can't stop me once I start it Can't return meonce you bought it I'm coming baby, don't got it Solet's be about it

Two other attractive men appeared behind him, one of them dancing up on Jimin. Jungkook. I raised my eyebrows. Did that really just happen? And why... did I find that scene in front of me absolutely fantastic? Jimin grabbed him by the  neck and pulled him up. Strangely enough, Jungkook didn't even flinch.

No, no, no, no Don't phunk with my heart

The person with the pink mane shook his head as he looked at them and then at me. "Hey",he  yelled across the crowd that kept us apart every second.

"Suga, right?"

This one didn't think once about making a nice gesture. No. He was cold as a rock. "The one in  the benzer who's tired of life. Right?"

I nodded. He was absolutely right.

Just by waving his hand  for a moment, a waiter was already standing next to him, handing him the  beer. "Excuse me. Could I have a neat whiskey?" He blinked at me in  confusion, but left as soon as Suga told him to go.

My mind, my soul and my body could no longer contain themselves. I knew it wouldn't take long  before I would abandon my actions to my feelings. No thinking, no fear, less shame. These would be the consequences.

By the time the waiter came back with my drink, the three had already disappeared. There was a dense atmosphere in the club, the people had already lost their sobriety and my best friend was no longer to be found. He was probably in the bathroom, having his own fun.

"Fuckboy", I growled before chugging again.

"Please, not again!"

Huh?

I hadn't even noticed  that the worker was standing next to me the whole time. He immediately caught the glass that I wanted to see on the floor, completely shattered. With an unpleasant smile, he ran away from me.

"Mmm." I sighed trying to ignore the pressure down below. I hated my weak bladder. With wobbly legs, I stomped down the stairs on my heels. My toes were throbbing like hell when I ended up in a small corridor. My vision got worse with every step I took, the walls were moving back and forth. They were so thick that you couldn't hear one percent of the music from the hall, as usual.

While searching for the word 'toilets' I found something else at the end. At the end of the  corridor, there was a bright light shining in my face. I covered my face with my hands before I went blind. This time the light shone up to the  ceiling. Curiously, I raised my head.

A God who does not simply play his game with people, but who sets his life to free people  from their tight fetters - through ecstasy.

Author's POV

"Hmm" ,he groaned while filling his glass with wine. "More I need more." Because of his sweaty body, his top stuck to his skin, exposing his muscles under the red light.

3:17 a.m.

"Not yet" ,Jungkook mumbled, standing up and leaning his trained arms on the backrest,  looking down at the excited people. "What have you done with her  friend?"

Jimin scratched his neck, but so hard that the spots on his skin took on a reddish color. „Me? Nothing. But two others who are giving him pleasure."

Jungkook turned around. "Then where is she?"

"She found it" ,Suga hurried up the stairs to the VIP seats while he played with his silver  chain. Tired and exhausted, he let himself fall onto the black leather  chair.

Jimin was already standing next to Jungkook to look down. Just as his hands let go of the  compound, Jungkook grabbed him. "Will you..." ,he looked at him with concern, "be able to keep it under control?"

Once he thought of her eyes, the bass stopped beating to the tempo of the music that was  playing. It took the beats of something else. The organ that he would lose because of her if he kept thinking about her.

In this case Jungkook already knew the answer and only looked after him when he ran away. He  sat down with his older brother, grinning at him. "Nice necklace", he said after a while. He knew how uncomfortable Yoongi felt about  compliments and he enjoyed seeing him like that.

"What would ARMY say at this point?"

When he uttered that name, they both felt a pressure in the chest. It still hurt them.

"3 dollars", they both cackled at the same time. A laughter that was mixed with sadness.

"Where", he cried as he tried to walk properly, "has my beauty gone?"

It was so hot that his entire body was glowing. He observed himself in one of the infinite  mirrors and ripped up his top with full force. He smirked at his  reflection and walked on.

Like a leopard, he crept through, looking for his prey, which was lurking somewhere nearby. He put his hair back to reveal his forehead and perfectly plucked brows.

"How dare she just disappear!" ,he screamed though no one could hear him.

All of a sudden, he heard two female voices, coming closer. "I bet you Taehyung will kill  himself soon because he can't bear the oh so sad farewell to the stupid  fans."

Jimin's veins popped out. Without batting an eye, he grasped her.  "One wrong word", he  hissed as he pressed her against the wall, "and I'll turn you into an ugly creature that will breast-feed wild animals, rip live bulls apart or tear her own son's head apart. Got it?"

Tears began to form in  the eyes of the girl who tried to free herself from his grip. He had to  control it. He shouldn't harm someone. But the only thing that calmed  him down could not be found.

"Mr. Park!" One of the bodyguards ran up to them and waited for his command.

"Get the hell out of  here" ,he was still screaming against her mouth, breathing heavily. "If I  ever hear you talk about my family like that again, you'd better dig  yourself a ditch, six feet deep and bury everything that you've ever  said. Cause Army is everywhere and they wouldn't forgive you that easily."

Diona walked like a penguin towards the sink to wash her hands. Then she pulled down the  zipper of her dress, took her lipstick out of her bra and applied the dark red colour. "Do I look like a clown? Or do I look like a zombie?"

Both.

"Whatever," she shrugged, stumbling all the way out. She had no chance to suppress her  laughter and rubbed her butt, which now hurt.

"Let go of me! Didn't you hear me?"

When she heard noises,  she immediately tried to get up. Standing in the corner like a  decorative plant, she waited until the crying girls had left.

"Why does it feel like I've been in this lobby for two hours?" ,she muttered and wanted to go back to Jongsuk.

But something pulled her back.

"What the-"

This smell seemed very familiar to her. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, the fact that she had been longing for his scent since the first time they met was no lie.

They closed their eyes and enjoyed their closeness as she sat on his lap. With every breath,  she felt the air from his little nose touching her neck. Fireworks reigned in her stomach, tingling arose in her hands and later all over her body.

"Hmmm" ,he hummed when he took in her fruity sweet aroma. His bare chest touched her back on which he saw her goose bumps.

"What kind of movie do you think you're in?" Diona suddenly got up.

Squinting his eyebrows,  he stared into her blue-green eyes. He didn't move a muscle, merely moving back and forth on the little couch in the lobby.

"Diona, the one consecrated to Dionysus, huh?" ,she crossed her arms. She then bent down slowly so that there were only inches between their faces. "And let me  guess... You must be Dionysus?" She giggled briefly. "What a beautiful dream you have."

Jimin bit his full lower lip, which tasted of red wine, and stood up while she was too drunk not  to be fixed on his naked upper body.

"A dream?" He played with her honey-colored hair. "But didn't you.." , he began by running his index finger along her collarbone, "..dream about me yesterday?"

And there they were again. Tied up feelings. Not a single sound she could make.

How? How does he know?' was what she wanted to ask, but couldn't.

"Weren't you the woman on my bed who said.." ,he lifted her chin up so she could look into his dark eyes,

"Do we get drunk at midnight and kiss until our lips burn?"

[iprincezzinuyoukai]

ToMco Week, Summer Week, Day Six: Zoo Trip

I've only ever been to the zoo once and I was an infant. I only have photos of that trip.

Notes and Warnings: Have you seen a short film on YouTube called 'Hybris'? You should see it, it's really cool.

Misunderstandings

If someone had told Marco that life in the Underworld was like being an artist he probably wouldn't have agreed to stay with Tom and his family for a whole week.

The news that the Prince's fiancé – Boyfriend, Marco told them when some reporters had approached but they ignored him – Finally stayed to live in the palace scattered throughout the Underworld. There was no paparazzi that tried to have exclusive news with who was now a celebrity.

Marco only hoped that none of them would find out he was a human, because he had come disguised as a demon thanks to Star, or he would have a lot of Underworld reporters harassing and rolling his house and school, and not even talking about what their parents would say, they would probably be delighted with the news but would say something about at least wanting Marco to have a college degree.

