#Apologies I wrote this usually at 11 at night after getting back to a hotel room dog tired | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yanban-san · 2 years

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eldritch twins has so much potential.

Cause I’m just picturing Elesa trying to cautiously teach them human customs, and then it gets to ‘courting’ and like, humans have many many different ways, so she tries to think of the basics.

“Oh they keep up really good hygiene to be more presentable! Like trying out new scents and stuff, though they can also just do that for work.”

But they stopped listening at the first half and so the next time their darling walks in they go “oh? New scent? GASP! DARLING IS TRYING TO COURT US! OH BELOVED WAIT!-“ and the struggle to get a feather and scale off respectively.

Meanwhile that morning their soulmate was just “I did buy some new body lotion, and it smells amazing, eh might as well.”

Poor Elesa who states something so clearly but these two monster men are just ‘I heard courting habits/rituals and that’s all that matters.’

- noodle

jdakshl I took this in a slightly different direction but I think you will like it :)

CW: Long, Poly, Demon/Monster Submas AU, Deredere Yanderes

Though I like the idea of Darling after starting to date them just tries out some new scents with the intention of finding one the Twins like and they go nuts when Darling is asking if they like it, both of them trying to find another suitable gift to give their darling-

Elesa sighed, rubbing her temples as she sat back in the plush leather chair the twins had prepared for her. Emmet pacing around the room, and Ingo leaning against his desk, unsure of how they’d managed to give Elesa a migraine this time around.

“Miss Eles-”

“Be quiet for a minute,” She hissed, keeping her eyes closed in silent meditation- And shooshing Emmet again. Maybe, just maybe, she thought, if she wished for it hard enough, she’d wake up back in her apartment and find all of this had been a bad dream; That she hadn’t spent the past three afternoons trying to explain human customs to these two demons, whose current plants involved running a train station in some roundabout way to win your heart; Though, they had to admit, trains were very cool in their own right. Elesa had thought the two to be simply adorable when she learned this had all started from trying to make you love them- Simply seeing you happy brought them such joy, they were more than happy to give you anything you asked for, to grant your every wish!

Elesa thought it cute; innocent, sweet, lovey-dovey, a fairy-tale romance come true-

And soon those adjectives would be dropped from her vocabulary entirely, when she’d heard their future plans to get you to love them.

Their plans included all sorts of absolutely wonderful ideas- such as gaslighting you, kidnapping you, brainwashing you, murdering any vermin who might try to deceive you, stealing away your heart with their lies- In other words, anyone who might try to date you- Or perhaps they would engage in their own kind’s displays of affection- To offer you the head of some fool who dared to insult or disrespect you would be a delightful honor to them, and surely humans would have some similar customs, correct? Or maybe you’d prefer these fools to fall to the ground, swearing eternal fealty to you for having committed such egregious transgressions against you- And they’d already erased some existences that had dared to try to hurt or insult you before. Though they hadn’t gotten to mention the nicer and far sweeter rituals of courting they had, before Elesa interrupted them with an excessively long-winded admonishment of how terrible everything they had planned was; Ordering them both to forget anything and everything they knew about their own customs and ideas and promising them that she’d definitely convince you to love them so please-do-not-resort-to-whatever-the-hell-you-two-were-originally-thinking, stuttering the words out as quickly as she could to ensure the two idiots understood and obeyed.

And they had, of course, gotten bored after no less than three hours of “discussion” on their ideas- It was silly of Miss Elesa to try to correct them! They were above such human ideas of things like “morality”- And they were fine playing human- They insisted. But the laws that bound their existences in this realm made it impossible for them to just take you. They needed to hear it from you first-That you loved them. That you wanted them. And truth be told? The thought excited them more than anything- A human willingly becoming their bride- How lovely, how lovely! What a fairy-tale among their kind, too. Human soulmates were defective- and were often abused and treated as livestock by their demonic companion, as humans didn’t feel the desire or obsession that resulted from the condition of having a soulmate, and the demon had no desire to wait or explain anything; Just to have their soulmate as quickly as possible, safely in their embrace and away from any prying eyes or danger. They could just keep their human pet bound up for their own amusement, and sleeping in a pleasant dream to keep them from suffering or hating the demon- Lost in falsehoods and fantasies, unaware- Yet also painfully aware of the waking nightmare that engulfed them.

But Ingo and Emmet had seen how such cruelty to half of the soul-bind had wasted away at their kind- turning into wretched ghosts of themselves. Living, but at what cost? Unending suffering for human and aberration alike.

They were nervous and worried that they might frighten you, or hurt you again, after what happened when you summoned them- They were so desperate to see you love them-

And also of the fear that you might reject them. Oh, how that would hurt- And the two refused to even begin to explain what they would do if you should turn them down and refuse their affections; But the dark look that clouded both their eyes made Elesa shiver.

And hence why they endured the bothersome nonsense of the little mortal before them, listening intently- waiting for her to divulge the knowledge and wisdom she claimed to possess.

Elesa leaned back in her chair.

“So, you guys want to know… about... dating.”

“…Courting.” Ingo returned, looking at Elesa warily. “Dating comes after courtship, does it not?”

“Well, that is- I guess they mean the same thing, Humans have a lot of different… ways they can engage in... In courtship, It’s a little difficult to explain,” Elesa tried to answer, but really- Where was she even supposed to begin? She was primarily concerned about them hurting others while attempting to court you- Or murdering them- Or any other number of horrible things that Elesa didn’t even want to begin to imagine.

“I am sure there must be some basics, Miss Elesa. Could you not explain to us some… signs, or something- We are not even sure if our little beloved loves us back, truth be told- And reading minds is quite a difficult feat.”

Elesa’s attention snapped to those last words. “You can read minds?”

Ingo could tell by her tone this was not a good thing. “Well, technically- But humans-”

“Absolutely no mind reading no matter what do you understand me, not to me, not to your beloved, not to anyone- Got it?”

Ingo’s tired eyes met Elesa’s- bright and indignant and practically sparking with fear and anger. Ingo sighed.

There was nothing worth reading in her mind, anyway. Her thoughts, like so many other humans, were scattered and varied and cacophonous- a din of firing neurons that was more like trying to listen in on every conversation in a crowded mall at once- And 99 out of every 100 was screaming about something either inappropriate, insane, or inane. And finding out what the human’s mind was actually focused on was even harder.

“Very well, Miss Elesa. We will not engage in any mind reading.” Ingo didn’t feel like explaining it to her right now- Perhaps later.

Emmet stopped pacing. “Yes yes- We will not do that- But, how do we tell if our darling likes us?” He collapsed onto the office sofa, tired of the other two constantly derailing onto other topics.

“W-Well, I suppose...” And she began to think again. “Well, uh- If you’re trying to get someone to notice you... Sometimes they’ll do things like try out new outfits, or dress nicer if they’re going to see you.”

“But Darling works here- They must wear the uniform of Gear Station. How would they dress differently?”

“Hmm, I guess not that then- Maybe they wear ribbons in their hair? Haircut? Bracelet? Jewelry?”

Emmet’s smile widened. “Ah! We shall look out for such changes.”

“Oh! Another thing I can think of- Personal grooming! If you like someone, you’ll take more time to make yourself nice for when you go to see them! They might try out some new soaps, new perfumes... All sorts of things; styling their hair differently, making sure their breath smells good- you know, stuff like that? Though, to be honest, that’s also a bit of a "for work” thing as well- Lot of people like to make themselves extra nice for work-”

“Splendid!” Emmet interrupted, clapping his hands together.

“Wait a second-” Elesa interrupted, but faltered- They weren’t paying attention anymore.

The twins shared a glance to one another; Quite a satisfactory answer! And perhaps they could try out some of those things as well... Darling seemed to like certain hairstyles on men- Perhaps they could change their hair a bit... Or maybe find one of these perfumes for themselves- Something you’d like?

“But what sort of scents would Darling like?” Ingo wondered aloud- Neither of them smelled much like anything, they thought. And what would Darling like for them to wear?

“Oh, I’d love to help with that! I can ask them about it during our next coffee hang out,” Elesa was already thinking of the dozens of scent samples she’d received from perfumeries- Especially for all the commercials she’d done over her career. And finally! Some normal progress with these two abominable monsters from beyond the edge of reality.

And the twin demons now had something to look out for about you! Emmet tried to recall- your hair always smelled of either flowers or fruits. He'd just have to take note of your scent from now on.

---

Of course, you were happily unaware of any secret plots to analyze your shampoo and/or other bathing product choices while you were doing your shopping later that evening- You were out of a lot of your favorite bath products- So why not stock up on some while you were here? And maybe-

Maybe you'd try something different. New.

You grabbed a bottle of some tea tree conditioner; Some stronger stuff was good to use every now and again, right?

And you used it the next morning- the scent was strong, you realized- but not necessarily unpleasant? Minty. Pungently minty.

And the twins could smell it the moment you walked into the access tunnels.

"Good morning, Station Masters!" You saluted them, standing as straight as you could with your heels together as they both walked over; Emmet had some sort of tablet in his hands, and Ingo had a clipboard- You recognized it as the morning safety checklist. By the time you got in, according to an engineer, there was a broken... energetic lattice generator inside an engine? It sounded quite sci-fi, you thought; but also interesting! The trains of Gear Station were a modern marvel of engineering and scientific ingenuity;

Or at least, that's what you thought. To Emmet and Ingo, it was just a way for their Servitors to inform their masters of potential breaches in security or problems caused by magical interference, without revealing to the general populace and you that the trains were, well, yes, while technically complex mechanical devices, they were powered by some arcane wellspring of energy that Joltiks went utterly insane for. The actual engines inside of them were physically impossible to exist- And if any human engineer tried to comprehend or rebuild the engines they’d be unable to or probably driven mad. Perpetual motion machines were not something that should’ve been able to exist in this universe, after all.

But none of that mattered for now! You were here! And- And you smelled different-

"Good morning!" Ingo shouted- his voice always so loud and distinct against the growing mechanical din of trains starting up and stopping and clunking and bumping and mechanical whirrs and grinding noises, and Emmet motioned you closer and the two dragged you away from the maintenance annex, into a quieter tunnel.

Oh, you were quite pretty today! Your outfit was as sharp as ever, and your smile so bright- Ingo put his arm across your back more than once- stopping just short of grabbing you, as much as he wanted to- And Emmet forcefully restrained his arms behind his back while they walked with you towards their office. Surprisingly, none of the other Depot Agents were following you yet, you noticed.

Of course, the Agents knew not to interfere with their bosses when they were with... you.

But the two were excited for another reason, aside from getting to be alongside their beloved, beautiful, darling-

The scent. It was different. Very different.

A sign you liked them, right? You were wearing the scent for them, right? Right?

You removed your cap for a second, brushing back your hair- and a new wave of the strangely minty scent hit them both. It was certainly different from what you normally wore, Ingo thought- And your hair was so pretty, he just wanted to run his hands through it, to gently caress you- Emmet was staring at you- licking his lips and leaning in a little too close- And Ingo shoved him back glaringly. No. They had to make sure, right?

Ingo would strike up conversation with you- Already planning out how to weave the question of the new scent into a natural conversation, to find out if you really were wearing it for them- That would be so sweet, though he did think he preferred the scents of flowers and fruits on you- But if you’d thought of them, trying to impress them- trying to court them-

Ingo needed to know. His feet were trailing shadows and pools of dark voids while he walked, his mouth curling into a little grin- And he went to ask you, tentatively, how you were doing this morning-

“Are you wearing a new perfume?” Emmet interjected. Ingo faltered, glaring daggers at his younger twin.

You blushed- Was the scent really that intense? “O-Oh, no, It must be the new hair conditioner I tried that you’re smelling- It’s awfully minty, isn’t it? I don’t know if I quite like the scent.”

Blush. You were blushing! How cute! They could hear your heartbeat in your chest- increasing rapidly. You, of course, were just embarrassed that the tea tree conditioner was obviously so intense that your bosses could not only smell it, but were commenting on it-

“It is not bad,” Ingo added, trying to calm you down. Ingo could smell it too? It must’ve been really intense. “...Are you trying out new hair products for any particular reason?”

Both of them looked at you- Leaning into your space ever so slightly, waiting for your answer with bated breaths.

“No reason! Really!” You answered honestly. “I just- It was a more intense hair cleanser than normal, and I thought... I could... use a change...” You trailed off. Sinnoh above, this was embarrassing- Scentless hair wash next time. Who knew your bosses had the noses of Poochyenas?

