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palukoo · 3 years

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ooh Idea- donna is AMY’s assistant for the au asks?

ooh boy okay!! this got really fucking long because of course it did! yk, the post said 5+, so!! there’s like 11 bullet points that are all very long under a cut

donna still does go to the bartlet campaign first. i think she maybe leaves a little bit in because she realizes she doesn't like campaigning that much, because you aren't getting anything done yet, and she wants to be getting things done now. or maybe, actually, when she leaves the bartlet campaign for her boyfriend, she's too embarassed to go back after breaking up with him, and ends up looking for other ways of working in politics

how she ends up working for amy, and where amy is working are really, really funny conceptually to me. because i'm a little obsessive about where amy is working when but the timelines don't make a ton of sense? she'd either be at now or the wlc, probably, and either is fine bc tww is also pretty vague on what amy actually like functionally does? she's a political director iirc, but i make her more of a lobbyist, bc she does some lobbying in canon, but she also gives speeches and does debate prep? idk. anyways, i like the idea of donna just going into the wlc or now bc women's rights! but i also think it's kind of hysterical if it's more pointed/less random, like josh either suggests it or mentions amy in passing and donna is like oh that sounds fun. i feel like she may actually apply in this case, but who knows? anyways, amy is impressed by her work ethic and sense of humor and her experience with the bartlets and josh (and her reasons for leaving, if its about not liking campaigns) and hires her on the spot

oh god, the banter is so fun to think about. i mean, i've genuinely written so much about just like. how amy and donna bounce off of each other, because it's fun, and because it's them it's probably flirtatious, but amy would absolutely not genuinely make a move on her assistant. i think they also both help a lot with the other's self doubt or whatever, with donna pushing amy to do more but also to take care of herself and take a step back sometimes, and amy just showing that she cares about donna's opinions and insights into whatever they're working on, and sort of forgetting that she's her assistant and not her co-conspirator, and sort of calling donna on her constant bad dates in early seasons, too ("don't go on that date, donna" "jealous?" and maybe she is, sort of, a bit, but that's really not the point. "disappointed in your taste. or your concept of yourself." "what's that mean?" "you could do better." "could I?" "yes." "then give me something better to do tonight, amy." and amy doesn’t ask her to stay) (don't think about amy finding out about dr. freeride and the conversation that would follow don't think about it don't think about it)

oh but things get fun once we get to a point where amy's there in canon, because you now have donna working with josh again in a roundabout way, and she left him, and she still feels guilty about it, and she can sort of see the glimpse into what it would've been like, if she had stayed. and amy and josh are like. just a mess, obviously. my brain is also stuck on the concept of that conversation amy and josh have in women of qumar but in reverse ("are you dating donna?" "no." "i heard you might be" "i'm not" "she's cute." "she's my assistant." but it also has a lot more. implications for him to hear that than for her to, so. that's fun). i kind of have no idea what amy and josh's relationship would look like in this au so. not gonna dwell on that. (except to say that the concept of donna "gather ye rose buds"-ing amy about josh is Really fucking funny, partially bc amy would just be like "he's a thorn not a bud")

when amy gets fired, donna's upset with josh about it, because she's spent the last... three and a half? years working with amy, so she's probably more on amy's side here, even if she will admit it was kind of reckless. donna's given a chance to stay at the wlc, but she goes with amy, which amy is baffled and terrified by, because she doesn't know what to do with that kind of loyalty (”you’ll never lose me amy” “please don’t say that”) and because she... doesn't have a job, really, at the moment. she pays donna, anyways, and makes sure she has a job with the stackhouse campaign with her if she wants it. donna takes it, and doesn't question why amy's doing it. she doesn't question why amy leaves, either, and amy doesn't get why she comes with her, again.

