#why does the silly little sitcom make me so so so sad | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

leotssukinaga · 4 years ago

Text

Friendship Bracelet

Makoto Yuuki x Reader

A/N: I literally dont know where this fic came from, it just popped into my head a few hours ago and now its here. Disclaimer that I don’t know Yuuki that well as a character so I’m not entirely sure how well I wrote him. This ends so cheesy but its cute so I stand by my choices Summary: Makoto and you have been best friends for years, even when you couldn’t see each other often your friendship held firm. There’s just one issue... Makoto doesn’t know if it’ll survive the romantic feelings he’s developed for you. Tags: Fluff, teeny tiny bit of angst, cheesy as hell, childhood friends to lovers Word Count: 1.7k

Makoto wasn't sure whether to smile or frown as he stared at the bracelet adorning his wrist, fiddling with it with his other hand. It was a little worn, though you could hardly see where he'd had to mend it when he caught it on that fence last year and it snapped, but even after 4 years of wearing it constantly the colours were as bright as the day you'd given it to him, the green heart embedded in the blue standing out as much as ever. It had been on his mind a lot recently- or rather, what you'd said when you gave it to him had.

You hopped up to him at lunch time, a sad sort of smile on your face. He knew why. You were graduating middle school in two days, and you weren't going to the same high school. You'd admitted to him a few weeks before that you were scared to face the world without him, that you didn't want him to stop being your friend just because you didn't see each other every day. He'd been a little too embarrassed to admit that he felt the exact same way. "Hey, I made you something. It's a little silly but... I want you to wear it all the time, okay? So that even when you're old and you can't remember your own name, you'll have a reminder that once upon a time, in middle school, we were best friends." He grinned as you showed him the blue friendship bracelet. He didn't even know you knew how to make them, but he admired your handiwork and held his wrist out for you to tie it on. It was only when you'd done so that he was the green heart you'd sewn onto it. "Not just in middle school," he reassured you, "just because we're going to different high schools doesn't mean I'll forget about you."

He'd been right, too. The two of you were in your third year now, and your friendship was as firm as ever. Of course, the different high schools situation had changed once Yumenosaki had opened up the producer course and you'd transferred (something you hadn't told him until you surprised him on your first day there), but even in your first year he'd cycled over to your house every night he had free. You'd always fussed over how he had the energy to do that, with how strenuous idol work can be, but he was insistent that you didn't worry about him too much. And now you were at Yumenosaki, he walked you home every day, just like he had in middle school. He was grateful for your ongoing presence in his life, but recently... He wanted things to change. Not in the sense that he didn't want you around anymore- as if he could ever want that- it was more like he wanted to see you more, if that was even possible.

He'd often catch himself thinking about you in a way he didn't know he could- about holding your hand or waking up next to you, about how nice it would be to be your boyfriend. It was bugging him endlessly. How could he fall in love with his best friend? That was something that belonged in slice of life manga and cheesy sitcoms, not real life. Not his life. Not when you had so many better options out there than him, when half the guys in your year were vying for your attention for less than professional reasons- and he knew that every one of them was likely better suited to you than he was. "Hey, what's on your mind?" Makoto nearly jumped out of his seat when you appeared next to him, a concerned look on your face "O-oh! Nothings wrong, I'm fine." "I didn't ask if anything was wrong, doofus, but the fact that you answered like I did tells me you definitely just lied to my face. Cmon, out with it." "No really, I-I'm okay!" You frowned at him, pulling out the chair next to him and taking a seat. "When did you start hiding things from me?" "W-what?" "I feel like you don't tell me anything anymore... What happened to the Makoto who'd tell me everything, right down to how long it took you to eat your lunch? When did you stop wanting to share things with me?" You looked sad- heartbroken even- as you stared at your best friend. But that was just it. He'd always be your best friend, and nothing more. He'd thought he was okay with that, but he was beginning to realise he wasn't. "I don't know, I... I guess people just grow apart." He knew, the second he said it, that it was the wrong thing to say, and the tears pricking your eyes as you nodded and silently left the classroom confirmed it.

You didn't wait for him that evening. He arrived at the spot the two of you had used as a meeting place since you'd started at Yumenosaki and found nobody there. You didn't pick up when he called you, either, and the walk home was painfully silent without your company. He'd screwed up majorly, all because he couldn't stand to tell you he was in love with you. And he didn't know whether he'd be able to pick up the pieces or not.

But he knew he had to try.

This wasn't like him. Normally he'd call you before heading to your house, it was rude to drop by unannounced, but this time he didn't even think about it. (You'd likely not pick up anyway.) It wasn't until he turned onto your street that he even realised what he was doing, that he'd cycled all the way here without making a conscious choice to do so. Whether it was the fear of losing you forever or some miraculous bout of previously unfound confidence that saw him climbing the tree outside your window and knocking on it like some anime protagonist you guys would definitely make fun of together, he didn't know. All he knew was that when you opened the curtains you looked like you'd been crying- and that you shut them again the second you saw him. He slumped back on the branch he was sitting on, not ready to give up but feeling a little defeated, when he heard the door open below him.

"Makoto! What the hell are you doing up there?!" "I need to talk to you." "Ever heard of knocking?" "I didn't think you'd answer." "You could've tried! Ugh, will you just get down from there, please? I'm having horrible visions of you with your head splattered on the sidewalk." He nodded and made his way out of the tree, trying not to think about how cute it was when you covered your eyes so you wouldn't have to see if he fell.

"I...I didn't mean what I said earlier." "I know." "You do?" "Yeah! I mean, come on. I know you better than anyone- if that was really how you felt you’d wanna talk about it, give me the reasons. You’re always so gentle with people, even when you don’t like them." "When you didn't walk home with me today I thought maybe I'd messed up beyond repair." "I was upset. Even if you didn't mean it, it hurt. And you've been so distant lately. I don't wanna lose you. Ever." "I don't wanna lose you either." The way you smiled at him warmed his heart, but your next words put a knife right through it. "Good. You're stuck with me as a best friend forever, whether you like it or not."

Makoto couldn't take it. He knew he wasn't good enough for you. You deserved a boyfriend who could sweep you off your feet, not some dork who's only romantic knowledge came from manga. But... even if it was unfounded, he had to have hope. He had to tell you how he felt.

"Y/N, look, I- I need to tell you something." "What is it?" "I-" The words stuck in his throat. You stared at him expectantly as he tried to get them out, but they wouldn't go, no matter how much he stuttered. Now was not the time for him to freak out and forget how to speak. He'd cycled over here and climbed a tree, for God's sake, and now he couldn't even say what he wanted to. He couldn't help but think that this was why you deserved better than him. "Makoto? Are you okay?" "Yes, I just-” He took a deep breath before finally blurting it out, so fast you could barely make out what he was saying. “I'm in love with you and I have been for like a year and I thought I could be okay with just being your best friend- and if you tell me to shut up and never talk about this again then I will, I'll be happy to be in your life in any capacity- but I knew I couldn't live with myself if I didn't try, you know? You're just so perfect and I know you deserve better than what I can offer you and it's so stupid for me to think I have a chance in hell but-" "Makoto!" "Y-yes?" "Will you shut the hell up and kiss me already?" "I- what?" "Oh, I have to do everything myself, don't I?" He was still processing what you'd said when you pulled him in for a kiss, cupping his face gently with your hands. It took him a minute to come to terms with the fact that you were kissing him, but eventually he settled his arms around your waist and melted into it. You pulled away abruptly when something cold and wet landed on your forehead, squinting up at the sky. As if the night hadn't played out enough like some cheesy romance film, snow began to fall around you.

"I probably should’ve worn a coat, huh..." "Oh my god, come inside before we both freeze to death!" "Will your parents be okay with that?" "Of course they will, it's you." You reached for his hand to pull him inside, but stopped when you noticed something. "Hey... you're still wearing the bracelet." "'Course I am. You told me to wear it all the time." You grinned up at him, giving him a soft peck on the lips. "I guess that heart means something different now, though." Makoto's real heart swelled in his chest. Being with you was... Well, it felt like something out of a fairytale, or one of those dreams that waking up from upsets you because it's not real. "Yeah. I guess it does."

#💎 writes #makoto yuuki #yuuki makoto #enstars #ensemble stars #enstars imagine #ensemble stars imagine #enstars x reader #ensemble stars x reader #makoto yuuki imagine #makoto yuuki x reader

51 notes · View notes

romchomp · 4 years ago

Text

Happiest Season: a Defense of Harper

Before I watched Happiest Season I was aware of the criticisms being thrown it's way, one of the main ones directed at Harper.

Harper brings her girlfriend, Abby, over to her family’s for Christmas without informing Abby that she isn’t out to her family until the car ride there. Harper disallows her girlfriend the ability to truly have a say in going. From what Harper says in the car, she also seemed to have lied about coming out to her parents sometime back.

This is only a part of our introduction to Harper’s character, however.

The opening of the film is of Harper and Abby walking with what seems to be some sort of Christmas tour (I have no idea what those things might be called). Harper checks on Abby, knowing this isn’t something she’d normally like. Abby reassures her she’s fine and it isn’t that bad. Harper then, essentially out of nowhere, runs off over to the only undecorated house and decides to climb up to the roof. Abby follows along, voicing concerns she had no intent on listening to and neither did Harper.

From this you can see that Harper both wants to impress Abby and is alarmingly impulsive (and Abby is relatively passive).

The scene doesn’t stop there. Harper and Abby get chased off the random house, running away in a giggly mess, This is when Harper invites Abby to spend Christmas with her family, in the rush of a cute romantic moment. Yet another example of Harper acting brashly.

The morning after, Harper tries to get Abby out of going to her family’s for Christmas in a very passive fashion that makes it so it’s only obvious to the viewer and it’s not until the aforementioned car ride that she tells Abby she’s not out to her parents and asks Abby to pretend they are nothing but roommates (might I also remind you that Harper admits to previously lying about coming out already).

So two more characteristics of Harper are revealed: she avoids conflict until it makes a situation worse and lies to do so.

And these are traits of hers that are beat over the head of the viewer throughout the film and traits that are emphasized while around her family that undoubtedly are the source of these toxic traits of hers.

This isn’t to say these traits aren’t negative and don’t come with their negative consequences, but more that these were intentional character flaws in Harper because of its consistency. All the reasons people give as to why Harper was a bad girlfriend were correct, but they were supposed to be.

As soon as Harper’s family is introduced it becomes obvious that this is beyond Harper individually. And something I’ve yet to see is someone bring up how someone would react when being put back into an old toxic environment. It’s an environment that feeds into her worse traits and behavioral habits and I think she spends a lot of the film afraid to acknowledge that. Harper doesn’t outright speak about the pressure her family puts on her until Abby has her foot out the door.

Harper not telling Abby about her family, forcing Abby back into the closet was a really shit thing to do. It was. She fucked up. With Abby’s driving characteristic being passive, she agreed and didn’t vocalize her discontent until the second half of the film. Similar to the beginning of the film, Harper checks on Abby and apologizes over the inconvenience, but continues to move without Abby and with the expectancy that she’ll follow along. And Abby does...until the second half of the film.

Harper almost pays for everything she puts Abby through, and when Harper does come out to her parents it’s from one of her sisters and against her will. Harper denies it and Abby leaves.

Personally I think both of their actions in this scene were believable and expected. Harper’s sister announced not only to their parents, but to a large room of people that Harper was a lesbian. I remember feeling that sense of panic with Harper while watching. I also remember empathizing with the hurt of being put second by Abby.

Later on Harper’s parents think it was a rumor the sister made up, and it’s then that Harper clarifies that it wasn’t a lie and that she was indeed a lesbian. She tells Abby she did it, Abby says it’s too late- and that was reasonable on her part. I honestly would’ve been happy if the movie ended with Harper dealing with the heartbreak of losing Abby with her sisters, but that wouldn’t have made much for a fun Christmas movie now would it.

I do have problems with Harper. Just not about her actions as they are. Harper faces consequences and shows genuine guilt and sadness over her mistakes, but nothing about her character really changes. She doesn’t really learn anything- that pressure is all on her family. And that was good! The family realizing their problems and making a move to change was a good thing! But Harper should have had to change individually as well.

Something that slightly rubbed me the wrong way as well was that the homophobia from the parents was tied to no more than their obsession with image and perfection. Once they stopped doing those things they stopped being homophobic, as if homophobia isn’t normally deeply rooted and not attached to one singular value.

This is a movie, however. These sorts of topics can only be so nuanced in a Christmas comedy. I think the movie would’ve benefited from the outing happening a little earlier, though.

I’m surprised so many people seem to not like Harper considering her narrative is the focus of the film. It’s about her overcoming this barrier she has with her family. This is her story. If you don’t like her I find it hard to see why you’d like the film at all.

Happiest Season works really well as fun and simple Christmas sitcom and before we get into conversations about wanting a better queer addition in this genre that isn’t as problematic, I’d beg you to consider other holiday comedies and their problems. The flaws in Happiest Season aren’t unique. I understand that with limited queer films, expectations range from non existent to having no room for flaws. Let Happiest Season be the silly Christmas movie it is.

NOW...let’s add to the collection of lesbian Christmas romcoms with the next one being a fake dating one. To complete the set.

#i'm gonna refine this before i put it on my blog i think #happiest season #i dont know why this got so long dont roast me #so if you couldn't tell #harper was my favorite character #also there are definitely some typos in here

13 notes · View notes

taetaespeaches · 5 years ago

Text

“I'm pretty sure we just smashed your cowboy hat”

Taehyung x Reader (or oc)

Genre: fluff; light smut (I guess)

Word count: 6.9K

a/n: Here is what initially started as a quick scenario based on a request I got about going to the club with Tae, and turned into this nearly 7,000-word tension filled whatever this is. Can you tell my ass is fully whipped for Kim Taehyung? Basically a friends (uh kinda) to lovers fic where they go to a club together, feat. a silly dance scene. I hope you all enjoy! And as always, thanks for reading!

MUMBLED voices echoed on the opposite side of the door, the sources indistinguishable through the barrier. Looking down the hallway, you made clicking noises with your tongue, an expression of your impatience. With a sigh, you dug into your coat pocket, fishing for your lip balm. Pulling the cap off, you brought it to your lips as your other hand went to knock on the door for the third time. Just as you brought your hand forward, the door was pulled open hastily.

A winded Taehyung, dressed in a baggy t-shirt and a pair sweatpants, dodged your fist, eyes widening in surprise as you cocked your head. "About time," you huffed, stepping forward as he opened the door wider for you. Before you could recap your lip balm, Taehyung snatched it from your hands, applying it to his own lips. You tried not to gawk at his mouth as he did so, but come on, you're only human. And knowing just how good those lips felt... it was hard not to stare.

"Sorry, I didn't hear the door," he looked at you with childlike innocence. Damn him. Putting the cap on the tube of lip balm, he leaned over your frame, his lips dangerously close to your own as he dropped the tube into your coat pocket. “I’m just running a little late, sorry,” he apologized with a small smile. Grabbing your hand, he created some distance as he began leading you to his bedroom. Walking past the room next to Tae's, you spotted Jungkook leaning over Jin's body, both of their eyes glued to the desktop screen, some game claiming their attention as they both yelled to each other and the game. Running late my ass.

“Mm, running late,” you told him knowingly, causing Tae to look back at you, flashing you a guilty smile with a low chuckle. “You know you’re the one who wanted to go out tonight,” you complained as Taehyung smiled stunningly, amused. Hearing you walk past, Jungkook's head snapped to see you following behind your friend.

"Hey!" Jungkook called out, halting you and Tae. With his doe eyes on full display, Jungkook smiled as Jin took a quick glance at you, careful not to lose focus on his game, but calling out your name excitedly.

You waved, saying a quick hello, before Tae tugged you into his bedroom, leaving the other two men to shoot each other a suspicious look. Everyone was suspicious of yours and Tae’s relationship, but it didn’t seem to bother Taehyung, so you didn’t really worry about it.

“Are they the only ones here right now?” You asked Tae as he let go of your hand and you shut the bedroom door.

Making his way to the closet, he nodded, telling you, “Yeah, everyone else is gone for the night.” You hummed in response, making a mental note that the apartment was nearly empty for the entire night. It was just, uh, good to know.

Busying yourself as Tae sorted through his clothing, you spotted a book about Vincent Van Gogh’s artwork. Perusing through the pages, you only looked up when you caught Tae in your peripheral, standing in front of the mirror wearing a blue silk pajama set, sporting a cowboy hat atop his head of blue hair. Seeing your reflection in the mirror, your eyes on him, he turned his head towards you, quirked an eyebrow, and dipped his hat at you.

“Howdy,” he greeted in his low timbre.

"Absolutely not," you said bluntly. A smirk toyed on Taehyung's lips.

"What's wrong with this?" He feigned ignorance.

Rolling your eyes, you bit back a smile, setting the book back down on the desk. "A cowboy hat? The whole point is to be inconspicuous.”

"But I need the hat. My hair is blue," he took the hat off, running his fingers through the cool tinted locks, shaking it out. "That's not very inconspicuous," he teased.

Walking over to his dresser, you grabbed a baseball cap off it, stepping towards him slowly, running your fingers along the edges of the cap. Standing in front of him, you placed the accessory on his head. "That's better," you nodded.

Taehyung shot you an unsure expression as he placed the cowboy hat on your head, causing you to cock your head and smile at him. "Cute," he grinned, sending a rush of butterflies throughout your body. With the proximity of him to you, your heart raced, and to avoid the growing tension, you stepped away from him, plopping down onto the bed.

"Go get changed," you giggled as he bit his lip in frustration. "Silk pajamas aren't very inconspicuous either." Pouting his lips at you, he turned around to dig through his closet, taking his hat off for the time being.

The tension between you and Taehyung wasn’t new, but it was increasing more and more as you spent more time together. You and Taehyung were friends. Good friends. Friends who may have happened to make out a few times, you know, as good friends do.

In fact, the last time you saw him was a few days ago when you walked him to your apartment door at 1 am after you had just been straddling him on your sofa for a good portion of the evening. You were nearly ready to risk it all that night before Tae, with all his frustrating self-control, grabbed your face gently between his large palms and pulled your face from his, disconnecting your lips, giving you a sad smile. He whispered something about not wanting to fuck anything up as he guided you to set your forehead against his own.

You told him he was annoying with a playful glare and he chuckled, nodding his head in agreement. When he left, he bid you a farewell kiss before exiting down the hallway, leaving you in your blissful confusion.

Tae's humming from across the room pulled you out of your memories, bringing your focus to the man just as he slid the silk button up off his broad shoulders, his honey kissed skin exposed, your eyes greedily scanning across the expanse of his back. He remained shirtless as he pushed clothing hangers around, taking his sweet ass time searching for a top. Kissing your teeth, you shook your head, knowing exactly he what he was doing. Fucking tease.

"Tae, just pick one," you whined, pent up frustration.

"Don't call me Tae," he looked over his shoulder at you, a smirk playing on his lips. "It's Eagle Eye."

Staring at him blankly, you processed the name, confusion setting into your features.

"It's my code name," he smiled childishly. "You can be Peaches."

Pressing your tongue to the inside of your cheek, you tried to fight the amused smile but to no avail. "Eagle Eye, huh? You don't think that will draw some attention?" Tae's eyes widened in question, though a knowing smile appeared on his lips. "And Peaches? All you ever call me is Peaches, that's hardly a code name."

"Hey, I like Peaches," he defended with a fond grin and a small chuckle, turning around to face you straight on, drawing your gaze to his smooth, golden chest. “And so do you.” Dragging your eyes down his soft abdomen, you took in the sight of the small tufts of hair leading to the waistline of his silk pajamas. Taehyung's deep voice cut through your heavy daze, his tone full of amusement. "What are you thinking about, Peaches?"

The movement of your eyes from his body to his own knowing orbs was delayed as you struggled to pull your eyes away from his frame. Once your gaze met his, you let out a small "huh?" only for Tae to snicker, casting his eyes to the floor, looking up at you through his fringe. "Your thoughts?"

Shooting him a glare, you both knowing his effect on you, you crossed your arms over your chest. "Your code names need some work," you smirked. "And you need to take your pants off."

Taehyung looked a bit taken back before his expression turned more intense. "Don't tease," he stared at you through narrow eyes.

"Aw but you liked to be teased," you smirked just before lying back on the bed and pulling the cowboy hat over your face. Taehyung scoffed, staring at you for a moment before turning back to his closet.