Or maybe it was really intense and bad. You adjusted your hat on your head. Hopefully you could mask it? Or better yet, you knew Agent Jackie needed you- You could run off and seclude yourself in some office doing desk work for the day, avoiding your bosses and smelling pungently minty-fresh in some forgotten corner of Gear Station!

“I’m terribly sorry, Ingo and Emmet- But- uh, Jackie- My supervisor for today- he uh, asked me to report to him for my daily tasks! I just remembered I was supposed to report to him first thing this morning, sorry!” And before they could stop you, you’d run off.

The twins were quite upset when you managed to scurry away- Had Elesa lied to them? Was this a human way of saying- No, it couldn’t be-

Had you tried the new hair conditioner for someone else...? Ingo bit his thumb at the thought, hard enough to draw blood, turning black and shadowy at exposure to the air. Emmet stopped his incessant pacing, his hands twitching uncomfortably and inhumanly.

Absolutely not. They wouldn’t allow you- How dare you- No, no they couldn’t think that! You were simply confused- You only loved them- You couldn’t love someone else- Could you?

They’d get to the bottom of this- No matter what! Your supervising Agent was about to receive a new order for the day- Find out if you were going to see anyone later, no matter what- And also find out why you were wearing the strange hair scent- Oh, they wouldn’t be letting you leave Gear Station today if you really were looking forward to meeting someone else- They’d have to put a stop to that immediately!

And Elesa, meanwhile, had returned to her gym- Quietly thinking to herself while she awaited the arrival of a new challenger.

“I could’ve explained that stuff better,” She thought- But man, had she been exhausted today- “The way I said that stuff about perfumes... I hope they don’t start thinking that person is like, proposing to them just because they used Strawberry scented shampoo instead of coconut today or something- Nah, of course they wouldn’t be so dumb as to-”

She stopped.

On second thought-

She began furiously dialing her X-transceiver.

#Seth.anon #Seth.asks #Demon AU #Monster AU #Demon Submas #Monster Submas #Noodle Anon #Apologies I wrote this usually at 11 at night after getting back to a hotel room dog tired #Emmet X Reader #Ingo X Reader #Ingo/Reader #Emmet/Reader

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nerianasims · 4 years

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Billboard #1s 1977

Under the cut.

Marilyn McCoo & Billy Davis, Jr. – “You Don’t Have To Be A Star (To Be In My Show)” -- January 8, 1977

They will be happy with each other as they are, not needing a "star." It sounds literal, like they think most people only want to have relationships with celebrities. It's got some bounce and a beat, but it's very light and not poetic at all. Meh.

Leo Sayer – “You Make Me Feel Like Dancing” -- January 15, 1977

Shouty falsetto. It might be disco if it were faster. I am not listening to this whole thing, because it will give me a headache.

Stevie Wonder – “I Wish” -- January 22, 1977

One of the greatest musical intros. It's a funk song about nostalgia, wishing for childhood again, and I normally hate that. But the music is amazing.

Rose Royce – “Car Wash” -- January 29, 1977

This was an intro song for a movie of the same name. I had no idea. I just thought someone decided to sing about working at a car wash randomly. The song is a little bit Motown, a little bit disco. It's fun.

Mary MacGregor – “Torn Between Two Lovers” -- February 5, 1977

It's slow, it's soppy, and it's about how she's cheating on "you" with someone else. She truly loves you, but she's not gonna stop seeing the other guy, whom she loves too. It sounds like she wants to try this whole poly thing she's heard about. But is the guy she's singing to gonna be okay with that? Probably not. Most people aren't. Maybe though. I don't care. For being about a subject that should be heartrending, this song sure is boring.

Manfred Mann’s Earth Band – “Blinded By The Light” -- February 19, 1977

This version made it to #1. Bruce Springsteen's original didn't even make it to the charts. This version is really bad -- it sounds like a recitation surrounded by goop, not a song. Bruce Springsteen's version is one of my favorite songs. I am going to sulk now.

Eagles – “New Kid In Town” -- February 26, 1977

Huh, an Eagles hit I've never heard before. This is about fame, how everyone loves you at first, then forgets you when the next big thing comes along. They try to shoehorn some stuff about romance in -- "Will she still love you when you're not around?" -- but it doesn't really flow. Also the song sounds like it should be playing in the background of a cabana. Fittingly for a song worried people will forget them, I have already forgotten this song.

Barbra Streisand – “Love Theme From A Star Is Born (Evergreen)” -- March 5, 1977

I listened to this song for 30 seconds. No more. I cannot stand Barbra Streisand. I don't think I'd like this song anyway, as it's glop, but maybe a different singer could have made it tolerable.

Daryl Hall & John Oates – “Rich Girl” -- March 26, 1977

Rich girls get picked on while rich boys are the ones who usually get away with everything. This song was actually originally about a rich guy, too. It would have been better. It's still good musically, but it misses the mark. Not that rich girls don't also get away with plenty, but compare and contrast what happened to Paris Hilton for her venial sins, versus the entire existence of Donald Trump.

ABBA – “Dancing Queen” -- April 9, 1977

ABBA was a good group. They were hated on, and now they're more likely to be exalted. They didn't deserve the hate (save it for the Bee Gees), but they're not the second coming or anything either. They were just a good, fun group. This song can be danced to, but it's a song more about dance than a dancing song. It's a rare song observing a young woman dancing while identifying with her, rather than lusting after her. "You can dance/ You can jive/ Having the time of your life." It's good.

David Soul – “Don’t Give Up On Us” -- April 16, 1977

The narrator did something really bad last night. Cheating? Worse? Now he's telling his lover not to "give up on us." As soft as the song is, "tell" is the word, not "ask." And he doesn't apologize once. Also, David Soul was a professional actor, but there's no worry in his voice; he's nothing but smooth and assured here. Blech.

Thelma Houston – “Don’t Leave Me This Way” -- April 23, 1977

It's disco with a large dose of Motown, or Motown with a large dose of disco. Either way, it works. Everything lines up with precision, and then Thelma Houston comes in over all of it with huge emotion. The contrast is sort of fascinating. Oh, and her huge emotion is that she wants sex. "Then come on, satisfy the need in me/ 'Cause only your good loving can set me free." She's not begging, but she's not exactly commanding either. It's really good.

Glen Campbell – “Southern Nights” -- April 30, 1977

It's Kidz Bop honky tonk. That's probably not fair; Glen Campbell grew up in a family of poor sharecroppers in Arkansas. But it's what I hear. It's happy clappy, and scrubbed clean of anything real.

Eagles – “Hotel California” -- May 7, 1977

Whatever you think this song is about, it's not about that. The Eagles wrote it with a mish-mash of stuff in mind, but mostly trying to be ambiguous. What that means is that whatever you think this song is about, it is about that. It's a choose your own adventure psychological horror song. I love it. It makes me happy in that way that good poetry and good music do -- and this is both.

Leo Sayer – “When I Need You” -- May 14, 1977

This song is cheese. Absolute, unadulterated cheese. But it's not bad cheese. It's a good solid cheddar. It's slow but not too slow, soft but not too soft, and it manages some interesting percussion. And Sayer sings like he means it. It's about missing his lover while he's on the road, and he imagines she's with him to get by. "When I need you/ I just close my eyes and I'm with you." It sounds kind of like a Broadway ballad. It's enjoyable.

Stevie Wonder – “Sir Duke” -- May 21, 1977

A song about Duke Ellington, which is a subject I approve of. Stevie Wonder also lists a few more legends, including one of my favorites: "And with a voice like Ella's ringing out/ There's no way the band can lose." It's a love song to music itself. It's sort of big band, sort of funk, and sort of Motown, and it works. The lyrics do get too repetitive for me near the end, though.

KC & The Sunshine Band – “I’m Your Boogie Man” -- June 11, 1977

It's a wordplay on the "bogie man" monster. But the boogie man wants to show up and give you whatever you want whenever you want however you want. Sexually. The song actually has more lyrics than most KC & The Sunshine Band songs, but it's still a song to dance to. Not to have sex to. But for dancing? Yep, it's good.

Fleetwood Mac – “Dreams” -- June 18, 1977

YAY! Okay so I have no interest in Fleetwood Mac without Lindsay Buckingham and Stevie Nicks. But when they joined in 1975, Fleetwood Mac became truly great. And this song is from Rumours, which is their best album (forged out of a hell of a lot of intragroup pain), and written and sung by Stevie Nicks, who was their best artist. My parents played this record and their previous self-titled one all the time. I didn't fully understand the songs when I was a kid, but I loved them. As I grew old enough to understand them, I loved them more. And now I love them more than that. I can't analyze this song. I love it too much.

Marvin Gaye – “Got To Give It Up (Part 1)” -- June 25, 1977

At first, he was uncomfortable at parties and didn't want to dance. But then he loosened up enough to dance, pretty obviously as a way to pick up chicks. There's the horrible line "Let me step into your erotic zone." The music is experimental. Marvin Gaye's falsetto is fine, but it's still a falsetto the whole damn song. And there are people making party noises in the background the whole time. I find this song painful.

Bill Conti – “Gonna Fly Now (Theme From Rocky) -- July 2, 1977

You know this instrumental, you've heard it tons. It's a good movie theme -- I think. It's hard to say, when it's something that's been so often present in so many different contexts in my life.

Alan O’Day – “Undercover Angel” -- July 9, 1977

The undercover angel is a make believe woman from a sex dream. At the end of the song, he's telling "you" that you remind him of the undercover angel, so you must be meant to be with him. It's an extended "I've seen you in my dreams" pickup line. It's so dumb.

Shaun Cassidy – “Da Doo Ron Ron” -- July 16, 1977

This is an excruciatingly boring cover of The Crystals' classic 60s girl group song.

Barry Manilow – “Looks Like We Made It” -- July 23, 1977

He's singing to an ex. They both "made it" because they found other people. Until "Looks like we made it/ Or I thought so till today/ Until you were there everywhere." If they get back together it's not going to be easy, because they'll be leaving relationships that seem happy. I don't think they'll get back together -- besides, she may not feel anything for him any more. It's a more complex song than it sounds. And Barry Manilow sure can sing. I wish he'd gone with the jazz songs he preferred, but then he wouldn't have been hugely successful. He decided to pull the rhinestone cowboy trick, and I can't blame him. He did make the soppy 70s charts more tolerable than they would have otherwise been.

Andy Gibb – “I Just Want To Be Your Everything” -- July 30, 1977

For instance, without Barry Manilow, Andy Gibb would probably have had more hits. Gibb's voice is thin. If you're going to sing a line like "Oh, if I, if I stay here without you darlin' I will die," you need some power and drama behind it. This guy sounds like he's trying to sell kitchen tile. It's a relatively fast song, but the beat is somehow irritating too. Blech.

The Emotions – “Best Of My Love” -- August 20, 1977

It starts with a blast of horns, and then a blast of singing. Then the chorus is quieter than the rest, which is weird to me. I can't put my finger on why this song bores me, but it does.

Meco – “Star Wars Theme/Cantina Band” -- October 1, 1977

A disco mashup of the Star Wars theme with the cantina band theme. That happened. I love John Williams' music and I think he deserves credit for at least half of Star Wars' success. But I think this remix sounds extremely dumb. Someone slowed down the cantina band theme a couple years ago and that sounds very noir and cool. This doesn't.

Debby Boone – “You Light Up My Life” -- October 15, 1977

The person who wrote this song was completely and absolutely terrible. But Debby Boone isn't. She's a Christian singer, but seems to be one of the nice ones, not the wingnut fundie ones. Anyway, she wasn't a Christian singer in 1977 (though she was Christian). And she had a good voice. But she sings this song painfully slowly. It sounds like she comes in after where she's supposed to come in and then draws out the notes longer than she's supposed to. I don't know if that's her or the song itself. I sped up the song to 1.25 and it's a little more palatable, but it's still bad. It's a trudge. I don't feel lit up after this.

The Bee Gees – “How Deep Is Your Love” -- December 24, 1977

It's not falsetto, though Barry Gibb does go uncomfortably high some. But it's still very bad. It's a string of bland cliches over bland music. And the weird 70s male romance song entitlement: "And it's me you need to show/ How deep is your love?" Shut up.

BEST OF 1977 -- "Dreams" by Fleetwood Mac WORST OF 1977 -- "Star Wars Theme/Cantina Band" by Meco. People really would disco to anything, huh?