around when amy gets hired by abbey (and brings donna on with her if she wants it, which of course she does) amy kind of snaps and asks her why she keeps working with her, why she won't stay somewhere and climb up a ladder or go anywhere, she's qualified as hell and could and should be working a better job, should be doing anything other than following amy over cliff after cliff, should not be working for her at this point, and... donna kind of thinks its obvious. she loves working with amy, loves that they do new things all the time, that the work feels important, loves the opportunities amy has given her and that the work feels important. amy sort of lets it rest and throws herself into work with abbey, and we finally get to have donna with the whole group again somewhat, but its a conversation that they sort of keep having without really having, until donna finally snaps and says something like "do you want me to quit?" or "do you want to fire me?" or "do you want me to leave?" idk, and amy maybe says yes, and maybe doesn't answer, and that's commencement (of course the idea of donna and josh doing "you have to get amy" and "are you in love with amy" is also really. interesting to me bc of how you'd have to make it work and i don't not have thoughts)

once things have settled, a little bit, after zoey's gotten back, donna goes to amy and tells her like "i'll resign. if you don't want me here... i'm not gonna make you fire me, but if you don't want me here, i'll go." and amy is a mess of a person, so she's like. "okay." and donna's naturally upset by that, and oh, this is happening during constituency of one, by the way! so donna leaves, amy gets yelled at by jed, goes to josh's office and sort of has a breakdown about everything, and when he says "apologize, you gotta apologize" he means to jed and to donna, and she goes to jed and quits and everything ('this building isn't very conducive to relationships’ hits here, huh) and tells him that he or abbey should hire donna, that she's incredible and one of the best people she's ever worked with, and she leaves.

donna takes the job (i'm not sure about specifically what job? i do really like the concept of her being abbey's cos for a lot of reasons but idk if she'd be like "qualified" for it at this point? maybe she gets taken on as like an interim cos for her but abbey just keeps her, anyways. or it could be something in legislative affairs bc i loved angela and donna working together) and feels too weird and sort of hurt to reach out to amy even though she does get amy well enough to sort of get it, she's also too insecure to really get it. someone mentions, in passing, at some point, that amy told jed to give donna a job, and she's sort of touched and sort of insulted and it's all complicated, and abbey or whoever reassures her that she has this job because she deserves this job, not just because amy recommended her. very highly.

cj probably points out a lot of stuff about amy and their relationship to donna in my no exit analog bc i love a good bottle episode, and cj being friends with both of them and being super perceptive is so important to me. i will also not be discussing gaza here bc i honestly don't think in this au that donna would be going

she and amy run into each other either at some fundraiser thing abbey and amy are both speaking at, or in some lobbying meeting or something, and amy's glad to see her doing well, and it assuages a little of her guilt over the whole thing. they have a really awkward conversation, something like "are you enjoying the new job?" "yeah, i really am. i guess i should thank you, since i hear you helped me get it." "you don't... it kind of felt like the least i could do." "yeah, well. thanks, anyways." "i miss you." "then why did you tell me to leave?" "you're the best assistant and probably the best friend i've ever had, you know." "so you decided to ensure i was no longer either?" "i was kind of only going for the first one." “well, you always were an overachiever.” and then they have to like. go and do their jobs bc they’re very busy people. but things are a little better between them now

finally, at some point, god knows when or how or why, donna’s probably made a joke about it, or something, and amy just says something like “i didn’t want you to work for me anymore because i knew you could do better, could do more, than being my assistant, but i didn’t want to tell you to leave.” and donna, who gets amy just nods and says “i appreciate that. i really did love working with you, but i appreciate that. could’ve said that then.” and amy laughs and rolls her eyes, and donna gives her a look. “is that the only reason you didn’t want me to work for you anymore?” and amy just shakes her head, and donna starts to say something, expects to have to say something, but amy kisses her and says “i’m really glad you don’t work for me anymore.” and donna laughs and says “i am, too.”

#asks #answered #claudiasjeancregg #amy gardner #donna moss #tww #honestly this was really hard for me bc one of the things i really like about donna/amy in canon is that donna has never worked for amy #like theres power dynamics obviously but that amys never been a part of the chain of command that donnas in. not really #but this was fun to think about and figure out how i could make it work #i also genuinely think amy would've either promoted or gotten donna to run way earlier but need that maximum drama #ALSO this just turned into fic whoops #the dialogue was just easier than explaining it but also its not like. fixed entirely to be in their voices this is too open for amy lmao #also of course i made this gay :) i would also love it just as an amy donna brotp concept but yk

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madmadmilk · 5 years

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One After The One PART 1 | Tom Holland x Reader

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: What does one in a million even mean? Does it mean you’re the first of many or the fucking last? Does it mean that you’re somewhere in the middle? And what happens to the poor baby who ends up being the 999,999th one? Or worse, the one after The One? There ought to be some kind of prize for second to last, and second runner up. Especially when being #2 is your specific talent.