“Ugh.” Marco hit the head of the table.

He and Tom were having breakfast together, Tom's parents had had breakfast before and they retired the moment they arrived... Marco thinks they still don't consider him worthy of someone for Tom.

“Forget it, Marco.” Tom smiled at him tenderly, “They are only falsehoods.”

“How do you want me to forget it? They make me look like the bad guy in the story.”

In the Underworld newspaper the headline read 'Our acclaimed Prince Tom's fiancée might be having an affair?'

“If I hid myself that time it was to talk quietly with my parents and if I speak so affectionately it's because the puppies missed my voice.” Marco explained on the verge of an attack of exasperation.

“I know, Marco. You don't have to explain it to me. We both know the truth. My dad says it's best to ignore them as they do with us. He once told me that they stopped writing about mom the day they got married.”

Tom's parents. He will be able to prove that he really loves Tom – With Tom's father there was no problem, strangely Abaddon seemed to start accepting him, but Tom's mother was a little more inquisitive and if not a little more like her son as well as Lilith's mere presence intimidated him.

“I'll stay here locked in four walls.”

“But you wouldn't have the chance to show everyone that you are not what the celebrity newspapers say about you.”

Marco raised his face slightly, looking at Tom, “Where would we go?”

“To the zoo.”

☽✠☾

The fauna and flora in the Underworld was very different from that of Earth, although when he finally tasted the ice cream from the Underworld it was like an explosion of flavors on his palate so Marco asked Tom to show him some of the most delicious fruits. Tom had taken him to one of the greenhouses where Marco saw a diverse amount of trees with a great variety of fruits.

Marco liked the orange so Tom handed him one that looked similar. When Marco ate one of the segments of the orange it was a great feeling and even thought if there was possibility of taking some of these fruits to Earth but Tom told him that it was very highly probable that the trees wouldn't bear fruit.

However with the fauna things were very different. On his first visit Marco discovered that unlike everyone else believed, dragons weren't pets or simple animals, they were considered a sacred race, so it was strictly forbidden to have one held against their own will.

Instead the other animals were different. They were like a kind of hybrid combinations of animals known on Earth. Yet Tom told him that some of the animals on Earth looked weird as he was more accustomed to seeing them in his own way.

“Marshmallow is not a rabbit completely.” Tom explained while paying for his entry ticket to the zoo, Marco was more concerned that no journalist would follow them. “It may have the appearance of a rabbit but under his fluffy fur his skin is that of a salamander. How do you think he survived so long with me?”

“Where will we go first?”

“I'd like to take you near the pond if that's okay with you.”

“Sure.”

Flamingo camel, Flamel, that was the rare combination of a bird and a mammal they had in the zoo, was an animal with the body of a camel but completely covered with pink feathers and instead of the head of a camel was the head of a flamingo. The herd or flock of the flamels were on the water and unlike their avian counterpart on Earth they were on four legs but walked slowly. Marco wondered if they had wings.

“There is a definition on Earth for creatures like them.” Marco said, “Chimeras. Because it's a varied combination of animals.”

The next place where Marco took him was to a dome where they were given a coat when they entered.

“I thought you said there was no snow in the Underworld.”

“In fact not in this part of the dimension but in a dimension close to ours was found snow and many demons who had never before experienced a Winter are allowed to go.”

When they entered, the cold hit his cheek with such force that if he hadn't been in his demon form, he would most likely have died frozen. Inside the dome it was like a kind of mini-Antarctica.

Tom took him by the hand and directed him on a bridge where one of the demons seemed to be throwing something. Marco noticed that they were too long fish. Finally at the edge of the bridge Marco looked down and saw something that perhaps surpassed all the tender and harmful creatures that came out of Star's wand.

Small killer whales the size of a penguin, or rather, the whole body of a penguin but the head of an killer whales.

Tom brought an iron bucket toward Marco. “Feed them.”

Marco slipped his hand into the bucket and pulled out what was effectively a long eel-like fish and threw it at the curious, tender animals.

Two killer whales caught the fish at both ends and began to fight each other to gain most of the fish. Then a third killer whale appeared and split the fish in half, the other two killer whales went to follow it.

“Come with me, you will like this part.” Tom took him by the hand and they left the dome giving the coats.

Marco read the words Aquarius in one of the sections of the zoo.

As he had already thought, instead of water, it was lava where the fish swam. There was one who drew Marco's attention completely. It was a shark swimming elegantly and it was spectacular to see it moving in that way, so a pair of wing-like fins appeared on their sides.

One of the zookeepers approached them to talk to Tom for a moment.

“Marco,” The prince of the demons spoke, “I have to see something, don't move from here.”

Marco saw Tom and the other demon walking away, Tom seemed worried, did something happen? He hoped it was nothing serious.

Scrach.

Marco turned to hear a sound. There was a curious creature, a lemur with snake skin... Or was it a chameleon? Well it was some rare mixture of three animals but that didn't prevent his curiosity didn't grow and will try to approach the lemur. However, as soon as it saw him with great agility it slipped and ran with Marco followed until he reached a door.

Marco was about to take the doorknob when clearly he could read that the symbols represented a clear example of 'Do not pass'.

Clock.

Marco turned to see Tom back to his side.

“Wow, calm down, Marco.” Tom came over to his side, “What are you doing here? I thought you were still in the aquarium.” Tom escorted Marco out of the way.

“I just saw a lemur and I started following him. I'm sorry, I still don't quite understand your alphabet, where was I?”

“Near a greenhouse, fortunately you didn't go in, it is a jungle-like habitat and you only allow the tour with a guard.”

“And why did they call you?”

“One of the guards had said that a coguar had escaped and now that you mention the lemur out of its habitat... I'll have my father do an inspection.”

“Hey Tom, were there any journalists near us?”

Tom shrugged, “I hope not, besides, what can they misunderstand from this date?”

☽✠☾

Exclusive: Prince Tom's fiance is a bad influence!

According to external sources our Prince's fiancé was about to enter the greenhouse on his own. Sources close to us informed us that they knew the adolescent before he date –

"I must say that they used a good angle on your face.” Tom read the newspaper while Marco refused to come out from under the blankets.

[artofpeacelove]

When the outside is off limits, you run out of of fun and fresh things to do inside. Like once you’re down readjusting your schedule in between fits of power sobbing, you just get bored by the monotony of your scenery. I remember when I first realized this would be a problem, when my roommate told me, “I feel like we need to download TikTok.” “No, we’re 29, Amber,” I said. “Not even in an apocalypse.”

This was three weeks ago; you’ll understand that it was a different world back then.

1. Tie-dye your old T-shirts

Getting in touch with tie-dye will (literally) add some color to your drab existence.

2. Make friendship bracelets

Keeping on that summer camp train, friendship bracelets can ease you in a state of flow (and make for celebratory “We made it!” gives for when you reunite with your buds).

3. Learn a new card game

Blackjack? Poker? Go Fish?

4. Play a new virtual game with friends online

America is under Animal Crossing’s soothing lure right now, but we’re also very partial to these games you can play remotely with the whole damn gang.

5. Host a cocktail making competition

It could be virtual or it could be in your own home, but let’s see who gets the most creative with the ingredients left on their bar cart!

6. Put together outfits with the clothes you never wear

If there comes a day when you’ve exhausted black sweatpants—and I respect that some of you live there now—test out some of the lesser-used garments from your closet. You might find some hidden gems!

7. Learn how to French braid

Fishtail is fine, too, but this slumber party hairstyle is great for when you need to remember a simpler time.

8. Remove your split ends

Don’t cut your own bangs, we’re not that deep into quarantine for that kind of judgement call, but you can fix split ends safely without going hack-happy.

9. Become a ballerina

Has it always been your secret dream? Break the tights and tutu out, because there are about a gazillion online ballet classes that can make you feel like a regular Swan Queen.