#billboard number ones

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narrysgolden · 4 years

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So uh, hi, I’m not a writer but I do occasionally (used to) write and some lovely lovely person brought that to my attention today! They mentioned a totally different fic I was writing and forgot about (oops) but reminded me I wrote Part 3 of this ficlet ages ago and never posted it SO here’s that now. Happy Holidays to you all ☺️

Private Nights - Part 3

Part 1

Part 2

They were both much more quiet now than they had been the whole flight. Thoughts, and a hangover, swimming around in their heads. Niall was debating in his head whether he was hoping to not have to see Harry again this weekend, or was hoping to run into him again. He was leaning more towards the latter.

With an ounce of liquid courage left, he decided to ask anyways, just out of curiosity. “Hey where are you staying tonight?”

Harry’s face went blank. He closed his eyes, lowered his head into his hands and whispered shit.

“I think….I don’t think I actually have a place to stay.” He said with a chuckle, an attempt to not scream. In years past Harry would just stay at his house, but since he sold his LA home he had been staying with Jeff. Now that Jeff and his wife are out of the country, Harry not thinking to bring his spare key, that’s not an option either. Surely he could call up another friend, pop into a hotel or something. “Forgot I don’t live here anymore and usually I’d just go to Jeff’s but, “second honeymoon.” He shrugged.

Without thinking Niall blurted out “you can stay at mine” before realizing what he said. “I mean got a spare room and all, not too far from tomorrow’s venue.”

“Oh I don’t want to be a bother, can just call up a friend, get a hotel for a change or summat.”

A friend? Did he not consider me a friend? Niall thought. That kind of hurt but he tried not to take it personally. Would probably be awkward to have Harry sleepover anyways. “Uh yeah sure, sure. I’ll be there if you uh, need anything or whatever.” Now Niall was being awkward, tripping over his words and trying to play it cool.

“’course, thanks Niall.” Harry pat him on the shoulder with a soft smile as he peeled himself off the leather seat.

The boys parted ways after the flight, engaging in a much less awkward hug than the first one, and hopping into separate cars. As Niall went back to his LA home, Harry was feeling out of sorts. Even with his countless contacts in the area, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do and had the driver drop him off at the Beachwood Café. Out of all the places in LA, this it felt most like a home away from home. He frequented the dainty café every time he was in town, knew the workers by name and they were always considerate of his privacy.

After greeting the employees behind the counter and ordering his usual, he sat himself in the back corner booth, shoving his Gucci bag underneath the table and pulling out his book. He had brought Norwegian Wood with him, grabbing it last minute from his shelf as a way to keep himself busy on the long flight. Even though he’d already read the book, twice, it was his favorite and impossible to put down. In an attempt to clear his mind, he began reading, for the third time, sipping on his coffee in an attempt to beat the already setting in jetlag.

When he woke up the room was half lit with soft sounds of mugs clattering together. He jolted his head up with a gasp, forgetting where he was and searching his surroundings. Harry had gotten so engrossed in his book he completely lost track of time….and consciousness. Jetlag hit hard and despite his second cup of coffee, he dozed off through chapter nine and slumped back in the booth. A slight bit of panic set in as he frantically looked at his phone, not knowing what time or even day it was at this point.

9:45pm

The café closed in 15 minutes. Harry quickly shuffled out of the booth, grabbing his stuff and swiftly placing his dirty dishes on the counter. “So sorry for hogging up the booth all day, keeping you here” he quietly apologized to the employee, voice coming out hoarse from sleep.

As he darted out the door he really started to realize he has nowhere to stay tonight. It was nearly 10pm on a Sunday and he’d feel bad for bothering anyone for a place to crash at this hour. He quickly remembered Niall’s offer earlier, along with how much of a dick he probably sounded for so quickly turning it down. In his sleepy haze he decided to just fuck it and call Niall up anyways.

Three calls later. No answer. Harry would really start to feel like a needy boyfriend if he called again. And fuck all if he remembers how to get to Niall’s house, let alone his address. Unless…

Harry unlocks his phone, scrolls through his contacts, and clicks on Niall’s name. And sure enough, right under the address bar is Niall’s street, number and all. Even after all these years, Harry couldn’t bare to delete Niall’s number or any of his information, and he’s thanking God now that he didn’t.

While in the Uber on the way to Niall’s he starts to become really anxious. This isn’t creepy right, just showing up at his house? I mean it’s Niall and he offered anyways. Right?

The car pulls up to the soft gray home, light coming through a couple windows with Niall’s car parked in the driveway. Thankfully Niall’s gate code was still programmed into his phone as well, so he could at least get past the fence without looking like an awkward stalker who shouldn’t be at this residence in the first place.

With all signs that Niall is home and another few phone calls going unanswered, Harry assumes Niall must have fallen asleep early too. He makes his way up to the front door and knocks, then rings the doorbell, then the buzzer and repeats the three for what feels like 30 minutes before giving up. He doesn’t want to yell or cause a disturbance in his neighborhood at now 11pm. So he sits down on the stoop, back up against the door, jetlag already taking over again.

Niall jolts awake with a weird feeling. All the lights are on, his damn shoes are still on and he’s very disoriented at this point, not intending on passing out so early in the day. He goes to check his phone, 11:30pm, and notices the 6 missed called from Harry. Immediate panic shoots through his body. Is something wrong? Did he need me? Oh god I wonder where he is. Am I overreacting?

Despite his hesitation, he decides to just call Harry back. No answer. So he calls again. After the fourth ring with no answer is when Niall really starts to panic. Without thinking he jumps up, grabs his keys from the counter and heads for the door. He flings the front door open so fast he barely has time to process the body thumping at his feet.

Harry is shocked out of his slumber as he flies back and his head smacks down on Niall’s feet.

“Jesus, fuck! Harry what the fuck!?”

Harry rolls over with a loud groan of pain and confusion. “Oh my god” he grunts.

“Harry WHAT the hell” Niall yells.

As Harry continues to writhe around on the stoop, Niall’s demeanor changed. “Har-Harry are you okay? C’mere”. He reached down to gently place his hand under Harry’s head and help him sit up, worried that he smacked his head too hard. Harry finally squints his eyes open to look up at Niall. He doesn’t know if it’s the jet lag delirium or the fact that he banged his head half on Niall’s foot and half on concrete, but he smiles up at the Irishman with a dopey grin and dimple on full display. “Hi.”

Niall is confused but can’t help smiling back. After a moment of innocent affection, Niall’s concern creeps back in. “Are you okay? Really? Need some ice?” Harry’s smile turns into a frown as he remembers his throbbing head and nods, taking Niall’s hands to help him up. In full disclosure, Harry is a total baby when it comes to being sick or hurt. He will take all the love and care that anyone is willing to give him and he will milk that shit like it’s his job. Niall knows, Niall kind of loves it, and Niall acts just like the caretaker Harry wants. “C’mon baker boy” he chuckles, wrapping his arm around Harry’s waist to lead him inside.

The name gets Harry to chuckle, lightening the mood. “Baker boy? Really? It’s been nearly 10 years Niall.”

“And yet you still talk about bread, Harold.”

For those few moments it’s like Niall and Harry we’re back in 2015. It felt different than the plane ride earlier which was fueled by alcohol. This time, the comfort was fueled by vulnerability. Something they shared closely between each other, years ago.

Harry laid down on the couch, sinking into the big plushie cushions and trying really hard to block out the memory of what happened on this couch the night Niall moved in. The heated kissing, the touching, the clothes thrown about the kitchen. It was also the one and only time that Harry had stepped foot in this house, other than at this moment. Niall brought over a bag of ice, handing it to Harry along with a pillow to prop his head up. As his mind began to clear up, he decided to take a seat at the other end of the couch. He could feel emotions resurfacing that he wasn’t ready for and did not think was appropriate for the time.

Harry thanked Niall and laid back on the ice, wiggling uncomfortably as the cubes poked the back of his head, but he was grateful for the gesture. Neither of them said another word, sleep taking over both of them yet again after Niall had put the golf channel on the tv for some background noise. As Niall dozed off, he could hear Harry’s labored breathing. Through hooded eyes he took in the sight of Harry’s chocolate curls sticking to the melting ice bag. His lips slightly parted, looking plush but dry, in need of some chapstick. The way his skin was so clear and glowed under the light of the tv. He was just....so....pretty. And with that thought, Niall fell into a deep sleep as well.

Niall awoke to a heavy weight on his stomach and a tickle of hair on his arms. He squinted one eye open in the dim lighting of the room and moved just enough to get Harry’s attention. The lanky boy on top of him groaned a small “mm cold” before readjusting his head to now be on Niall’s crotch and curl his legs up next to him.

“D’you wanna go up to bed?” Niall mumbled. Harry nodded, continuing his “baby” act.

The two of them groaned as they got up, sore from the awkward couch positions and groggy from on and off sleep all day. Harry slung his bag over his shoulder as they trudged up the stairs, coming to the guest bedroom on the right. Niall stopped ahead of Harry. “Sheets are clean, bathrooms on the le—“

“Can I...” Harry began to interrupt. “My uh, my head still hurts.” It didn’t. But Harry didn’t have another excuse to sleep with Niall and he knew Niall wouldn’t deny him the comfort he really needed right now.

“Uh yeah, sure, my rooms down thi—“

“Mhmm I remember” Harry interrupted again with a smug tone. Niall just rolled his eyes and continued on down the echoey hall. With each step Niall began to strip off another article of clothing, desperate to be comfortable in his own bed again and not caring that Harry was right behind him,

“Eager are we?” Harry remarked, watching closely each piece of fabric fall to the floor.

“Oh shut up.” Niall jabbed back, sprinting the last few steps and catapulting himself onto the bed. His head fell back, getting engulfed in the mountain of pillows stacked at the headboard.

“Jesus, Niall. Preparing for a pillow fight or something?”

Niall let out a cackle, pick up the pillow closest to him and chucked it in Harry’s direction. ”Maybe.”

Harry caught the pillow with impressive accuracy and threw it straight back, jumping on the end of the bed and launching Niall’s legs in the air. The two boys burst into a fit of laughter, lazily tossing pillows at each other in the process.

The laughter died down and their eyes began to droop again, but neither of them wanted to sleep another minute.

#narry fic #Niall horan #harry styles #private nights fic #private nights #part 3 #narry #fanfic

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goldenmessenger · 5 years

Text

The Aftermath - TS Actor AU

Summary: Roman and Remus have long since fallen asleep, nosy reporters forgotten. But there are other worried people in the wings, and it falls to Dillon (Deceit) to reassure them.

Read on Ao3 here.

A/N: Hey everyone! I have like 30 followers now, which may not be many for most people, but since I only had a few until this morning, I’m pretty excited. So thanks to everyone who followed, and I'm guessing most of you are here for my TS Actor AU!

If you don’t know what I’m talking about, follow this link here to Ironwoman359′s awesome story set in this AU. It’s my AU, but I was having trouble finding inspiration for writing, so I commissioned Ironwoman to write a story set in it! She wrote a spectacular story called I’ve Got You Brother, and I love how it turned out! If you haven’t read it, go check it out. Both because it’s awesome, and because this one won’t make sense without it. Check out the story below the cut!

Also, I do have a taglist for this AU, so let me know if you want to be added!

Content Warnings: (Very) Vague allusions to drug abuse, past trauma, childhood abuse, tempers, revenge.

********************************************

Once the sound of talking stopped, Dillon carefully peeked into the living room, and smiled at the sight in front of him. Remus and Roman had both fallen asleep, Roman curled tightly into his twin’s side, head resting on Remus’s chest. Remus had his arms protectively wrapped around Roman, and was snoring slightly. The movie Roman had been watching continued to play on the screen, long forgotten. Dillon sighed in relief. This was a good sign.

In the early days of /Sanders Sides/, most of the interviews had been like the one Remus had just had, if not worse. Usually worse. Roman hadn’t handled them very well, and neither had Remus. Usually, Roman would lock himself up in his room and refuse to come out because he didn’t want to face anyone. That would make Remus’s anxiety act up because he needed to see Roman and know that he’d be okay, so he’d try to get Roman to let him in. Then Roman would get mad and accuse Remus of being smothering, which would blow up into a huge fight and then neither of them would talk to each other for days.

So the fact that the two of them had had a sincere conversation and were now cuddled up to each other on the couch? That showed just how far the two of them had come. Dillon was briefly overwhelmed with pride for his boys. He pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of the two cuddling on the couch.

Dillon picked up the remote and turned off the TV. He picked up Roman’s Disney blanket, which had fallen to the ground, and draped it over the two sleeping men. He sighed with a mix of exasperation and fondness when he saw the octopus mug on the floor, tea spilled on the carpet next to it. He shook his head at his sleeping husband.