Warnings: Cursing, Suspicion, some Hard to Swallow Pills, and a million blurry pics

Word Count: 6.7K swipes left

Special Shoutout: Thank you @hypnotized-so-mesmerized for being a BETA for this chapter and for you lovely input!

“I can’t fucking believe you’ve got me fifth wheeling for this….” you sigh, as you blow strands of your hair away from your face. You walk briskly atop of the shifting sand behind your leggy friend.

All 5 foot 10 inches of her shakes with laughter as she watches you trip over yourself. She shrugs, “The more the merrier?”

You roll your eyes, resigning to a smile as she waves back for your hand to hold. You reach out and accept her offer loosely, allowing yourself to be pulled along.

“Come on, the boys are waiting.”

Right.

You watch the festival lights cast a warm glow at the edges of her silhouette. She smiles at you, bronzed, beautiful–– taken.

Over the past year, all your best friends started fucking dating each other.

Leaving you single, alone, and second best.

It wasn’t weird, it wasn’t unnatural–– but it quite literally happened over night. “This” is just your “new normal.”

You all still hung out, together, mismatched or separately. Nothing has stopped them from asking you to hang out, but there are times where you feel… The Line.

It was Common Sense tingling and telling you that certain occasions were more of a “date-night” rather than friendly get together. And the last thing you wanted to be was a cockblock to your own goddamn friends.

Like tonight, you were tagging along to the late-night-end-of-the-summer beach bar hop bash, with your two pairs of your closest friends. Sam and Ry, short for Ryan. And Liza and K, short for Erik.

Then there’s you, of course.

The three boys were waiting with drinks in hand, while you and Liza took your sweet time climbing the sandy stairs. This was the usual ritual, but you stood alone when you reached the guys. They paired off, easily, naturally, sweetly.

The vibrating radio-centric music drowned out the sounds of the lapping ocean, the conversation you walked into was near unintelligible, and the crowd was excited about something.

God, I wish that were me.

There wasn’t anything wrong with going to this year’s beach bash, as you go to it as a group every year–– it’s just that this time they were holding hands and you were holding a drink. It’s more sour than you’d like.

You were fine coming out “alone,” but who wants to be alone?

You greet one another with warm hugs and Liza immediately dives into a rant about officially moving in with K, and about how he doesn’t wanna mix his laundry with hers–– all those new domestic nuances.

Sam rolls his eyes and exclaims, “Ry is the same fucking way–– like, it’s just cloth, babe.”

“Easy for you to say when all you wear is black––“ Ry retorts, pushing his boyfriend’s shoulder.

Everyone starts with a snickering laugh, clinking beer bottles and recanting similar experiences.

Tonight you just don’t feel like it.

Living alone and sleeping alone is one of your specific talents. It’s been nice to have your own fucking bed, your own fucking room, your own fucking space–– all of it to just BE your own fucking self, by your fucking self. You’ve been this way for twenty-odd years now (kind of, you know what i mean). Love and friends are welcome to hang out, but at the end of the day, the place is all yours. And yours alone. That’s what home means to you.

“–– But living together hasn’t been as bad as I thought it would be,” Liza smacks her lips, looking down in short embarrassment. She leans back against K, “There are good things too.”

Sam is quick to point out their PDA, and you take another sip of your drink. You would have spoken up to contribute about your own experiences, once upon a time. But that’s a sore topic you’re not willing to relive on this breezy night.

Instead, you laugh along, crossing your arms while propping your elbow on the bar. You’ll let tonight be as rosy as it can be with no time to dwell. Your drink is near empty, consumed faster than you remember. Someone taps your shoulder.

“Hey.”

You blink dryly, resurfacing. “Hm?”

K is rubbing the side of your arm, those hazel eyes darkened in the low light. His dark brows were raised high, “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course,” you answer easily. You hold up your drink, making a smug face and down it to his bemusement. You shake the empty bottle, setting it back on the table. “Always good.”

He nods slowly, looking over at the other three still gossiping amongst themselves. You couldn’t hear their conversation, but you can only imagining Sam and Liza were poking at each other by the way that Ry was smiling.