10. Sew face masks

Even if homemade faces masks won’t directly protect from the coronavirus, they’re a kindness with a practical, ultimately prosocial use: they can stop you from touching your face.

11. Take a crash course in positivity

Hell, get an Ivy League joy degree with Yale University or University of Pennsylvania.

12. Get in touch with your birth chart

Learn how to read your natal chart and decrypt the nitty gritty of your star-sanctioned personality.

13. Do some purge-writing about something that’s frustrating you

Chances are you have some grievances right now. Get out a piece of paper and some wacky colored pens and blergh out all of your negative emotions. Look at a few days later and then put it through the shredder!

14. Take a virtual tour of a museum

Even if you’re not going to Paris in the spring like you planned (le sigh) you can still take a stroll through the Louvre or any number of venues to get a culture fix.

15. Redecorate your house with witchcraft

I actually gave my apartment home makeover with witchcraft last year and would highly recommend! I mean, there’s bad juju all around us and you might as well make your space a sanctuary while you’re stuck there.

16. Have a romantic solo date

I was pioneering enjoying being alone way way before it was…mandated by the government, so here’s my night-in take on my solo date idea: pour some wine, make your favorite (cauliflower) pasta, light some candles, and crank up the Frank Sinatra. You can decide if you want to take yourself home (lol) later.

17. Have a kitchen dance party

Do dance parties as much as possible! Do it with your partner! Do it with your long distance friends! Do it with yourself if you need to! Just do it!

18. Upgrade your daily stretch with laughter yoga

Head to YouTube to give yourself some lols, no downward dog required.

19. Watch the adorable penguins at the Bronx Zoo grow up

Wildly specific but there are two baby blue penguin chicks at the Bronx Zoo right now and your girl is following their every MOVE. Incidentally you can also take a virtual tour of the zoo, and heads up, there’s snow leopards!

20. Hula hoop for exercise

As the office’s resident Mrs. Maisel, hula hooping is the best form of exercise in the world, and we all should be doing it.

21. Make a gratitude jar

Write three things you’re grateful for every day and put it in the jar—highly beneficial if you’re quarantining with family and trying to not be at each other’s throats.

22. Interview yourself

Just sent my roommate a bunch of soul-searching questions, really get to know who you are and what you love about yourself.

23. Take your self-pleasure to the next level

We know times are tight, so we have some affordable sex toys, and household items you can use in a pinch.

24. Dye your hair a cotton candy color

If you’ve ever felt self-conscious or like you couldn’t pull it off, you know… f–k it. I’m rocking Manic Panic hot pink as part of my go-to isolation aesthetic.

25. Write letters to pen pals

Make a new senior friend in a nursing home or pen love letters to your long distance (read: housebound a few miles away) sweetie. Just because we can access everyone through technology doesn’t mean people don’t want written words to hold onto (don’t worry, mail is most likely safe).

26. Upcycle your old clothes

If you’re not really into a modern day hippie aesthetic, there are other ways to reinvent and repair your old threads.

27. Make some whipped coffee

I can’t lie, it looks delicious and worthy of all the Instagram love.

28. Declutter your entire home

You’re already disinfecting like crazy, go full Marie Kondo while you’re at it.

29. Dust off your grandparents’ old recipes and give them a whirl

Pull out the index cards and even Zoom them in while you’re cooking them (unless they’re like, gone, which is still a good reason to recreate YiaYia’s avgolemono soup.

30. Ask your parents to tell you a story about their childhood

I don’t know, even after a full year of “Ok Boomer,” we do feel very protective and loving towards our parents during this crisis.

31. Explore some of the most beautiful National Parks in America

Until you can explore them in person, this go for a virtual nature walk.

32. Fill every inch of your house with daffodils

Or whatever flower you find fitting, bring the outdoors indoors!

33. Read the entire Baby-Sitters Club series

During Zoom happy hour we played a trivia game, and you know who crushed the Baby-Sitters Club series? Your girl. There are 131 books total, so either check back in with Kristy and the gang for the nostalgia factor, or literally read this ridiculous YA series as a bizarro adult project.

34. Do absolutely nothing

Lol, I mean, that’s going to be a first for some of you! Enjoy the moment of sitting there and being idle!

35. Do an online workout with pop icon Cher

I mean, you can definitely do a more dignified online workout, but I’m going to start my morning with Cher’s 1980s hot dance.

36. Try out a new kind of meditation

Maybe a grounding root chakra meditation or a compassion meditation.

37. Take a bath with all the trimmings

Bath bombs, bubbles, salts, if you’ve upgraded from your garbage apartment to somewhere nice, indulge yourself.

38. Watch a movie remotely with your crush

The Netflix Party extension can help you there!

39. Redecorate your desk space

I mean, you might as well jazz up your home office while living that WFH life.

40. If you’re partnered, have an hour long make-out sesh

I’m sure your boinking like crazy, but why not kick it old school and simply enjoy kissing?

41. Spend about a trillion hours on Pinterest

Fill your feed with literally everything you love!

42. Practice a new language

There are plenty of language apps available to train you for when we can travel again.

43. Start teletherapy

It might feel weird at first, but transitioning to virtual therapy could be really worth it in this high stress time.

44. Make a playlist of absolutely flawless jams

Or check out this masterpiece editor Jessie Van Amburg blessed us with.

45. Bake banana bread

Sure, why not, everyone else is doing it.

46. Give tarot card readings, regardless of whether you know how to read tarot

I find it’s kind of funner to wing it, but here’s some simple tarot tips if you really want to learn.

47. Finally get into Podcasts

Hell, even make one if you want to, it’s the end of the world, babe.

48. Do some living room miles

Get your steps in with meditative walking.

49. Make a “Me Altar”

This is basically just a collection of items that worships the awesomeness of you, whether that’s a polaroid from a day you looked amaze to some rose quartz crystals

50. Have a Zoom brunch date with your best friend and be extra petty

Just like back in the good old days when you were overpaying for avo toast.

51. And a coffee date with all your work wives

Because the Zoom Happy Hours don’t really give you quality catch up time.

52. Get yourself a new toy

This $20 vibrator will serve you well in isolation.

53. DIY your usual manicure

If you were a former salon queen, we have some tips on how to do it the right way.

54. Organize your old photos in a photo album

To remember the good old days.

55. Watch all of Buffy the Vampire Slayer

It’s a show that features nothing but how to survive apocalypses, so now is the time to start if you haven’t already.

56. Order and install a bidet seat

Toilet paper is over.

57. Download TikTok

Ew. I mean, if you want.

This all being said, it’s okay if you’re not feeling your most productive right now. And if you’re social distancing alone, this is how to recreate human touch. 

from Good Advice – Well+Good https://ift.tt/2UGV4Uw via IFTTT

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

[freehealthguider]

How Sneakers, One of This Year's Coolest Books, Came to Be

How Sneakers, One of This Year's Coolest Books, Came to Be

Talk with any devoted fan of sneakers and odds are they’ve probably got an amazing story to tell you about how they snagged each of their favorite pairs. That passion is at the heart of a new book, simply called SNEAKERS. Written by Alex French and Howie Kahn, with design by Rodrigo Corral, the book is full of stunning imagery and dozens of incredible tales that knit together every aspect of modern sneaker culture.

The team of three spoke with Men’s Journal about the importance of those personal narratives, how the book came together, their earliest sneaker memories, and what it was like to talk with Serena Williams, Kobe Bryant, and the other boldface names who helped the book come alive.

Courtesy of Penguin Random House

What was the most interesting thing you learned while researching the book?

HOWIE KAHN: The thrill of writing this was how many surprises and moments of extreme interest came up along the way. They happened daily. To learn that one of the most accomplished sneakers designers in the world, Tiffany Beers (at left), got her start designing lids for Pringles potato chip canisters was a fascinating moment. It speaks to coming of age and personal development and how far people can get when they truly activate their talents. Tiffany recently took a job at Tesla, so now we’re seeing people from footwear really getting a crack at shaping the future outside of what’s on your feet. That will happen more. And NASA figures into the book in two different places. The idea that designing footwear can exist in the same category as the space program shows how ambitious this world really is.