With your face in the hat, you listened to Tae hum as the clothing rustled with his movements. "How about Lucy and Ethel?" You asked him, cutting his humming off. "For code names," you elaborated, sensing his confusion. The names came straight from the classic TV sitcom, I Love Lucy. You and Tae had stayed up late one night watching reruns, dubbing yourselves as Lucy and Ethel, the best friend duo who always got caught up in silly, ridiculous, and often outrageous situations together.

"As long as I get to be Lucy," Tae said with a smile that you couldn't see but definitely heard as you knew he was thinking back to that late re-run night fondly. You let out a breathy giggle as your heart swelled with affection for this man. "You can look now by the way." Lifting the hat off your face and throwing it to the bed, you angled your chin down, popping one eye open to peak at him. "What you don't trust me?" He smiled.

"Trust you? And why would I do such a crazy think as that," you teased as you sat up, opening both of your eyes and taking in his appearance. He was dressed in black jeans that hugged his thighs just right and were tore at the knees. The black button down that hung off his shoulders was done up all the way to his neck and you couldn't help the thought that invaded your mind, what a shame. Standing up, you stretched your arms over your head, Tae's eyes bouncing down to look at your body as you twisted your core from side to side. As he blatantly stared at you, you watched his long fingers tuck his black button down into the waist of the jeans.

As he reached for the black leather belt, pulling it through the loops in his jeans, he asked rather suggestively, "How do I look?" Nodding, pretending to be unaffected, you walked towards him. "I chose black so we could blend in. Inconspicuous." Looking down at your black cami tucked into your black high-waisted jeans, you smiled, now standing right in front of the man, your eyes glued to that pesky top button.

"I think you just wanted to match with me," you whispered as your hands moved to the collar of his shirt. A wide boxy grin spread across his face as he observed your features. Your fingers dragged down the collar, meeting in the middle, causing his Adam's apple to bob as he gulped. "You look great, Lucy," you smirked as his tongue swiped out, wetting his bottom lip as his mouth formed into an amused smile. "But we're going to a club, loosen up a bit, yeah?" Your fingers undid the top button, moving to the next one. Looking up from your hands, your gaze met his own, and the stunning asshole had the audacity to quirk his eyebrow at you.

"Take me out first before undressing me, Peaches," he smirked. Heat flushing your cheek, you lightly smacked his chest, a burst of giggles leaving Taehyung’s lip. Shaking your head with a groan, you turned towards the door only for Tae to wrap his arms around your waist in a back hug, pressing his cheek to the side of your head as laughter flowed from his pretty mouth right to the shell of your ear.

"That's Ethel to you, bud," you couldn't help the smile that overtook your features as he swayed you both side to side. Taking your hand in his, he unwrapped his arms from your body and lifted your arm, spinning you to face him again.

Booping your nose, making you flinch back with a groan, he flashed you a big close-mouthed grin. "My apologies, Ethel."

By the time you left the dorm, Tae was wearing the black baseball cap you gave him, and had added a nicely fitted jean jacket and black combat boots to his outfit, his face unfortunately but necessarily covered with a white mask.

As Taehyung made his way down the hallway to the elevator, he was pushing his back flat against the wall, holding out a gun as if he was some sort of spy. Amused but not surprised by his antics, you simply giggled as you watched him sneak down the empty hallway, hiding from all the non-existent people. Making your way to the elevator, you pressed the button as Taehyung stood with his back to you, still holding his fake gun up.

“Don’t worry, Peaches, I’m keeping watch,” he whisper-shouted to you as he attentively watched the still empty hallway.

“Tae, you’re supposed to call me Ethel,” you scolded him.

“Hey, you’re supposed to call me Lucy,” he turned to look at you, pulling down his face mask to sit underneath his chin.

“Oh, shit,” you giggled at yourself as Tae fought back a grin. As he peered down at you with a fond gaze, you felt the tension rising up again, the ding of the elevator’s arrival coming at just the right time to distract you from your good friend Taehyung.

As you turned to enter the elevator, Taehyung suddenly stuck his arm out in front of you to halt you, and then tumbled into the elevator with a somersault, popping up into a crouching position, holding out his fake gun again.

“What the fuck?” You asked in confusion as you burst into laughter. Taehyung bit back a stupid grin as he held his arm out to hold the elevator door open for you, slowly standing up and pretending to tuck his gun into the waist of his pants.

“The coast is clear,” he nodded assuredly.

Stepping into the elevator you locked your wide eyes with his, still laughing. “Yeah I would hope so, otherwise some innocent soul would have been subjected to whatever the fuck that just was,” you joked, making Taehyung break character with an embarrassed chuckle.

He reached over to press the ground floor button, your eyes following him, taking notice of the dirt that made its way onto his black clothing from his tumbling move. “Dammit, Lucy,” you complained as you stepped towards him, swiping your hands across his shoulders and back to rid him of the debris. “You’re a mess.”

“What?” He questioned in confusion, craning his neck to try to look at his back.

“You got dirt all over yourself Mr. Action Spy,” you smiled, finding his wide-eyed confused look utterly adorable.

“What the hell?” He continued his efforts to see his back. “Why is the floor so dirty?”

“Good question,” you replied. “Remind me again, how much do you pay for this most expensive loft in Korea?” you teased, mocking all of the reports of BTS’ pricey dorm, earning a small glare from Taehyung before his features softened.

“Is it on my butt too?” He asked you in feigned innocence. This little bitch.

“No, actually, it’s not,” you shut him down, holding onto your semblance of control. “And you’re done,” you patted the top of his back a couple times, making him turn around to face you, which his face was strangely close to your own all of a sudden. You could feel his breath fan across your face, and you whispered, “All clean.”

“You sure?” He smirked. “Did you get a close look?” You stuck your tongue to the inside of your cheek in annoyance. Not annoyance at him, but annoyance at his proximity without being able to just grab his face and kiss him. Could I do that?

With the way he chewed on the inside of his lip, you could tell he was struggling just as much as you were to keep in control. And that gave you a surge of confidence. “Are you asking me if I checked you out?”

Tae’s eyes widened in response for a moment, giving away his surprise just for a second before he coolly recovered. “Maybe,” he shrugged. “Did you?”

“Depends,” you told him as your eyes fell to his lips. “Did I check you out just now? Or did I check you out back in your room while you were rudely dragging out getting dressed?”

Tae’s mouth fell open just slightly at your question, his hand coming to rest on your hip as he pushed you slowly towards the back of the elevator until your back was pressed against the wall. With the touch of his hand on you, and the intensity of his gaze, you felt your body tingle in excitement. As Taehyung scanned your face, his eyes searching for any signs of dissent, the elevator dinged again, alerting you both you had reached the ground floor.

When the elevator doors opened, Taehyung lifted his gaze to the wall behind you, letting out a frustrated sigh. Reaching forward with one hand, you squeezed the side of his waist, making him look down to you. You gave him a small smile and he took a deep breath before returning it.

Leaning forward, he left a lingering kiss to your forehead, the small but sweet gesture sending both warmth and chills throughout your body. Reaching up to his face, you gripped the facemask that sat bunched underneath his chin, pulling it up to cover the lower half of his face.

“Shall we, Lucy?” You asked with a smirk as you slid past him, exiting the elevator, a groan echoing behind you.

As you approached the front doors, you felt Taehyung grab onto your wrist, pulling you back behind him. “Let me lead, ok? Just in case someone is actually out here.” The serious but gentle tone he used had your heart racing.

You couldn’t see but two feet in front of you because of how closely Tae led you behind him, your vision being blocked by his broad back. However, when his action was halted and sent you walking right into him, an abrupt bang sounding against the glass door, your eyes widened as you stared at the back of Tae’s head.

A small smirk formed on your lips at the realization that Tae had just rammed right into a locked door. Stepping to the side of him to check on him, you watched him as he rapidly pushed and pulled against the door handle, trying to get it to budge, his gaze leaving the door to meet your amused ones.

The lower half of his face was still hidden behind the mask, but you could see his eyes shape into crescents, his lips surely curved up into a bashful smile.

“You’re supposed to be keeping a low profile, remember?” You teased him, only for him to dip his head in embarrassed laughter. In a series of swift motions, he had surged towards you, wrapped his arm around the back of your neck, pulled you into his body, shoved against the unlocked door, pulled you outside with him, and began walking forward, leading you backwards down the sidewalk. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his waist. The chill of the night air was counteracted by the warmth of his body pressed against yours.

“You gonna drink tonight?” He asked quietly, his lips near your ear.

Shaking your head, you told him, “I don’t really feel like it tonight.” It was the truth. You didn’t want your mind to be clouded with alcohol, instead wanting to be totally present with Taehyung. You weren’t about to tell him that though. “What about you?” You mumbled against his neck. Unbeknownst to you but very noticeable to Taehyung, your breath sent shivers across his skin.

“No,” he said simply. You weren’t going to question his answer, knowing Tae didn’t drink all that much anyway, but then he offered up an explanation all on his own. “I want to be here with you.” Halting your backward walking, you forced him to stop as well as you looked up at him, his eyes sincere. Reaching up to pull the mask down just enough so you could see his mouth, the smirk on his lips told you he knew that you knew what his words alluded to. The confidence this fucker has.

“Should I be flattered?” You sassily questioned, causing him to flash you his wide boxy smile.

“You should be,” he replied smugly, and you were. Instead of admitting to it, you pushed the mask back up his face before pulling out of his grasp, though he didn’t let you go too far, holding his arm around your shoulders as you walked side by side down the street towards the club.

The club was just a few blocks away from the dorm, so the walk didn’t take long. As the muffled music booming in the distance became clearer, the tension between you and Tae intensified, your bodies bumping into each other as you walked.

Turning the corner, the line outside the club caught your eye, stretching down the street, strangely busy for a Thursday night. “Jesus, don’t people have to work tomorrow?”

“Don’t you have to work tomorrow?” Taehyung shot back at you with a smirk.

“Shut up,” you chuckled as you made your way to the line, standing clear at the back. Taehyung removed his arm from you, turning to face you straight on so you could talk as you waited for the queue to move. “Will you hold this for me?” You held out your ID, which Taehyung coolly took out his wallet and put the card inside, tucking it back into his pocket.

Standing in silence, the air surrounding you full of pent up tension, Taehyung reached out to tickle your abdomen making you flinch back and glare at him. “Hands off bud,” you bit back a grin.

“I’m bored,” he whined, dragging out his words cutely.

“Oh, I’m sorry I bore you,” you shot back teasingly, a smirk forming on your lips. Reaching forward again, he grabbed your waist, tugging you closer to him.

“Oh shush, we both know that’s far from true,” he told you with an eye roll.

“You know, if you took your mask off for just a minute to show the bouncer who you are, we would be in there already,” you informed him sassily. The line moved just slightly, you both stepping forward.

“What, and cut this waiting time with you short? But you’re so pleasant,” he teased with a smirk, “Why would I ever want to do that?” He said sarcastically as his hand moved to your own hand, intertwining his fingers with your own. Scrunching your nose cutely, Taehyung squeezed your hand, lowly chuckling at your expression. “Why do you have to be so cute?” He asked, flashing his gaze to your entangled hands. “I can only wish you bored me,” he mumbled under his breath, the words barely recognizable to your ears. But you heard them. And your heart raced.

Stepping forward with the line again, you neared the entrance. With his free hand, Taehyung reached into his pocket to grab his wallet. Watching him struggle to dig inside it with one hand, you tried to pull yours out of his grip to offer him both of his limbs, however, he gripped your hand tighter, shooting you a stern look.

Cocking your head at him, he held the wallet out to you, smiling sweetly and saying, “help,” his smile broadening as he watched your expression turn into an amused one. Both of you using your free hands, he held the wallet open as you dug inside to fish out both of your ID cards. “Uh-uh,” he protested. “Money too.”

Shooting him a glare, you informed him, “I can pay for my own cover charge.”

Rolling his eyes, he let go of your hand to pull the money out himself. “I know you can. Just let me get this.”

“You’re annoying,” you told him with a huff, though you sported a fond smile.

“And you’re stubborn,” he replied matter-a-factly with a grin.

Winking at him, he shook his head with a low chuckle. Moving forward, you were stood in front of the bouncer, to which the man quickly checked the cards, halting as he checked Taehyung’s, looking up at your friend with widened eyes. Taehyung nodded nonchalantly as he handed the bouncer the money. Nodding back, the bouncer guided you both inside the club with a gesture of his hand.

Upon entering the club, your ear drums were raided with the pulsing beat of electronic dance music, the warmth from the bodies that filled the room hitting your skin like the sun on a hot humid summer day. However, nothing compared to the heat that spread throughout your body when Taehyung’s arm wrapped around your lower back, his hand on your hip, pulling you in close to him as a swarm of drunk men trampled past you.

Taehyung guided you to stand in front of him, your back to him, holding his hands on your hips as he gently pushed you forward, leading you further into the club. Looking around at the crowd, some people dancing, some people standing and talking with drinks in hand, others shooting their shots with a possible one-night stand, you noted how people stared at the man behind you. You were used to people staring at Taehyung, you knew people wanted him. Even with half of his face covered with a mask, his presence demanded a certain amount of attention.

Yet, as people shamelessly stole glances at your good friend, you couldn’t help the jealousy that flooded your emotions, even with his hands gripping onto your hips.

Rolling your eyes at a group of girls who were gawking at Taehyung as if he was their prey, Tae leaned in, his lips touching the shell of your ear. As if he read your mind, or maybe just your body language, he smiled, a single breathy laugh leaving his mouth. “You’re tense, calm down,” he whispered into your ear. “You sure you don’t want a drink?”

He kept his face next to yours as he awaited your response. When you turned to look at him, his eyes were wide, almost childlike. How deceiving. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Smiling stunningly, his eyes grew more intense. “Good.”

Wrapping his arms around your waist in a back hug, he moved you both towards the dance floor, both of you smiling at the affection he was showing.

Working your way through the crowd, Taehyung spun you around to face him, his hands gripping onto your hips as he started swaying you back and forth. Tucking his face into the side of your neck, you swore you could feel his lips brush against your skin in a tentative kiss, as if he didn’t know if it was ok.

Wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, you threaded your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, massaging and tugging as he pulled you closer to him, your hips moving together. His hands moved from your hips to your forearms, pulling your arms from around his neck, spinning you a couple of times before letting go, you both dancing on your own, circling each other, your eyes glued to each other as you felt the rhythm of the music.

Lifting your arms into the air, before slowly dragging them down to run your hands through your hair as you swayed your hips, Taehyung couldn’t help but think how fucking beautiful you looked. And when your gaze met his once again, and you flashed a stunning smile that had his heart pounding against his chest, he didn’t know for how much longer he’d be able to resist you.

Not being able to remain serious around each other for too long, you started shimmying your shoulders and hips in a silly manner. Taehyung threw his head back in laughter before easily composing himself, actor Tae making an appearance, as he straightened his form, stuck his hands in his pants pockets and began popping his hips back and forth.

Taking steps back as he popped his hips, he created more distance between you both before he exaggeratedly gestured to you to come to him with a swing of his arm. Pointing to yourself, you looked around you before mouthing, “me” to which Tae nodded, pointing at you. Suddenly, he started doing his well-known heart pounding move that he borrowed from the great content creator, Casey Frey.

Swaying your hips as you made your way to him, you laughed at his ridiculous move, reaching out to his jean jacket and pulling him to you. You turned around, continuing the movement of your hips with your back facing him, your body brushing against his. With the feeling of your backside against him in accordance to the beat of the song, he reached for your hips, pulling your flush against him as he matched your movements.

In that one simple gesture of him pulling you to him, the feeling of your bodies pressed so close, the tension reached an all time high between you both as you grinded against each other. You reached back, wrapping our arm around the back of his neck. Turning towards him, your cheek brushed against his mask covered chin and he leaned into the feeling of your face against his own, leaving a kiss through the mask to the apple of your cheek.

Spinning you around to face him, he pulled the mask down to rest underneath his chin, revealing a sexy smirk, his eyes set on your own. “What are you thinking?” He asked, his hips still swaying with yours, his hands on your waist as he held you close.

“You wanna know what I’m thinking?” You asked, quirking an eyebrow. Nodding, he waited for your answer, his eyes scanning your face briefly before falling to your lips where they lingered a moment, slowing coming to meet your gaze again. “I think everyone in here wants you.”

Taehyung’s eyes widened as he smiled widely at you. “Are you referring to all these people who keep looking at you?”

You rolled your eyes at the ridiculousness of his insinuation. “If they’re looking at me it’s only in envy that I’m the one dancing with you.”

Shaking his head at you, his grip on your waist tightened. Leaning in to whisper in your ear, he asked, “And what about you?”

Craning your neck to look at him, you scrunched your eyebrows in question. “What about me?”

Licking his lips, he smirked. “Do you want me, Peaches?” Your heart pounded at the question and the pet name in the context of your current situation. Of course you wanted him. You’ve been wanting him. Before you could tell him that, he leaned forward to press a lingering kiss to your temple. “Because I want you,” he spoke against your skin.

Your hands that were settled on his shoulders moved to grab the sides of his face, pulling him to look at you, your eyes searching his for the meaning behind his words. If they were simply lustful, you knew you couldn’t go forward with this no matter how badly you wanted to. However, as you looked into his orbs, you saw the sincerity you’ve seen a hundred times throughout your friendship with Taehyung.

Resting his forehead against yours, your thumbs brushing over the apples of his cheeks, he sighed. “I only want you,” he whispered, his lips hovering over yours, though he wasn’t making any moves to kiss you.

Never feeling so sure about anything before, you pushed your lips against his in a single kiss. The action caught him off guard and before he could react, you pulled away just far enough to look at him. “Take me home, Tae.”

Reaching for your hand, he hastily pulled you through the mass of club-goers, bumping into shoulders on the way out. Bursting through the door, he didn’t slow down as he led you down the street, the chilly night air sending shivers across your body. Or maybe it was the rush Taehyung was giving you.

Once the music faded back into a dull pounding, Tae scanned the sidewalk quickly, looking from side to side, making sure there were no bystanders before gripping the side of your abdomen, his other hand coming to cradle your jaw as he gently pushed you against the wall of some building, his lips greedily meeting yours. You responded by grabbing Taehyung’s hips and pulling his body flush against your own, eliciting a needy groan from the gorgeous man’s lips against your own, your mouth swallowing the sweet sound.

Taehyung reluctantly arched his back to lean away from you, unintentionally pressing his hips harder against your own. His eyes held the same emotion they did in the elevator as he searched your face. The look of adoration, hunger, and respect that showed through his features stole your breath as you stared back at him.

“Are you sure?” He asked simply, though his tone expressed his nervousness and concern. He wanted you to be sure, but he wasn’t going to push you to follow through if you decided you didn’t want this. If you didn’t want him.

“Tae,” you whispered, him hanging on the edge of your words. “Of course, I’m sure.”

Relief flooded Taehyung’s features as a small smile formed on his lips. “Do you trust me?”

“I do,” you whispered against his mouth as he left a soft kiss to your lips, a stark contrast to the way he eagerly ground his hips into yours.

“I thought that was crazy thing to do,” he smirked as he pressed a kiss to your jawline.

Craning your head to the side to allow him more access to your neck, which he greedily accepted, planting wet kisses along the sensitive skin, you cracked a smile. “It is,” you told him, grabbing the sides of his face in your hands, guiding him to look at you. “But I’m crazy about you,” you said with a goofy grin, Taehyung’s hooded eyes brightening as a wide smile spread across his face.

“Fuck that’s cute,” he said as he pressed a big kiss to your mouth.

“It’s not cheesy?” You taunted, dodging his mouth to toy with him.

“Oh, super fucking cheesy,” he giggled, finding your mouth again as he laughed into the kiss before grabbing your hand and tugging you away from the wall, dragging you to the dorm, in a hurry to get you to his room, not wanting to wait any longer.

You both couldn’t keep your hands off each other. In the elevator, he had you pushed against the wall, finally kissing you like he wanted to in that very elevator earlier that night. Down the hallway, he had his arms wrapped around your middle, walking you backwards to the apartment door, you both stumbling and tripping but not caring as you tried to get more and more of each other.

His hands made their way underneath your shirt, greedily feeling the expanse of your lower back as he backed you into the door. He only stopped kissing you so he could see the keypad. Kissing his neck, he breathily chuckled into the air, trying to not get distracted by you as he typed in the entry code.

When the pad beeped, the door unlocking, he hastily shoved it open, pulling you inside with him. Kicking the door shut, he continued backing you towards his room, his hands on the sides of your face, yours holding his wrists.

Not so gracefully pushing you against his bedroom door, you giggled, causing him to chuckle into the kiss as well. Twisting the knob, he pushed you into the room, you both slamming the door shut, completely unaware of Jungkook who stood in the door frame of his own room, pout on his face as he groaned in annoyance. Hearing the commotion you two caused on your way in, he had come out of his room to check on things when he spotted you two connected by the mouths, making your way to Taehyung’s room as quickly as possible.