“You know we have a coffee table for a reason, right?” He chided quietly, though not expecting a response from the sleeping man. Though he knew that if Remus /was/ awake, he’d attempt to argue that coffee tables were a societal construct and thus unneeded. He picked Roman’s Stitch mug and spoon off of the aforementioned coffee table, and took both mugs to the kitchen. He had just put the mugs away in the cabinet when he heard his cell phone ringing. He’d forgotten about it when Roman had seen the interview, and had focused on comforting his brother-in-law.

It occurred to him that the others had likely seen the interview (they all watched each other’s interviews live if they could. It had the dual purpose of showing support, and allowed them to know if the interview went bad), and likely wanted to make sure that everything was ok. Dillon picked up the phone.

“Salutations, Dillon.” Logan’s voice burst through the speaker. The British actor spoke with calm tones, but after knowing him for three years Dillon had learned to recognize the subtle notes of worry that laced the calm.

“Logan, hello. I’m guessing you’re calling about Remus’s interview tonight?” Dillon leaned against the counter, feeling weary.

“Yes, I am. It was mutually agreed that out of Patton, Virgil, and myself that I would be the best candidate to call at the moment.” Dillon sighed heavily.

“Let me guess, Patton and Virgil have both gotten themselves into an anxious frenzy over the interview?” Dillon could picture his younger brother and Roman’s boyfriend both sitting anxiously next to Logan as they waited with bated breath.

“Yes, they’re pretty worked up about it,” Logan admitted. “Virgil is this close to buying a plane ticket to flying out of New York City first thing tomorrow to be by his boyfriend’s side. And Patton isn’t far behind. But I convinced them that we should communicate with one of you first, and make sure that it’s needed.”

“Tell them that while the gesture is appreciated, it’s unnecessary.” Dillon reassured. “Roman and Remus are both doing fine. They talked about it, and now they’ve fallen asleep on the couch. II’s rather I’d wake them up to talk to you, but I think that they both needed the rest. You should all finish the round of interviews up there, and we’ll be fine until you return. ”

“That’s good to hear.” Logan agreed, and paused. “Patton is demanding photographic evidence of this occurrence.”

“I’ll send it once we finish talking here.”

“Splendid. Patton says to thank you for the photo in advance.” Logan paused again, listening, then spoke. “If he’s feeling up to it in the morning, however, would you mind having Roman call himself? I think both Patton and Virgil would feel a little better if they were to hear from him. If he isn’t, however, I believe hearing from Remus would suffice.” “I’ll ask as soon as they wake up.” Dillon promised.

“Good,” Logan said briefly, then there was a pause. A rather long one.

“Logan, are you still there?”

“Yes, sorry about that.” Logan apologized. “Patton has just dragged Virgil into his hotel room. I managed to convince them they both need to get some sleep, as it’s rather late here.” Dillon checked the clock, which read 11:37 pm, then did the math in his head. “Right, it’s almost 3:00 in the morning there, isn’t it? Shouldn’t you be getting to bed too?”

“Yes, you are right about that.” Logan paused, then continued. “I did want to talk to you without the two of them present.” Dillon frowned at that.

“What about?” “You’ve been very calm through our whole conversation, which is unusual for you. Which means you’re plotting again.” “What? /Me?/” Dillon said, as innocently as he could manage. “I don’t /plot./ I do.” Logan sighed.

“You can’t get revenge on every reporter who asks a question that you don’t like.”

“It’s more than just not liking the question and you know it, Logan.” Dillon argued. “Besides, I wouldn’t call it /revenge/. I’m simply going to use my status as one of Hollywood’s A-List celebrities to get an appearance on several of Osborne’s rival shows, as well as... encouraging... my fellow stars to do the same. Maybe it won’t affect him at all, or maybe he’ll happen to get low ratings for a little bit. Maybe it’ll give him some time to think about why you shouldn’t ask invasive questions.” Logan groaned but acquiesced.

“Alright, I know I can’t stop you,” Logan conceded, “but as your friend, I’m asking you to be careful. The PR department already is going to have to do a lot of work to smooth things over after Remus stormed out. And his reaction tonight is only going to attract those who seek out drama. What I’m saying is that the last thing we need right now is a repeat of the Wine Incident from the Season Two interviews.” Dillon winced a little at that.

“You’re right, I did go too far back then.” He admitted. “But you don’t need to worry too much, Remus is calm for now, but tensions are still high. I think I’m going to have my hands full with keeping him from decking any reporters who get nosy.”

“That’s good to hear.” Logan yawned, loud and tired. Dillon smiled gently.

“You should get to bed. I hear you have a long day of interviews tomorrow.”

“Yes, you’re right.” Logan agreed. “If you need to talk about any of this, though, I’m here for you.”

“Me?” Dillon said in surprise. “I’m fine. Roman and Remus are the ones having to deal with their painful past being dragged back into the media’s line of fire.” “Dillon.” Logan said, not unkindly. “You may not be as entangled in it all as the two of them are, but I know it affects you. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Remus is your husband, and Roman is practically your brother. And you’ve been there for /both/ of them through a lot of the harder moments. Remus often tells me that he doesn’t think he would’ve made it through college alive without you. You’re just as invested in all of this. I know that if Patton was involved in something like this, it would affect me as well.”

“You’re right,” Dillon admitted. “I shouldn’t bottle up my feelings. I’ve told Pat that enough times and I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t take my own advice. I /am/ fine right now; I’ll let you know if that changes.”

“Good. I should be off to bed. Tell Roman and Remus we called, and we’re all here for them. For /all/ of you.”

“I will.” Dillon promised, and the conversation ended.

Dillon left the kitchen and moved to the living room to check on Roman and Remus again. While he wanted to let them sleep, he knew Remus’s back would be killing him in the morning if he slept all night on the couch. When he reached the couch, he was greeted by Remus blinking sleepily up at him, Roman still sound asleep in his lap.

“Was that Shakespeare calling?” Remus asked. Dillon nodded.

“Yes, he just wanted to make sure everything was alright.” “Good, good.” Remus murmured, sinking back into the couch, looking like he was about to fall back asleep. Dillon sighed and touched him gently on the shoulder.

“You should really move to bed, love. Your back is going to hate you in the morning if you don’t.”

“Don’t wanna.” Remus grumbled stubbornly. “Besides, can’t wake the baby.” He jabbed a sleepy finger down towards Roman. Dillon shook his head fondly.

“Alright, but don’t blame me when it hurts to stand up tomorrow.” Dillon began to move away from the couch when Remus grabbed his hand. Dillon looked back down at his husband.

“Stay, Dee-Dee?” Remus asked softly, looking up at him with big eyes.

“Ree—” Dillon started, but Remus didn’t let him finish, swinging their interlinked arms back and forth.

“Come on Dilly, Dill Pickle, Dill Dill, Dill-man, Armo/Dillon/…”

“Are you quite done?” Dillon asked, raising his eyebrow as Remus continued, not even stopping to breathe.

“...Dilly Bear, Lil Dill, Sylvester /Dill/one, Daddy Dill, Big D...” Remus took a deep breath and continued. “Dillhemina, Dill-a-dong, Dillykins, Dilly-boo, Dill-pill, Dillarino…” He trailed off, then shrugged. “Ok, now I’m done.” Dillon shook his head, though a slow smile was forming on his face.

“Fine, I’ll stay.” Remus began to cheer softly as Dillon settled next to him, on the side that wasn’t currently occupied by a sleeping Roman. “But only because I love you.”

“It’s ‘cause I’m so handsome.” Remus mumbled sleepily, snuggling into Dillon’s side the best he could without disturbing Roman.

“The handsomest man in the world.” Dillon agreed, wrapping his arms around both of his boys. Maybe he couldn’t stop every rude question or nasty reporter, but he could be there for them.

At last, the house was quiet, with only the sounds of night filling the air.

********************************************

Actor AU Taglist:

@ironwoman359

@galacticguppy

@trashpanda-remus

@atticusfinchthelegend

@ravenclawunicorn1

#sanders sides #ts actor au #my writing #my au #deceit sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #dukeceit #minor prinxiety #minor logicality #sympathetic deceit sanders #sympathetic remus sanders #deceit being a great husband/friend/brother-in-law

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nkossovan · 4 years

Text

50 Years Ago Today, Janis Joplin Suddenly Dropped Us

She was a wild one, but some of us need the storm to feel safe. - Atticus

On October 4th, 1970, at the Landmark Motor Hotel (7047 Franklin Avenue, Los Angeles, California 90028) in room 105, Janis Joplin suddenly stopped—she had done all her boundary-breaking three years shy of 30.

16 days earlier, in London, UK, Jimi Hendrix had died of an overdose. Janis was next, then on July 3rd, 1971, Jim Morrison met the same fate. All three “Js” were 27 when they die, and thus the 27 club is formed to be joined years later by Kurt Cobain and Amy Winehouse.

While there’s no shortage of misfit stories floating around—none come close to Janis Joplin’s story. Her story had a much heavier weight of pain, which became her trademark. As is often the case with artists who burn brightly for a short time, Janis, to do what she did, the memorizing performances, needed the pain, which came from never belonging.

The pain came early, from the worst fate that can befall an American teenager, being unpopular. “They laughed me out of class, out of town, and out of the state,” said Janis while speaking with Dick Cavett on June 25th, 1970, about attending her 10-year high school reunion. That’s what happened back then to those who were different, who didn’t conform—before trolling on the Internet anonymously shouting down anyone you disagreed with. In turn, Janis would go on to embody tolerance (You do you, I’ll do me.) and outspoken liberalism in its purest non-political sense coupled with unpolished feminism than was uncomfortable to many.

Janis didn’t lean on anyone, she didn’t play barbie or house, she didn’t pretend for the media. She was raw talent, with no artificial ingredients, no manufactured image. Rock n roll, especially in the 60s and 70s, is ugly. Janis wasn’t afraid to get “ugly” with it, and she was beautiful because of it. Besides being a phenomenal singer (Music historian Tom Moon wrote that Joplin had “a devastatingly original voice”) and a mesmerizing power onstage, Janis was a junkie, an alcoholic, and indiscriminately promiscuous—but she never apologized to the mob. Janis spoke her truth and was one of the very few who lived their truth, which unfortunately was a relentless descent to self-destruction.

Fans labeled Joplin as the “The Queen of Psychedelic Soul.” Friends called her merely “Pearl.” Janis complained she was “the Queen of Unrequited Love.” She once confided to soul singer-guitarist Bobby Womack that she used heroin because it could “bury her thoughts and deaden her from the world.”

Janis’s self-destructive behavior wasn’t ground-breaking—Billie Holiday created that movie long before—but hers was public, a freestyle living along the lines of F. Scott Fitzgerald and Zelda—‘that all-out, full-tilt, hell-bent way of living’, without the love.

Janis’s end was like this:

On Saturday, October 3rd, 1970, Janis was at Sunset Sound Recorders, with the Full Tilt Boogie Band, working on her 4th album, Pearl. Around 11:00 pm, after a good day of recording, she and the band went to Barney’s Beanery, for some food and drinks. Janis had a couple of screwdrivers. When friends she was supposed to have been meeting didn’t show up, Janis drove her psychedelic Porsche to the Landmark Motor Hotel, north of Hollywood Boulevard, where she was staying in room 105. She asked the hotel clerk to break a five-dollar bill for the cigarette vending machine, bought a pack of Marlboro Reds, and went to her room.

The next day, Janis, usually on time, didn’t show for the scheduled recording session. She was expected to provide the vocal track for the instrumental track of the song “Buried Alive in the Blues.” Her producer, Paul Rothchild, became concerned and called John Cooke, who was Full Tilt Boogie’s road manager. Around 8:00 pm, John entered Janis’s room to find her on the floor dead from what would be a heroin overdose; the theory being the heroin was much more potent than Janis was used to. Janis Joplin’s time of death is estimated to be 1:40 am on Sunday, October 4th.

For some reason, people still see Joplin as a victim. I can’t agree with this judgment. Joplin was far from a victim. She was a fearless woman who took the bull by the horns and was aware of the risks in doing so—Janis knew what she was doing. She crashed an all-boys club to become a rock star, on her terms. Undeniably Janis was intelligent, sensitive, and alive to everything around her. Thus she was sensitive and alive to her own pain, which made her vulnerable. Before turning 30, Janis became one of the most influential artists in American music with all this internal turmoil. Sadly, the alchemy of heavy drug use and excessive drinking caught up with her early.