10 Sneakers That Are More Expensive Than A Car

You guys have spoken about how your approach to writing the book shifted and changed throughout, ultimately deciding to really focus on personal stories. Was there a specific person or story that was the catalyst to move the rest of the project in this direction?

KAHN: What changed, which is what should and must change while writing on a topic for a couple of years, is the overall depth of understanding. We really came to internalize the idea that every shoe, or every part of every shoe, is connected to a series of decisions, to the tension surrounding those decisions and ultimately to a story that resolves it. The greatest sneakers solve a problem—they’re an object lesson in resolving tension. Their essence is narrative. So, the deeper we got into it, the more and more we sure we became about the idea of SNEAKERS being about people first and foremost.

Courtesy of Penguin Random House

You were able to get some really interesting people, from Bruce Kilgore (the creator of the Air Force 1s), all the way to Kobe Bryant and Serena Williams. Who were you most surprised to get and who did you want to speak with that you couldn’t?

KAHN: It’s not that there was an element of surprise. Celebration, sure. It’s amazing when you get a “yes” back from Serena Williams, but Serena is also one of the kindest and most generous people around, so she’s just sticking to form. Overall, we got a great response. We proposed to all the people in the book that we were out to write the greatest sneaker book ever, one focusing on their stories and one coming from a place of respecting their creative, technical and personal contributions to this world. We wanted it to be emotional for them; we also recognized that people wanted to be in this book. In large, sneaker stories exist online. But, at their core, sneaker people are people who care deeply about objects. It’s one thing to be on an Instagram feed, even with a million followers. It’s another thing, and maybe a deeper one, to be in a book like this. People in the book have now been asking for an extra copy for their mother, so they’re proud to be in SNEAKERS. All that said, wrangling interviews is a craft. Each one took plenty of time to land, especially because we targeted subjects with huge careers and packed schedules. But, all in all, we got who we wanted. We do have a list in development, though, in case there’s enough interest for SNEAKERS 2.

The Story Behind the Rise of the Sneakerheads

Rodrigo, how did the book’s overall design came together?

RODRIGO CORRAL: As the contributors content started coming into the studio, we quickly realized that the shoes they talked about and the stories they told were too important to live inside a rigid template. Instead, we approached each chapter and contributor individually, giving each one custom art, photography and illustrations for readers to explore.

Courtesy of Penguin Random House

Can you describe the collaboration process between you, Alex and Howie?

CORRAL: Alex and Howie drove a lot of the access and provided amazing content. They made intros so we could work directly with the contributors. We would take those relationships and fly out to Portland for private photo shoots with Nike execs. Howie and Alex’s content came in flurries, and it acted as an amazing springboard to keep us inspired and creating strong visuals.

The Most Famous Sneakers in Film

What was the hardest part of the book to design for you?

CORRAL: It was a lot of work. We were very ambitious and wanted every contributor to have unique illustrations, art, or photography. We also had to locate, travel and shoot many of the sneakers they talk about. As the chapters started coming in and we were climbing to 300 plus pages, it started to feel like we were crazy for trying to make each chapter so custom.

The cover is instantly striking. How did you land on that particular design?

CORRAL: Sneakers means so many things to so many different people. I don’t want to explain SNEAKERS away visually, but it also can’t be too conceptual. It needs to grab your attention and then let you make it personal. You know which shoes are inside the white box, I’m don’t want to fill that space for you.

Courtesy of Penguin Random House

What’s your earliest sneaker memory?

HOWIE: Not being able to fit into the earliest Jordans because I was in kids’ sizes and they weren’t making them in my size, at least not where I could find them. So, I’d buy the smallest size I could find. My feet would be lost in them, but I felt like I could dunk.

ALEX FRENCH: Walter Payton’s signature shoe. I was probably seven when they came out and I had to have them.

CORRAL: I was a basketball kid and I wanted a pair of Air Jordan 1s. Of course my Colombian parents wouldn’t spend the cash, so they bought me a pair of JOXS instead, super embarrassing. It’s also my earliest memory of knowing I was going to have to work hard to get what I wanted in life.

The Complete History of Air Jordan from 1984-2016

What sneaker do you covet the most?

KAHN: I’m going to stick to my conviction here that, for me, it’s about the stories first. I love my Mars Yards. Tom Sachs, the prolific contemporary artists worked with the scientists who worked on the Mars Rover to make them. They’re amazing-looking shoes and I feel lucky to have a pair, but I feel that way because the story behind them is so resonant to me. It’s Chapter 24 in the book and it’s about exploration and deep research and going into the field to find answers. It’s about the risk in creativity and it’s also about making mistakes. And learning from them. These are human themes. You don’t need to be a sneakerhead to be pulled in. The whole book reads like that. Whether or not you care about shoes, the stories will speak to you.

FRENCH: Daniel Bailey’s NASA shoe. The one he made with Android Homme. I am also deeply in love with a small LA-based company called No.One. Their shoes are so beautiful. I will also very likely lose my mind in February when Nike re-releases the Jordan 3 in black!

CORRAL: That’s always changing. I still want the Mars Yards 2.0, but couldn’t make the Governors Island event happen. Tom, if you’re reading – I’m size 10.5!

Courtesy of Penguin Random House

What is it about sneakers that has made them so prolific?

KAHN: Sneakers are powerful because they’re so personal to people. They’re both accessible and cool. They’re sophisticated, but they maintain a kind of innocence. It’s hard to think of another object that resonates that much with its audience. The closest comparison is maybe the iPhone, but people who love their iPhones won’t buy a new one every week. Sneakers are perpetual.

FRENCH: And the Internet. There are so many daily sneaker resources and so many releases. It’s so easy to get sucked in.

CORRAL: Most everyone wears sneakers at some point and with so much great design, it’s become an opportunity to reflect your identity or even how you’re feeling that day.

Sneakers is now available for purchase online or in a bookstore near you.

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[whatsonforperth]

Not the apple of his eye: Steve Jobs' daughter recalls a complicated man

Lisa Brennan-Jobs today. Some of her fathers more disturbing behaviours were, she insists, just awkward. Photo: Frances F. Denny/The New York Times Normal text sizeLarger text sizeVery large text size When Apple co-founder Steve Jobs told his daughter Lisa Brennan-Jobs that the Apple Lisa computer was not named after her, it was not a cruel lie to a little girl, she insists he was teaching her "not to ride on his coat-tails". When Jobs refused to install heat in her bedroom, he was not being callous, she says he was instilling in her a "value system". When a dying Jobs told Brennan-Jobs that she smelled "like a toilet", it was not a hateful snipe, she maintains he was merely showing her "honesty". It's a strange thing to write a devastating memoir with damning details but demand that these things are not, in fact, damning at all. Yet that's exactly what Brennan-Jobs has done in a new memoir, Small Fry. Thanks to a dozen other biographies and films, Apple obsessives already know the broad outlines of Brennan-Jobs' early life: Jobs fathered her at 23, then denied paternity despite a DNA match, and gave little in financial or emotional support even as he became a god of the early computing era. Small Fry is Brennan-Jobs' effort to reclaim her story for herself. The backdrop to her raw depictions of life with and without Jobs is 1980s Silicon Valley, where artists and hippies mixed with technologists, ideas of how to build the future flourished, and a cascade of trillions of dollars was just beginning to crash onto the landscape. Brennan-Jobs navigated a childhood on welfare with her mother, artist Chrisann Brennan, and an adolescence ensconced in her father's wealth. In passage after passage of Small Fry, Jobs is vicious to his daughter and those around her. Now, in the days before the book is released, Brennan-Jobs is fearful that it will be received as a tell-all expos, and not the more nuanced portrait of a family that she intended. She worries that the reaction will be about a famous man's legacy rather than a young woman's story that she will be erased again, this time in her own memoir. On the eve of publication, what Brennan-Jobs wants readers to know is this: Steve Jobs rejected his daughter for years, but that daughter has absolved him. Triumphantly, she loves him, and she wants the book's scenes of their roller skating and laughing together to be as viral as the scenes of him telling her she will inherit nothing. Brennan-Jobs' forgiveness is one thing. What's tricky is that she wants the reader to forgive Jobs, too. And she knows that could be a problem. "Have I failed?" she asks. "Have I failed in fully representing the dearness and the pleasure? The dearness of my father, and the outrageous pleasure of being with him when he was in good form?" Advertisement