K swings his head back to you, “Wanna dance?”

“Sure.”

And you follow him, aware that, no, he didn’t want to dance. He wanted to talk.

You walk away with him, unnoticed by the others and tracing your finger across a brick wall. He stops, leaning against it and you do too. Looking over him, neat clothes and nervous face, you raise a brow.

“Sorry––“ he starts slowly, scratching the back of his neck.

“For what?” You laugh, scrunching your brows as you nod your head to the muffled music.

“This. It’s weird, right? Us. All of us, dating. That last year we were the ones single and you were––“ he sighs, pulling his lip to the side, “Last year was totally different. And now we’re all here, still together. Together-together.”

“Mhm, it was going to happen sooner or later,” you muse. K has loved Liza since Day One. And you and him have both known it, and what it means to him now. His dreams become reality every second that passes.

“Shut up,” he swats at your arm. You see the curl of his smile behind the embarrassment, “Nah. No. But this must be awkward for you, huh?”

You shrug. “Little bit. I’ll get over it, you guys are still my friends.”

His eyes search yours for the real truth. They were all so worried that them coupling up would ruin something, between themselves and with you. Ha. You told they they were stupid for thinking that. You believe in seizing the opportunities, in taking leaps and following your partner around the world–– in theory, at least.

They confided in you individually and you told them all the same thing. Tailored to their personalities, but in the same conceptual vein.

“If it works, it works. If it doesn’t, then at least you tried and you don't have to spend another day wondering ‘what if..?’”

And they bought it. Now, that being said, you already knew that they all fucking liked each other so–– push her and push him and push him and him, and things will fall into place.

It’s just that… the new thing is that you’re the one out out of the loop. You used to be the first to know but now you’re last to find out. And that is strange.

You’re not their number 1 anymore. And there’s nothing you can say about it.

“You’re still my best friend, got it?” K leans his shoulder on yours and you rest yourself against him too.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

Today, but not tomorrow.

It’s hard not to be bitter, and it’s horrible that there’s no remedy for it. FOMO is a new-age disease, after all. No science to sort it out yet, no justification to satiate it.

“So…. You talkin’ to anyone? Looking?” He asks too casually for a question he knew you hated. He bumps elbows with you and shake along with it.

“Nope,” your mouth pops at the “p.”

He raises his brows again, and argh you hate that. There was always someone you were talking to, or someone you’ve been with. But not these days. These days you felt too tired to be someone’s ideal anything.

“There are some cute guys around, looking at you,” his eyes twinkle a little too brightly for a straight guy with horrible taste. (Facts backed up by Sam, Ry, Liza, AND personal experience) “Plenty of fish, yeah?”

You shake your head, not interested. Sex could come and go, infatuation could come and go–– but you’re kinda tired of the short stuff. But not exactly ready for a whole-ass relationship either. You don’t need to explain yourself–– you just know you wouldn’t last the night.

“Not in the mood,” you huff.

“Tonight,” he says suggestively, wiggling his shoulders.

You both laugh, you a little bit dryly. You try to direct his attention back to Liza and their budding romance, as the trio finds you guys again. At first they didn’t immediately stand coupled, Ry handing you a drink and Sam going to talk to K. Liza smoothed out her clothes and you all talked about some new plans. It was an honest good time. Ry spilled his drink on Sam, and complained about the laundry again–– Liza got waaaay too drunk and you and K were holding her in your arms while she staggered like Bambi.

It was nice and warm, and a lot like old times.

I missed that.

You felt yourself smile and let loose–– not thinking of old ex’s or new flings. Just about the friends before you and how safe they made you feel, and how happy you are to see them happy. That’s love, right?

“Oh my god, look!” someone exclaimed, pointing a finger at the sky. You hear a loud clap.

As the night faded and grew colder, fireworks erupted into the sky with a loud crackle. You guys squealed and ran to the top of a sand dune, tripping and tumbling to see the dying summer sights. The fizzing calmed your calls. It’s funny how loud fiery skies filled you with the same awe every time. How it quieted you and made you feel small.

The couples soon held each other, soft embraces with their necks craned upwards. Their eyes twinkled from bursts of lights, smiling at the sharp crackles of sound.