Janis Joplin sang with more than her voice. Her involvement was total; she told the world what was in her heart and had a genuine commitment to delivery. Watching Janis Joplin videos of her performing at times hurts. You want to cry because it’s all too beautiful and painful at once. She was just herself. Janis wanted people to respond to her. She received attention, lots of attention, but not the acceptance she desperately wanted.

The cruel irony is Janis needed the pain Port Arthur conservatism, coupled with the judgment offered to those deemed not to belong, to sing heart-wrenching blues the way she did.

As years passed, people realized there’s be only one Janis Joplin. Judgment of her became much kinder than she was ever to herself. Rightfully she’s been called “the best white blues singer in American musical history” and “the greatest female singer in the history of rock ‘n’ roll.”

Then some say as if to appear they’re in the loop, that neither her voice nor her health could stand the demands she made upon them, on stage and off. In an interview, when asked about her pedal-to-the-metal lifestyle, Janis answered: “Maybe I won’t last as long as other singers, but I think you can destroy your now by worrying about tomorrow.” Somehow, in a way, I cannot explain, Janis Joplin factures you.

Just as Janis Joplin was starting on a runway getting everyone high, she suddenly dropped everyone.

Afterward:

On Tuesday, January 12th, 1971, Pearl was released. In the US, the album goes to #1, as does the single “Me and Bobby McGee.” “Buried Alive in The Blues” is left on as an instrumental, and “Mercedes Benz,” a song Joplin recorded acapella on her last night alive on a whim, is included.

#janis joplin #music #female musicians #death anniversary #hollywood #1960s music

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imjustthemechanic · 6 years

Photo

Natalie Jones and the Golden Ship

Part 1/? - A Meeting at the Palace Part 2/? - Curry Talk Part 3/? - Princess Sitamun Part 4/? - Not At Rest Part 5/? - Dead Men Tell no Tales Part 6/? - Sitamun Rises Again Part 7/? - The Curse of Madame Desrosiers Part 8/? - Sabotage at Guedelon Part 9/? - A Miracle Part 10/? - Desrosiers’ Elixir Part 11/? - Athens in October Part 12/? - The Man in Black Part 13/? - Mr. Neustadt Part 14/? - The Other Side of the Story Part 15/? - A Favour Part 16/? - A Knock on the Window Part 17/? - Sir Stephen and Buckeye Part 18/? - Books of Alchemy Part 19/? - The Answers Part 20/? - A Gift Left Behind Part 21/? - Santorini Part 22/? - What the Doves Found Part 23/? - A Thief in the Night Part 24/? - Healing Part 25/? - Newton’s Code Part 26/? - Montenegro Part 27/? - The Lost Relic Part 28/? - The Homunculinus Part 29/? - The End is Near Part 30/? - The Face of Evil Part 31/? - The Morning After Part 32/? - Next Stop Part 33/? - A Sighting in Messina

Arriving on Sicily, our heroes get a hint that they’re in the right place.

The clerk took their luggage to put in the lockers, and the others headed for the restaurant while Jim stayed to stand guard and Natasha went through the last few numbers the desk phone had called. There was a laundry service and two taxi companies, the airport – and then a number that was answered by a man who said “Hotel Isabella, Taormina.”

Nat wrote down the name and hung up.

“We got it?” asked Jim.

“We got it,” Nat agreed, pulling a page off the notepad to tuck into her pocket.

The clerk reappeared in the doorway. “Was there something else you needed?” she asked, surprised to still find them there.

“Only a pen,” Nat replied, slipping it back into the cup.

Though it might look shabby from the outside, the Europa Palace Hotel had four and a half stars and the dining bore that out. The locally-made bread was particularly lovely, and upon learning that one of the dishes had nuts in it, Clint called the waiter over to ask about the best places to get pistachios.

“So what’s Taormina?” asked Jim.

Sam was flipping through an English-language tourist brochure he’d taken from the front desk. “Says here’s it been a resort town since Roman times and is well-known for its shopping,” he said. “It’s also pretty close to the volcano.”

Clint looked up from scribbling down addresses of nut vendors. “Wait, we’re going closer to the volcano?” he asked. “We want to live through this, don’t we? What was the point of healing me with that goop if we don’t?”

“If she’s in Taormina, then yeah, we are,” said Nat, mentally arranging her map of Sicily.

“That might be the point,” said Jim.

“You think so?” Nat asked.

“Well, I doubt she’s looking for Swarovski crystal or designer shoes,” Sam said.

“Is there a reason?” Nat asked Jim, “or just an intuition?”

He shrugged. “It just feels right,” he said – the same way he’d known that Newton’s notebooks were in Greek, or where to go to look for the man in Athens. “Maybe it’s because alchemists are associated with fire.”

Natasha had already observed that a volcano was a giant furnace. “When we catch up with her, we’ll ask her,” she said.

“Are we gonna be able to get there?” asked Clint. “There might not be any buses or anything. If the volcano is active, people are probably trying to get away from it.”

“I bet there’ll be more buses than usual,” Nat said. “Tourists come from all over the world to see Mount Etna. To see it erupting we’ll be lucky to get seats.”

Clint shook his head. “Incredible,” he said. “I know I’m no genius, but even I know that you don’t sit next to a volcano!”

“If people knew not to sit next to a volcano, Pompeii wouldn’t get millions of visitors each year,” said Sharon.

“Where is Pompeii?” asked Sir Stephen.

“It’s in Italy, at the foot of Mount Vesuvius,” Natasha explained. “There was a Roman city there that was buried in 79 AD, and it’s perfectly preserved.”

She hadn’t known how he might react to the idea of Pompeii – Sir Stephen was not a fan of digging up the dead. To her surprise, he was enthralled. The people of his time had considered the Roman Empire a sort of lost golden age, and the idea of an intact city of that era, one where you could walk down the streets and get a feel for the décor in the houses, both fascinated and horrified him.

“At the rate we’re going, that’ll be the next stop on our Mediterranean’s Greatest Hits Tour,” said Clint. “There were cruise ships at the docs – was ouro friend there?”

He was referring to the Scorpio II they’d seen in Santorini and at Kotor. “I didn’t see it,” Nat said. Of course, she hadn’t looked.

“Well, at least we’re not being stalked by the idle rich,” said Clint.

Nat had been right about the buses – even though it was late in the afternoon, all the regular ones scheduled for Taormina was full, and the Sicilians had been obliged to add extras. Rather than cram themselves in with fifty volcano-mad tourists, the CAAP decided to rent a van, The woman at the rental agency commented that it was a good thing they needed a large vehicle, as almost all the smaller ones were already gone.

“I’ve been thinking,” Sharon announced, as they threw their luggage in the back and piled in, “when we get back we should probably present Fury and the Queen with a list of things we’re gonna need on future investigations. I’m thinking number one will be staff vehicles.”

“You’re assuming we haven’t already used up our annual budget,” said Clint. “I don’t know how much money we have, but I doubt it’s very much.”

“Then that’s the first thing we should ask,” Sharon said. “Once we know what our budget is, we can figure out how to allocate it. We probably should have asked before we got on the train with the mummy.”

“You guys aren’t very good at this secret government bureau thing, are you?” asked Jim.

“They’re new at it,” Nat told him.

They were moments from the turnoff to the coastal highway when Sam, who was driving, suddenly stamped on the brake hard enough that both Allen and Jim yelped. Sam didn’t apologize. He just pulled over, threw the door open, and hopped out with the engine still running.

“That way!” he pointed down a side street.

“What that way?” asked Natasha, already in the process of climbing out of the vehicle.

“Neustadt!” said Sam. “Newton! I saw him, I’m sure of it!”

He took off up the street, with Nat right behind him and Jim directly behind her. “Sam!” Nat shouted. “What was he wearing?”

“Light blue t-shirt with a Greek temple on it!” Sam shouted back.

They reached the next intersection. Roads went off in three directions, all of them choked with traffic both in cars and on foot, almost all of it on the way out of Messina towards Mount Etna. At the time he was born, Sir Isaac Newton had been of average height, but in the twenty-first century he was quite short and vanished quickly into the crowd. Natasha, who was short, herself, couldn’t see any sign of him.

“Split up,” Sam said.

Nat went straight ahead, Sam left, and Jim right. The others, bringing up the rear, also divided – Sharon and Sir Stephen went with Jim, Clint with Sam, and Allen with Natasha. The two of them followed the street they were on almost all the way to the Piazza del Popolo, but saw no sign of Newton. Each asked several people, Allen in English and Nat in Italian, if they’d seen a small white-haired man in a beat-up hat and a tourist’s shirt, but everybody they spoke to had been too busy getting where they were trying to go. If the man Sam had seen had indeed been Newton, he’d slipped through their fingers.

It was soon clear that they weren’t going to be able to find him again. Nat and Allen trudged back to the car to find that Sam and Clint were already there, looking morose. The rest of the party didn’t show up for several more minutes, until Sam finally rang Sharon to ask if they were coming. She replied that they’d followed a man in a light blue t-shirt for several blocks before the crowds allowed them to catch up with him, only to find he was somebody else.

The group was in low spirits as they climbed back into their rented van, enough so that Allen apparently felt the need to cheer everybody up. “Look at it this way,” he suggested. “If Newton is in Sicily, we must be on the right track.”

“Either that, or we’re all so worked up we’re seeing things,” grumbled Sam.

“Maybe you are,” said Jim.

“We know Desrosiers is here,” Nat pointed out. “Or at least that she was here not long ago. If Newton’s here, too, she’ll know about it.” Something very important must be going on in Taormina… or perhaps Jim was right, and there was something important about the volcano itself. Could a volcanic crater be used as an alchemical furnace, or was there something else going on here?

They set off again, heading south towards Taormina. Like European towns of any size, no matter how recently built, Messina did not sprawl. Soon they were out of the city and into the rugged countryside beyond. Volcanic Sicily was a hilly place, all sheer cliffs and dry riverbeds, with vegetation that ranged from colourful oleanders and bougainvillea to gray olive trees, tall palms with their curtains of dead leaves hanging below the crown of green ones, and even prickle pear cactus, brought back from the Americas by sailors long ago. The road snaked along the coast rather treacherously in places, with the slopes soaring away on their right and arches supporting the pavement high above towns and beaches on their left.

“So,” Jim asked, as the countryside rolled by, “this may be a stupid question, but… what is it that you people actually do?”

Nat glanced at Sam, sitting next to her in the driver’s seat. He shrugged, and his shoulders shook a little as he chuckled quietly. She smiled back – even they weren’t quite sure what it was they did. They’d certainly gone far beyond their initial mission on this trip. “Well… I guess we appraise archaeological peril,” she said. “If something’s old and looks like it’s weird and magical, I guess it’s our job to keep an eye on it and figure out what to do if it starts causing trouble. We got involved in this expecting a mummy’s curse.”

“That’s right!” Sam exclaimed, chuckling out loud this time. “I totally forgot about the mummy. I wonder what they’re doing with that.”

“Conservators in Paris have been gluing the sarcophagus back together under the supervision of Egyptian specialists,” said Sharon. “So far the news websites haven’t said another about the mummy itself. I suspect it was beyond saving.”

“That is better for her than being gawked at by travelers in a museum,” said Sir Stephen.

“What about pilgrimages?” Nat asked him. “People in your time used to go visit holy sites and the relics of saints. How is visiting Egypt to see a mummy any different?”

“For one thing, you seek no benefit to your soul,” Sir Stephen said.

“That’s not true,” said Sharon. “I’ve always thought traveling was very good for the soul, so to speak. You get to relax a bit, you have a change of scenery, meet some new people and try some new things. As long as you’re getting out of your hotel or off your boat once in a while to mingle with the locals, it’s a learning experience.”

Nat was glad she added the caveat. Thinking about the cruise ships, she’d observed that there were probably people on board who’d spent the whole trip in the casino with a drink in one hand and a slot machine lever in the other.

“What if you’re saving the world?” asked Clint with a smile.

“That’s not even travel,” Sharon snorted. “That’s work. That’s the whole concept of a Mediterranean vacation ruined for me forever.”

#fanfic #natasha romanov #steve rogers #sam wilson #bucky barnes #clint barton #sharon carter

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arazialotis · 6 years

Text

Irish Whiskey - Part 1

Pairing: Patrick × Reader, jealous Dean

Word Count: Around 2100

Summary: With the case taking longer than expected, Y/N jumps on the opportunity to blow off some steam with a flirtatious Irish gentleman and perhaps will have the chance to make a couple extra bucks while at it. But the case and seemingly simple poker game turns more complicated when the Winchesters come across a familiar face. (Patrick appeared in Supernatural Ep. 5 x 7)

Warnings: Language

@misguidedconqueress Thanks so much for helping me review and edit!! Especially with this one since it is not my typical style.