Lisa with Steve in 1987 at her mum Chrisann Brennans house. Photo: Courtesy of Lisa Brennan-Jobs After university, Brennan-Jobs left the United States to work in finance in London and Italy; she later shifted into design, and then freelance writing for magazines and literary journals. Now 40, she has long avoided publicity. She has never been profiled, and she has carefully eluded most of her father's chroniclers. (One exception: screenwriter/director Aaron Sorkin, who called her "the heroine" of his 2015 Steve Jobs biopic.) Brennan-Jobs says she did not trust Walter Isaacson, who wrote the definitive, mega-selling biography of her father in 2011. "I never spoke with Walter, and I never read the book, but I know I came off as cold to my father and not caring whether he felt bad," Brennan-Jobs says, sitting in Cantine, a vegan-friendly cafe in Brooklyn's Carroll Gardens neighbourhood. "I was devastated by it. "I felt ashamed to be the bad part of a great story," she continues. "And I felt unresolved." And so in Small Fry, she seeks to resolve some of that shame by describing how her childhood unfolded, who key characters were, why it all happened. Brennan-Jobs went back to Silicon Valley and interviewed her family, her friends, her mother's ex-boyfriends, and her father's ex-girlfriend. In her childhood, the region had been green with eucalyptus and full of garage hackers. Now it is the greatest wealth-creation machine in the history of the world, and Jobs remains its towering hero. Brennan-Jobs began work on what would become Small Fry not long after her father's 2011 death. Years into writing, she felt rushed by her publisher, Penguin Press, and feared being "tarted up" and made to take advantage of her father's legacy. She wanted to be with a smaller publisher who would work with her and give her more time, and switched to Grove, taking what she says was a 90 per cent cut in her advance. (A spokesperson for Penguin declined to comment.) One result of the delay is that Small Fry is entering the public conversation at a time when, across industries, formerly disempowered or ignored women are having their say about powerful men. A memoir by Steve Jobs' first-born was always going to be a publishing sensation, but Brennan-Jobs has inadvertently timed hers to land when the public is even more attuned to marginalised voices and when many are having darker thoughts about the world Jobs created with his attention-devouring devices.

Lisa, 3, with her mum Chrisann,who she calls a mercurial, hot-tempered free spirit. Photo: Courtesy of Lisa Brennan-Jobs Advertisement None of that, of course, was imaginable when Brennan-Jobs was born on May 17, 1978, on a commune farm in Oregon. Her parents, who had met in high school in Cupertino, California, were both 23. Jobs arrived days after the birth and helped name her, but refused to acknowledge that he was the father. To support her family, Chrisann Brennan cleaned houses and used government assistance. Only after the government sued Jobs did he agree to pay child support. Small Fry describes how Jobs slowly took a greater interest in his daughter, taking her skating and coming over to her house for visits. Brennan-Jobs moved in with him for a time during high school, when her mother was struggling with money and her temper, but Jobs was cold and had extreme demands for what being a member of the family entailed. The neighbours next door worried about the teenage Lisa, and one night, when Jobs was out, they moved her from his house and into theirs. Against Jobs' wishes, the neighbours paid for her to finish college. (He later paid them back.) Brennan-Jobs speaks today of "not wanting to alienate people" she loves, but acknowledges that her memoir might do just that. Aside from Jobs, all the central characters are very much alive. "I hope Thanksgiving's okay," she says. Her mother is portrayed as a free spirit who nurtured her daughter's creativity, but could be mercurial, hot-tempered and sometimes neglectful. "It was horrendous for me to read," Brennan says. "It was very, very hard. But she got it right." Jobs' infamous venom is on frequent display in Small Fry. Out one night at dinner, Jobs turns to his daughter's cousin, Sarah, who has just unknowingly offended him by ordering meat. "'Have you ever thought about how awful your voice is?" Jobs asks Sarah. "Please stop talking in that awful voice." He adds, "You should really consider what's wrong with yourself and try to fix it." Brennan-Jobs describes her father's frequent use of money to confuse or frighten her. "Sometimes he decided not to pay for things at the very last minute," she writes, "walking out of restaurants without paying the bill." When her mother found a beautiful house and asked Jobs to buy it for her and Lisa, he agreed it was nice but bought it for himself and moved in with his wife, Laurene Powell Jobs. Advertisement

With Chrisann in the early 1990s. Photo: Courtesy of Lisa Brennan-Jobs Brennan says her daughter has, if anything, underplayed the chaos of her childhood. "She didn't go into how bad it really was, if you can believe that," she says. But Small Fry also contains moments of joy that capture Jobs' spontaneity and unparalleled mind. When Brennan-Jobs goes on a school trip to Japan, he arrives unannounced and pulls her out of the program for a day. Father and daughter sit, talking about God and how he sees consciousness. "I was afraid of him and, at the same time, I felt a quaking, electric love," she writes. "When I started writing," Brennan-Jobs tells me, "I didn't think he'd be so interesting on the page, and I was almost frustrated that he pulled so much gravity." After Brennan-Jobs moved in with Jobs as a teenager, he forbade her from seeing her mother for six months, as a way to cement her connection to his new family. At the same time, Jobs shifted from neglectful to controlling. When Brennan-Jobs was getting increasingly involved at her high school, starting an opera club and running for freshman-class president, he got upset. "This isn't working out. You're not succeeding as a member of this family," Jobs says in the memoir. "You're never around. If you want to be a part of this family, you need to put in the time." To appease her father, Brennan-Jobs transferred to another school that was closer to her father's house. She persisted in becoming editor-in-chief of the school newspaper. Her mentor there, a journalism teacher named Esther Wojcicki, says Small Fry is a faithful account. "The dialogue that she had in there between her and Steve was just exactly right," Wojcicki says. "The book is a gift to all of us." Early copies of the memoir have circulated among family and friends. Powell Jobs, her children and Jobs' sister, Mona Simpson, give this statement: "Lisa is part of our family, so it was with sadness that we read her book, which differs dramatically from our memories of those times. The portrayal of Steve is not the husband and father we knew. Steve loved Lisa, and he regretted that he was not the father he should have been during her early childhood. It was a great comfort to Steve to have Lisa home with all of us during the last days of his life, and we are all grateful for the years we spent together as a family." Advertisement