Tonight was the one of many nights they would be able to spend in each other’s arms, so far away and close to you all at once.

This was the line you were cautious about–– you couldn’t talk to them when they were like this, out of courtesy. Out of honoring their moment.

You stood back, watching their excited faces instead of the bursting sky. You felt it. Not jealousy or bitterness, but the awful choke of curiousity and selfishness. The “what if that were me?”

It’s been a while since you’ve had arms wrap over your shoulders and kissed your hair. Enough time has passed for you to forget what that felt like. Too long? What was that like again?

The finale of fireworks struck across the inky, dark sky. You inhaled the smell of chalky smoke, tasting the salt in the air. Lights and colors fill your eyes, unblinking.

You suck in your cheeks as it quiets and you can hear the ocean again.

And you let yourself think, I want that again.

So with a new pulse, you went home and did the only logical thing in finding the next Love of Your Life.

You downloaded Tinder.

You avoided “serious” dating and being a “serious” anything to anyone, but seeing that “seriousness” in your friends made you wonder if you could be anything like them. If you were ready to open your heart to the possibility of loving and being loved.

Seriously. Sincerely. No bullshit.

This time.

At least, that’s what you told yourself as you messed around setting up a profile on Tinder. Regretfully spending way too long shuffling through old selfies that were engaging and enticing. You sigh as you pick through the lot, frustrated at the mind games that have already started.

It’s tiring.

And that’s probably why you end up cracking a few days later and end up telling Sam and Ryan. It was a short two word text, “Tinder. Help?” And you got a speedy reply from both of them (even when you knew they were most likely sat right next to each other). They were at your place in less than an hour.

Sam applauds your efforts, but is only there for moral support more or less. He’s an ace at the dating game, but has no patience to explain his ways.

“Typical,” You and Ry hum, as Sam rifles through your pantry instead.

Ryan, quiet as he is, sat with you and looked through the photos you choose. He broke down the psychology of it all; about the aloofness and whatever–– which you understood. You need to try hard, but not look like you are. Effortlessness, funny, chic, digestible, likeable––

“Performative.” He says flatly, “But this is fast and simple.”

And you have to agree, looking at your phone in his hands.

You blink as you reflect.

This is so much easier in fiction, in those movies where people go on a million dates in one week and match with the hottest fucking dudes ever. Where the protagonist has the perfect amount of self-confidence to keep her moving forward, endless chances to mess up and and still get the guy… God, it’s so easy on paper. There’s no dignity to lose. But here? In the “real” world, even on an app you could delete at anytime–– to put yourself out there? Mortifying.

But, at least you’re bored enough to try.

So, what the fuck, right?

“Did you tell Liza and K yet?”

“No, they would definitely try to set me up with someone real,” you laugh, leaning back on the couch. You wriggle your toes and tilt your head away.

Ry leans back with you with a brow raised, “Isn’t that… the point?”

Yeah, like, true. They have lots of friends they’re always trying to peddle your way, which is cool and all but… it’s a lot harder to pick and choose and ghost someone when you have mutual contacts.

He read the look on your face and nodded slowly, “Got it, got it.” He laughed to himself, perceptive and cautious. He extends his thoughts, “But you gotta tell us if you actually go and meet anyone. K would kill us if you didn’t say anything.”

“I won’t get into any trouble,” you squint, looking away from him mischievously.

“Uh-huh,” Ry affirms plainly as he swipes right on a few cute boys.

Your experience with dating apps was limited–– you made a joke account a while ago and never really did much with it. Then you had a more “real” account that you never tried sincerely with. You had real people you dated at the time–– uhm. But now, now that you’re actually on here looking… it is bleak.

It’s a Saturday night and you’re winding down with a glass of wine swiping through your options. People you actually knew showed up, and you swiped that shit away so fast you almost chucked your phone with it. You flipped through people who looked fake for real, some older dudes, and plenty of people with vibes you didn’t like–– the pool is so wide you almost didn’t know where to start. And you could afford to be picky, sure. It’s just, who knew that “too many options” would actually be a problem.

You spend the next few days idling checking and chatting, not getting any viable catches. You felt like you were just peering into small windows, head in and head out. Nothing caught your attention long enough for you to want to look in further.