----

Witches, you were sure of it; they are what brought you and the Winchesters to the town three days ago. But you were nowhere close. The case should have your full attention but you had become delayed by the sly Irish man sitting across the high top from you. His dark brown eyes were warm and inviting yet glinted with a shimmer of mystery and danger. You wanted nothing more than to run your hands through his flowing curls. And his voice, well his voice warmed your soul the way the Irish Whiskey you were both nursing burned on its way down.

Dean and Sam were both long gone by now. Dean with some chick… as always. But lying to yourself had become easier than entertaining the disappointment. And this man, was a very welcomed distraction.

“So Patrick, you from around here?” You asked, wondering if this handsome distraction could possibly give you leads.

“No, just passing through actually.” He twisted a toothpick in his mouth.

“Oh, what for?” You questioned taking another sip of whiskey.

He smirked still impressed you could handle it. “Poker. A tournament in fact. It's really just a hobby but it makes a few extra bucks. You play?” He asked.

You chuckled. “Ah no. Tried to pick it up but, uh, I was sick of people wiping the floor with me, so I gave it up.”

“That’s too bad. I could give you a few tips, I’ve heard I’m a very good teacher.” He set his toothpick down and reached for a deck of cards in his coat pocket.

“I’m afraid a teacher is only as good as their student and I… I just can’t bluff.” You blushed.

He started shuffling the deck. “We’ll only go one round.”

“Okay,” You agreed flipping through your coin purse. “Well, if you are interested in lint, hotel keys, or gas station receipts… I’m your girl.” After he dealt the cards and he took a sip of his whiskey.“Your hotel key doesn’t sound too bad.” He smirked and slipped the toothpick back between his lips.

“Oh my god!” You hid your face in your hands. “That’s not what I meant!” You giggled.

“I know Y/N, I’m simply giving you a hard time.” He lightly chuckled. “I’ll give ya the first lesson for free.” He winked.

You squirmed in your seat, imaging this is what it must feel like to have Dean’s attention. “How kind of you.” You finished the glass and singled to the bar for another.

Patrick analyzed your move, trying to read more than just your poker abilities. “Texas hold‘em. You know how the game?”

“The mechanics. Yes.” You looked at your cards and winced.

He laughed and took back all the cards redealing. “You actually need to try and bluff.” “Okay, okay.. I’ll try.” You looked at your cards again and wiped your hand over your face, looking Patrick dead in the eyes. But you couldn’t hold the serious gaze and started to giggle.

“Yeah. You’re terrible.” He chuckled back.

‘“No, no. I’m going to try.” You diverted your gaze. “So..” You found a napkin and started writing down. “I will bet you my number.” You folded the napkin in half and set in the middle.

“I’ll call.” He wrote down his number as well, set it in the middle, and dealt the flop.

You had nothing, but you were trying your best to bluff. “I’ll bet you another round of whiskey.” You purposed.

“I’ll call, and raise you a date tomorrow night.” He offered.

“I’ll call.” Your toes curled. He turned and you’ve never seen a hand this bad.

“Umm…” You didn’t know what else to throw in. “Drinks after dinner?”

“And I’ll raise you my hotel key.” He twisted the toothpick.

You sighed. “... I gotta fold.” You saw his lip twitch in disappointment. “Listen, you are super attractive.” You silently cursed at yourself for being so blunt. Maybe the whiskey was getting to you. “But I’m not the kind of girl just to have a one night stand when I meet someone on the first night.” You anxiously stated.

“Well, technically it would be the second night, after the date and all…” He grinned.

You laughed back. “Okay, if I didn’t just ruin everything. Let see how tomorrow night goes… and maybe we can play another game.”

“I’m in.” He agreed.

After a few more drinks, you called it a night and walked yourself back to the hotel. The next morning, you woke up to pounding on the door and in your head. You stumbled over to the door, rubbing your eyes. Both boys stood outside your doorway, in their tailored and freshly pressed suits. They both furrowed their brows at you.

“Late night? That’s not like you.” Dean chided as he waltzed in.

“Shut up.” You left the door open so Sam could come in too.

“Y/N, it’s 11:15.” Sam stated.

You laid back down on the bed and put a pillow over your head.

“And you have the babies and brunch group in 30.” He continued.

“Babies and what?” You sat back up.

Sam rolled his eyes, exasperated. “I sent you details last night.”

“Essentially, all the desperate housewives from the suburb get together and gossip while they actively ignore munchkins whining and running around.” Dean explained condescendingly.

“Okay. Big flaw in your plan… no kid.” You pointed out.

“Congratulations, you’re expecting.” Dean snarked. “New to the neighborhood and looking for connections and advice.”

“Ugh.” You complained and shut the bathroom door to get ready.

Sam and Dean dropped you off at a way too trendy spot, for babies and brunch. You had in mind a McDonald’s with one of those playplaces. But no, in this place everything was robin's egg blue or fairy dust moss color, and of course a ton of bird decor.

A woman perked up, smiling at you upon your entrance. You swore you could practically smell the chemicals radiating from her unnaturally white teeth.You bit your lip to avoid smiling as she crooned. “Ruthie darling, come join us.” ‘

Ruth was the identity Dean had come up with for you. You plastered on a fake smile and went up an octave more than you are used too. “Veronica? I’m so sorry to intrude but I am new to town and stumbled upon your blog…”

“Darling, darling.” She waved you over to the table. “You don’t need to apologize for anything.” You sat down in the free chair, putting your purse in your lap. “We are delighted to have you.” She greeted for the table around you. “I’d offer you a mimosa, but we want to keep that precious bundle of joy safe and sound.” The group laughed.

You politely chuckled and put your hand to your abdomen. “Yup, we are staying dry for another seven months.”

Veronica placed her hand on your shoulder. “It’s all worth it, Ruthie dear.”

The rest of the wives continued business as usual, gossiping about anyone and anything, complaining about their husbands, and willfully ignoring their children’s screams and overwhelming amount of bodily fluids. You tried to stay focused though on the pack leader. She would have the most information if there was a witch in the group.

“So, Veronica, which one of these little rascals is yours?” You looked around, eyes following the two boys running around the table playing tag.

“Oh sadly none, my children have all grown and moved away with no prospects of grandchildren.” She conveyed with sorrow.

“But you’re so young?” You blurted out in shock before you could catch yourself.

She chuckled. “Oh you’re too kind my dear. No, it’s true. That’s why I’ve started this group. So I can be a support to young mothers and get the joy from the children.”

At that moment, one of the boys playing tag tripped over his shoelace and collided with the ground. You looked to his mother who was already on her third mimosa and waved him off as he started to wail.

“There, there Sebastian.” Veronica called and snapped her fingers. He instantly stopped crying.

“... You’re so good with them…” You spoke, but the look on Sebastian’s face indicated he was more mortified than calm.

“It comes naturally dear, don’t you worry, it will come to you too.” Her phone buzzed and she jumped in her seat. “Oop, I’m running late for the salon. But we simply must continue our conversation. How does tomorrow for afternoon tea sound?”

“That would be so lovely.” You bordered on the edge of mocking her fake pleasantry.

“Wonderful, I’ll text you the details.” She stood up and blew a kiss to the rest of the group before waving. “Bye darlings.”

As soon as she left, Sebastian began crying again, raising your growing suspicion. His mother finally took notice and went to collect him.

The lady next to you bumped in. “Hey, don’t get too close, she can be a little overbearing.”

“A little overbearing?” The woman argued from across the table. “She’s worse than my mother-in-law.”

“I’m sorry… I guess I’m confused…” You stated.

Sebastian's mother who was now packing up, piped in. “Sweetheart, she pays for the drinks so we come.”

That’s a little rude, you thought to yourself. Maybe your gut feeling was wrong.

“All I’m saying is, the doting on is fun for a while but pretty soon you’ll start to remind her of her daughter and she’ll send you to her estate in New Hampshire like the rest because.” The woman cleared her throat and gave her best impression. “‘They simply have far superior doctors in that region. I can’t have you giving birth in this primitive landscape.’” A few of the other women chuckled.

“I’m sorry, the rest?” You asked… then again your gut never steered you wrong before.

“Yes… a few months ago… what was her name..” The lady tried to recall.

“Casey!” One popped in. “And before that, the poor gal who was still in high school.”

You forced a lump from growing in your throat. The missing high school girl was what brought you out in the first place. “But never any of you?” You clarified.

“No she doesn’t want to pull us away from our families already here. I guess she just wants to make sure the ones who are alone feel cared for. It’s really not all that bad.” One lady passively argued.

“Okay, well thanks for the info, ladies… I’m going to get going though.” At this point you felt you had a solid case built up against her. It would be better to focus your energy on her rather than trying to suffer through another hour of gossip.

You set out down the street towards the downtown district, dialing Dean’s cell. “Hey. Suspect numero uno is going to send you details about a tea party tomorrow.”

“Why me?” Dean asked.

“Because you’re the one who set up this brunch thing in the first place, idiot…. I don’t want to raise suspicion by giving out a different number.” You explained. “Just forward it to me when she does, I’m headed to city hall to dig up any records I can.”

“We’ll meet ‘cha there.” Dean ended hanging up the phone.

After pouring through city taxes, housing records, and whatever else you could get your hands on, you were able to establish Veronica moved here twenty years ago with her husband Edward Marshe. Unfortunately, there was no mention of the kids she had spoken about. You discussed the babies and brunch meeting with the boys and they agreed that it was still worth investigating further. Perhaps tea would lead to some further details. Sam was planning to research more into this New Hampshire estate and the oversea investments that counted for most of their income.

You picked up your phone and gasped at the time, evening already setting in. “Shit guys, I gotta run.”

Sam and Dean shared a shocked look. “What for?” Sam asked.

“Card game.” You smirked.

“And you didn’t invite me?” Dean asked pretending to be offended.

“You’re a distraction.” You reminded.

“Because of my dashing good looks?” He teased.

“Oh of course.” You snorted. “Your fiery eyes, hard pecs, and boyish charm just makes me oh so weak in the knees I forget the difference between clovers and spades.” You teased even if there was a hint of truth to it.

“Shut up.” Dean waved you off. “Win it big time for us kid.”

“Drinks on me tomorrow night, boys.” You laughed before walking out with confidence. You had this Irish man right where you wanted him.

-----

Part 2

Forever Tags: @nanie5 @sea040561 @crushing83 @mogaruke @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @ginamsmith @jotink78 @blushingokoye @sup3r-pott3r-lock3d @dancingalone21 @li-ssu @highonpastries @daddy-kink-confirmed @weewooweewoo1212 @carryonmyswansong @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @atc74 @superapplepie @coolness22 @cassieraider @winchesternco @adaliamalfoy @iwriteaboutdean @spnbaby-67

#supernatural #spn #spn fanfic #spn fandom #dean winchester #sam winchester #hal ozsan #spn 5x07 #x reader #fanfic #fanfic series #irish whiskey #fan fiction #reader insert

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oddree13 · 7 years

Text

Dec. 12 - “Don’t Forget I Love You” - @omgcpwinterextravaganza (Read on AO3)

Day 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25

They agreed to make it work. After all Derek could write from anywhere and he was not letting his boyfriend pass up an opportunity to play in the NHL. Will for his part hesitated for many reasons, but once Nursey sat him down and assured him that he truly deserved this, the redhead signed with the Rangers.

It began on Dex’s first roadie. The redhead was nervous about being away for the first time, and that night when Nursey sent him off to bed so he could keep working, he wrote him a note. Dex found it the next night as he settled into the hotel and smiled when he saw his name written on the outside of the notecard in Nursey’s handwriting.

You’re going to do great babe. Remember that doing well doesn’t always mean winning. I’m proud of you no matter what.

Don’t forget I love you, DN

Dex was a little sad that Derek’s full name wasn’t on it, but he understood. He wasn’t out to the team yet after all.

But from that roadie on Derek always tucked notes into Dex’s luggage. Sometimes it was a new poem, words of encouragement, and on a few occasions a rather explicit love note. But each time Derek ended it with don’t forget I love you. As if Dex ever could.

***

It was inevitable really. There was bound to be a roadie that would take Dex away for the holidays, and while Christmas wasn’t usually a big deal, there was something about being away from Derek during this time that hurt more than usual.

Seeing the photos online of Nursey spending the holidays with the old Samwell crew back in Boston tugged at Dex’s heartstrings and while he knew that he’d be back tomorrow and going straight to the Zimmerman-Bittle household, it didn’t stop his heartache.