Lisa today: Turn the awful package on its head, and it reveals something kind of glorious, she says. Photo: Frances F. Denny/The New York Times On a hot August day in Brooklyn, Brennan-Jobs and I walk to her studio, a small apartment with brick walls she painted white and a bamboo floor she painted black. While writing Small Fry, she tells me, she covered the mirrors around her work space with paper. "I don't like catching myself in the mirror," she says, "because it's like 'Oh, self.'" Brennan-Jobs says she's nervous about how she'll be described physically in a profile, so I ask her to use her own words. "My face is uneven," she says. "I have small eyes. I wish I had dimples, but I don't. I think right now I look jowly." I interject to say she has delicate features, and freckles, and is about five foot two, with slightly reddish brown hair. "My nose," Brennan-Jobs replies, "is not particularly delicate." She is deeply self-deprecating, saying she's horrified to be doing "a celebrity memoir". She says she's sure The New Yorker will not review the book, and that years ago, her first meeting at her publisher Grove only occurred because Elisabeth Schmitz, the editorial director, was doing a favour for a mutual friend. "My first thought on being pitched the book was, 'I don't do this kind of thing. I don't know how to publish a celebrity memoir,' " says Schmitz, who has acquired literary memoirs like naturalist Helen Macdonald's H Is for Hawk. But something about Brennan-Jobs' writing made her reconsider. "From the first page," she says, "her language is fresh, surprising, unpredictable." I've read it, and her writing really is compelling. Brennan-Jobs takes the same linguistic knife to herself as she does to others. She writes with disgust about using anecdotes from her childhood to elicit sympathy from others, and she is ashamed to have dropped her father's name during an interview to get into Harvard. On August 1, Vanity Fair published an excerpt from Small Fry under the digital headline "I Have a Secret. My Father Is Steve Jobs". A few nights later, Brennan-Jobs called me, worried. She hated the title, and on social media, readers were feasting on the more savage details of her account, especially the "toilet" comment. "He was telling me the truth," Brennan-Jobs tells me, adding that the rosewater perfume she wore had turned. "I wasn't aware of it. Sometimes it's nice of someone to tell you what you smell like." Advertisement It was another uncomfortable reminder that even though Small Fry is Brennan-Jobs' story, one written in a precise, literary style, her father's myth looms so large that she cannot control how her words are received. When choosing a narrator for the audio version, she nixed the ones who spoke his lines too harshly or without humour. So much of Brennan-Jobs' effort with the memoir seems to be to show how brutal Steve Jobs could be and, in doing so, to reclaim that brutality for herself. And how she wants to reclaim it is to love it. "You get your inheritance, delivered in a lump of coal or whatever in a sort of awful package," she tells me at one point. "And you have to take a lot of time to turn the awful package on its head, and it reveals something kind of glorious, and then you're set free."

Steve, who could be fun as well as cruel, with Lisa in the early 1980s. Photo: Courtesy of Lisa Brennan-Jobs If Brennan-Jobs is alarmed by the reaction to the toilet-water excerpt, she may be unprepared for what happens when readers encounter more disturbing material. Several times in Small Fry, Jobs engages in what seems like inappropriate affection in front of his daughter. Brennan-Jobs describes him embracing Powell Jobs one day, "pulling her in to a kiss, moving his hand closer to her breasts," and up her thigh, "moaning theatrically". Brennan-Jobs tried to leave, her father stopped her: "'Hey Lis,' he said. 'Stay here. We're having a family moment. It's important that you try to be part of this family.' I sat still, looking away as he moaned and undulated." Brennan-Jobs emphasises in this interview that she never felt threatened by her father, and that to her, these scenes show he was "just awkward". This kind of display was not an isolated incident, says Brennan-Jobs' mother, who described an upsetting, sexualised conversation between Jobs and their daughter in her 2013 memoir, A Bite in the Apple. One evening, Brennan writes, she let Jobs babysit nine-year-old Lisa. When Brennan came home early, she found Jobs with the girl, "teasing her nonstop about her sexual aspirations", "ridiculing her with sexual innuendos" and "joking about bedroom antics between Lisa and this or that guy". Brennan, in her memoir, describes feeling scared for her daughter that night, and wanting to place her body between them and get out of there. "I will be clear," Brennan writes. "Steve was not a sexual predator of children. There was something else going on." Still, after that night, Brennan tells me she tried to make sure there was "a chaperone" when Jobs was with his young daughter for long hours. "He was so inappropriate because he didn't know how to do better," Brennan says. In her book, she characterises Jobs as "on a slide whistle between human and inhuman". One afternoon in August, as Brennan-Jobs and I talk in her kitchen, she makes a juice of dandelion greens, pineapple, turmeric and ginger roots. She eats an extremely healthy diet and knows it mirrors her father's, which veered into esoteric California wellness trends, even as pancreatic cancer took over more of his body. Brennan-Jobs has a husband, Bill, a longtime Microsoft employee now launching a software start-up. He has two daughters, aged 10 and 12, and he and Brennan-Jobs have a four-month-old son. As she drinks her juice, Bill is nearby with the children, and there's an easygoing energy in the house. "I see my husband and the way he is with his daughters, responsive and alive and sensitive in ways my father would have liked to be," Brennan-Jobs says. "My father would have loved to be a man like that, and he surrounded himself with men like that, but he couldn't be." Decades after his child-support lawsuit, Jobs erased his paternity again. Small Fry notes that on his corporate bio on the Apple website, the detail-obsessed chief executive was listed as having three children. But, of course, he had four.

Steve Jobs in 1984. Photo: Alamy The most public torchbearer for Jobs' character and legacy is Powell Jobs. With an inherited fortune of some $US21 billion ($28.6 billion), she has engaged in philanthropy and launched the Emerson Collective, an organisation that pursues liberal political activism and for-profit investments, and owns a majority stake in The Atlantic magazine. Powell Jobs plays a somewhat "tonic note" in Small Fry, Brennan-Jobs says. Her stepmother brings her into family photos, for example, but many of the descriptions of Powell Jobs are biting. Brennan-Jobs tells me she gave Powell Jobs "the best line" in the book. It appears in a scene where Powell Jobs and Jobs go to a therapy session with a teenage Lisa. Brennan-Jobs cries and says she feels lonely and has wanted them to say good night to her. Powell Jobs responds to the therapist: "We're just cold people." Toward the end of Jobs' life, he finally apologised to his daughter. Brennan-Jobs calls it her "movie ending". In the book, she writes that Jobs says he is sorry he did not spend more time with her, and for disappearing during her adulthood, forgetting birthdays and not returning notes or calls. In reply, Brennan-Jobs says she knows he was busy. Jobs answers that he acted the way he did because she had offended him. "It wasn't because I was busy. It was because I was mad you didn't invite me to the Harvard weekend," he says in the book, referring to a matriculation event. He also cries and tells her over and over again, "I owe you one" a famously articulate communicator unable to summon the basic language of contrition. Brennan-Jobs may be experiencing a kind of author's remorse as her book makes its way toward store shelves. But details as lethal as these they sink into Jobs' legend like daggers to the hilt are more proof than any DNA test that she is her father's daughter. Ultimately, Jobs left his daughter an inheritance in the millions, the same amount as his other children, and she is not involved in the allocation of his financial legacy. If she was in charge of his billions, she says, she would give it away to the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation a curious twist given her father's epic rivalry with Apple's arch-nemesis. "Would it be too perverse?" she asks. "I feel like the Gates Foundation is really doing good stuff, and I think I would just hot-potato it away." Brennan-Jobs says she wrote Small Fry in part to figure out why he withheld money from her even as his wealth ballooned, and as he spent it more freely on the children he had with Powell Jobs. She says she now sees it was about teaching her that money can corrupt. The ethos "felt true and kind of beautiful and kind of enlightened for somebody like that". The question was "why he would have taken that value system and applied it so severely to me". "You can have a value system and be unable to totally live it," she adds. "And you can imagine being that rich and famous and how amazing it is if you can hold on to some of your value system. He didn't do it right. He didn't apply it evenly. But I feel grateful for it." Brennan-Jobs tells me she likes toying with the strange power of being a memoirist writing about trauma because the reader knows she made it out okay. She is here in the privileged position of writing this book, after all. And as a memoirist, even a reluctant one, she gets the final word. One night toward the end of Jobs' life and the end of the book he is watching Law and Order in bed. "'Are you going to write about me?'" he asks Lisa. She tells him no. "'Good,' he says, and turns back to the television." Small Fry by Lisa Brennan-Jobs (Grove Press, $30) is out on September 12. Edited version of a story first published in The New York Times. 2018 The New York Times. To read more from Good Weekend magazine, visit our page at The Sydney Morning Herald or The Age. https://www.watoday.com.au/technology/not-the-apple-of-his-eye-steve-jobs-daughter-recalls-a-complicated-man-20180903-p501gj.html?ref=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_source=rss_feed

[thefifthdayjournal]

 i like your tights, sarah: atrocity boy meets austin collings

photography by steve hunt

Austin Collings is an author who narrates the stifling ambivalence of Northern life; Atrocity Boy documents debauchery usually relating to the Mancunian label Sways. The following encounter was first published in a chapbook sold at The White Hotel in Salford – here it appears in digital form for the first time.