You even start poking at things you never wanted to acknowledge as real, like the impact of cheesy bios, and deciphering who was who in group pics, and the thrilling amount of dudes holding up fish.

Pretty wack.

You felt yourself grow tired of it again. The adrenaline was waning, burnt to the stump. Good thing you didn’t try too hard. Pfft.

You sleepily swipe away on your phone, too late into the night. You blink hard as you snuggle into your covers, muttering,

“Just one more.”

Ah.

>> check out the whole bio here <<

“T, 23. Friendly, neighborhood romantic,” you whisper to yourself. You crack a small smile.

After countless swipes left, and (1) accidental swipe right, you match with a blurry boy–– super sus, I know. You don’t know how it happened tbh–– there’s nothing to “look” at, but your eyes fell on this one. Maybe because you just watched “Far From Home,” and enjoyed this spidey reference. Or you’re just innately drawn to the word “romantic.” Could be either, easily.

“It’s a match!”

Shit. You mumble, your profile photos floating together. You take a second to look through his meager collection. They were all obscure and blurry and not exactly in the artsy way.

You couldn’t decipher much, only that he had fair skin (?), with dark hair and dark eyes, but even that was questionable.

You’re pretty sure you matched with a bot or some old dude, or worse, a kid. You can hardly see his face in the pictures, blurry or cropped or covered.

Okay...

Is that his real name? Probably not. Is he actually 23? Doubt it. Is this going to go anywhere? Let’s hope not.

But whatever, it’s the first “match” that has seemed interesting in the past few days, solely on your pickiness. And this random bastards only gets you out of dumb luck.

You rub your eyes, and set down your phone, resigning to your stupidity.

You’ll deal with it in the morning.

Good night.

And the gears were set in motion as you slept.

You had a new message on tinder waiting for you, but you didn’t check the app until much later. You go through your Sunday morning routine, only opening your phone after a light breakfast and stretch.

“Oh god,” you blink as you catch the red notification. You look around the room, preparing yourself for what could be anything. You take a deep breath and open the chat.

T: Hey

Oh. You stare at it, so bare with no personality to pick at. You wonder if you should even reply, but by the grips of boredom, you do.

You: Hey!

You set your phone down, trying to swallow the short thrill. You walk away for a moment. A reply comes within minutes.

And it’s a goddamn mess.

T: Sorry, i’ve never done this before.

Strike one. You suck in your cheeks. While you’re fairly new at this too, you… don’t know how much time you want to invest it in. Here again, you debate replying back–– but he beats you to it.

T: I’m trying to get over my ex

UHM? Strike two, you almost have to laugh. This is just testing your patience. Your jaw wriggles as you see he has more to say…

T: And you look a lot like her.

Damn. Strike three, he’s out. He’s got to know that would put anyone off, right? Why would you even admit that straight out? T? Come on, man.

You: i’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult.

T: it’s an apology now, i didn’t know what to say

You: you could have complimented my killer smile or the pic of me with a dog. Anything but that

T: Right, right. I’m such a dickhead. Sorry, it’s nice to meet you though.

You hold your phone away, debating whether or not you should just delete the entire goddamn thing because this was just too stupid–– but it’s Sunday morning and what do you have left to lose.

You chew on the side of your lip, deciding to entertain “T,” but don’t spare him any soft words. You’d rather get straight to the point.

You: So… you go by “T?” And don’t have any real pics of your face? Are you even real???

T: Yeah, just private

You: kinda defeats the purpose of putting yourself out there though, right? Lol

T: It’s too easy if i put my face out there

You: oh, ha ha ha. So you’re saying you’re too hot to show your face? Love the confidence dude

And this is where you start actually laughing out loud. You wipe away tears at the side of your eyes, cackling at this display of internet confidence. It’s a tiny piece of amusement from a stranger you have 0 feelings for, and you’re not going to be mean to him… but you’ll definitely poke fun to see how far you can get.

Besides, he’s still replying back right? That’s almost hilarious in itself.

T: Hey, confidence is sexy, right?

You: yeah, more in person than online! 😂 (Laughing emoji)

You take a second to scroll back through his photos, and check to see if he has a link to instagram, twitter, anything. But he doesn’t. You try to pull up any evidence you can–– and at the very least, these blurry pics all look like they’re taken of the same person.