He went back into his room and came out with a blanket and pillow, shuffling to the couch.

“Scoot over,” he told Jin who was slumped on the sofa, half asleep watching television.

Looking at Jungkook in confusion, Jin slowly moved over on the couch, making room for the younger man. “I thought you went to sleep.”

“The lovebirds just got back,” Jungkook said in a grumpy tone. “They just barged in, did you really miss all of that? They literally just stormed through here.” Jin looked at Jungkook with the same confused expression, Jungkook groaning in response. “They were kissing.”

“Oh,” Jin easily accepted the explanation. A moment went by before Jin’s eyes bugged out of his head, turning to Jungkook in shock. “Wait, they were what?”

You and Tae were in the bedroom, ripping clothes off, throwing them carelessly around the room. Your shirt was the first to go, followed by his. As you tugged on his belt, pulling it through the pant loops, he grinned devilishly at you, pushing you down onto the bed. He rid himself of his pants, leaving you to stare at the exposed skin in awe. Honey kissed from head to toe, he was truly a sight to see.

He chuckled knowingly as your eyes hungrily drank in his form, the way his broad shoulders met is defined collar bones, leading to his smooth chest. Your eyes ran along his soft tummy, down the small patch of hair that disappeared underneath his boxer briefs.

Crawling on top of you, he easily found the button of your jeans, opening them up and feasting his eyes on your black panties. Biting his bottom lip, he sat up on his knees as he tugged the tight material down your legs, his gaze latched onto your limbs.

Moving to hover over top of you, he lowered his head to kiss your lips tenderly. “You’re so beautiful.” Pulling him to lay flat against your body, you used all your strength to roll him over, a crunching sound resounding from underneath Taehyung. Straddling his hips, you registered the sound, cocking your head. Taehyung’s eyebrows pulled together at the feeling of something foreign beneath his back.

Realization dawned on you as Taehyung arched his back, his hips rolling into yours unintentionally as result, making you both release small moans. “I’m pretty sure we just smashed your cowboy hat,” you said breathily with a small giggle, pressing your hips harder against his.

Pulling the hat out from underneath him he held it out to the side as you both inspected it in its crunched form. “Do you think it’s a goner?” He asked as his hand came to rest on your ass, pulling you to meet his hips in another rolling motion.

“Fuck, Baby,” you whined. Your tone and the pet name had him groaning, tossing the hat onto the floor as he sat up, you falling into a sitting position on his lap, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Kissing you hard, he pulled away for a moment, inspecting your face, taking in your features. “You owe me a new hat, Peaches.”

Giggling into a kiss, you used your weight to push him back onto the mattress, you following him, chasing his lips. Your hands caressing his neck, you mumbled into the kiss. “In your dreams, Cowboy.”

Flipping you suddenly, you trailed kisses along his neck as he ground his hips into yours, letting out deep growls at the feeling of your mouth on his skin. His hand reached up to tug on the cup of your lace bra, his palm flattening against your breast as he squeezed, you moaning into his mouth.

“Wait, I have a question,” Taehyung interrupted, your heart sinking to your stomach in concern. He looked down at you, noticing your wide eyes and instantly feeling guilty for worrying you. “Oh, no no no, Peaches,” he brought his hand to cradle your jaw, his thumb gently brushing over your lips. “I was just wondering if this would be considered Lucy and Ethel antics.”

Relief flooded your body, an exhale leaving your lips as you complained, “Oh my god, Tae,” reaching up to smack his arm lightly.

“Is it?” He insisted, a wide childlike smile spread across his face.

“Falling for your best friend and then hooking up with them?” You asked as you mouth slowly formed into a smile. Nodding, he giggled, lowering his head to place a soft kiss to your collar bone, trailing them up to your shoulder before he nuzzled his face in your neck, rubbing his nose against the sensitive area where your neck curved into your jaw. “I think the show would have been a lot more interesting if Lucy and Ethel fucked, don’t you think? Platonically of course,” you joked, dipping your head as he looked up at you, you catching his lips with your own, Taehyung immediately deepening it as his hand reached down to your panties, his fingers digging underneath the waist band.

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” he replied as his hand slid further underneath the material. Smirking against your lips as you gasped. “Everyone loves a little platonic friendship.”

660 notes · View notes

aion-rsa · 4 years ago

Text

Ghosts Series 2: ‘They’re stuck in an existence they didn’t ask for… like all of us’

https://ift.tt/35QzhQ6

The Ghosts creators have worked together for over a decade. To-date, the six-person team (Mat Baynton, Simon Farnaby, Martha Howe-Douglas, Jim Howick, Laurence Rickard and Ben Willbond) have written and performed in long-running children’s sketch comedy Horrible Histories, three series of fantasy sitcom Yonderland, feature film Bill, and two series of the supernatural BBC comedy Ghosts, with a third on the way.

Channelling Mrs Merton asking Debbie McGee what first attracted her to the millionaire Paul Daniels, I ask Baynton and Howick via Zoom what inspired the group to write Ghosts, a sitcom about a group of individuals who frequently drive each other nuts, trapped together for what may well be eternity?

Both laugh. “I’m sure we do drive each other nuts in many ways,” says Howick, “but the truth is, like the ghosts, what we always come back to in these episodes is that they love each other and don’t know what they would do without each other. I think that can be said for the group?” He looks to Baynton for confirmation and gets a happy nod.

Considering the well-documented fallings-out and imploding egos of other comedy gangs – the Pythons not least among them – this level of harmony over such a long period feels remarkable. What’s their secret? “I think we keep each other honest,” says Baynton. “There are certainly heated debates.”

Heated’s too strong a word, says Howick. “We only really fight for our opinion, we never fight each other.” On the rare occasion that there isn’t unanimity about a particular topic, there might be a locking of horns and a democratic vote, but real arguments don’t happen. “There’s no animosity or jealousy with each other’s independent careers,” he explains. “We are our most important project. We have no desire to work each other up. We’re all genuinely fond of each other.”

That much is clear watching them interact. The online BBC press launch for series two was punctuated by the group making each other laugh. Silly voices. Running jokes. At one point, to the absolutely delight of his colleagues, Simon Farnaby’s crotch moved unavoidably front and centre as he stood up in front of his webcam to adjust a window blind. The rapport is real.

Indeed, during UK lockdown, say Baynton and Howick, the group’s regular Zoom calls drafting Ghosts series three were a godsend. Aside from the boon of having regular work when so much of their industry was in uncertainty, being able to see friends for three hours on a Wednesday evening kept them sane.

“It’s been a tonic in an otherwise relatively difficult and quite miserable time to have been able to jump on Zoom and make each other laugh with ideas for these characters that we love,” says Baynton. Entertainingly, when the group splits off into writing pairs, each does impressions of the absent characters while drafting dialogue. “It’s funny,” remarks Howick. ‘When we come together as a six, if we’re trying to pitch a positive idea, it’s usually done in a [segues into the regional accent of his upbeat character] Pat voice. Or if it’s a melodramatic idea or if it’s over-the-top, it might be a [Baynton’s Romantic poet character] Thomas voice.”

Via video chat, it took a little longer for the group’s writing wheels to start turning. Ordinarily a new series would start with two weeks of the gang together in the same room. Stretching that to months of three-hour Zoom calls, fitted in amongst home schooling for the parents among them, was an adjustment. “The energy that you would bring to a room at 10 o’clock in the morning in an office wasn’t there,” says Howick. “You’d have to try and generate this feeling even though everyone was exhausted.”

Howick found himself seeking out frivolity to reach the right frame of mind. He played videogames. “If I sat and thought too hard about what was going on outside my door, it would make me really sad, and so in order to keep a vital part of me going, in order to meet with Mat and the others every Wednesday and keep that bright demeanour, it was good to do that.” The writing momentum started to return with the ease of lockdown, says Baynton. “The simple mental health-saving fact of being able to meet up with family in a garden helped a lot.”

Movies

Yonderland: saluting a brilliant fantasy comedy

By Rachel Meaden

The Teleprompter Interview: Katy Wix ‘My First Screen Crush was King Kong’

By Louisa Mellor

Trying to write comedy against a such a serious backdrop of world events also felt uncomfortable, says Baynton. “You feel like it’s almost… immoral is too strong a word, but when there are nurses and doctors and teachers and crucially important people doing the work they do… It felt like an elephant in the room to be tap tap tapping away at a story about another day at Button House and what the ghosts are up to.”

It helped to know how warmly Ghosts series one had been received by its many fans. “What’s touching is when we do get messages from fans who say how much the show means to them. I know how important comedy has been to me in my life, so if we can be that to other people, it doesn’t feel completely frivolous.”

Ghosts, with its colourful selection box of characters (there’s a caveman, a headless Elizabethan, a 17th century witch, an excitable Regency woman-child, an Edwardian snob, a WWII captain, a 1980s scout leader and a 1990s Tory politician) may look frivolous, but series one had moments of real pathos. Baynton is proud of the fact that the series doesn’t shy away from the bleaker side of its ‘dead people’ premise. “If you really interrogate the truth of it – these are people who lived, people who died, people who loved or were thwarted or killed or suffered injustices or never got to love the person that they admired…”

The original idea was for a much bigger cast of ghosts, with everybody playing multiple parts, Horrible Histories-style. It quickly became clear that the story needed to home in on a small ensemble, giving the gang what Howick calls “its own silhouette”. Had they stuck with the original plan, “It would have been like The Muppet Show,” he says. “Every week would only have scratched the surface.” Too many ghost characters would have diminished the show’s emerging premise, says Baynton, which is about “being stuck forever in a tedious and endlessly repetitive existence.”

A bit like lockdown, we joke. Exactly, says Baynton.

“We talk about this a lot. The way I see it is that their situation is just the same as a living person’s: they’re stuck, they’re in an existence they didn’t ask for, they don’t know why they’re there or what happens next. They know that there is a next ‘thing’ but whether they go to heaven, or hell, or something else, they don’t know. They’re just the same as people on earth.”

Howick agrees, “Their existence is very mortal in that respect.”

Writing about the afterlife, a sense of existential metaphor is unavoidable, says Baynton. “There is something deeply relatable about it, which is where sitcom will always thrive. You can’t really fail to connect with a story about a person who doesn’t know what to do with their time or who feels stuck. Regardless of class or job or circumstance, that is all of us.”

If the ghost characters are all of us, they’re also peculiar to their time period. The collision and unexpected blending of different social contexts is where much of the series’ comedy comes from. Howick compares the composition of the group to Blackadder Goes Forth, which kept “ranks of characters from different classes stuck together in a hell hole, cheating death every single week.”

The source of much of the comedy is thwarted status, says Baynton, “It’s the stuff of Alan Partridge and Hyacinth Bucket and Basil Fawlty… people who see themselves a certain way but who aren’t that way to the audience. Every single one of the ghosts is that to some extent. Anything that gave you status in life, you’re robbed of the second you die, so that’s already pretty funny in the sense of a captain who can’t lead, a wealthy woman who has no wealth, a politician who is not recognised as an authority, a poet who can’t pick up a pen, a Scoutmaster with no kids…”

“Not Scoutmaster!” interrupts Howick. “Adventure Club leader!” Before series one aired, they were instructed not to use the “Scouts” organisation name in scripts. “That was before they knew who Pat was going to be,” says Howick. Pat, for info, is a sweetie, and the Scouts should be proud to have him. He’s also a vibrant dancer, as series two, episode two shows.

“There’s a lot of dancing this series” says Howick. “Without giving too much away, there’s dancing in the last episode. I think Thomas’ best dance is at the end.”

Fans can expect more playfulness with series two. Now that the characters are established and the tone has been taken to heart, the team could afford to experiment a little more. “With series two, because the audience hopefully are with us at this point, we can throw different curveballs,” says Baynton.

“In that way that The Simpsons or those long-running American things, you can suddenly do one in black and white, as if it’s a Hitchcock thing. We’ve definitely had fun. There’s an episode later in the second series which is a format of its own. We’re thinking about those things for series three, being free to be really playful with it.”

There’s a Christmas special episode to come, “the last one ever to be filmed!” joked Farnaby at the press launch. The timing on series two’s filming was especially jammy, with only one day lost to the UK TV and film industry shutdown in March. They made the decision not to use supporting artists in the last scenes filmed, set in a Medieval plague village. The irony of having to tell actors they couldn’t come and play plague victims because there was an actual plague wasn’t lost on them, says Baynton.

Thomas gets a gun in series two, they tease, and we’ll find out how he met his end. “The burning question for fans of the show is how the characters died, and you will find out some in each series,” says Baynton. “There are some we’re holding onto for as long as we possibly can, but rest assured, they’re coming!”

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

Ghosts series 2 starts on BBC One at 8.30pm, with all six episodes available to stream afterwards on BBC iPlayer.

The post Ghosts Series 2: ‘They’re stuck in an existence they didn’t ask for… like all of us’ appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/2RKeoxw

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

7 notes · View notes

curious-minx · 4 years ago

Text

Bob’s Burgers most reliable holiday provides another lowkey enjoyable, but messy episode. Whereas the latest Simpsons strikes a really sore vocal node.

The second holiday episode of Bob’s Burgers’ 11th season, much like the previous Halloween episode, this one also fails to live up to the series’ even higher Thanksgiving standard

That’s not to say “Diarrhea of a Poopy Kid” is not a good episode, but it does fall into the category of Bob’s Burgers episode I typically respond to the least: Character-based storytelling vignettes. The writing on these segment driven episodes tend to be looser and playful bending the show’s reality, but much like every time the other Fox family leaves the Springfield plane of reality into a pastiche styled playground for the writers to plug the characters into.

The overall animation and visual-based gags on this episode offers some of the best moments of the season and series in general. Having the Belcher stories revolve around action movie pastiches of 90’s action movie schlock like Air Force Once, Armageddon, and late 80’s Predator are extremely punny and really grasping hard for satire. The walk to Louise’s Breadator is succinct and makes total sense for Louise’s character to tell this kind of story, whereas Tina drawing inspiration from Air Force One for her story sags the episode down. This episode also has the gall to bring in Gayle, a character that usually elevates all of her episodes nothing much to do until the third and best segment told by Bob. Teddie is also frustratingly nowhere to be seen and Teddie is one of those characters that really only needs a small scene explaining away his absence like in the episode “Gayle Makin’ Bob Sled,” which Variety and I consider to be among the best of Bob’s Thanksgiving episodes.

Nitpicks and reminiscing on past glories aside, what’s most impressive about an episode as conceptual and overstuffed as this one, an episode that’s also poopy and gross-out from the very beginning, still manages to pack undeniable heart. Seeing a character as relatable and sad sack-y as Bob Belcher be passionate about his one favorite holiday reminds me of the everlasting and evergreen Ray Bradbury remark about how everyone is capable of writing poetry as long as you ask them to talk about something they are truly passionate about. Seeing how this episode climax revolves around Gene and Bob’s love of food and proves a powerful sentimental moment. Bob’s Burgers sentimentality works because the show’s core is silly absurdism, light and fluffy gross out gags and quirky twee-ness. Introducing the action movie element feels like the series trying to branch out its audience and try to catch some eyeballs of viewers looking for something more like Archer, American Dad, Rick and Morty, or even Treehouse of Horror style genre exercises. Bob’s Burgers and action comedy feels like putting garlic pesto on cinnamon toast, but Ryan Reynolds doesn’t think so.

Yes, that’s right. The biggest news out of the Bob’s Burgers camp…probably ever��is that the Molyneux sisters, the writers of this very action packed episode, have been hand selected by Mr. Detective “VanWilder” Pickachu himself to be head writers on the upcoming third Deadpool movie. Seeing that we live in a post Russo brothers world and how Dan Harmon was conscripted to punch up Doctor Strange scripts none of this should really surprise me, but I am still very much surprised by this development. The Deadpool 3 creative team and Reynolds is still promising to deliver an R-Rated Comedy, a rating and promise that is very much why Deadpool is the sensation that it is.

In the current media landscape the only way a big budget R-Rated comedy can get made is if it’s attached to something like a mega superhero sized brand. At this point in time Deadpool is the closest thing kids have to a Mel or Al Brooks and it is what it is. If anything Ryan Reynolds personally choosing the Molyneux sisters for a project like this makes me like Ryan Reynolds a little bit more. And he’s a man I previously had no real feelings or opinions about. The only other thing about Deadpool I know about is that the franchise has developed a particularly shitty reputation in terms of its treatment of main female characters and literally freezing them out of the plot. The future of comedy is being driven by the significant increase of women gaining these kind of writing gigs and it’s a beautiful thing to finally see witness. Especially when a company like Netflix has been really shitty to both of its own female driven comedies: Glow and Tucca and Bertie.

Sigh. I am thankful for all the sad little boys and girls wearing too much or maybe the right amount of eye shadow that will inherit this flaming Earth.

Three and half pear shaped pals out of an Oedipus Rex Complex.

////

Nerds! Nothing but a lousy rotten sniveling dweeb! You dorkus-rex! You body pillow huffing geek get over here and let the Simpsons set some things straight for you: A Comic Book Guy driven episode of the Simpsons is often where the show goes off the rails. The Comic Book Guy marriage episode is was one of those late day Simpsons that feel like a bad piece of dreamed up fan fiction that you found on the cutting room floor. Is the show interested at all with the fact that comics and being nerdy have become as mainstream as the Bible? No? They’re still treating geek culture as some sort of low hanging piñata fruit lousy with cheap references in place of actual jokes? Good! I don’t know why I would ever allow myself to think for a second that the Simpsons would challenge its own status quo 32 seasons in, but I keep coming back.

What I should really do is back up. The title of this episode is “Three Dreams Denied.” Ah, Dream Denial! That’s exactly what anyone watching an animated sitcom hopes for: dreams being crushed. This isn’t some kiddy Davy and Goliath feel good wholesome fable, this is the Simpsons where characters are given dreams, and those dreams get denied. The next part of the title I want to break down is the fact that there are specifically three dreams that being denied. Three! That’s a comedy number! As long as you have three of anything you’re doing comedy. Plain and simple.

During the Robert Zemeicks arc of the Blank Check podcast Griffin Newman, co-host and comedian extraordinaire and someone I generally admire a lot, has been bringing up the fact that he’s been spending a lot of his Quarantine rewatching the entirety of the Simpsons. By the episode of Used Cars Newman has already gotten past the Movie era and is in the 20th seasons. One observation he made about later day Simpsons is that these episodes have a tendency to end abruptly on a pile of unusable and reality bending plots still in the process of tying themselves up. And there’s no better/worse example of this than this episode.

Comic Book Guy goes to a comic book convention. Bart becomes a voice actor after befriending the comic book guy’s temporary replacement. Lisa feuds over her saxophone chair in the school orchestra with a new pretty boy voiced by the underwhelming Ben Platt. One of these plots is not like the other. This used to be the signature of a quality Simpsons episode that managed to tweak and divert expectations from the typical A & B sitcom storylines. This episode fundamentally fails to deliver on any of the three storylines and what makes it worse is that it’s an intentional choice.

Now I know I have spent this review harping on Comic Book Guy, but he’s not even why this episode for me is such an abomination. And it’s not because the cutesy, flimsy Lisa subplot either (although I do find it noxiously amusing that a week after an Yeardely Smith took issue with the Queer Interpretation of Lisa would feature her going moony eyed over a boy voiced by a defiantly queer actor), no, what tips this episode into the territory of the truly terrible for me is the Bart becomes a voice actor subplot.

The only defining quality of season 32 that I can discern is that the flagrant trolling on behalf of the writers. Can you believe we had three vignette driven episodes of the Simpsons in a row? Can you believe we would have meta reality breaking voice actor related moments back to back? When Lisa Simpson’s voice actor Yeardley Smith voiced the real world character of herself in the previous Podcast based episode it was clumsy and awkward as hell. Having Bart become a voice actor that ends up voicing a character of the opposite gender is the sort of kind of a funny thing that resembles a joke that the latter day Simpsons revel in. The characterization of voice acting work in this episode is downright insulting and explains exactly why this show suffers.