As he unpacked, hoping to find his usual not from Nursey, he was surprised to find instead a note with a thumb drive, instructing him to put it in his laptop with headphone.

Sitting on the bed with his laptop open and facing away from the door in case his roommate came back, Dex put in the drive and opened the only file on it. It was a video. Nursey was clearly in their living room doing his best to relay Dex a holiday message without crying.

“And it’s funny because before you I never really cared that much about Christmas, but knowing that I’m going to be at home with the tree we cut, and the decorations we put up without you, makes it a bit harder. I’m going to be missing you so much right now, and I’ll probably drink a bit too much to forget that horrible feeling, so I apologize in advance for whatever drunk texts or voicemails I leave you, but I’m sure you’d do the same if you could. And don’t blame yourself because this is your job Will, and you’re so good at it and you’re so happy doing it. One day out of all the others I get to spend with you is small, I promise. So do your best tomorrow and win one for me as a swawesome gift. I miss you Will, and don’t forget I love you. Bye.”

That night Dex came out to his defense partner after the other man found Dex sobbing during his third rewatch of the video. For his part, his partner thanked him for trusting him with this moment, and Dex wondered if somehow Shitty had infiltrated the NHL.

***

Years later, when Dex got down on one knee and asked Derek to marry him, he made certain that inside each of their rings was engraved Nursey's reminder - don’t forget I love you

#omgcpwinterextravaganza #nurseydex #derek nurse #william poindexter #omgcp #omgcp fic #omgcp advent calendar 2017 #myfics

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thepandemicinterviews · 4 years

Text

Steven, August 11 2020, Sydney

After editing this interview with Steven (I struggled to edit anything out, so apologies in advance for the length), I put on Side C of Norman Fucking Rockwell and blasted “California” in my room.

Oh, I'll pick you up If you come back to America, just hit me up 'Cause this is crazy love, I'll catch you on the flip side If you come back to California, you should just hit me up We'll do whatever you want, travel wherever how far We'll hit up all the old places We'll have a party, we'll dance 'til dawn I'll pick up all of your Vogues and all of your Rolling Stones Your favorite liquor off the top shelf I'll throw a party all night long

Another great line: I've heard the war was over if you really choose.

I love to hate on America, yet I also understand its allure and fantasy. I can’t help but think about this “war” as Covid, and the insular, ignorant, optimistic American population choosing that it’s over. I can admire their raging belief in the unreal. This is what Hollywood was built on.

Searching America in my notes, I see that in June 2016 I wrote a list of movies I liked. Among them: Heathers, Mulholland Drive, American Beauty, Dazed and Confused, Doom Generation. What do these films have in common? They all, I think, capture a particular American delirium—the how far will you go to experience beauty, never mind how false it is. A note from May 2018 simply reads “America—land of delusion”. In July 2018, when I was in Paris, I jotted down a few things from American writer Jenny Zhang’s talk outside Shakespeare and Company. Notably: “The utter abusiveness of the American dream.”

It’s difficult these days to look at any news stories regarding American politics and coronavirus without wanting to laugh, cry, and vomit all at the same time. But then you think of the 300 or so million people who have to live there, under Trump. Some obviously blinded by misinformation and their sheer lack of critical thinking skills, but the others? I draw a blank—I feel like punching something on their behalf.

Steven moved to Los Angeles at the beginning of this year to pursue a life of excitement and wonder. It was all lined up—it was finally happening. He was meeting celebrities, getting jobs, doing everything that Lana del Rey would have wanted for him. Until Covid hit, and the red carpet was no longer. Fast forward (or slow forward) to the end of March, and he’s in hotel quarantine in Sydney, getting lambasted by Boomers who are complaining about him complaining. Steven is an example of someone whose life has been forcibly upended by this evil virus. Or, to put it more lyrically, his dream was shattered by something so devastatingly real that no amount of cheery American humour could repair it. His is a story of profound rearrangement, but there is a happy ending: safety.

C: Hi Steven. So this isn’t the first time you’ve been interviewed, right, about your experience?

S: No! You heard that I made my way on the news a couple of times?

C: I knew that you had interviewed for, was it Sydney Morning Herald?

S: Yeah, so I work for Channel Nine so I’ve got a few friends at Sydney Morning Herald and around in the Channel Nine world, I guess. I did one for that newspaper, I did one for 9Honey. I was on the news a couple of times. I mean, my whole experience coming home was documented through a few different news stories. And I did a few interviews on radio, 2GB, ABC Radio, Today FM and Kiis FM. So it was a lot. A lot of media. And the Today Show, but that’s my show, that’s what I usually work on, so it was more just like, Steven can you come and do a segment with us? And I was like, let’s do it!

C: Was that in person? Or while you were in quarantine?

S: Yeah, so coming home I was one of the first groups of people to be put in hotels. I got sent to the Ibis hotel, got put in a very small box for two weeks. Went a little crazy. But yeah, the morning after I got there is basically where I did all those interviews from. I’ve never really done remote interviews either, so it was a lot of getting used to for a lot of us.

C: Were you happy to do the interviews?

S: Totally. So, coming home was pretty shit to say the least. For at least those first few days when I was coming home I had something to do. On the plane back home, I had to document stuff for the newsroom.

C: Wow, so they were lined up before…

S: Yeah, yeah. I mean, I was in contact with the newsroom all the way, because it was a six hour bus ride from the airport to the hotel, because of just how slow the process had to be. So throughout that entire time, I was talking to the newsroom, and they go, Do you know which hotel you’re going to, we’re sending a reporter there. So as soon as I got off the bus, I found the lovely Tiffiny Genders from Channel Nine, she’s incredible. Ran up to her, and the police were trying to be like, Don’t leave! And I was like, I’m just going here! So we were trying to really make time to meet up for all of these moments in-person if we could, and eventually two weeks later when I got to leave the hotel, we did a follow-up with some more reporters that were there to see me hug my family as I left the hotel. So it was a lot, but it did give me something to do which is what I really needed because once it all calmed down after a few days, that was the beginning of the end for me [laughs]. I started to go a little crazy.

C: Right, so [what was it like] during quarantine?

S: When I didn’t have anything to do, your brain wanders, especially when you’re in a two-metre by two-metre box and your only view of the outside is the same unchanging view of Darling Harbour. Which is beautiful, but I never want to see it again, not for a long time. Eventually when the only thing you have to do are your Animal Crossing chores, you start to go a little crazy. And I did! There was one day where I locked myself in the bathroom of the hotel room I was in, took a bottle of wine from the morning, until like eight hours later. I was very water wasteful that day, unfortunately. But I had an eight hour shower, where I just sat in there, got drunk. I say that I was singing, but it was more that I was screaming the lyrics to “Take Me Home, Country Roads” over and over, and apparently the police who were stationed on every floor of the hotel were banging on the door for a few hours, wondering if I had died. That was probably my craziest day. That’s probably the craziest I’ve ever been in my life.

C: How far into quarantine were you at that point?

S: To be honest, time stopped making sense. It was very strange when it came to time. I believe it was about halfway through, though. But the days bled into each other a lot in that hotel room. Because at some point I just closed the blinds as well, so I was going off my own body clock for a long time. I didn’t have the sun to tell me what time it was, what day it was. That was probably not good either. No, time didn’t exist for a little while.

C: How did you feel when you finally left that room?

S: Oh my god, it was something else! When the date came where they could finally tell us when we were leaving, it felt like this weight had been lifted off me, because I think the reason why I went a little crazy as well was the uncertainty of when exactly are we going to leave. So as soon as they told us, my spirits were already lifting and I was ready to just go. It did take some physical readjusting, I’ll tell you that, because the size of the room – I didn’t have much room to walk around, or use my legs really. So I actually had to get used to walking down the hallway before I left. But to be honest, leaving the hotel was kind of the same as going in, because the media circus kind of happened again. I started doing quite a few more interviews, for Channel Nine and for Channel Ten, did a few more news stories, and as soon as I left, I had a camera in my face and photos being taken by a journo, and just so much was happening. I was like, OK, let’s turn the media face back on, let’s do this. So leaving felt the same way as coming in, but going back home felt like a nice warm hug that I hadn’t had for quite a while. Because the whole process of having to move back home only two months after leaving home on a plan of staying away for twelve months felt pretty shit. It felt like dreams were being crushed [laughs]. So readjusting and going home, actually getting a hug from my family, was wonderful. And that’s what going home felt like as well, for quite a while. Having a nice warm blanket wrapped around me.

C: Lovely. When did you decide that you had to come back to Australia from the US?

S: So it was a bit of a weeklong process, I think, for me to come to that decision. As you’re well aware, it was a long process from when things started to get serious to when borders were being announced to be closed, to when Scomo announced that we’d have to go to hotel quarantine, and all of that. And I was keeping up to date with it the entire time, because I wasn’t sure what was going on, and I wanted to keep an eye on it just in case I maybe did have to come home. But I remember the day I came to that decision, I was having a very depressed bath, with another bottle of wine in the apartment I had moved into in Burbank in Los Angeles. And I just randomly got a call from my mum, and as soon as I picked up, all she said was, I think you have to come home. This doesn’t look like it’ll get any better. And that’s just when the tears started and I was like, yup. So that was the moment that we decided, and it was about one week before I flew out, and it was a little risky as well, because the flight that we did book, one of the only ones that we could’ve booked, was the very last flight from Los Angeles to Sydney. On Virgin Airways as well, which means I think it’s the very last Virgin Airways flight from LA to Sydney in history. And it was a little bittersweet too, because it was probably the greatest flight of my life. It was the most comfortable flight I’ve ever had, because it was very socially distanced, and there was an overabundance of food, and the flight attendants wanted to give us a great experience, so I was very comfortable. But unfortunately the saddest flight, but also the most comfy. But yeah, I do physically just remember sitting in that bath, getting a call from my parents, and just coming to terms with, oh no.

C: It’s bigger than me.

S: Yes! I can’t just ride this out here. Originally, I did think that, you know, maybe I can go home for a couple of months, because my Visa will still be valid if I get to go back a couple of months later. I can stay until January, basically, so hopefully this all blows over in a couple of months and I can just come back to my apartment in Burbank and get those jobs again. Nope. It definitely doesn’t look like I’ll be back for a long time. But I think I’ve come to terms with that now. It sucked; coming to terms with it sucked. I do remember another day when I realised this was going to be a thing though. When I started paying attention –

C: Do you know what time it was? What month?

S: It was mid-March, it was right before – I was going to go to this premiere for Reese Witherspoon’s new Hulu show. I can’t even remember the name of it at this point, but I was super excited for it. I went out the night before to go buy some fancy clothes for the premiere, for red carpet. And as I was leaving the shopping centre that night, that’s when I saw the email that it’d been cancelled. Due to social distancing rules and everything, and that’s when I realised, oh, this is big. Oh no! That was the first moment for me. And then the next moment was Scomo saying forced quarantine.

C: It all happened so quick. Like mid-March to end of March I think were the longest two weeks of my life.

S: Literally! Tell me about it. Those two weeks felt like months! When I think about my time living in Los Angeles, it amounted to about two months in general. It felt so much longer because of that final fortnight. And then also the fortnight in the hotel, where I was kind of in this in between limbo world where I wasn’t away, but I wasn’t at home, and all of that. But those specific two weeks where things were still being decided? Everything was so uncertain? It made me age so much [laughs].

C: Yeah, I feel like everyone was coming to terms with the fact this that is a thing –

S: Yeah, collectively. I’ll be honest, being so in contact with everybody at home at the time, and also being in the Los Angeles community – Australians definitely came to terms with it a lot quicker than Americans did.

C: Because it wasn’t already happening, like we weren’t in the thick of it yet, so we had time to come to terms with it. But what was happening in Los Angeles at the time you were about to leave?

S: A lot of denial. I still remember, on one of the shows I was on, one of the crew members just saying, It’s a damn panic, not a pandemic. Over and over again. And that was very much a lot of the sentiment of a lot of people. There was still a lot of people that were like, yes, we should be wearing masks. Some people thought that wearing masks was a sign of hysteria, and we shouldn’t because of blah blah blah. I did push a lot of these memories away at the time because it was a little stressful. Just because I couldn’t believe that people weren’t taking it seriously. And I did get to the point where I really really did not feel safe. Not in the same way where, when I came home, if I wore a mask and gloves and sanitised and went out when I needed to – you know, there’s a level of not feeling safe with that. Even as much as I could prepare going out in LA, I could never feel safe. Just because of the sentiment I knew that was growing. And then there were a lot of fights over toilet paper right outside of my apartment where there was a small supermarket. And that’s when I was like, ah, Americans are crazy.