Slight build with dark curled hair–– rippable from any ambiguous online “hot boy” mood board though.

You’re wary.

You spot a picture with his smile, crinkled eye and lifted lip. You could swear he looked familiar… but maybe that’s because you’ve seen that same white boy/model on Pinterest.

Maybe.

T: wanna meet up and see for yourself?

You: maybe if you show me your face first

T: can’t do that quite yet, but I’d love to keep talking to you

You furrow your brows as you read his words. He would be down to meeting up with you upfront, but hesitates to send you a picture beforehand? That’s definitely a red flag, right? Right?

(Yes. Yes it is.)

You pull yourself back and let out a deep sigh. You’re probably the only person he’s talking to, especially with those purposeful (?) blurry pics and cryptic everything. Ugh.

It’s not playing yourself if you know it’s fake right? You can step out of this at anytime.

You: as long as you can hold my attention :)

T: I’ll try my very best ✌🏼 (peace sign emoji)

–– and with some very, very loose banter…. you end up exchanging numbers. You’ve put the whole Tinder thing on pause for now–– all four days of it. All for one stranger with no tact.

Unknown Number: hey, this is t (smiley face)

You: pfffft, I’m going to call you Blurry Boy. Since your name obviously isn’t T

BB: that’s fine with me :) mind if i call you darling?

You: ew

BB: o come on. It’s cute

You: please tell me you’re actually 23 or i swear to god I’m going to fucking lose it

BB: I swear 🤞🏼 (fingers crossed emoji)

You: ok. Prove it. Send me a pic of you–– you face or whatever

Ok. That’s a leap. He could rip a picture from anywhere but let’s see how fast he could do it. If it takes too long, then he probably did just rip it from the internet.

And if he makes a mistake and actually sends you a clear pic of himself? Well, that could only be seen as a win.

BB:

But you are ruthless.

You: ok. Send me another one.

And he could stop if he wanted to.

Only, he doesn’t. In a short moment, he sends another picture.

BB:

Same room, same face, same glasses. I guess you could believe him… for now. No matter how shitty the photos have end up....

But he could also be one of those people with folders full of stock photos… you never know.

But putting paranoia aside, you decide to turn off the heat a lil. You grab your coffee and sit on your couch, sliding into a comfy position. You turn on some YouTube videos on your laptop, watching the first few seconds as you lean your cheek against the couch cushions.

Phew.

You: thanks…. sorry I’m so paranoid. But you truly have the worst pictures of yourself put up there. Potato quality.

BB: nah, i know. I get it. Haha it’s alright, a pretty girl like you needs to protect herself

You: oh BOY that doesn’t make me feel any better 😂(laughing emoji)

BB: fuck, sorry. Ugh that is fuckin creepy. Shit. I’m terrible at texting

You: no, no. It’s alright. Actually, great job with taking those photos so fast. Most people would have taken sooooo much longer. You get a few points for not holding back

BB: babe, i told you. I’m gorgeous. I don’t gotta worry about it 😂😂💕 (laughing emojis)

You: right, right blurry boy. Great job with all those fuzzy ass photos. 🙄 (Eye roll emoji) haha are you really looking for someone out here or…?

BB: sort of. I’m testing out the waters and… you’re really pretty

You have to blink back and roll your eye, you’re unable to digest this conversation as real. They’re flowery words given to you, for sure, but your suspicion is much stronger. Your guard will not let down or be appeased by some blurry ass dude calling you “pretty.”

He replies before you have the chance.

BB: i dont wanna get into the messy details but yeah. Company sounds great right about now

You: yeah, i feel that

It’s a real and valid reply, but it’s a terrible one. It’s so hard for someone to reply back to that–– but you’re testing his perseverance. If he finds something to say back, it might just prove one more thing to you. That he might actually be interested, and someone worth talking to.

BB: sorry i lead with my baggage, I’m a fucking mess

You: *a confident fucking mess

BB: thank you 😇 (angel emoji)

You: don’t worry about it, I’ve seen worse

You laugh darkly to yourself. I’ve been worse.

BB: hahahaha thanks. Ok. But all that aside… real talk now. Can I ask you about the dog in your photo now?

You hate to admit that your lips curled into a smile, as you hastily type back.