The character of Phil that serves as the Comic Book Guy’s replacement is a working voice actor. He let’s Bart know this by doing a series of completely basic, broad and unremarkable impersonations that Bart is seemingly impressed by. All you have to do to become a successful voice actor is do a silly voice and you’re golden. Maybe from the perspective of a series as lazy and indulgent as the Simpsons is when it comes to voice acting. The complete denial of Julie Kavner’s deteriorating voice that at this point sounds like gentle elder abuse. There are times when Kavner is downright incomprehensible at times. The other oldest member of the Simpsons voice talent, Harry Shearer was wrongheadedly trying to defend his right to voice Characters of Colors because in his words, “the job of the voice actor is to play someone who they’re not.” Obviously these words were not spoken by someone that thinks very highly of acting either. There is no one job an actor has to do, because the job of an actor is always changing from job to job. The character of Phil is not even attributed to anyone! I have spent over thirty minutes getting testy with IMDB search engines and reading another website’s recap and no one can tell me who did the voice of the Voice Acting Character on Simpsons. Lovely.

Much like the Comic Book Guy the Simpsons heart is in bad shape. This is a show whose entire existence seems to be made out of spite. Or to garner enough funds for Matt Groening to prevent him from ever having to serve any prison time for his exploits on the Lolita express. Great, see I’m bringing up the Lolita Express at the end of a Simpsons review. This episode really left me in a bad mood, but thankfully that’s what Bob’s Burgers is for.

SKIP. The only people that should watch this are people teaching a screenwriting class that need examples of what happens when you break your episode by haphazardly shoving three plots into one episode. If you can’t tie up one story in a satisfying manner then you really shouldn’t be telling a story at all. There’s also one really magnificent visual joke involving Homer and beer tea that is absolutely wasted on this episode.

#Bob's Burgers #Deadpool #MCU #2021 #TV series #TV review #TV #The Simpsons #voice artist #voice acting #rant

5 notes · View notes

professordrarry · 6 years ago

Note

Prompt: there’s more to a seeker than seeking

I freaking LOVED this prompt. Can I possibly use the sentence again sometime? When I’m in a less…silly mood? For now I hope you enjoy this random little minute of Draco being Draco.

Lucius was very soon going to cause Harry to become defensive. They’d been standing on Harry’s lawn for approximately twenty-five minutes, in an utter stalemate, and Harry’s patience was long since gone.

“I fail to see how that is the point,” Lucius said for the umpteenth time.

“Well, aren’t you lucky that I’m not dating you!” Harry replied, edged tone finally unleashing itself over the continual berating.

Lucius’ eyebrow lifted in a way that was nothing at all like his son’s; he had none of the warmth and humour that came from Narcissa. Instead of being sexy and mysterious, or wry and mocking, Lucius’ eyebrow attempted to judge your soul from where it stood and always found you wanting.

“I will remind you,” he said cooly, “That right now, Mr Potter, you are dating no one.”

Harry took a deep breath. They’d been over this.

“I am very much aware of that, Malfoy,” he growled. “And that will remain the case until Draco apologises.”

“Then you’ve lost him,” Lucius sighed.

“And why do you care!” Harry shouted, throwing his hands into the quickly darkening sky and begging anyone, everyone, for a bloody answer. “Last I checked, you weren’t exactly a fan of Draco dating a man.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lucius clipped, the ice in his voice chilling Harry even though the night was warm. “I do not care that my son is gay. I rather more think that my issue is with who he has chosen to…bed.”

There was so much malice in his tone now that Harry, against his will, burst out laughing; Lucius really had not adapted well to the fact that all his little rancourous vocal tricks held absolutely no power now.

“If that were true,” Harry shot back, “you would not be standing here, outside my house at eight in the evening, refusing to leave.”

They squared off again, neither willing to bend or readjust or back down. Finally, Lucius took a deep breath and sighed, scrubbing his forehead.

“Potter. Draco, as you know, is…well, not proud. That’s not the right word. I would say more…obstinate than anything. Always has been. Cannot admit his own failings. It has been a problem since his childhood.”

“In case you’ve not realised it, that little trait definitely comes from your bloodline, Lucius.”

The faintest wisp of a smile crossed Malfoy’s face. “I know it,” he said, a tinge of pride behind the words. “Nonetheless, he sometimes forgets to be obstinate with a cause. As is the case now.”

“Yes, well. I’ve been known to be a bit obstinate as well.”

“Indeed,” Lucius said with that same small smile. “But I’d think a star Quidditch player such as yourself would be better at playing the game.”

Harry looked at him angrily. He had no idea what Malfoy was on about and he did not like that feeling.

“What, pray tell, does one do once they are holding the golden snitch?” He waited for a reply and finally, Harry sighed in defeat and shrugged.

“One holds onto it for dear life, until the Officiant or Score Keeper has seen it and the game is won.”

Harry sighed again, at the point of really just wanting this conversation over. “I don’t…what are you on about. Get to the point.”

“The point, young man,” Lucius simpered, “is that there is more to being a Seeker than seeking. You hold onto it until the bitter end, in order to gain the prize.”

Harry stared at him. He let the thought process through his mind. “Get off my property,” he spat.

Lucius smiled, bowed a shallow, petulant bow and walked away, his disgusting walking stick in hand.

“I really hate when that man is right,” he said to himself as he went into the flat.

The next morning was sunny and way too hot. He hated it, to be honest. He thought absently that at least it was bright enough to keep the nargles away and then laughed. Luna was on his mind again. He was immediately sad because he knew Luna would be furious with him for letting this fight go on for so long. He took a deep breath and lifted the knocker in front of him.

Draco scowled when he opened the door. “What are you doing here?” he sneered. “You made it clear the last time we spoke. I’m not going to apologize, so we’re through.”

Harry took a deep breath and didn’t rise to the occasion. “We’re going to have lunch. Come on.”

Draco startled, just as Harry had known he would. He hated not having the upper hand, not knowing what cards to play.

“I’m…I’m not dressed to…I have plans.”

“You look fine, you know you don’t have any other plans, and I’m not asking,” Harry snapped. “Let’s go.”

He forced himself to walk away before he let Draco rile him up. That would solve absolutely nothing.

They walked side by side down the high street from Draco’s flat to the tiny brasserie that was at the end of the lane. It was small and overpriced, but it was within a short walk and was also on the ‘Draco approved’ list, so Harry had decided it would do. Inside, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all waited, a pint in front of each of them. Like a scene from a particularly predictable sitcom, they were all laughing when Harry and Draco entered, and they all abruptly stopped when they saw Draco. Draco inhaled sharply and spun to glare at Harry.

“I can’t believe you,” he whispered viciously.

“Yeah, well, I’ve spent the last two weeks not exactly believing you, so I think it makes us even don’t you? Let’s go, I’m starving.”

He walked to the table, ignoring the hesitant step Draco took toward the door. He couldn’t do anything else. Draco had to make a choice now. Harry saw the moment he made up his mind. The breath where he decided to stay. He sat gingerly at the table. At first, everyone ignored him. He sat and listened to the conversations. And yet.

When Ginny went up to get everyone another round, she brought him a pint as well and Harry slid it to him without looking at him. When their food arrived, Harry silently placed his gherkin on Draco’s plate and Draco’s tomato ended up beside Harry’s burger. They ate, discussing nothing except innocuous subjects. Finally, the plates were cleared away and the beer was gone and Hermione cleared her throat.

“Guess we can decide on pudding,” she muttered, taking the slim menu from its little stand. “I hear the tart sucre here is—”

“Look, I owe all three of you an apology,” Draco interrupted, dragging all their eyes to him at once.

Whatever he had been planning on saying fled from his mouth. Harry watched it happen; he watched about seventeen emotions scroll through his deeply reddening cheeks.

“Draco’s not so good at apologies, as you all know,” Harry murmured, taking pity on him. “It’s been made very clear, however, that—”

“Harry,” Ginny said soothingly. “We already told you, we don’t care. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Draco whispered.

They all looked back at him again. He cleared his throat.

“It’s not fine. You’re all…you’re family and I forget, sometimes, that you all went through it all together. But. I forget because Harry is my family. So I get…defensive. And angry. And I say things. Things I don’t really mean. And I…I crossed a line.”

“So basically,” Ron said with a smirk, “you were a Slytherin?”

The three of them laughed and Harry smiled down at the table.

“W-what?” Draco said, brow furrowing in his confusion.

“We aren’t actually angry, Draco,” Hermione said patiently. “I mean, it was shitty or whatever, but you’ve said worse. And done worse. We’ve gotten over that. Or at least, we’ve learned to make our peace with the past?” Hermione shook her head and gestured at Harry. “He said we had to come.”

Draco looked murderous for a fraction of a second, then looked a little more sheepishly at Harry, who now sat with his arms folded and challenge on his face.

“You were an ass. Last time you did that, I told you that if you didn’t start apologising when you’d fucked up, this was over. I meant it.”

“We haven’t spoken. For two. Weeks. TWO WEEKS, Harry James Potter! We are engaged. I was pretty sure you were never going to see me again! I…I sent my father to try and talk to you!”

“I knew it was you,” Harry laughed with a smirk. “He was very irritating. Never do that again.”

“Yeah, okay…but the point is…the point is—”

“The point is what, Draco?” Harry challenged.

He opened his mouth as though he was going to protest more, but instead, he stood up and placed his hands flat on the table, facing them all simultaneously. “Ahem,” he began.

“Ginny. I’m sorry I told you I would curse your first born if you didn’t let me buy Pacific Avenue.” He turned slightly to the other side of the table.

“Ron. I’m sorry I cursed all your hotels so that they moved constantly to the little green squares.” He froze and looked at Harry sadly.

“And?” Harry pressed.

He sighed one more time. “And, Hermione…I’m sorry that I slowly stole all your $100 money things, spiked your tea with rum so you wouldn’t notice, and then called you a Ministry Sell Out when you won anyway,” he said all in one breath.

All four of the other people at the table burst out laughing.

“You really need to not let me play Muggle board games with you anymore,” Draco said miserably. “Even if they are the American versions you’ve borrowed from the library!”

“Agreed,” said Harry with a nod. “Though, just for the record, we only ended up not talking for two weeks because you’re a stubborn ass who refuses to a) give up his flat before we’re married and b) won’t apologise when you fuck up, even when things are stupid.”

“Yes, understood,” Draco mumbled. “What made you come over?”

“Well,” Harry said slowly. “There’s more to seeking than being a Seeker…or…something.”

They all looked at him for clarification; Harry just shrugged and stood to order a treacle tart.

#drarry #drarry os #my writing #prompts for days #love professordrarry

429 notes · View notes

canyouhearthelight · 5 years ago

Text

The Miys, Ch. 49

This is another chapter that kinda fought back. I wanted to write one thing.... the story wanted to write another...

Someone pray for me. I don’t care what you pray to, I just need help....

“Is mushroom gravy okay?” Tyche asked, glancing over her shoulder. It was the day after the festival, and we were preparing for the re-institution of family dinners. We had both spent the day in our respective quarters nursing social hangovers of homicidal proportions, but were committed to an evening of comfort food and finding a new comfort zone without…. Without.

“Yeah,” I answered quietly. “Everyone’s good with mushroom gravy.”

A quiet growl preceded the smack of a spoon hitting the counter in my sister’s kitchen. “Sophia,” she said slowly. “You don’t have to force this. Yesterday was enough, you realize that? You don’t have to force yourself to have social interaction two days in a row.”

“You sound like Antoine,” I giggle slightly, mostly out of nerves, before taking a break from the painstaking task of mixing up a meatloaf. Sure, the console could blend it for me, but I liked the irregularity of doing it by hand. “It’s not the socializing, I promise. Tonight is just going to be you, Antoine, Conor, me….” I swallowed thickly, unable to keep going.

“Mon soeur,” Tyche exhaled. “Are you still sad about what happened with her?”

Huh? “What?” I turned around, confused. “You mean Arantxa? You’ve got to be kidding.” I scoffed so hard it made my sinuses hurt before muttering. “Stupid, traitorous bitch.”

“Then what is the deal!?” she cried, frustration clear in her voice. “You love cooking. You love meatloaf. You can make this in your sleep, so I don’t get what the problem is!”

“It’s just… weird, with just the four of us,” I confessed. I always felt better with more mouths to feed, and had gotten used to cooking for five.

“Four?” Tyche looked like I was speaking another language. “What do you mean, four?”

“You, Antoine, me, and Conor. That’s four.”

She gaped at me before stomping over and stabbing me in the chest with one finger. “Sophia. Michelle. Reid. What. The. Fuck. Have. You. Done.” When I tried to take a step back, she stood her ground, hands on her hips. “Why isn’t Maverick on that list?” I mumbled a response, wringing my hands, before she took a deep breath to calm herself. I rarely made my sister this angry, but when I did, I knew I really messed up. “Soph. You’ve got to speak up. Please.”

“I didn’t know if you were okay with me inviting him,” I explained, fighting back tears. “He’s mine, not yours, and I didn’t know if you were okay….” I choked on a sob, shaking my head when she offered her hand.

“Of course, he’s welcome,” she explained, more confused than angry now. “Antoine was always welcome, even before we started dating. You never hesitated. And I don’t believe in that ‘you complete me’ nonsense, but having Maverick and Conor around makes you…. Steadier. You’re more confident, Conor is more serious, and Maverick is calmer. You’re all three… muchier. Much, much muchier. I look at you and see the Sophia that only I ever got to see.”

I nodded, sniffling and wanting to laugh. “I know what you’re talking about. It’s the same thing that happened when you and Antoine started dating. You could be you, all the time, because the only people whose opinion mattered liked you exactly as prickly and squishy as you are. That’s how I feel when I have them around, as annoying as they are sometimes.”

“Antoine leaves his socks everywhere,” she confided. “I don’t even know how he does it… I never see him wear them! But still. Socks. Everywhere.” Her mock-horrified face finally made me smile. “Come on, let’s finish dinner before the other three get here.”

“Aw nuggets,” I swore. “I’ve got to send a message to Maverick.” I flicked my datapad up, silently praying to whatever power was listening that he would get it in time.

Tyche just waved her hand at me. “I assumed he was invited so I sent the reminder to him when I sent it to Conor and Antoine. And I’ve been talking about it during my training, like, nonstop. He knows. You’re fine. Now, season and loaf that meat, woman!”

With a fake groan, I plunged my hands back into meat I had been blending.

Two hour later, everyone was getting seated around the table as Antoine set down drinks for everyone. Before anyone could take a sip, he held up his glass. “To Tyche and Sophia, our most accomplished chefs for the evening.” I blushed and Tyche groaned as we all toasted.

Maverick looked at the food on the table before shaking his head with a grin. “You weren’t kidding when you said ‘family’ dinner. This has to be the most American-sitcom meal I’ve ever seen – meatloaf, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, and dinner rolls.” He looked alarmed when Conor and Antoine started snickering. “What? I’m looking right at it. That’s what it is, right?” He glanced at me and my sister for explanation.

“It is never that simple, my friend,” Antoine explained. Conor just nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

Tyche took pity on him and explained. “Those aren’t regular dinner rolls, they’re pao de queijo. Like… a gluten-free, Brazilian choux.” When Conor gave in and laughed, she smacked his shoulder. “Hey! Those aren’t mashed potatoes, either, buster.”

“Hey!” He looked offended. “I’m not blind! That’s the best-looking mash I’ve ever seen! Fluffy and creamy. Don’t try to pull one over on me.” He shook his finger at her. “I snuck a bit before you put it on the table. That’s garlic mashed potatoes, all day long.”

Comically, she turned her nose up in the snootiest posture she could muster. “Ha! That’s where you’re wrong! There isn’t a potato one on this table. Isn’t that right, Soph?”

Biting my lip, I winked at Maverick to let him know this was all part of the fun. “Hate to break your heart, but she’s right. That’s mashed celeriac and cauliflower. You got the garlic right, though.” I gave my most sickeningly sweet smile, making everyone laugh. To Maverick, I explained “It’s all healthier than what it looks like, but it still tastes like what you think it should. Except maybe the rolls? They have cheese in them.”

Soon, everyone was happily eating, and the conversation turned to what it inevitably did: what everyone was up to. Conor filled us in on how he knew Charly – she apparently worked in hydroponics. Maverick told tales of Tyche learning to fly. Antoine updated us on the feedback he got on the translator updates after the festival. I brought everyone up to speed on how Alistair was working out.

It was nice and familiar, just what I needed. Soon, conversation turned to silly speculation about other crew members we were familiar with. “Has anyone heard from Zach recently?” I asked, curious. “Other than him working at the festival, I haven’t really gotten to talk to him since what happened on Level One.”

“Ooo, he has a girlfriend,” Maverick told us, wide-eyed. “Some girl in research.”

Tyche and I shared a glance, remembering Zach’s comments about Maverick during the lockdown. “Finally,” I exhaled, more relieved than I expected. “I was starting to worry about him.”

Conor furrowed his brows. “I thought… nevermind.” Despite stopping himself, he looked pensive.

“I know he’s attracted to me,” Maverick announced, surprising everyone. “He told me. I explained that I am very asexual, and very not available. We’re still friends.” He shrugged nonchalantly before grabbing a second helping of mashed not-potatoes.

“That’s a relief,” Tyche declared. “Zach’s like… not a brother, but maybe a cousin to us?”

I nodded, still thinking on what Maverick had said. It was still stuck in my mind as we cleared the table, Antoine having explained to Maverick that those who cook do not clean the dishes. I was staring into my wineglass when Tyche flopped onto the couch beside me, nudging me with her elbow. “Hey, what’s going on in that big brain of yours?” she asked carefully.

“I’m really confused,” I admitted. “I don’t know what’s going on between me and those two. Part of me doesn’t want to put a label on it, because I feel like that means I have to pick, you know? What if I lose the other one?”

Covering her face with both hands, Tyche groaned and shook her head. “To be one of the smartest people I know, you can be really dumb sometimes. Have you talked to them about how you feel?”

“No….” I answered hesitantly. “I’m kinda scared.”

“You’re going to make me ask the gross questions, aren’t you?”

“Please don’t.”

“Sophia.”

“No.”

“Sophia.” I must have hesitated a little too long, because my sister turned towards me and covered her face. “Which of them are you sleeping with?”

My face ignited in embarrassment. “Both, in the literal sense. Neither in the euphemistic sense.”

“Both? At the same time?”

“Well, yeah.” I was starting to fidget. Fuck.

“How does that even work?” Trust my sister to get sidetracked by a cuddle puddle.

“It just does,” I shrugged.

“Do you sleep in the middle?”

“Sometimes? Not always. Whoever needs the cuddles the most sleeps in the middle. Usually it’s me or Maverick.”

She smacked my arm impatiently. “Wait wait wait wait wait. You mean Maverick sleeps in between you and Conor?”

“Sometimes? Yeah?”

“Does Conor react differently when that happens?”

“Not that I know of. He sleeps like an octopus: if you’re in range, you get spooned, tough shit.”

“You are so stupid, and I love you. But you are an idiot.”

“Why am I an idiot this time?” I asked warily.

“You’re dating both of them. You realize that, right? All three of you are dating each other.”

All the blood left my face. “Oh, gods. I’ve got to talk to them.”

“Yeah you do.”

<< Prev Masterlist Next >>

#the miys #humans are weird #aliens #humans are space orcs #humans are strange #fiction #science fiction

98 notes · View notes

happilyhadesbound · 11 months ago

Text

The Captain not telling anyone about his death until he thinks he might be dying (again) because the first time he didn't get the chance to tell the truth...... i am going to scream!!!!!!

#why does the silly little sitcom make me so so so sad #bbc ghosts #the captain #six idiots

66 notes · View notes

grapehyasynth · 7 years ago

Text

The Fire and The Flood

A Fitzsimmons AU

Then: The cold is biting, finding its way inside despite his effort to burrow into his layers. He feels the cold extinguishing something in him, a fire he’s been suffering for years. But though he leaves her – though he has to, to protect his heart, to keep himself from doing something rash – he still feels her with him.

Now: There’s a light on in her window. Well, he doesn’t actually know if it’s hers anymore. He stops outside her building. He hesitates. He wonders…

Now

Fitz isn’t likely to admit it, but he loves the romance of the high street in snowfall. The days before Christmas brim with magic – not that he believes in actual magic, mind. But there’s undeniably an enchantment that’s cast by a collective eagerness and the lampposts wrapped in fairy lights and special holiday breads glowing in the storefronts.

Tonight is the solstice, so most people are at home with their families, celebrating the pagan holdover with cider and leaving the new snow to him. He’s gotten over the loneliness of being new (or, rather, new again) to the small town, pushed aside the memories long enough to tuck himself in enough knitwear to satisfy even his mum, were she here, and gone for a stroll in the silence.

It’s beautiful enough, really, to make him forget his self-pity for a moment. Alone on the solstice – alone at Christmas, probably, unless he decides to be one of the sad wankers in a pub that day. Still. He smiles up at the sky, its blackness somehow purpled by the hanging clouds of snow. All in all, not a bad way to spend an evening.