- - - 

It all starts rather ominously, late one Friday afternoon in August. Right now, the people of this city should rightly be spilling out of offices and schools into sun-drenched beer gardens and parks; but this is Manchester, England, and the place has lapsed into unseasonal self-parody, sulking under a pall of grey skies and heavy rain. The tram network has ground to a halt. Commuters stare up at the departure boards, muttering of suicide.

I’m on my way to meet Austin Collings, the author best known for co-writing Mark E. Smith’s gleefully acerbic memoir, Renegade. Austin is also a friend and I’m not entirely sure what to expect from tonight. He initially greeted the idea of an interview with customary enthusiasm. ‘Brilliant!’ he said, when I put it to him. ‘It’ll be like when Ted Bundy represented himself in court!’ While getting one-liners out of him won’t be a problem, my worry is that I should be aiming to reveal the real Austin Collings: the man behind the James Joyce specs. In interviews you’re supposed to dig beneath the surface of your subject. But Austin is deeply uncomfortable with conversations that are in any way coloured by human emotion, his stock response being to wrinkle his brow and shake his head, ‘We’re not on The Jeremy Kyle Show, pal.’

As the replacement bus dawdles down Oxford Road I get twitchy. I picture him sitting in the pub on his own, supping his pint lugubriously: an image which in fact perfectly encapsulates his latest collection of stories, The Myth of Brilliant Summers, and their pervasive sense of disappointment, solitude and dole queue gloom. Like Austin right now, it’s a collection that’s longing for company.

The interview eventually takes place in a city centre flat in a room lined with foreign paperbacks and art objects. Girls congregate in the kitchen, dressed in black and drinking gin. Austin sits down on the lingerie pink chaise longue and picks up a copy of Vincent Van Gogh’s Letters from the coffee table.

‘The sadness will last forever,’ he quotes. I nod my head, getting the reference. ‘A bit like soy sauce stains.’ I furrow my brow. ‘That’s why I bought Helen this.’ He waves the book in my direction. ‘Because of the soy sauce. I put soy sauce on her bed.’ The operative word here being put.

Throughout the interview Austin laughs regularly and with gusto. The darker the subject, the louder the laugh. His conversation oscillates between brutal sincerity and sincere self-mockery, keen to get his points across but never wanting to seem overly self-important. His face is pure pantomime, schoolboy-like and cartoonish. As we talk, our host’s tiny black and white kitten, Dante, climbs over us, biting our arms and leaping from person to person: a social butterfly not at all in keeping with his Catholic namesake.

I begin by asking Austin if he can remember how he got the original idea for the collection.

Austin Collings: The first story was written when I was doing a book with George Shaw, the artist, back in 2011. He was up for the Turner Prize at the time. So I’ve had the title, at least, for a while. The idea was to write about people from underprivileged backgrounds but without wallowing in it. You try and elevate the situation, document it seriously. There’s a more personal side to it as well. I see it as an exorcism of feelings and places … Maybe at the end of all this I’ll turn green and start vomiting!

Atrocity Boy: Again … The location of the stories is something I wanted to ask you about actually. You don’t really know where or when most of them are set. The landscape seems to be northern and generally bleak, but there’s a sense that the things you’re writing about could happen anytime, anywhere.

Austin Collings: I think I’ve nicked that from Blue Velvet. That film was released in 1986 but it could be 1956 or 1976. There are all these different timeframes … And I guess if you absorb all these films and books and cultural references, you’re never really sure what time it is anyway … Especially when you drink heavily.

[Sips rum and coke.]

Hopefully, it has the feeling of a particularly jarring hangover.

Atrocity Boy: It’s interesting that you make that film reference. The book will obviously be categorised as a collection of stories but they’re not really stories in a way. They’re more like episodes, fragments.

Austin Collings: The idea was to make it feel like the opening of a film, over and over again. I don’t see what the problem is with that. It’s always the best bit, isn’t it?

Atrocity Boy: What about music? Do you see any parallels between music and your writing?

Austin Collings: Not really. I find it very interesting that nowadays bands and writers continually talk about how they were influenced by great writers and great bands. Obviously, in talking about them, they want to suggest that they themselves are of that quality. But for me, it’s not about that. It’s not even about the songs. Music is about the characters. Smith is fascinating, like a sci-fi character. It’s like he’s just been beamed down from Mars! The music is terrific. The Fall are probably my favourite band. But only since the book have they become that. I just like the way that certain people did things … I liked Oasis! I thought they were funny. It’s theatre, isn’t it?

Atrocity Boy: I guess you probably want to steer clear of talking about literary influences, then, but the subject matter of these stories reminds me of early Ian McEwan, especially First Love, Last Rites, with all these deprived English towns and vulnerable children … And the way the writing puts you on edge.

Austin Collings: There was a lot of paedophilia where I grew up. They’ve knocked down the houses now so it’s all hushed up, like they knock down serial killers’ houses. But you’d always see a car pull up … There’d be about five or six Datsuns or Fiats or Escorts outside and you’d see some bloke with his arm around Belinda. What annoyed me was that these were the girls who I wanted to get off with! But these older blokes were getting off with them. And the parents didn’t really mind. They didn’t bat an eyelid. I’d say it was rampant … There was Mr Davenport who was the Design and Technology teacher. He said, ‘I’ll help you put your apron on.’ And he’d just come over and put his arm round the girls. Obviously, you’re looking, and you can see the bra through the see-through cotton shirt, and at the time I really fancied them, or some of them — some of them were hideous … You’ve not seen my school photo have you?

Atrocity Boy: I don’t think so.

Austin Collings: I used to dress like a bit of a dandy. I’d wear Chelsea boots and if you look at this school photo you’ll see me at the end. I’m looking in completely the opposite direction, thinking not only do I need to get out of this school, I need to get out of this photograph … I liked films like Billy Liar. In my mind, I’ve been doing this interview for years. I’d always think about the interviews I was going to do in the years to come and the films I was going to make and who was going to be in them, so when I hit it really big I’m going to go for it! I’m going to buy a massive mansion in LA with a cock-shaped swimming pool!

Atrocity Boy: So, fame and fortune, is that why you write?

Austin Collings: Of course! I’d love this book to sell loads, like Fifty Shades of Austin Collings! I’d be very satisfied if there were women walking down the street doing what they do to Mötley Crüe, lifting up their shirts, having a grope. Letting me have a grope … Obviously I’m joking, but I was brought up without any money in a particularly chaotic background and a very dark place. And writers rarely talk about things like poverty, needing to make a living … Not that this is a nostalgic thing.

Atrocity Boy: Does nostalgia comes into it?

Austin Collings: I don’t mind nostalgia.

Atrocity Boy: Neither do I. Some forms of emotion have got a bad name: nostalgia, sentimentality, shock … Writing is always derided when it’s seen to be done just for shock. That’s the cliché. But I like being shocked. It’s hard to do these days. I don’t see why it’s become the lowest common denominator. It’s one of the things I value about art.

Austin Collings: I think that’s what early McEwan was getting at. The thing about shock is that it’s memorable.

Atrocity Boy: So is nostalgia. They’re both playing on memory in a powerful way.

Austin Collings: This interview is starting to feel more and more like a particularly turgid episode of The Culture Show.

Atrocity Boy: But I’m still trying to understand where your writing comes from. You once told me that Mark E. Smith said he wrote ‘out of spite’. What do you write out of?