C: I think that was happening here as well [laughs].

S: That’s true! I did see the news eventually. That’s when I was like, people aren’t really taking this seriously in the right way. The sentiment was a lot of denial and then a lot of hysteria.

C: There was a lot of talk of people, like yourself, who were in the news about the hotel quarantine, complaining too much.

S: Oh, I could talk about this for ages! So I’ll just start off by saying that I got a couple of death threats.

C: Really?

S: Yeah, just a couple. A lot of very direct messages which were pretty much harassment. And oh, so many Facebook comments on the public posts that Channel Nine put up of the news stories. I felt like I kind of became ground zero for, you know, Zoomers and Millennials complaining about quarantine. Just to defend myself, I didn’t really complain myself, at all. I laughed at how small the hotel room was, and I did say I’d rather be with my family, but if this is what is the safest option then I’m happy to do that. But oh my goodness, do Boomers love to take young people that aren’t completely happy with a situation and blow it up out of proportion. The only people I actually saw complaining myself were older people, which is kind of ironic. I do think there were some elements that were worth, I guess, complaining about. Them being the way it was organised. I didn’t have anything against the forced quarantine itself. I thought that it was actually a very good measure to keep things under control, especially internationally, and I was happy to do it. Except that it wasn’t exactly experts running it or making decisions on a day-to-day – medical experts, I mean. It was whatever police officer was in charge at that hotel on that day. So it was different at every hotel. It was different every day for at least three-quarters of the two weeks I was there. I think by the time I was ending my time there, they had started to formalise rules or something. But you could tell it was extremely rushed, they hadn’t talked to me. And yeah, I wasn’t a big fan of the police officers that were running the joint either. It wasn’t a great time. But the idea of forced quarantine I have nothing against. Nothing against. Other things – I mean, I’m happy to complain about how small that hotel room was, because it’s not made for two-week stays. I mean, they had to use that hotel and I completely understand that, but it’s mainly made for – the Ibis hotel is made for one-night business stays and men cheating on their wives, usually. That’s what it’s built for. And it’s not made for, you know, some twenty-three year old person living in there for two weeks, with no human contact. But once the comments started, they got a little heavy. I laughed at all the ones – there were hundreds as well – on Facebook, on the actual news story itself, because it was all country bogans that were like, the kids don’t know how well they have it, they’re in five-star hotels and they still find time to complain, and blah blah blah. But then there were a few people who tracked down my Instagram and found my Facebook as well. And those messages I didn’t really appreciate. Especially the ones that were just straight up death threats. One of the death threats I was actually a little impressed with because it was very succinct. It was just a GIF of a noose. That was pretty straightforward. But I was told to report – tell the police officers at the hotel that people were sending me death threats. But of course they did not help at all.

C: They didn’t do anything?

S: Of course they didn’t. ACAB [laughs]. But I was told by the newsroom to report that. But I thought the comments were quite funny, in general, because Boomers do love to target young people. Though, my family took it as a personal attack, and started defending me in the comments! Old 2010 keyboard warrior style. It was fun to watch. Kept me entertained for a little while in that hotel room.

C: How were you mentally throughout that? Do you feel like you’ve bounced back from it now?

S: Yeah. At first, especially once I got to leave and start dealing with the emotions of what had happened – not being able to do this really huge thing that I’d planned to do. Moving overseas and starting a new life and pursuing a career overseas was a pretty big thing that I’d had to plan for quite a while. And having that cut short by something that isn’t your fault – it’s a very confusing feeling. For a long time, I was so fucking sad. I spent a long time just lying in my parents’ living room on the makeshift bedroom that they made for me. Just wallowing for a while before considering what the future would look like. Because at the time I wasn’t certain if I could go back in a couple of months, and slowly things looked like that wouldn’t be happening, and I’d be home for the foreseeable future. Coming to terms with that was extremely hard. I’m very lucky because I’ve had access to therapy for years, so once I was able to start seeing my psychologist again, things started getting better mentally for me. But also being home when a time is so quiet as well, when no one is really able to do anything – it can make things worse and better in some ways. The things that did make it better, when it came to coming to terms with what this year would now look like, was being able to see people that I really cared about. Like Nicola, for example. We ended up spending a lot of time together in those first few months of me being home, and that made me feel really grounded. Which she does just in general. And being able to see friends who I didn’t think I’d be able to see for an entire year, eventually when that was possible. It helped me feel really comfortable with being home again. Also the fact that America seems to not be dealing with this well in the slightest, does make me feel very confident in my decision to come home. And all those elements combined, I feel like now, just in the last month or so, I feel like I really have bounced back. Now that I can start thinking about my life and my future again, in not so much certain terms, but not wondering if I’m going to be bouncing between countries again. That was the hardest part. Not knowing if I was going to be back in America. But I’m happy to be in Australia forever at this point. And I’m not so much planning for the future, but I do feel comfortable with whatever that future’s going to be at this point.

C: Seeing America’s response to the pandemic – does that change how you feel about possibly moving there one day?

S: That’s a big question! My relationship with the United States is more about – I’ve loved the idea of it and I’ve always loved living there because of mainly the people. I’ve always meshed well with the locals of whatever city I’ve moved to. I loved living in the Midwest in Chicago, and I loved living in California, in Los Angeles, mainly because of the people and the friends that I met. America is such an eclectic mix of people. I don’t have so much faith in their government when it comes to helping their people, though. I still love the idea of moving there when it comes to a future career and developing that further. And I don’t ever want to strike that down just because of a terrible government’s terrible response to a terrible pandemic. But it definitely has made me feel better about being home right now and not living there at this moment. If I could go back in time a couple of months and tell myself anything, it would be, you’re going to be happier if you move back home. Because I can probably guarantee that to a different version of myself that’s still there, that I’d be extremely depressed and worried. I mean, financially as well, it kind of became a necessity for me to come home. Without being able to work, and with the Australia Dollar just nose-diving, eventually I’d have to come home anyway. I’m not a big fan of their response to this pandemic. It’s been atrocious and terrifying. I’m every day scared for my friends that are still there, and every day the people that I met in the city have slowly moved out of Los Angeles back to their original homes if they had that, or back to wherever their parents live in the suburbs, or to other states. It scares me.

C: There is a real danger just living under a government that doesn’t care about you. Compared to here, I feel like we haven’t reached the point where we feel unsafe because, you know, the lockdown in Melbourne shows that they do care about their people in a way that Trump doesn’t.

S: Yes, exactly. The American federal government especially, and a lot of state governments, are very translucent in how much they really don’t care how many people die. To the fact where getting the disease has become slightly normal? At least with the circles that I fell into and have kept in touch with. A lot of the people that are amongst that have normalised the fact that you just might get the disease. That’s just how it is now. And having that normalised, I think, is very much a reflection of the fact that the government does not give a shit if you die, or if you get this disease or not. They just need the wheels to keep turning. God, I wish people like Jacinda Ardern could just rule the world instead, but unfortunately not. It is extremely, just, terrifying because of how normal it is for the American people to understand that their government really doesn’t care about them.

C: Yeah. And it seems like a lot of people don’t understand how restrictions could have prevented the spread.

S: A hundred percent. No, I completely agree. And in all honesty, I never really had a chance to have that kind of discussion with Americans when I was there because I was in the process of leaving at the time. But I feel like something that’s very similar to that, is the fact that they’ve been taught that things that could be good for them are not good for them. Such as restrictions and social distancing, safe measures. And I actually did get into a discussion when I was there before things starting going into lockdown, during the primary elections. Someone at a bar was just saying, having a government subsidise for university, getting Medicare, no one can do that! And I just put my hand up and was like, yeah, I come from a country where we have those exact things! And it gobsmacked that person for a minute. They were like, wait, really? You’re kidding! And I feel like if I got the chance to have that discussion with Covid restrictions, it would be the same result. But to be fair, it is a country of over 300 million people, so there’s always going to be so many differing viewpoints there, but it is so worrying how many of them are adverse to things that are good for them in the long run.

C: And how political that becomes.

S: Exactly. The fact that it’s all politicised is so strange. Like I’m not a big fan of our governments either, but at the very least, restrictions and safe measures weren’t exactly politicised the way that they are in America, which also terrifies me. These were kind of the wild things in America though, having the discussions with people and realising that a lot of them really just don’t –

C: Understand the context outside their own little – huge country, but…

S: But if they don’t have it, then other people must not, right? I feel like that’s the kind of mindset a majority of the people there must be in. To think that Medicare is this extreme version of socialism, like, I don’t understand. Oh well. America was fun though.

C: Did you have fun there while you were there?

S: I did! I really did. I’ve lived in, and I’ve visited America, many many times. This was my first time living in California, though. And I only got to spend two months there, but my God, it was a wild ride. The LA you live in, as opposed to the LA you visit as a tourist, is extremely different. And especially Hollywood the actual place compared to Hollywood the idea, extremely different. I just had a really fun time. I met a bunch of people, and I didn’t think I would be making friends with so many celebrities too.

C: Really? Who did you meet?

S: So probably the closest friend I made there was Grant Imahara from Mythbusters. He recently passed away which was very very sad. But he was extremely nice to me and was kind of the one who introduced me to so many of the other regular people and celebrities around Hollywood. Got me very involved. He was a very nice man. We met while doing karaoke at a Star Wars themed bar. Hollywood’s wild [laughs].

C: How’s your life been since coming back? Have you enjoyed the quietness of it?

S: At first, the quietness drove me a little crazy. It was definitely what I needed for a while, but eventually I did enjoy it. Like I said before, I spent a lot of that time spending more quality time with people I cared about. I feel like a lot of my close friendships grew a lot closer as well. And I got to do some things that I couldn’t really do before. Like one day, Nicola and I went to Centennial Park while it was empty, and basically had the whole park to ourselves. And I don’t think that’s ever going to be replicated. The quietness definitely grew on me after a while. And I’ve definitely grown with being okay being home in the last few months.

C: And now you’re about to start full-time work?

S: Yeah, that’s true. I’ve never had a full-time job. My last job was a meet-and-greet producer on the Today Show. Super duper fun, but at the moment we can only have five people in the studio at one time. My job revolved around our guests that we had on the show. We don’t physically have any guests on the show, which means for the most part, my role is now defunct for the foreseeable future. However, I’m still on the payroll, so as soon as I can go back, the possibility’s there. But waiting around, on JobSeeker as well, which I’m grateful for, but waiting around for so long was very tiring. It did give me a lot of time to spend time with my friends like I said, but the idea of going into full-time work is kind of nice. Having something to do now. I’ve never had a full-time job before, it’s all been freelance and casual. So having basically 9-5 weekdays for a little while, I feel like is going to be some structure that I’ve needed since even before I left for the States. Because even when I was there, I didn’t exactly have a structure at the time. It was very go go go, let’s find a place to live, let’s find some jobs, let’s meet some people. And coming home was just, let’s do nothing! So now that I get to have a very regular routine, I feel like it’s going to ground me a little bit. Something I’ve needed.

C: I think that was the case for Nicki as well, getting her two jobs. And having a period away from the freelancing lifestyle.

S: Like I said before, being able to spend with people like Nicola helped a lot because we could talk through things like that, like how can we help ourselves feel a little better during this time. What do we need? Seeing Nicola stress over jobs and work and it all kind of paying off has been great too. Hopefully I get a taste of the payoff as well [laughs]. Speaking of, on that note as well, not just about Nicola, but also the way that this has felt kind of comes down to some lyrics from a song that she showed me by the Mountain Goats called “This Year”. The lyrics are, I’m going to make it through this year if it kills me. And those goes through my head all the time. Ever since coming home, and the only time I feel like it’s finally stopped has now been the idea of having this full-time job and having a routine. Because now I feel like I really am going to get through this year.

C: Yeah, just a distraction from what this year represents.

S: Honestly, I’ve never been a huge fan of personifying years and saying, this one was the worst ever! Like, I remember going through 2016 and everyone was like, this year’s the worst, everyone’s dying this year and blah blah blah. I was just never a big fan of the idea of like this year’s bad. Until this year. This year’s bad [laughs].

C: Globally. Historically 2020 will be known as one of the worst years.

S: Exactly. I will happily personify this year. Very bad no good.

C: At least you’re not in America.

S: At least I’m not in America. At the very least, I’m in a country where I feel safer and more comfortable in, around people that care about me. Not new friends, but close, old friends too.

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