He’d wondered if he’d need to reacquaint himself with the place, after six years away. But his heart has a damnably powerful memory, and his feet follow it.

He finds himself on Brewster Court and laughs to himself in the muffled silence. Of course.

There’s a light on in her window. Well, he doesn’t actually know if it’s hers anymore. She’d probably been gone shortly after him. They’ve talked, of course, intermittently and without the depth he craved, and she never mentions where she lives. He hasn’t seen her for ages. (Six years, of course. Not that he’s been without her, not really. Forgetting her would be like forgetting his own name. Remembering her feels like breathing, but also a little bit like crying.)

He stops outside her building. He hesitates. He wonders…

Then

“You check.”

“No, you.”

“You!”

“It’s your flat!”

“In which I let you kip!”

Jemma jabs Fitz’s chest and he curls inwards, catching her hand and groaning, pretending to be mortally wounded. She laughs, turning her face slightly into the pillow.

“It’s a meter away, Fitz.”

“Then you do it.”

She pouts. He does his darnedest not to show how that affects him. Can’t have her knowing she’s got him so thoroughly wrapped about her little finger or she’ll be winning every argument.

“Roshambo?”

They push up onto their elbows, the old couch springs creaking under the movement. Jemma wins, of course.

“Oh, Fitz,” she chuckles, and falls back so that her hair fans over her pillow, and a bit onto his as well.

I could get used to this, he thinks, even as he grumbles and pointedly climbs over her, kneeing her and nearly elbowing her nose, tumbling off the edge of the pulled-out sofa as Jemma kicks him off. I could wake up every morning like this.

At the window, he peeks out to check on the progress of the snowstorm that trapped him at Jemma’s last night, an imprisonment neither had minded as they’d pulled out her couch and watched a sitcom from the 80s on her excuse for a television. Jemma could’ve slept in her own bed, but she’d fallen asleep next to him, her fingers close to his on top of the covers.

“Looks like it’s done,” he reports, squinting into the blinding, complete whiteness outside. “They haven’t started clearing it away but it’s not falling anymore.”

Jemma hums and shields her eyes with the back of her hand. “Suppose that means we need to get up.”

“Nggggghhhh,” Fitz replies, pitching himself back onto the couch and over her legs. “Five more minutes.”

Now

“Hell—Fitz?”

If it’s possible for a body to be struck by lightning and tremble down to its mitochondria and shiver through every nerve ending and yet show none of this, that’s what Fitz is experiencing.

“Hey. Hi,” he manages.

Jemma shakes her head, incredulous, then shoves the door properly open and hugs him right there on the threshold. She’s in her pajamas, bare feet on the welcome mat, and she clings to him so tightly his scarf might fuse itself into the skin of his neck. (He wouldn’t mind.)

“Fitz,” she repeats when she finally lets go. He’d run through a thousand painful scenarios on the way up the stairs – she isn’t here, he is here, she doesn’t want to see him, something terrible has happened, she doesn’t remember him, she doesn’t much care either way – and the sheer brilliance of her smile and incredulity with which she says his name makes every one of those fears worth it. He’ll climb that staircase with a knot in his stomach a thousand times, if she will only greet him like this.

“Come in, come in,” she insists, practically dragging him by the fabric of his coatsleeve.

“Wasn’t sure you lived here anymore,” he says. He notices she’s looking at him, still beaming, hands fluttering like she wants to hug him again, and he blushes, choosing to take in her flat instead. It’s changed, of course, just as he imagines Jemma herself has since last they saw each other, but it still feels right. The lights are warm, there’s a new stretch of exposed brick, and she’s loaded up the big windowsill with plants. He doesn’t have to glance into the kitchen to be sure the breakfast nook is still in use.

“Well.” Jemma shrugs. “Where else was I going to go?”

She takes his coat and laughs at his excessive layers and quizzes him on his job and his mum and he swears he can feel the rightness of it all thrumming in his blood.

Then

When they finally do get out of bed and off the couch, Fitz isn’t in any rush to leave, and Jemma doesn’t seem to mind. She puts on gloves – right there, in the apartment, probably more to be dramatic than anything – and they make tea and sit in the breakfast nook and watch dogs and children frolic in the snowdrifts, chased by their weary minders. Sometimes their eyes catch across the table and they both smile into their mugs. Fitz’s leg bounces under the table, just because he feels too giddy to sit completely still.

Now

“I just can’t believe it,” Jemma says again. “You’re really here. After all this time—”

“I feel the same way,” he admits, hoping it’s not too much. It just feels so easy with her. Had it felt this way, before? Or is it something about the way they’ve both changed in the past half-decade, separately but not apart, that makes them fit together so neatly?

They’re sitting side by side on the couch – a new one; she’s replaced the old fold-out for something a bit more chic – while some kind of modern jazz plays from the kitchen. He remembers hating modern jazz. In this moment, he can’t remember why.

“They all asked about you, you know,” Jemma tells him, a hint of teasing in her voice. “The butcher, the baker—”

“The candlestick maker?”

She smacks his knee. “You know we haven’t got one of those. I’m serious, Fitz, they were all sad to see you go. I think Mrs. McAllister from the grocer’s honestly thought you’d marry her daughter.”

Fitz snorts. “I think Mrs. McAllister honestly thought I’d marry Mrs. McAllister.”

She laughs. (She keeps doing that, laughing at his stupid jokes, and for the first time in six years he lets himself imagine that she feels the same way.) They keep talking about the townspeople, the new folk who’ve drifted in from London and threatened to make the place horribly modern, the traditionalists who’ve actually started flyer campaigns to prevent too many changes – but even as they rattle off names, even as he knows there’s a whole humming hive of people out there, that some of them are just beyond that wall, he can’t help feeling they’re the only two people in the world. The snow is falling quick and thick outside the window and maybe he should say something, should get home before it’s too heavy, but maybe it’s snowing because they’re here together. Maybe it’s snowing to keep them together.

Then

Fitz keeps his hands wrapped around the mug long after the tea is gone and the ceramic has cooled. Jemma’s besocked toes nudge him under the table.

“Cent for your thoughts.”

He glances up at her and smiles. The smile is a lie. He’s got to leave in a few, there’s no appropriate way to drag this out further, and as always happens when he feels this critical moment before going away, he’s falling into a mood. She’s still here, just across the little table, her beautiful face poking out of that silly turtleneck, but he already feels like he’s gone. It’s just been so lovely, so easy, the last twelve hours with her. Everything he could ever want. Why can’t he just tell her that? Tell her what he wants?

“This has been nice,” he answers her, lamely, so far short of the truth.

Her lips contract, like she’s thinking. “It could go on being nice,” she says hesitatingly. “You could stay a while. Have another sleepover. Maybe with some wine and some…”

She’s just being polite, Fitz realizes. It’s so obvious, her uncertainty, the slight pleading in her eyes to understand her real meaning. She doesn’t want me to stay. Why would she? He knows she values their friendship, but there’s only so much Fitz anyone can take.

“Thanks, Jem, but I really should be going.” Jemma’s gaze drops into her lap – probably to hide her relief, he thinks sadly. “I’ll wash up.”

Now

Jemma keeps watching him long after they’ve run out of proper things to say. Fitz nudges her knee.

“Cent for your thoughts.”

She squeezes her eyes shut, aware she’s been caught staring, and smiles. Fitz’s lips mirror her, her soft joy infectious or shared, theirs.

“This has been nice,” she murmurs. “I missed you.”

It’s such a simple statement, but it presses across the straining surface of his heart.

“I missed you too.” He thinks about leaving it there. He’s never been good at the vulnerable honesty. Then again, he climbed forty-eight steps filled with fear only to find Jemma waiting, after all this time. Maybe it really can be this easy, this lovely. Everything he could ever want. “But – and this is going to sound daft – I don’t feel like I’ve been missing you. Like – I knew you weren’t there, obviously, but you were also everywhere. I’d be in the market and see a certain kind of biscuits and think, ‘Ah, Jemma’s favorite.’”

He shrugs, embarrassed, but Jemma is nodding. “I know exactly what you mean. You were leagues away and I still…felt you, all the time.”

Fitz hums wisely and Jemma chuckles, ducking her head. There’s a moment of companionable silence, and then the radio announcer’s voice from the next room is saying the time and Fitz grimaces – he hadn’t realized it’s gotten so late.

“Right, I should go, you were obviously about to go to bed –”

Jemma’s lips contract, like she’s thinking. “You don’t have to go,” she says, eyes steady on him. “You could stay a while.”

He sinks back onto the edge of the couch. “I don’t want to disturb you—”

“You’re not. And—” Her fingers dig into the cushion, her taut knuckles pressing into the side of his knee. “I hope you’ll forgive me but I somehow managed to muck this up the six dozen or so times I tried to tell you, all those years ago, but I could never find the words, and I don’t want to risk you misunderstanding again—I’d like you to stay, Fitz. I – I’d like you to stay forever, if you don’t mind.”

She has changed, he can see it clearly. She’s still nervous as she’s saying it, but she’s sure of herself. She’s more direct.

But he’s changed too.

Because, for the first time, he genuinely believes that it’s possible.

“Forever?” he repeats, taking her fretting hand off the cushion and holding it tenderly.

Jemma shrugs, eyes filling with tears that betray her nonchalance. “You’re my best friend,” she whispers.

He bows his head until his nose brushes her cheek and catches a few tears on its tip. “And you’re more than that, Jemma.”

She presses shaking lips to his, and the whisper of the snow on the windowpanes sounds like at last, at last, at last.

Then

Fitz gathers his things from the armchair in the living room, then sets them back down to strip the couch and fold it back up. (His mother hadn’t raised him to be a slob in other people’s houses – only his own.) He’s wrapping tucking his scarf into his jumper when Jemma laughs from the doorway and he hears another person with her.

“I just can’t believe it,” Jemma is chuckling. “You’re really here. After all this time—”

“I know! I feel the same way, it’s insane.”

He steps into the front hall and sees Jemma practically pressed to the side of a tall man with a postal service uniform and an obnoxiously perfect smile.

“Fitz!” Jemma exclaims, guiding her companion into the light. “This is Trip. He’s been delivering my packages for – three years now?”

“At least,” Trip chortles, grinning at Fitz, and god does Fitz hate his kind eyes.

“But we’ve never met! And he’s always been so considerate, leaving my packages with the Donahues when I’m out, even though that’s not technically protocol, I left out some biscuits for him last summer and he left a drawing his little sister did – and now he’s here!”

“It’s a Christmas miracle,” Trip beams.

Jemma laughs. (She keeps doing that, laughing with Trip, and for the first time since they became friends Fitz sees what everyone always says about Jemma being an obvious flirt. Why is she trying so hard? She doesn’t even seem like herself.) They keep talking, Jemma and Trip, but even as they bond like old chums, Fitz can’t help feeling he’s not really there anymore. They look like they’re the only two people in the world. All his dread, all his uncertainty, all his self-loathing – here they are in a perfect, tall, muscular manifestation, and he knows he was right. He and Jemma could never be.

Now

When they finally manage to force themselves apart (they try a few times, but Jemma’s discovered she loves kissing the part of Fitz’s neck where his beard thins away and Fitz is entranced by the feeling of her cheek under his thumb and lips), Fitz certainly isn’t in any rush to leave anymore, nor is Jemma eager to have him go. She draws the curtains – a good sign, Fitz thinks -- and they make spiced rum and snuggle on the couch and murmur to each other (with equal parts chagrin and humor) about all the times they’d come so close. Sometimes their eyes catch over their mugs and they both smile. Their free hands lay against Fitz’s chest, fingers tangled, just because they feel too giddy to be apart.

Then

If it’s possible for a body to disintegrate and shatter down to its mitochondria and crumble through every nerve ending and yet show none of this, that’s what Fitz is experiencing.

“Falling in love with the mailman – how often does that happen?” he mutters.

He wishes there were a feeling of everything dropping away. He wishes there were some great breaking-glass moment where he realizes the rightness of moments spent with Jemma were all fantasy. He wishes he didn’t adore the brilliance of her smile and the way she says his name and how it makes him feel every time she hugs him. He wishes he hated her –

No, he thinks as he slips out of her apartment, Jemma barely noticing as she’s draping herself over Trip. No, he’d never wish that.

The snow looks grey and defeated already, the charm gone. Perfect setting for his self-pity.

He doesn’t stop to look back. He doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t wonder.

The cold is biting, finding its way inside despite his effort to burrow into his layers. He feels the cold extinguishing something in him, a fire he’s been suffering for years.

But though he leaves her – though he has to, to protect his heart, to keep himself from doing something rash – he still feels her with him.

Now

“You check.”

“No, you.”

“You!”

“It’s your flat!”

“In which I let you do unspeakable things to me!”

Jemma nips at Fitz’s bare chest and he curls inwards, trapping her hips between his legs and groaning, pretending to be mortally wounded. She laughs, pressing her face into his shoulder.

“It’s a meter away, Fitz.”

“Then you do it.”

She bites her lip seductively. He does his darnedest not to show how that affects him. Can’t have her knowing she’s got him so thoroughly wrapped about her little finger or she’ll be winning every argument. Maybe he doesn’t care. It just feels so… complete, to lay next to her like this, to rest on the same pillow.

“Roshambo?”

They push up onto their elbows, the sheets slipping to their waists. Jemma wins, of course.

“Oh, Fitz,” she chuckles, and she falls back onto the bed, hair fanning across the pillows.

I love this, he thinks, flooded with affection even as he pointedly rolls over Jemma, pressing their bodies together sinuously before slipping off the bed, not bothering to cover his nudity. I can’t wait to wake up every morning like this.

At the window, he peeks out to check on the progress of the snowstorm.

“Still raging,” he lies, pulling the curtain aside to show her the perfectly clear blue sky. “Can’t see a thing.”

Jemma hums and smirks at him, her legs dropping open under the sheets. “However will we pass the time?”

She floods his senses, she pulses in his blood, she has waited and he has waited and they have found each other again.

“You’ll think of something,” he grins, and crawls back into bed with her.

#aosficnet2 #writing #thefitzsimmonsnetwork #fitzsimmons #aos #agents of shield #jemma simmons #leo fitz #leopold fitz #fsfic #fs tag #fs #au #alternate universe #song fic #ish?#song-inspired fic #fire and the flood #vance joy

38 notes · View notes

the-suite · 3 years ago

Text

Welcome to The Suite: Now What the Fuck is The Suite?

Honestly, I barely know myself yet. I was inspired by something my friend @thursdaysdove showed me: A blog that’s just you...hanging out with your favorite characters living in the same home. It’s a place where your fictional found family is always just a trip to your imagination away. It doesn’t mean that you don’t have friends you adore and can always count on or go to -- but if you ever want, you have these guys as well.

You can work through your problems, get comfort from your comfort characters, get into wacky sitcom shenanigans and...make the world something small and nice that you can control.

It sounded fun.

So yeah, this is my take on it.

I designed the suite of my dreams.

Now who am I? I’m The Emcee. Why not just use my name?

Well, that’s because I might not know it anymore, sort of. I’m non-binary (Bigender, specifically -- my pronouns are she/he) and I’m not sure if I want to stick with my present name or try something different.

So that’s part of me. I also like puns, sarcasm, board games, and shenanigans.

Who else lives here?

I’m so glad you asked! Let me introduce my Suite-ies!

First, we’ve got Reuben/Experiment 625 from the Lilo and Stitch series. He has all of his younger cousin’s abilities, but rather than destroying or taking advantage of those strengths, he prefers to make sandwiches. He’s really damn good at making them, too, and fortunately, he’s willing to share the wealth in the Suite, so he’s kind of like the Suite’s main chef. He doesn’t cook everything, but he tends to man breakfast and a fair amount of lunch. Also, to put it bluntly, Reuben is a complete and utter sasshole -- never missing a chance for a snarky remark when the opportunity rears its head -- and I fucking love him for it! He’s my best friend in the Suite and we’re often seen watching TV together or eating in the main room.

Now give it up for Gantu, also from the Lilo and Stitch series. He’s super big with a fish-like head and after getting away from one bad boss and having a bit of a career as a galactic captain, he’s happy to take a break as a resident in the Suite. Gantu is Reuben’s best friend and the feeling is mutual, though their interactions wouldn’t always give that off. See, Gantu...he can be very sweet and is absolutely one of the most hardworking people you’re ever gonna meet, but...he tends to be pretty bad at almost everything he does. It’s sad because that’s not for lack of trying that he ends up messing up, but that’s just how it goes! So when you pair a sasshole like Reuben with a streak like that, you get a lot of snark. Still though, they lived together for years andcare about each other.

Next on deck, we’ve got Loki from the MCU! Loki’s our resident God of Mischief and his Suite mates give him plenty of opportunities to act on his title. He’s got magical abilities, skills with a blade, and a wit that can keep up with most everyone in the Suite. Like Reuben and myself, he is another sasshole, but where he differs is that he’s got ambitions that he is always excited to act on. He’s not the most trustworthy of Suite-ies, but he keeps things interesting around here!

Now let’s talk about Wheatley from the Portal series! How does one describe Wheatley? Well, GLaDOS would call him a moron (But we’ll get to her shortly), but there’s more to him than that! ...That’s not to say that he’s NOT a moron: He absolutely is. But he’s a friendly, funny little doofus with energy, a management rail, some delusions of grandeur, and a dream. He’s goofy and silly and gets along...eh-ish with most of his Suite mates, one of whom is his mutually reluctant roommate GLaDOS. Still, I wouldn’t have him any other way! He’s the absolute epitome of a Suite-ie!

Can I get a warm welcome for GLaDOS from the Portal series?! Yes, the Genetic Life and Disc Operating System herself resides in my Suite’s lab. Here in the Suite, she has no access to any of Aperture’s more lethal technology, but as always, her snark is as sharp as a katana. That’s good because on top of the rest of the sassholes here, she deals regularly with her roommate, Wheatley. Their relationship is...contentious, but they learn to live with each other. Though GLaDOS has a management rail of her own that can transport her chassis wherever she wishes in the Suite, she prefers to stay in the lab.

Can you tell I’m ready to talk about Chell?! Our last Suit-ie from the Portal series, Chell is a perfect mix of laid back and no-nonsense. She doesn’t talk, and that’s generally the way she likes it. She has a bit of a pseudo rivalry with GLaDOS and has made peace with Wheatley as he’s no longer under the Mainframe’s influence and is able to properly apologize and make amends for the events of Portal 2. Chell’s simple, but also generally chill as long as you’re not bullying or trying to hurt anyone. She’s probably the most observant person in the Suite and that keeps her safe from everyone’s pranks and BS, but at the same time is always one of the first people to offer a helping hand or just listen.

Let’s keep our roll call going with Shuri from the MCU! Hailing from the nation of Wakanda, Shuri is not just its princess, but one of the sharpest minds the nation or the world has ever seen. In the Suite, Shuri continues her work, creating all sorts of awesome inventions to make life here and in Wakanda even better. She’s highly respected as the smartest person in the Suite, even by fucking GLaDOS, and that is no small feat! Though often found in her lab or her room, Shuri’s far from antisocial. She’s often up for participating in the Suite’s shenanigans, whether it be helping out some party in a prank war, taking her tech out for a crazy spin and leading an adventure or two, or just getting involved in the latest sasshole fight with everyone else.

Our next Suit-ie is no stranger to suites – it’s Mr. Marian Moseby from The Suite Life of Zack and Cody/Suite Life on Deck! The former manager of both the Tipton Hotel as well as the S.S. Tipton, Mr. Moseby likes things to be just so. He’s a fan of order, cleanliness, and peace. …So yeah, the Suite might be his polar opposite environment. He shows as much off through his sometimes dramatic reactions to things as he tries to keep the Suite from becoming an utter circus. Still, Moseby is very much a father figure to The Emcee – earnest, gentle, supportive, and always full of good advice and hugs. In the Suite’s ocean of chaos, he can sometimes be the grounded oasis that she needs. He’s a sharp dresser, often wearing a dark suit with a matching tie and pocket hanky every day, but on a warm/hot day, he will wear formal shorts instead of pants.

Sans from Undertale is completely SANS-sational. A fellow lover of puns, hot dogs, and lazing around, Sans is absolutely the chillest guy in the Suite. He’s a skeleton in a blue sweatshirt and pink slippers who spends most of his days napping, watching TV, coming up with jokes to annoy his brother Papyrus and bounce off of his neighbor Toriel, and just observing the Suite’s various goings ons. That said, there’s a bit of melancholy to Sans, hidden well though not completely by his jokes and laid back attitude. It’s hard to explain, but if you get to know him well enough, you can get the sense that life’s been difficult for him and even in the Suite, he hasn’t fully shaken that off. And you NEVER want to get on his bad side, so don’t you DARE fuck with Papyrus or Toriel. But he’s always good with advice and laughs aplenty and if you stay on his good side, he’s a good pal.