Austin Collings: It was my friend John’s birthday the other day. He came back to mine and I nearly killed him by taking him up the hill. He was sweating heavily. I had to make him two cups of tea with four sugars in each. That was his birthday! He said, ‘It doesn’t matter what you read, out of anything that you do’ — and I’ve never really thought about this — ‘there’s always a sense of wonder, no matter how dark it is.’ I like that description of it. And I don’t really want to explore it any further. It’s the only magic I’ve got. Everything else I can fathom out. I’d rather leave it mysterious to myself.

Atrocity Boy: For someone whose last book was published by Penguin, it seems like a brave choice to go with an unknown publisher, Pariah Press, for this one. The Myth of Brilliant Summers will be their first book. Can you explain the thinking behind that decision?

Austin Collings: I love it. I think it’s a naturally awkward or contrarian part of me. I like the underdog. I like the idea of being outside the mainstream.

Atrocity Boy: Isn’t there a part of you that wanted to go with a bigger publisher?

Austin Collings: They wouldn’t have touched it! It’s very hard to market. The stories aren’t particularly satisfying, in certain ways. As my former agent said about an unfinished novel I was working on for a while called Windows, it’s ‘unashamedly literary’.

Atrocity Boy: Was your decision also connected to the fact that Pariah is based in Manchester rather than London? Did that make you feel more at home?

Austin Collings: No, no, it’s not that clinical. I used to live in London and I like parts of it, but some of the people … They use the phrase ‘dumbing down’ but it isn’t dumbing down, it’s being educated wrong.

[The girls walk past, ready to hit the town.]

Are you all learning from this?

[Silence.]

Atrocity Boy: I like your tights, Sarah.

Sarah: Thanks.

[Exeunt the girls.]

Austin Collings: They’ve been educated, they’re aware of postmodern editing techniques. I’ve been amongst people like this and they know how to construct a programme like Big Brother. It’s brightly inhuman! I don’t think they believe in themselves and nor do they believe in other people. A lot of people have gone through the British education system but there’s been no great experience for a long time. I think the last great test for most of us was school. And that’s why you’ve got this huge swathe of mindless TV programmes. It reminds of that Larkin line. They said to him: ‘How does it feel to be out of the centre?’ And he says: ‘The centre of what?’ You’re not in any centre are you? You’re being told that you are but it doesn’t matter to me. I could be in Middlesbrough.

Atrocity Boy: But that’s Larkin’s point. It was a deliberate thing, living in Hull. He wanted to write from that outsider position.

Austin Collings: He saw Ted Hughes as the opposite, didn’t he? The line was: ‘Never trust a poet in a leather jacket!’

Atrocity Boy: Apparently he had a photo of Ted Hughes in his toilet.

Austin Collings: [Laughs.] I think it’s about instinct. Writing is about instinct, publishing is about instinct, music is about instinct, a feel: you know when you meet someone and there’s something amiss … I’ve always trusted my instincts. I knew when to get out of college, for example. I’d read Bukowski as a teenager and I knew that I’d enjoy myself more working on a fish market and earning eighteen quid. I liked not being in college when I should’ve been. I was at the shopping centre and I’d be in Waterstones, hanging around, having a cig … I think that’s why the footage of Jamie Bulger resonated so much. When you see that footage of them kids … It was the first time we’d seen CCTV properly, on the news and in the papers. I’d like the book to have the power that that footage of Bulger had. I know that sounds disturbing — or it might to some people — but with crime scenes you only get snippets of the stories.

Atrocity Boy: Why did you lead into that from saying that you liked hanging out at Waterstones?

Austin Collings: Because it reminded me of being at college, when I was in the shopping centre. I always think of that footage of Bulger … I’d like to write stories that are fiction but which have the quality of hard fact.

Atrocity Boy: But to do that wouldn’t you have to change your writing style? Because at the moment it is ‘unashamedly literary’.

Austin Collings: Documentary is quite stylised though. In the same way that Ulysses tries to capture a day, I’d like to capture a second … I’ve always had this sense of great injustice too. Maybe that’s part of it. I went to see In the Name of the Father at The Cornerhouse when I was thirteen. I’d always really feel the pain of the IRA … My Dad is called Michael Collings, by the way.

Atrocity Boy: Really?

Austin Collings: His mother is one of thirteen. She was left on a doorstep. It might come from that.

Atrocity Boy: Is the collection autobiographical, then?

Austin Collings: Well, yes, of course, to a degree. You’ve got the whole school period … But it’s not totally autobiographical. I admire B.S. Johnson. I like the way he wanted to write something incredibly modernist but he was incapable of it and ends up being heartfelt and emotional, almost in spite of himself. A lot of people see modernism as austere and cold but even with Beckett, I find it very emotional … I’d like it to be a generous book. I’d like it to be a mate to people.

   VORTEX

A Story by Austin Collings

 -

 He seemed to live daily in the shadow of disaster. He couldn’t shake the darkness. The rolling waste of days. Knuckles on the door that made his nerves scream.

He looked for messages in the street, in children’s speak:

‘We’re not allowed to spit in our garden,’ the boy said.

‘She’s got blood on her laces,’ the girl said.

‘You know a boy called Angel?’

‘Yeah. That's what his Mum called him.’

They walked beneath the green gloom of trees dressed in yellow and black school uniforms. He saw them as bee children with airborne auras. They made him smile. He wished them all the best, but never said this to them. He knew the dangers.

He saw truth in the dirty alleys of the human pysche, saw its sun circles and thunder and felt its force. God is the storm, he’d say to himself, silently, tragically traipsing through the glow of Aldi or Tesco, irritated by barcode bleeps, fascinated by faces.  

Each day he searched eagerly for offers, for stickers plastered across cut-price meat. This sight excited him. There were times when he’d happily steal. He felt the solitude of crime. Make sure nobody is looking. Seize the moment (there’s always one in a day). The gold cup, the stolen steak. Second prize, wine. Together, victory for the night. Exit without paying. Grip the food and feel the sensation of success as you flee into the tunnel that leads to the quiet of the old people’s home.

Recently he’d become obsessed with the forecast. Tomorrow’s weather. He longed for strong sun. It made him feel powerful. Holes had started appearing in the roads. Sink-holes. The online news blamed the heavy storms. And then there’d been a sound ‘like a UFO’ in the skies above the town, ‘a loud pulsating, bass noise’ that ‘seemed to move’.

The world is turning.

In digital music he heard people’s panic and angry desperation. He yearned to disappear. Only ghosts can live between two fires. The pub was the centre of his circle. He hid in alcoves. Something out of childhood whistles through these spaces. The special anguish of youth.

He stood for the invisible, for personal courage, for bygone traits — or this is what he told himself — though he wasn’t so sure people ever thought like this, even in the truly hard times, when they were forced to eat grenades and watch bullets enter their own and other people’s bodies.

Still and all: bravery in a rotten climate is hurriedly buried, he thought, and so I must balance this while I’m part of this earth.

 He entered The Railway. Betty behind the bar was diminishing. The taps were taller than she was.

‘What can I get you?’ she said.

Those words. Healed again.  

He found his alcove, placed his food and pint on the gold textured table. Four men in front of him sat listening to another man read carefully from a newspaper. In-between speaking this man would pluck and eat from a huge bag of Quavers with his huge fingers.  

‘Two ethereal shapes appearing in the clouds ...’

Wiping Quaver dust from his lips, he continued:

‘... possibly beginning of transporter/transport invasion.’

Things from another planet.

And then a big and fat silence transformed the pub. All the men stopped talking.

He took a small sip of his pint and put it down quick, like touching a flame. Were they now looking at him? Were they now asking his name? He was worried now — deeply worried. He could tell them him his name. He would tell them his name. He knew that. I’m ______. The voice was the problem — which voice to use?

     All photography © Steve Hunt 2016 

Aesthetics © Cléon Thétéll  

The Myth of Brilliant Summers is available to buy for £9.99 from all good and bad bookshops and direct from the Pariah Press store at pariahpress.com.