Papyrus from Undertale is Sans’ brother. Papyrus has ambition in spades and is always prepared to take on a challenge. He’s a dedicated worker and the kindest skeleton you will ever meet. That also said, he’s not…the sharpest tool in the shed. He’s by no means an idiot, but between his naivete, his trusting nature, and his…delusions of grandeur, he is prone to make an incorrect assumption or two. And less kind minds will take advantage of those qualities to make him do chores or fall victim to pranks. But thankfully, the Suite’s kinder souls are looking after him – especially his skelebrom Sans. The only problem with that is that unlike myself, Papyrus hates Sans’ puns. Papyrus loves to cook, especially spaghetti. However, he’s kind of terrible at it.

Toriel is our final Undertale Suite-ie! Toriel is a goat monster, but ‘monster’ only applies in terms of classification. In reality, Toriel is one of the most loving figures in the Suite. With the help of her soft goat-like fur, she easily gives the best hugs out of everyone in the Suite. Emcee, Wheatley, Papyrus, and Alice see Toriel as something of a mother figure and go to her for advice and her nealy boundless supply of love. One of Toriel’s biggest passions is baking – she loves baking, teaching people how to bake, smelling baked goods, and eating the baked fruits/pastries of her labor. In fact, the only conflict Toriel has with the Emcee is that she won’t eat her Butterscotch-Cinnamon pie, a pie that Toriel both loves making and watching her friends enjoy (Sorry Tori, I don’t like Butterscotch).

Another utter Suite-heart, Alice Jones from Once Upon a Time is one of the Suite’s kindest habitants. The former Guardian of the realms as well as a former prisoner in a magical tower, Alice is now just…Alice! With a heart warmer than a fireplace in July, strong light magic, a love of marmalade sandwiches, and a unique way of seeing the world, Alice makes the Suite shine with a light all her own. Still, Alice isn’t just a goody two-shoes. While not as mischievous as the God of it, she definitely loves getting involved in some of the Suite’s craziness, especially with her wife Robin in tow. Alice loves everyone around her and is someone who will always lend an ear and a voice of reason/madness to anyone who needs it.

Alice’s wife Robin Mills is also from Once Upon a Time. She loves Alice, food, archery, and silliness (In that exact order). She and Alice are each other’s greatest complements and supporters! At first glance, one might deem Robin as simple, youthful, and maybe a touch impulsive -- and she can be -- but she’s also wise beyond her years. Her relationships with her family and Alice have given her a really nice perspective on the world. Still, she’s fun-loving and always excited for the next adventure, whether big or small.

Finally, we’ve got Snek the Dratini from Pokemon! Snek may be a dragon, but he’s such a snake-like noodle that I couldn’t resist giving him a snake-like name! Snek loves cuddling, fish or meat that is either super raw or well done, belly rubs, and good old fashioned snoot boops! When in a particularly cuddly mood, Snek will coil himself around the body of his target of choice and give them a big (Though not painful) hug. Some like myself, Alice, and Toriel like it. Others like Loki, Reuben, and Papyrus…do not. Still, Snek has a good sense of other’s emotions and will always come by and offer pets and snuggles if he senses they are needed. Warning: Snek does NOT want to evolve and thus several Everstones are placed throughout the Suite just in case the evolution process starts.

So, now that all of the introductions are out of the way, let me show you what the Suite looks like (Or as close as I can get to a visual of it with my non-existent art abilities)!

Anyway, if you find yourself on the third floor entrance to a lavish suite, feel free to ring the doorbell, come on in, have some laughs, and maybe find a Suite of your own somewhere in your heart.

1 note · View note

aleatoryalarmalligator · 7 years ago

Text

Life Story Part 100!

I just kept scrapping along. I had my new job, and my ear infection was starting to heal after weeks of self remedying with vinegar. I felt sick at the end of the night, in that weird off putting lighting they kept in the dish pit. I could hear the conversations of the hostesses up front – generally gossiping about one another in a negative fashion, or else talking about their boyfriends or their make up routine. And in the back I could hear the kitchen staff talking about going home – generally to their lonely apartments they were staying at if they were single, and their houses if they were married, like Levi. But all of them wanted to drink and play video games. In fact, I thought it was strange how resigned everyone was, like this was the best life would ever be for any of them.

I found it sort of twisted in funny in a sense. Granted, some of these guys had had brutal upbringings I would come to find, emancipation, homelessness, drunken abusive dad's who made my dad look like a father from a fifties sitcom - but I had in all earnest worked so hard to come to a place where I was washing dishes in a full serve restaurant – something seemingly so humble, but something I felt grateful to have everyday, and furthermore, I often saw this as a breeding ground for my personal development and just the beginning of moving up in the world. This was not a dead end for me. I had to reteach myself (though some might argue I never properly understood), the art of communicating with strangers. I had lost fifty pounds. I was somehow still standing after my romantic and personal life had been devastated, my sanity was in question, my dog died, and it was starting to feel like friends and family didn't want me anymore. But even as I would sometimes get very distressed and down, I also could feel this sensation within me that I was strong and I was still standing even if no one understood that but me, and I was going to do big things with my life and live a full exciting life where I didn't deny myself anything.

And these kitchen men, most of them just a few years older then me, they were bored, drunk and empty. They were a generation of seemingly lost individuals. The more I looked around, at the guys in my age bracket in particular there was this hazy lost avoidant aspect to them all. They might avoid themselves and the world by nerding out on games or television, or they might drink excessively – or both, but they all seemed rather directionless, and when you stripped them from the futility of their ego and frustrations, they all seemed very lost and miserable and by the end of the night as we were all closing our shifts, in the undercurrent of laughter and jokes you could feel the sadness radiating and bouncing around the building. They all thought they needed to be dating a supermodel, but didn't need to put in the effort personally (nor did they think about the limited supply of super models). So instead of having girlfriends, most of them were alone, and when they did hook up with someone and it became a thing sort of, it was like they were afraid to be open and actually care about their girlfriend, and so they instead talked trash about them with their workmates. Some of them had kids they wouldn't bother to go and see, and wouldn't pay child support on behalf of until the state forced them. And they would whine about it – like some evil woman had forced them into servitude against their will. Some of these guys were in their fifties and still had notions that some teenage girl was going to ask them out on a date. And regardless of how crummy each of them were, I got the feeling that most of them were loyal to one another in a way they wouldn't be towards women, regardless of how nice they seemed.

It made me feel disappointed about men in general. They were all very nice to me. Sarah alerted me one morning that they were hitting on me. I honestly could not tell. I was so used to being teased from school, and my ego just sucked in any attention mindlessly – and I would smile and be friendly in return – not certain if I was being picked on, being innocently amiably conversed with or something else, it didn't cross my mind that there was any motive behind any of the guys' intent when they joked around with me. I guess I was the only girl back there so there was a primitive drive among them to be my favorite – at least with some of the more desperate fools. I was like the girl Smurf – the only viable and available girl in their general proximity. But clearly, I only liked Levi and only in this very defined outlying way, and since he wasn't an option I wasn't particularly interested in anyone. I felt this need to fall in love again. I think psychologically it needed to happen. I had to cover up the stained carpet of my previous and pathetic attempt of being in love with Zack to be covered up by some kind of new rug to hide my blemished ego – a new person. And honestly, there was no one. So I would go around and feel this strange sensation of falling in love at times, being giddy and sort of euphoric, but it was probably the upside of my mood swings and it was probably because I needed to get whisked away into something new as soon as possible.

I hated to admit it to myself too, but I couldn't really see myself with Levi, even in the alternative universe where he was single and liked me. I already knew that was not a thing. I was complex, and for me, part of love was painting an interesting tapestry of dialogue. Levi didn't do that kind of chit chat. There was something special about Levi, and I think he sensed stuff about his surroundings, but he wasn't very interested in being philosophical or playing mind games as a means of fun, and I knew myself well enough to know that I would challenge him and he wouldn't like it. I would want to change him and it would ruin the good things about him – if it even got that far. He was meant to have a family and a home with someone like Dani. He was meant to be a provider and a caregiver to either a traditional family unit, or else he was made to lead a group of hooligan men and bring out the best of the group towards victory. My path did not converge with his. I would look myself in the mirror, and I was not a homemaker. If anything, people might call me a possible homewrecker given my smitten feelings. I was meant to be alone in a way that a lot of people find difficult. I needed someone who understood me and my complexity and my playfulness enough to take care of me, but also was an equal I could bounce ideas off of and be taken seriously when I needed a colleague. So every time I found myself admiring him, I also felt incredibly silly. It was ill suited, like a flamingo falling for a rabbit or a bear or something.

Allison meanwhile was spending a lot more time with Whitney and Josh. While I was at work she would now go out and visit Josh and Whitney at their parents' house. Allison would tell me about the drama – one part of the evening they would talk about Whitney's setbacks, and then turn on Josh, and then everyone would just dance and it was more or less this silly weird night where all manner of catharsis was reached with tears, and laughter and thought provoking ideas. Generally speaking, I found myself somewhat jealous that I was closing the dish pit while most of these fun nights took place. I was always invited, but my work schedule wasn't working well with their days off so I would just have to feel jealous for a little bit longer.

I rarely went out with Sarah and Zack anymore. Sarah seemed to think I still had feelings for Zack, and to her credit I might have pretended I did. I don't know why. They were too boring. I thought their relationship was depressing. The best it ever got with them was being on the brink of falling asleep. It seemed strange to me that the best part of the relationship was when the two closed their eyes and stopped really connecting to each other. But of course I could have seen this coming had I not painted Zack into some demigod that I had once believed him to be. I do remember one very absurd even though that I still feel extremely uneasy about. Sarah, Zack and I were driving to the store, probably to pick up a few groceries. It was a short trip that I chose to accompany them in. Maybe I was getting picked up from work – who knows. I was looking into the sky, it was later on in the evening when everything takes on an orange glow but it's not dark yet, and the clouds above us began to cluster together in this very distinct way. It was like they were moving together, and before I could even believe my eyes, the clouds had written the word LOVE in the sky. I pointed it out to Sarah as fast as I could so that I didn't feel entirely crazy, and she saw it too. So did Zack, who of course decided it was God's will.

It didn't stay that way very long, but for a moment it was so unmistakably clear and baffling. It hadn't been written by an airplane or anything either. The clouds had temporarily formed the words. I suppose in the history of cloud formations on our planet, words have been spelled – but how often, and how often does it show up that clearly? I won't even venture into the territory of their having been an author. I really don't have words to say about the reason why I saw this happen, only that I did. It didn't last much longer. As we continued driving I turned my back and watched with dismay as the words melted away. I can't say I got much from the statement itself. It gave me this really warm feeling, but the concept of love was relative and I wasn't about to drop my guard and take it as some meaning that I was to lay my life out for Zack and Sarah – like Zack would have me believe. Love is the best thing in the world, and I do live for it, but love comes from, and manifests itself in so many different ways for different people, places, ideas, times and activities. Maybe I was meant to love myself? Or maybe if lets venture into the territory of saying that it was created by the universe with intent, perhaps there was some other happy couple who had seen it, and us three fools in the car had just lucked out and had been at the right place at the right time. It's hard saying.

Eventually I did end up going to some of these parties with Josh and Whitney. I remember showing up before Josh and Whitney did, and meeting Josh's mother Theresa, for the first time – at least one on one. When Theresa was sober, she was very quiet, and was looking relatively young considering the life of drinking and sadness she had undergone. It was just Sarah, Allison and I at the table and at first we politely chatted. Theresa began drinking beer, and soon she was weeping and telling us her life story and about how Josh was her little baby. She began crying on me, and begging me to date her son. She was desperate for him to have grandchildren for her. She said I was beautiful, and only I could make Josh happy. Then she seemed to forget she had said that to me, and she went to Allison (who was mind you, fifteen), and begging her to date Josh, who was going on thirty. Then she went to Sarah. Theresa was a desperate sort. There was no easy way to explain her level of ridiculousness. Because then she started talking about how she was watching the history channel and the show was on alien abductions and she believes aliens abducted her because she was watching the show later that night. Then she put on The Church's 'Under the Milky Way' and slow dancing and crying about mysterious sensitivities she felt within herself. Of course, it goes without saying that absolutely nobody took Theresa seriously. She didn't seem to notice, but if she did she only saw it as a dramatic element to cry about for a moment before moving onto the next thing.

Sarah and I had done some talking. Things had changed for us so much, and at least for myself in particular, I really wanted to get to know people. I didn't like just having casual back and forth with people. I felt like, between Sarah and I we could sort of interview the people we met in life, people at work, people at the party, and we could ask revealing questions and get people to tell us their life story. We called our project, Project Life Story. It didn't end up going to far, but we ended up asking Josh his life story one night as our first person. I don't know where we were going with this exactly. It seemed meaningful and fun, and that was something Sarah and I have going on very much anymore.

Josh seemed a little bit nervous that night. We were sitting around the table talking at the parent's house. Whitney was there but I believe she got bored and sat in her old bedroom. Josh was drinking a beer. It was strange because he could at time be super vulnerable and absurdly outgoing – but then at times he could come off as stuffy, eccentric and socially anxious. He seemed withdrawn and anxious, but he agreed to tell us his life story just the same after drinking a few beers.

Josh had been raised in Kendrick, same as me, only he was about eight or nine years older than me. He had gone to the same school that Sarah and I went to – knew most of the people my sisters hung around to some extent. He was born two months premature., was the eldest of four, and he was the only boy out of four siblings. When Josh was young, his family had owned a lot of farmland, and he had grown up believing for much of it that his destiny was out on a farm as a farmer. He had spent a lot of time alone in the fields in the rural parts of the hills growing up alone, contemplating life and reading more than most kids his age. I think on one hand he liked the secluded life out in the fields. On the other hand he wanted to have a different life that involved traveling the world. He had a friend for awhile who also lived in the hills, but his best friend had drown in an accident when he was seven, and other than that, Josh didn't have a lot of close friends – even as he was generally liked by most of his classmates and teachers.

Josh's mom and his father drank a lot and in the early part of Josh's life, they did a lot of drugs around him. Josh grew up listening to classic country music. His father was a serious, and violent, abusive man with drug issues. He also had this strange way of never working. What his father had figured out how to do, was to continuously trade smaller cheaper objects for more expensive objects. Everywhere Josh's father went, he asked people if they would barter their stuff to him – and this sort of kept him afloat. His uncles were very backwoods. When he misbehaved he would be tied upside down from a tree and shocked with a cattle prod until his father and uncles were satisfied that Josh had been thoroughly punished.

This struck me as cruel and sadistic, and it hurt to even think about such a small boy being abused, and when I told Josh this he shrugged it off nonchalant and humorously, claiming he could be hard to deal with when he was young and it made him tough. He remembered these things without much personal pain by memory association, and I thought that was strange, and sort of intriguing about him. He didn't react to his own abuse the way people typically do. He joked about it. He saw it from painful perspectives. He toyed with the concepts involved with the crimes committed.

Josh jumped out of a moving vehicle when he was four years old – because he was curious and prone to taking dangerous risks with his own life. He had to relearn how to communicate which took about a year. Eventually he picked it back up again and nobody could tell that there had ever been a problem. There is speculation of course, that the head injury might have effected him in some fashion that was permanent, but as to what that was it's hard to say.

His father was particular for meth, and it wouldn't be uncommon for Josh to wake up in the dead of night to his father picking him up by the neck from dead sleep and being thrown in the bathroom with bleach demanding he bleach everything perfectly. As Josh told us this, I imagined a little Josh on his hands and knees scrubbing the floors while his sadistic father screamed at him. My father wasn't/hasn't been perfect to me, but I couldn't really imagine what that must have been like. To a boy no older than seven or eight. Mind you, Josh didn't tell me this part of the story, his mother did.

Not only this, but every pet Josh managed to get – namely cats but some dogs as well, every summer when Josh was sent to do work in his uncle's and grandfather's farm, Josh's father would take his rifle out and kill Josh's pets. It almost seemed like he was targeted by his father really. Like his family was trying to mold him into something. Still, Josh found ways to amuse himself. At a young age he took serious interest in karate. He read a lot of books regarding fighting technique and eastern philosophy at a very young age. By second or third grade he had taught himself to use DOS computer program. His teachers considered him a genius and when he was tested in high school, he had the IQ of 143. Him and his grandfather were very close while his grandfather was alive – so he enjoyed hanging out with him. All in all, I thought Josh sounded like a hyperactive, but thoughtful boy. And while a lot of Josh's early life was tarnished with abuse, Josh wasn't really defined by the abuse he went through – or at least he tried very hard not to let himself be (he rarely told anyone the stuff he told us that night), and I thought it was fascinating.

It was as though he developed some quality that had forced him to catapult over misery itself. Obviously, he hadn't truly escaped his childhood. To a degree nobody does. But all in all, to most people who had abused him, he became an empty husk that they beat on and the joke was on them – mentally Josh floated away into greatness that went unrealized to most people. There was something beautiful about that to me. And in that catapult over the moon he was made more aware of how hazy reality actually was – something I had become privy to in the recent years. Which, has always made me kind of wonder about some things related to childhood trauma and what we become aware of and sensitive to as adults. Clearly some trauma makes development in children shut down or become stunted. There can be no arguing this. But can certain kinds of trauma and anxiety actually open us up in some strange way? Because with Josh, and with myself I saw that to be kind of accurate. We had been sitting at the table for twenty minutes by this time, listening to Josh and asking the occasional question. I felt this really meaningful kinship with Josh. I didn't know what it meant, or how to

When Josh was nine, he was molested by one of his father's friends at gunpoint. Josh eventually admitted this to his parents. His father didn't believe Josh, and punished him for trying to get his buddy in trouble for no reason. His father saw it as Josh's attempt to ruin his marriage with Josh's mom. Josh maintained it was true, and eventually this lead to the final straw between his mother and father's relationship, as Josh's mother did believe Josh's story, though they managed to stay together for a few more years it seemed until it really hit home.

Josh was always a straight A student. Teachers loved him. In junior high he started the wrestling team, the chess team and the debate team. He was very ambitious and had a way of hanging out with a lot of different people, the jocks, the drama kids. He ended up having this weird situation happen which involved him falling in love with a girl who had babysat him growing up. I didn't understand this story the first time Josh' told me, so I asked him to explain it to me a second time, but he was drinking that day and the details were confusing. Essentially, this girl was a few years older than Josh and one of his creepy cousins/relative of some sort took this girl in as their girlfriend when she was a teenager, got her addicted to drugs, and then she ended up dying in a car accident due to this creepy relative. Josh was twelve at the time.

The second girl Josh ever was taken in by was none other than my eldest sister Maria. Maria is two years older than Josh, but the fact that she wouldn't do any of her schoolwork at all, the fact that she would tear up her papers in every class and smoke and sleep with whomever made her intriguing to Josh. So for about a year, he would follow her around. Maria laughed at him and never took him seriously. He was two years younger than her for one, small and geeky. He would tirelessly write her love letters and put them in her locker. He bought her stuff. He offered to go with her places. She went camping with him once, but nothing ever came of it. Eventually she quit school and he moved on. To me, it's strange and funny to think that this was all happening while I was five years old – clueless that any of this would ever be told to me in my early twenties. The fact that we were sitting at the table in this dimly lit house far away from that version of Kendrick we both grew up in, talking about these stories – something felt really odd about Josh in relation to me.

Josh ended up dating a girl named Tara from Roxanne's class, which was two classes lower than his. I knew her t be very preppy. She was also my first grade teacher's daughter. They connected because they were the only two atheists in the school and Josh staged a debate about the existence of god in her class. Josh had grown up being raised as a god fearing republican cowboy, but he had begun to question that pretty early on. He also had secretly been teaching himself to play guitar. His family would have flogged him had they known, but he had hid a very cheap guitar that someone at school had sold to him in an unused barn on his grandfather's property miles away from home. So when he wanted to practice, he walked out there and played secretly in the barn. Nobody ever taught him to tune the guitar, or what heat or cold could do to a guitar, or even how to play chords. So mostly he just tinkered around with it in secret for hours he could escape unnoticed and didn't really learn to play much until he was much older. Still, there was something very beautiful about the idea of that.

Josh's father became sort of sadistically certain that him and Josh were to be at odds. He felt there could only be one 'man' in the house so he made Josh sleep out in a camper. And then when Josh's dad and mom were fighting, Josh's dad ended up hitting Theresa, and Josh attacked his father, which ended up in Josh's dad leaving for good. I didn't get the details, I just know that it's what happened.

Around this time, Josh's uncle came up with this new idea about farming and rotating crops (something that is now used in certain situations, but I know nothing about since I don't really get into farming technique), and in order to make his idea work, he had to borrow money against the land itself with the bank. And that year ended up being one where there was too much rain or heat, I can't remember which, but Josh's uncle's idea didn't pan out and they ended up losing the land. So Josh wasn't going to be a farmer after all. They moved down to Kendrick for a time. Josh and Tara stayed together for two years in high school, and Josh had just graduated. His plans with Tara were for them to both become very educated. She wanted to teach English overseas, and Josh wanted to become a professor of psychology – and they were going to travel the world and lead an exciting life.

At this point in the story, Theresa drunkenly had joined the table to listen. She started chiming in that Tara's family had always looked down on Josh, that he had never been given a fair go. She started screaming and crying about it, as though Tara's family had broken Josh in some permanent way. In any case, Josh shrugged and argued that Tara's family had been very fair to him, and Tara had every reason to leave him when she did.

So Josh was nineteen and he started college. He had waited for Tara so they could both go to college together and pursue their dreams. But it didn't work out. Josh started at the University of Idaho, and while he was there, he didn't feel smart anymore. He felt average at best, and socially anxious. Even as a lower end genius as he was, he felt outclassed and outshined by a lot of the students. He expected a lot from himself – probably that he would be one of the greatest students there. And something in him was starting to break. The things in life that had kept him sane were starting to disappear from him. So he quit college, and then tried again another semester but the psychological issues were only getting worse. This time, in his Psyche 101 class, he wrote his professor a personal letter in with his assignment and asked for advice. I don't know the details of what his professor told him, but it was very insightful to Josh. But it didn't stop Josh's breakdown.

Meanwhile, Tara was doing very well in school. And Josh felt like he was lagging behind and wouldn't be able to meet the goals that they had agreed to in creating a life together. I guess it comes down to a certain sense of yourself in the world. When you are stripped of a self esteem at an early age, left to your own devices you fall apart. Rebuilding something that resembles what a normal person with an okay upbringing has takes years. Tara came from a good home. She was confident and certain about what she wanted in life. Josh was not confident, and was become increasingly more and more uncertain about everything.

After trying for a third time to make college work, Josh randomly left Tara, and didn't contact her for four months. He freely admitted it was a cruel and shitty move on his part. He went back to Kendrick. He found people he had loosely known in Kendrick who did drugs,and he started to do meth with them. Whenever Tara tried to find him, he ducked out. Eventually he came back to her and they tried to make it work. He suddenly became obsessed with trying to get back on track and get back to her. He walked twenty miles in a snow storm to knock on her door to give her a love letter. There was an element of intensity to Josh, and I imagine it was hard for her to turn him away after he had done something that reckless on her behalf. He attempted to go to university one more time. But things weren't the same. He was high all the time, and a bunch of different women who he knew from partying all had interest in him. At a drunken party, Tara dumped him, and he hooked up with this other girl at the same party. Later on, Tara begged his forgiveness, and he got back together with her. He woke up the next morning and he had peed himself and it had gotten all over her. He decided to leave her for good this time. It had gotten too gross and too messed up at that point.

He decided the next week in one fleeting moment to go back to Tara. He explained he was sitting in the grass, looking at world, and suddenly he had this strange sense that everything had altered. His personality had altered. Something wasn't right – and he had to get back to Tara, as she was probably the only stabilizing force in his life. Josh explained it as a paradigm shift. He explained this in much greater detail than I am now. It took him about four or five hours of talking to tell us his story mind you – and what I convey is a very condensed version. I also fail to bring in his wit or sense of humor – something my writing skill isn't all that equipped to do. Josh is devilishly sarcastic. Even people who don't like him have difficulties not being entertained by him. But what really struck me as odd was just how much of what Josh talked about that felt like he was explaining the symptoms of my own life to me. Granted, Josh and I were very different in many ways – I probably wouldn't have started the chess club or started using meth per say. But certain things had started to link up – certain facets, micro elements to his story that felt weirdly like he was reading my mind. That crazy stuff I had been feeling that winter? He knew what that was like. And all the strange connections we had to things and places and ideas. I wondered distantly if I had always been on his trail, and hadn't known it. That maybe in some strange way, I was years behind him but had never been quite as alone as I had thought in my experiences.

So Josh, in this frantic realization ran back to where he and Tara had been staying. He came into the house, and she was with someone else. She had been cheating on Josh with this other guy. Josh ran away from the house and it was officially over between them. Tara went on to marry the guy she had been cheating on Josh with, and together they did end up traveling the world and teaching underprivileged children English and being this major power couple that Josh had failed to live up to.

Josh meanwhile dropped out of college for the final time. He went back to using meth. His personality changed. And he spent years living this way. He lived with his mother when he could, but they didn't get along well. Theresa slept with a lot of Josh's friends during this time, and it became a gross hangout because Theresa was so easy to sleep with. And she was miserable. She talked about killing herself all the time. This was what Melissa in my class was most likely having to deal with all the time. Josh was homeless much of the time. Melissa – who is Josh's youngest sister, idolized him. His other two sisters got married and went on to lead very normal lives, but Melissa and Josh were somewhat alike in personality.

Josh had some extremely odd and disturbing experiences during this time. There is rumors in Kendrick, or at least there were about twenty years ago, that some racist Nazi guy who had killed some black people in a church in Texas during the sixties or seventies and had gotten away was living in the woods around Kendrick, that he had family who had let him survive on their land, and the government suspected he was there but didn't care to catch him for whatever reason. Well, Josh lived in a cabin that was on this same land with one of his drug buddies who was related to the family. They would just stay there and play video games for hours on end. They saw signs that this creepy racist guy was living out there, but they never looked into it.

One night, Josh and his friend were in the cabin, when they heard gunshots. They were high and paranoid, but they decided to go investigate. They listened and they heard and saw what looked like a guy named Cody who went to school with Josh and my sister Maria driving away. And then a few days later it came to light that a boy they went to school with had disappeared. He had been extremely stupid. Josh and his buddy never told anyone what they had seen, and Cody moved to California for a few years before returning. Here is what happened. Cody had been attempting to be a drug pusher for some big guys from Spokane. He had given this dumb kid ten thousand dollars worth of drugs to sell, and this dumb kid had decided to take all the drugs himself. Cody risked being injured or killed if he didn't take action, so he killed this poor fool instead, and then fled to California. A lot of people in Kendrick knew what had happened – word did get out. But there was no direct evidence and a body was never found. Josh and his pal did hunt for the body out in those woods. They could smell it, but they could never find it.

I think it was weird that Josh didn't turn it in. I guess there is a good chance the cops would have botched it anyway. As it was, nobody seemed to care this teenage boy went missing. His family didn't care. The town didn't care. It reminded me of the movie 'River's Edge' sort of, only there wasn't a body. I asked Roxanne about this guy's disappearance years later. She was even friends with this person, but as soon as he went missing and nobody immediately found him, there wasn't any more talk about him. It's like he never existed. And it freaks me out, not only the reminder of how fragile our existences are, but how narrow minded humans can be. There is a strange cruelty to it. And I guess it happened around the same time that Chuck Palahniuk's dad got murdered in the same area, in an entirely unrelated set of circumstances, and what my bus driver in elementary school got in trouble for. There was a lot of murder in the 90's in Kendrick, and people forgot about most of it rather quickly – which, you would think they would be remembering this stuff for years considering how boring it is in Kendrick Idaho but no, they bury the real stuff – it becomes whispered legend and perhaps a few people retain a memory about it, but most people pretend it never happened.

Josh from there ended up moving in with this chemist in a small town called Troy that is in between Kendrick and Moscow. Josh and this other friend of his lied and claimed they knew more about science than they did – though Josh did know enough from his own curious endeavors and reading to trick this guy. The guy let them both live there for free in exchange for them helping him set up a laboratory, which never ended up happening. Josh and his friend did meth all day of course, and this guy more or less just wanted company I think. But after awhile, this man ended up being very creepy. He started revealing more and more to Josh and his friend about his interests. Eventually, it became apparent what this guy was into. On the black market, there are women in impoverished and hopeless situations, younger women generally – and men I assume as well, who end up being either diagnosed with a terminal illness, or their circumstances are so dire and hopeless they don't care if they live or die. And they sell themselves to be tortured to death for snuff films which rich and disturbed individuals buy on the black market, and sometimes they sell up their flesh to be eaten, or their bodies to be used as decorative art photographs. In any case, this guy was into that. He was into the photography, but he spent a wild amount of money to have these nudes taken of dead women who had terminal illnesses and had given their lives up for a little money to give to their family after their death.

Josh suspected this guy was into buying human flesh from these same women as well. He was particular about these steaks that he insisted Josh and his buddy try. They ate with him a few times, not realizing the implications or knowing anything. But eventually they caught on. There were certain key things that were said in conversation that made it all seem real. This guy was sexually gratified by buying nude pictures of these women and then eating parts of them. So Josh and his friend left one night without explanation. I asked Josh why he didn't turn this guy in or say something to authorities. Josh shrugged. He was high. He was definitely bothered, but it was hard to truly care about anything but the next fix. Plus, small town cops wouldn't have believed him.

Josh ended up living in a tent behind his mother's house. And this is where he met Whitney and Zack, through Melissa. And from there, after Whitney pursued him for a year and a half, he finally caved in and started dating her. And Zack was dating Melissa (and of course secretly messing some former preteen version of me's life up by telling her he loved her over one hundred times a day). Whitney cheated on Josh over thirty times in the course of their relationship, and had thirty proper boyfriends in between dating Josh. It was at times ambiguous if they were dating or not, and everyone around them questioned what 'stage' they were in. I think it was even more strange when their mom and dad decided to start dating and marry while their children were together. The whole family was really very strange. In a way, I had to say that they had a strangeness that made certain traits of my own family seem normal. And on top of this, it seemed reckless that Josh would put himself through dating Whitney through all this. Josh was obsessed with Whitney, it was an obsession I was sort of curious about.

As I was told, when Whitney and him had started dating, he had been sleeping in his own bedroom and had been awoken with Whitney, hysterically crying in his doorway. It was alarming. She looked at him, and she said 'JOSH! I AM SICK IN THE HEAD! I WILLDO FUCKED UP HORRIBLE THINGS TO YOU! I WILL DESTROY YOU. BUT YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME EVEN WHEN I DO THESE THINGS!! YOU HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF ME NO MATTER WHAT JOSHUA!! YOU HAVE TO PROMISE YOU WILL BE WITH ME FOREVER!' and Josh agreed to it. I guess it was alarming. Maybe Josh didn't see anything else in his life worth living for. In any case, he did everything in his power to maybe believe that there was a version of Whitney under the layers who was self aware and appreciated his resolution to stay by her side through thick and thin. For Josh I think it was like Eternal Sunshine For the Spotless Mind. But their relationship crippled the both of them – made them both manipulative. It made them dependent on strange and disturbing things that the other person possessed. Neither Josh nor Whitney had normal requirements in a relationship.

I heard more about the details of Josh and Whitney's relationship later on, but that was where the story mostly ended that night. Josh had gotten clean after three more years of on and off meth use. He eventually had nowhere to go – and couldn't hold a job for very long – but had quite a few over the course of a few years. He lost his mind after Whitney cheated on him yet again. He attempted to commit suicide, and was put into a mental institution for a month. All I was told at the time was that he was diagnosed with Bipolar 2. When he was released he hitchhiked to Lewiston. He was staying with Randy and his mom temporarily, trying to get his life on track – who had just gotten married, and he was watching this cable guy climb the poles and work outside. He went out and talked to this cable guy about the job. As it turned out, a cable man had just died in an accident, and there was an opening. Josh would have to pass a bunch of tests and classes, but he stood a good chance of getting the job. It was the kind of thing he could do very well at. So he set himself down and applied himself in a few weeks time and he got the job. He was a cableman. It gave him money, and the incentive to get an apartment, and clean up. He quit using drugs – only drinking on weekends, a family habit – and maybe smoking weed a few times a year if he felt he could get away with it. And all his old friends stopped hanging out with him.

And his relationship with Whitney hadn't been working anymore as it had. There had once been an unhealthy symbiosis in their unhealthy relationship. They splitting up and coming together didn't excite either one of them anymore. Josh was beginning to get to a point where he wanted something more real, and Whitney didn't feel like she possessed Josh like she had. She didn't want to be his girlfriend anymore, but they were both trying to convince themselves they were still playing this game with one another when it was clear that neither one of them even cared anymore. They had broken their own innocence and each other for cheap thrills and now what was left was what Sarah, Allison and I had all stumbled into. All because Zack had fulfilled 'the prophesy' of returning to my old home.

We had to get back. It was late by the time Josh finished his life story. On the way home, my heart hurt like it never had before. I felt understood in a way I hadn't realized I could be understood. I wanted to tell Josh at times that what he was saying linked up with my life in certain ways, but it would have seemed crazy to say anything. I felt like I understood Josh. I wouldn't go so far as to say I felt comfortable calling him a friend just yet, but I had honestly never been so drawn in and felt so personally close to someone so intimately and so immediately before. It's like, there is a loneliness you get when you are very young, five or six. It comes from the realization of mortality and the ending of everything. I think a lot of children get it. You feel your aloneness in your own perceptions, in an indifferent universe. And suddenly, I felt this knowing sense that in some form I had not been quite so alone. I was sitting in the back seat as we drove back to Lewiston that night, and I started crying. And I didn't why.

PART 99 - https://tinyurl.com/y8afyex7

PART 98 - https://tinyurl.com/y7pjvn95

PART 97 - https://tinyurl.com/ybvlfusf

PART 96 - https://tinyurl.com/y8cm6pdy

PART 95 - https://tinyurl.com/ybxq2o5j

PART 94 - https://tinyurl.com/y8k7mwq4

PART 93 - https://tinyurl.com/yc8mae7e

PART 92 - https://tinyurl.com/yb7bwsuw

PART 91 - https://tinyurl.com/yar8e8rp

My Life Story in Chapters, PARTS 1-90 (this link below will lead you to a list of all the chapters i have written thus far).

http://aleatoryalarmalligator.tumblr.com/post/168782771574/life-story-sections-1-90

#text #life story #writing #long text

20 notes · View notes

grimelords · 7 years ago

Photo

Hello and god bless, I have finally finished my November playlist a week and a half into december. Disco, Guns N’ Roses, an entire doom metal album and everything in between. Please enjoy.

Extraball - Yuksek: Aside from the extremely nice electro bass I think what I appreciate most about this song is that the chorus seems like the sort of thing you could sing in a round, or as some kind of children’s clapping game.

Mirror Reaper - Bell Witch: Let me be the first to apologise for putting an 80 minute doom metal album as the second song on this playlist. I’m sorry. It was selfish and it won’t happen again. That said, please listen to this because it is transformative. I’ve listened this a lot this month and it’s really affected my mood I think. Doom metal is one of the only genres that takes itself seriously enough to release an album that’s just one 80 minute track but I really can’t fault them for doing it. This is a piece of music that demands to be listened to in full, and while it does naturally divide into movements like anything else this long would, it would be weaker overall if it were split into individual tracks or listened to individually. A lot of the playing on here, which is very sparse in long sections feels like ritual music of some kind - a feeling that’s compounded by the length when you’re absolutely lost within it. It makes electric bass and drums feel like modern ritual instruments and this album feels like an invocation of the spirit of loss itself.

Sixteen Tons - Merle Travis: For some reason I keep thinking about and listening to different versions of Sixteen Tons. This is Merle Travis, the orginal songwriter, but this is a new recording he did in 1989. Notably I love the very plaintive solo in the middle of this, but I especially love that he changed the lyric at the end to say “I owe my soul to Tennessee Ernie Ford” which feels like an agressive rebuke or a solemn nod but I can’t tell which.

Looking Up - Michael Smith: My girlfriend sent me this song because she heard it on the podcast Good Christian Fun which as I understand it is an exploration of the bizzare world of american evangelical christian media. Anyway this song rocks. It sounds like Todd Terje remixed the theme to some lost 80s sitcom and I really can’t get enough of it.

Wild - Beach House: This is such a beautiful song. I love the tinny drum machine and the live drums that sound programmed constrasting against the huge wall of guitar and synths. I used to listen to this album a lot a few years ago when I worked night shift and it reminds me of standing on top of wine tanks in the cool night air at 2am texting my now girlfriend as she went to bed. Sorry.

Piano Concerto No. 3 In D Minor, Op.30: 1. Allegro ma non tanto - Sergei Rachmaninoff: I had a friend in school who did his licentiate degree in piano in year 12 and was obsessed with this piece. One day he took me through the whole first movement and showed me how the theme is established and comes back in different forms over and over again throughout and basically taught me how to listen to classical music which was very kind of him because it’s something I’m only really appreciating now.

Verklärte Nacht, Op.4: String Sextett for 2 Violins, 2 Violas and 2 Cellos - Arnold Schoenberg: This is an early Schoenberg piece before he got into that good good atonal serialism, but it does still have moments that presage what was to come. I don’t really have much to say about this other than it’s a very good place to start with Schoenberg because it’s like proof that he was a human man at one point.

Day-O (The Banana Boat Song) - Harry Belafonte: I’ve really been thinking about how work songs like this and like Sixteen Tons become international hits. This one especially, in the 50s, was it because it was a really good song (which it is) that a lot of people related to or was it a sort of exoticism about funny banana song (which to be fair, it also is).

Boogie Wonderland (12" Version) - Earth, Wind And Fire: This is the song you hear playing from the other side of the door when you get to heaven.

Apollo’s Mood - The Olympians: This album is basically a collection of Daptone All-Stars under the name The Olympians just doing their thing and it’s really amazing. I especially love the harpsichord in this, an instrument that doesn’t get nearly enough of a workout in soul music. Also, I don’t really know how to describe it but I really love the way the snare roll that starts it off and comes back a few times sounds - buzzy and busy without rushing anyone.

Saturn - The Olympians: This is the song you use for your montage at the end of a James Bond movie that’s just four minutes of him relaxing and drinking different cocktails by himself that the critics called ‘wholly unneccesary’. In the drums and bongo break he does a little dance and falls over.

November Rain - Guns N’ Roses: As far as overblown classic rock epics go, I really wish November Rain had the cultural place of bad song Bohemian Rhapsody or Stairway To Heaven because underneath the 9 minutes of stings and bullshit it’s actually a very beautiful and sad song written by an idiot.

Sisters Of The Moon - Fleetwood Mac: With the current wytchy cult that Stevie Nicks has around her it’s easy to forget that she wrote songs like Sisters Of The Moon, a song explicitly about a witch converting other women to witchery. I love the big extended phrase of guitar chords in the chorus and I’m very mad about how this song fades out just as it’s absolutely going off.

When The Levee Breaks - Led Zeppelin: Rounding out this unexpected classic rock trio is When The Levee Breaks which I was thinking about because I was thinking about The Big Short. This song sounds so good and there’s been so much written about the famous drum sound and the production but what I only learned this month is that it was apparently recorded at a faster tempo and then slowed down afterwards, which explains a lot about a lot of the sounds in here.

Bad Liar - Selena Gomez: This is maybe the pop song of the year honestly. It’s so good in every single aspect, especially the when she says’ oh baby lets make reality, actuality, reality’ which is a very weird lyric. So is 'you’re taking up a fraction of my mind, every time I watch you serpentine(?)’. Great stuff all around.

Hello Miss Lonesome - Marlon Williams: I saw Marlon Williams a year or so ago and it was one of the best gigs I’ve been to because things just kept going wrong. Broken strings and misunderstandings and all that sort of thing, and the highlight for me was in this song the drummer got overconfident and started pushing the tempo near the end and eventually tripped over himself so badly they had to stop and start again.

The Voice Of Q - Q: Here’s how you can tell a song is good: you can only find it on Spotify on a compilation album called 'Cocaine Boogie: 24 Kilos Of Underground 80s Dance’. This song seems like a classic case of 'somebody bought a vocoder’ and it’s very very good, another fantastic entry in the canon of interplanetary disco. I also love the children sadly pleading with Q to come back at the end, because the song hasn’t really given you any understanding of who or what Q is other than a being with a voice who is from space.

Take A Trip - Rev. Utah Smith: If I were, hypothetically, to start, for example, a UFO cult, I would definitely have my congregation sing this song. I love it so much. Outside of the fun premise it does what good gospel music should do and completely uplifts my spirit by promising a better life after this one, and if I get to go there by rocket ship, well that’s all the better.

Normal Person - Arcade Fire: I love the little 'do you like rock and roll music? 'cause I don’t know if I do.’ he sings at the start because it sounds like they’re into their 13th hour of recording or something. I love the lead guitar that sounds like it’s severely undernourished but trying its best and I love how strangely heavy the bass and rhythm guitar is compared to a lot of their other songs. A good song to sing along to while you’re driving.

Top Of The World - Kimbra: I don’t know exactly how or why but Kimbra made a Kanye song. Playing the dual roles of Kanye and Featured Artist she does a great job and once again defies whatever I thought she was going to do next. I can’t wait for the album, I hope it has even more Raps.

Eric’s Trip - Sonic Youth: I’ve never gotten much into Sonic Youth because they seemed way too New York Cool for me, so imagine my heartbreak when I found out the lyrics to my favourite song of theirs are wholesale lifted from an Andy Warhol film. I still have a lot of love for 'my head’s on straight, my girlfriend’s beautiful, it looks pretty good to me’ though.

I Hope I Sleep Tonight - DJ Seinfeld: God I’d be embarrassed if I blew up on soundcloud with the name 'DJ Seinfeld’ and then had to keep it when I put my album out. This album varies pretty wildly in quality but I really love this track, the synth melody that just careens around wildly while the rest of the song happens nearby is what does it for me I think.

Problem With The Sun - Nicolas Jaar: “In an interview with Self-Titled Magazine, Jaar said “I was watching a documentary about bugs. It said that if they looked at the sun, they’d die. I thought ‘Oh, that’s funny; that’s cute’ and I wrote a track about it (…). If you find something really special in a tiny story about bugs, it could have a much bigger meaning than that. I like the idea of turning life into this miniature thing”.” He’s used this particular voice modulation on a couple of song and it really cracks me up because it so thick and textured and just plain silly but somehow it suits the song perfectly.

Long Strong Diamond - Baggsmen: This is a song I remember seeing on Rage late at night years and years ago. The guy was dressed up as a werewolf and kidnapping some girl but he gets so distracted by his song about being a werewolf that she ends up escaping. Extremely mad to find out that the guy in this song from years ago that I love is none other than personal enemy of mine Jake Stone from Bluejuice.

XO/The Host/Initiation - The Weeknd: Trilogy could well be the best album of the decade. Remember when The Weeknd was this mysterious anonymous guy who was firmly a character and not an actual guy who seems to actually believe what he’s singing? I love Trilogy because the progression across the three discs from like 'cool indifferent party guy’ in House Of Balloons to extremely deranged cult leader in Echoes Of Silence is very satisfying. Initiation especially is great because it’s like a cool fun song about a party mixed with some extremely dark shit about the clocks not working so you can’t tell the time and the blinds not working so you can’t see outside in a scary pitch shifting voice. “And all I wanna do is leave 'cause I’ve been zoning for a week and I ain’t left this little room, trying to concentrate to breathe” but you absolutely MUST meet my boys.

This Guy’s In Love With You - Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass: Anyway here’s a change of pace. A very peaceful song about just fucking dying if she won’t be your girl. I love how dramatic this song gets before completely stopping and starting again into a very relaxed trumpet line.

Jasmine (demo) - Jai Paul: I’m obsessed with the cult that develops around guys like Jai Paul and Jay Electronica, who put out two songs that are so good that it drives people insane when they don’t put out any more. There’s apparently a bunch of stuff happening with Jai Paul currently that I haven’t been keeping track of but The Fader had a really good article earlier this year about how the Jai Paul leaks and how insane it made everyone. Aside from all that, the song is pure magic - just listen to it and you can understand why everyone was obsessed as they were.

Freaking Out The Neighbourhood - Mac Demarco: I remember I saw an interview with Mac Demarco talking about this song and he described the riff as just some dumb little thing he made up which is shocking to me because I am totally obsessed with how good it sounds. It’s perfect!

Bob - “Weird Al” Yankovic: Yes baby it’s Weird Al’s all-palindrome Bob Dylan parody! I was telling my girfriend about how this is actually really good songwriting because even though it’s essentially gibberish it has enough good imagery and fun sounds that it works anyway and really how different is 'may a moody baby doom a yam’ to 'transient jet lagged ecto-mimed bison’ from the Mars Volta which also appears on this list? Anyway she hated it, and rightly so.

I Have Good News To Bring - Sister Rosetta Tharpe: Live from the basement church of my UFO cult, a beautiful version of Take A Trip that sounds like it was recorded on the organ of an empty baseball stadium at night.

Julia - Jungle: I have been desperately waiting for three years now for another Jungle album and they finally posted about new songs the other day and I got very very excited. This is an amazing song, every sound in it is so perfectly placed and the vocals are very beautiful and have such a rich bass for such a high tenor. I love the way the drums subtly get very busy in the last few choruses, I could listen to this song for hours.

Ray Gun (feat. DOOM) -BadBadNotGood & Ghostface Killah: I love that this song is maybe 20bmp faster than Ghostface or Doom are expecting. Doom especially sounds far more excited than he has in years and they both do really well with it. Also, I was certain the melody it breaks into in the last third was some Lalo Schifrin bit I’ve heard before but I can’t seem to find any info corroborating that. If it’s familiar to you or you know where it’s from, please reply to this post because it’s been driving me crazy.

Confessions Pt. III - BadBadNotGood & Colin Stetson: Any song where Colin Stetson has to play with others is funny to me. He’s such a self contained ball of power that him joining a traditional group like it just wouldn’t work. Sure, this song does sort of sound like him doing his own thing for seven minutes while the band sort of reacts to him but it is absolutely fantastic anyway.

Everyone Nose (All The Girls Standing In The Line For The Bathroom) - N.E.R.D: Remember when Pharrell was crazy? This song is total chaos. The pitched down sample in the hook, the two note bassline, the sax that just hoots once a bar. And I absolutely love the contrast of the beautiful bridge, especially the 'achooo’ backing vocals.

Parties - Shlohmo: Bad Vibes was such a moment. It is such a beautiful album, and a very easy album to fall asleep to and then wake up 20 minutes later terrified and choked by your headphones because Trapped In A Burning House, the song that sounds exactly like its title and nothing like the rest of the album, came on. I have such a strong emotional reaction I really can’t explain to the cutoff samples of people laughing near the end of this song.

Bering/Human Till Born -Talkdemonic: I have no idea how I came across this album but I’ve been listening to it constantly for ten years now and I still find new things to appreciate in it. The drums especially in Human Till Born are a source of obsession for me.

Don Caballero 3 - Don Caballero: For a long time I never 'got’ Don Caballero or Hella or any of these supposedly legendary math bands, despite loving so many bands obvously influenced by them. But then one day this album, and this song especially just clicked for me. It also happened to coincide with one of the most surreal weeks of my life when I was on a cruise ship and all I listened to was this and a field recording album that seems to have completely deleted itself from my computer since then. The best advice I’ve heard for listening to this is, and bands like it is that it’s backward. The drums are the lead instrument and everything else works around that, if that helps. This song has a twisted sort of morose quality that’s really hard to pin down. Some days it is absolutely heartbreaking, which sounds silly but it’s true.

B.Y.O.B. - System Of A Down: There’s a few reasons I was thinking of this song. First and most importantly it’s because of that dog vine but the other reason is I was thinking about how there hasn’t been a good anti-trump song yet outside of YG’s FDT, and that came out before the election. This and American Idiot came out in 2004/5, and I suppose it’s only been a year since the election so we’ve got a few years yet until the real hits come out I guess. Or I suppose he’d have to actually properly declare war, which, you know.

4D/MTI - Koreless: These songs are so intertwined in my head I feel like you can’t have one without this other. 4D is such a simple, beautiful piece of music. The synth that sounds like glass and the chopped vocals getting more and more contorted as the song goes on contrasted with the propulsion of the drums is so great. Both of these songs have a meticulousness and restraint to their sound, every single piece is perfectly where it should be and nothing else is allowed. Even MTI using so much white noise feels incredibly controlled and when it totally drops out it feels like coming up from underwater.

New Lands - Justice: Remember when Justice took 4 years to write a follow up to their album that lit the world on fire and instead of doing the same thing again they made a classic rock album? Everyone was so mad. Luckily this song is incredible and everyone was wrong once more.

You Discovered The Secret And Juiced It For All Its Majesty - Venetian Snares: This is from an EP called Cubist Reggae which I think a lot about in concept alone. This is probably the song that illustrates the idea worst but I love it a lot. My incredibly unpopular opinion is that Venetian Snares is miles better of Aphex Twin and whoever but everyone’s written him off as the Rossz Csillag guy so he doesn’t get no respect. I love how detailed his music is, how every one of the million sounds seems to be perfectly placed. I think he’s in a similar position to Autechre where he’s been making and listening to only his own music for so long now that he’s forgotten how normal music sounds, which is good.

Blues Run The Game - Jackson C. Frank: I made a playlist a couple of years ago of all the songs I sing to myself when I’m just walking around or whatever and it turned out about 6/10 had 'blues’ or 'hard times’ in the title, which is tough but it’s ok, and this was one of them. If you want to read a wiki article that’ll make you cry, read Jackson C. Frank’s, but mostly you should just listen to this, his only album.

Thermal Treasure - Polvo: I played this song for my girlfriend and during the intro she said 'you have such a wide variety of tense, off kilter music seeminly designed just to put people on edge’. I’m a huge fan of this very defensive sentence in Polvo’s wiki article 'Their sound was so unpredictable and angular that the band’s guitarists were often accused of failing to play with correctly tuned guitars’.

FML - Kanye West: This is such a strangely affecting song and it’s hard to be sympathetic to Kanye as a narrator sometimes (especially when he insists on doubling down on dogshit lines like “'I'mma have the last laugh indian cause I’m from the tribe called chekaho’”) but against all odds you can identify and relate to his struggle to hold onto the woman he loves and not be undone by his own worst instincts. Musically this is the best The Weeknd has ever sounded and I already love him a lot, and the way the drums lead into the sample at the end is just perfect.

Roulette Dares (The Haunt Of) - The Mars Volta: This is the album I’ve probably listened to the most in my life. As a teenager I would listen to this album every night for easily a year and somehow there’s still something new to hear in it. It’s almost hard to listen to it now because I have so much Teenage Feeling attached to it but it’s still an incredible piece of work. Jon Theodore deserves a statue for his drumming on this album, and this song especially, in my humble opinion.

Life’s A Beach! - Studio: God I love Studio. I think if you tried to describe them on paper you could never make it sound like good music. “It’s sort of, balearic , reggae, guitar-led dance music and the songs go for about 15 minutes most of the time.” But it is good music! I absolutely promise it’s incredible music!

The Number Song (Cut Chemist Remix) - DJ Shadow: I love this remix because it feels like theseus’ ship as demonstrated via remix. How many parts can you swap out for similar but not identical parts before it’s a completely different song. The drums are almost the same beat, but a totally different sample.The Jackson 5 horns in the original that signal the transition to the second half are still here with the same function, but it’s an entirely different horn sample, and an entirely different second half save for 'the party’s already started, and it’s about to end’.

listen here

#playlists

99 notes · View notes

foundcarcosa · 7 years ago

Text

ccxxix.

Childhood

Did you spend your childhood time with mostly real or imaginary friends?: >> I spent my childhood time with my Constant Companions of the time. Jacana Heights was a happenin’ place, but the most happenin’ was the theater in the center of town, where every night Eden Long and [whatever my name happened to be at the time] would perform an old favourite story or a shining new story for the enraptured masses. (When I put it like that, being incapable of socialisation with other children doesn’t seem too steep a price to pay.) Did people consider you an odd child?: >> I mean, considering how I answered the last question... but even from an outside point of view, I seem to have struck people as odd, yeah. Do you have memories that go back to when you were only a few months old?: >> No. Do you remember any thoughts you had when you where very young?: >> Thoughts, I’d say not.

Were they intricate or simple thoughts?: >> Who’s to say, really.

If you answered “intricate”, give an example of one of those thoughts: >> --- Were you dreams very vivid as a child?: >> From what I recall, yes. The mild trypophobia I had through most of my life was directly caused by a childhood dream. What is the strangest memory you have from early childhood?: >> I don’t remember anything particularly strange. Then again, I am not a good judge of what’s strange and what’s not... Were you a child prodigy or did you display any gifts at a young age?: >> Something like that. For whatever it was worth (not much, it seems). What was the most “grown-up” thing you ever said as a child?: >> I don’t know. What were your favourite TV shows in early childhood?: >> I didn’t really have any, especially considering how little TV I was actually allowed to watch. Were you afraid of monsters?: >> No. But similarly, I was afraid of the lion motifs my Leo father had everywhere. Some of them were frighteningly realistic and would come to life in my dreams. Did you believe that fictional characters were real?: >> Sometimes they were. Were you more quiet and artistic or loud and physical? >> I was quiet and artistic. Issues and stuff Do you eat meat?: >> Selectively. I consider myself pescetarian, if pressed. If you do, what is your justification for it?: >> I don’t need to justify meat-eating. Food is food. If you could legalize 3 things in the US, what would they be?: >> Meh. Do you believe in the death penalty?: >> I’m not too fond of the concept. Did Mumia do it?: >> Wow, that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long while. If you had a choice, which country would you have chosen to be born into?: >> That’s too many variables to account for. What are your opinions of Michael Moore?: >> I have none. Describe your feelings about marijuana legalization: >> I’m in favour of it. Red, White and Blue is a ghastly color combination, right?: >> I’m not fond of it. What television news coverage do you detest the most?: >> I don’t even bother with televised news anymore. What will you do if Bush is re-elected? >> Ha! Which state do you think will drop off into the ocean first?: >> Hmm. Who do you consider “American Heros”? >> Hmm. Completely Obtuse And Silly Questions Have you ever taken something apart just to see how it worked? >> Sure. Do you ever yell at the television while you are alone? Reason?: >> Oh, definitely. Because I’m really excited, because a character is doing something dumb, because I’m trying to encourage a character to Do The Thing, etc. Name a few things (if any) that you bought on Ebay recently: >> I haven’t. Are the Muppetes sinister? Think about it.: >> Are they? Do you watch the Science Channel (Discovery) on a regular basis?: >> We don’t have cable, so not on a regular basis -- but I watch it on other people’s cable sometimes. Ever gotten into an “in person” argument with a total stranger? Discuss: >> Maybe? I don’t know. Sugar or Honey?: >> Honey, generally. What’s on your desk right now?: >> Heimdall (the machine), its peripherals, and some sundry. How many e-mails do you recieve a day?: >> 5 or so, sometimes upwards of 10. Mostly things I end up deleting right away. Do you think that time travel is a possibility?: >> I mean, sure. Are you slightly addicted to online tests and surveys?: >> Ha! San Francisco or New York City?: >> I know NYC intimately. I would like to visit San Francisco. What are your favorite color combinations?: >> Blues and greys, greens and greys, golds and... well, a lot of things. Close your eyes and type the first random image that pops into your head: >> Trees. Do you enjoy night or day better?: >> I love both for different reasons. Favorite animal: >> Otters, capybara. Have you ever been to a protest?: >> Yes. Aggravated a cop on purpose?: >> Noooo. Ever gone train hopping/ridden the rails?: >> No, but I’ve strongly considered it. If you could choose a time period in which to live, which would it be?: >> I’m fine here. Ever put your hand through a window?: >> Through a broken one, or...? I mean, probably. List a few words you hate the sound of: >> I can’t think of one now. And a few you like the sound of: >> Meh. Are you sick of this survey yet? >> No. Emotions And Such Have you attempted suicide more than once?: >> Only once. Cutting?: >> For about six years, with some isolated incidents in the years following. Do you get violent when you are angry?: >> Occasionally. Which emotion are you most consumed by?: >> I’m most often not consumed by an emotion. Are you highly emotive?: >> Nah. Do you discuss problems or keep them to yourself?: >> I am reluctant to discuss problems with anyone outside of Xibalba. Do you fall in love easily?: >> Yes. What age/year was the most difficult for you?: >> That’s impossible for me to quantify. How do you channel your anger/sadness?: >> A variety of ways. Ever been addicted to alcohol or drugs?: >> I’d say not. Ever been homeless?: >> For most of my adult life. List a few simple things that make you happy: >> Can Calah (okay that’s not a thing but listen), the smell of my roll-on oil, watching absinthe be prepared, seeing dogs hanging out of car windows. When were you most recently your happiest?: >> I mean, /shrug Do you consider yourself empathetic?: >> Not particularly. But it happens sometimes. Friends Describe your best friend as if you were describing a character from a film: >> I don’t even know where to begin with that, lol. Do you have friends that are drastically different from each other?: >> I guess? I mean. List a few key traits that all of your friends have in common: >> First of all, I’m having trouble even figuring who counts as a friend for this purpose. I always have a crisis of understanding whenever I try to figure out who are friends of mine. So I’ll just skip most of these. Do you keep in touch with friends from high school?: >> That would require me having friends in high school. Have you lost touch with many of your friends?: >> --- Are they mostly local or long distance?: >> I definitely don’t have any local friends. That’s easy to figure out. When you go out with friends, what kinds of things do you do?: >> --- Have you ever been betrayed by a close friend?: >> /shrug? If yes, are you still friends with that person?: >> --- Are your friends mostly your age, younger or older?: >> --- Do you have a hard time making friends because most people bore you?: >> That’s not why, no. Do you like to hang out with friends one-on-one or in groups?: >> I prefer two or three friends. Which of you online friends do you have the most in common with?: >> Who knows. Family Are you close to your family?: >> No. What traits are you glad you inherited from them?: >> I appreciate all the traits I’ve gotten from my father. What sitcom does your family most remind you of?: >> --- Does your family live locally or far away?: >> People in my family live in several different places. Have you ever stopped speaking to someone in your family?: >> I don’t speak to almost any of them. Have either of your parents died?: >> Not that I’m aware of, but then again, it’d be difficult to even find me to tell me. Is your family very much like you or are you opposites?: >> Most of the people in my family are very different from me. How many siblings do you have?: >> Five. Has your family ever thrown food at each other?: >> No...? IDK. Are the holidays a nightmare or a time of joy?: >> I mean... I don’t spend holidays with family members, so if that’s what this question is referring to, I’ll have to pass. Do you look like your parents?: >> I look a bit like both, I suppose. List one interesting fact about your family: >> --- Lovers Gay, Straight, Bi-sexual or no idea?: >> No idea. Married/partnered?: >> Partnered, yes. Ever gone out with someone you were embarrassed to be seen with?: >> No. Ever broken someones heart?: >> Maybe. How many serious relationships have you had?: >> Several. Have you ever lusted obsessively over someone you knew you couldn’t have?: >> Oh, yeah. Do you believe in the theory of soulmates?: >> Sure. Ever cheated?: >> Yes. Been cheated on?: >> Not to my knowledge. Thrown someones stuff out on the lawn/stairs/etc.?: >> No. Had your stuff thrown out on the lawn/stairs/etc.?: >> No. Most important emotional qualities of a lover?: >> I’m not sure. Most important physical qualities?: >> Hmm. Food & Drink Non-alcoholic beverage of choice: >> Water. Alcoholic beverage of choice: >> Absinthe. Foods you crave on a regular basis: >> I’m not sure.

Salsa and Chips or Pita and Hummus?: >> Pita and hummus. Meat or Tofu?: >> Meat. Soup or Salad?: >> Salad. Soda or Juice?: >> Juice. Can I get you anything else?: >> Hmm. Favorite candy:: >> Ferrero Rocher. Favorite food to make: >> Nope.

Food brand that you hate?: >> Hmm. Do you try to buy all organic?: >> No. Favorite quick food?: >> Morningstar veggie burgers. Final Questions Ever had a great song ruined for you after it was used in a commercial?: >> No. Ever yelled at an SUV?: >> I mean, maybe. A Hummer?: >> An even more likely possibility. Ever faked being sick to get out of going somewhere?: >> No. If you could turn back time and change one thing, what would it be?: >> No. Bambi or Nemo?: >> Neither. List 3 things that are worrying you right now: >> --- It’s too fucking long, right?: >> The survey? I’ve definitely taken longer. Well, I’m just trying to help you pass the time.: >> I appreciate it. Do you think you’ll ever have children if you don’t already?: >> Maybe. (Raise, not actually have.) Do you think there is life on other planets?: >> Sure. Have you ever broken a leg or arm?: >> No. Would you rather stay in the house or do things outside: >> I prefer a balance. I definitely feel my wanderlust straining at its leash these days. David Letterman or Jay Leno?: >> --- Last words?: >> Deuces.

#surveysofsamedi

1 note · View note