Your coffee was half drank and cold by now. The YouTube video you were supposed to be watching has moved onto part two.

You eyes are still scanning your text screen, waiting to see those three bouncing dots at the bottom left hand corner.

He’s not the worst–– and at most, even if this turns out to be fake, this is just your Sunday morning entertainment. Nothing more and nothing less. These are just insignificant texts that will probably lead to a few lost days, or mediocre sex at best.

So, whatever, right?

MONDAY MORNING

BB: good morning! ☀️ (sun emoji)

You: well you sure get up early. Good morning

BB: Haha, I like to start the week as soon as i can. Do you drink coffee or tea in the morning?

You: coffee most days. You?

BB: i drink tea, darling

You: yeah that’s probably better for you haha. Less expensive too.

BB: mhm, definitely cheaper if you come over and i make you a cup

You: wow, the flirting starts the second the sun is up, huh?

BB: what, still too early?

You: never too early

BB: do you brew the coffee yourself?

You: some mornings. I usually pop into XX Cafe midday if i can.

BB: catch you there? 😂 (laughing emoji) nah, i’ll have to check the place out. I don’t know this area too well.

You: i guess if you can find me! I’m usually in and out pretty fast. Got places to be you know? Hm, did you just move here?

BB: yeah, i got settled in about a week ago

You: staying long?

BB: long enough

You: oh ha ha. Seriously not suspicious at all

BB: yeah I’m in town for a month or two. I’m getting away from work and stress for a minute

You: and you chose here?

BB: quiet enough for me. 😌 (smiley face) and you’re here so that’s a plus

You: relentless

BB: and nothing less.

MONDAY EVENING

BB: you haven’t seen that series? You’re crazy

You: whaaat! It’s not my thing. AND i don’t have time for it

BB: it’s a masterpiece, come on! Who doesn’t like laughing? It’s funny! You’ll like it

You: you’re gonna owe me a drink if don’t like it

BB: I’ll gladly buy you one right now if that’s what it takes to get you to watch it

You: ugh, i guess if you recommend it i can tryyyy…

BB: you won’t regret it!

You: ugh you are so annoying. What are you up to right now?

BB: reading emails and talking to you

You: haha what’s so important that you’re reading an email at like 11. Gotta turn on that “do not disturb” dude

BB: I can’t mute the work stuff, unfortunately

You: so if i called you over tonight you wouldn’t be able to? “Because of work?”

BB: you serious? I’m only taking serious offers right now

You: No! It’s monday. Can’t indulge you that early in the week

BB: what a shame. I’d drop it in a heartbeat for you

You: Nice to know

BB: I’ve got a feeling that I shouldn’t have told you that (laughing emoji)

You: 😈 (devil emoji)

TUESDAY MORNING

BB: good morning!

You: hey! I remembered I had some tea back at my apartment so… just wanted to let you know you had an impact on my day 🙄😊 (eye roll emoji and smiley face emoji)

BB: I could still make a better cup for you 😘 (kissy face emoji)

You: right. What do you have planned today?

BB: hmm, I’m heading out to the gym. Then I might explore the city a bit. Bump into me?

You: well, I don’t know if I could recognize you even if i wanted to

BB: you’ll recognize me

You: haha, okay? Wait, do I know you? –– if this is a prank…

BB: it’s not!

You: .. that wouldn’t be cool.

BB: it’s not a prank! There’s just a lot of things I can’t tell you just yet. It’d be a lot easier if we were able to meet up in person.

You: why?

BB: I’m pretty private. It’s really hard for me to just… share certain things with you. But I want to! SO badly! I just can’t send you a whole picture of my face. It’s complicated.

You: Sorry? I don’t get it.

BB: Ahhhh. This is going to sound so bad. I trust you, like as a person. But also I can’t trust you. If you meet me–– you’ll understand why. I’m sorry.

You: Okay…? And you have to understand that this sounds absolutely batshit to me, right? Like it’s pretty hard to trust you like this.

BB: yeah I know. I’m sorry. I don’t blame you if you don’t believe me. But honestly, it’s nice to be able to talk to you like this and I hope we can continue to chat. I really do like you.

You: … That is really unfair.

BB: I know! I’m sorry. Give me another day or two–– i have a few things to figure out but, I SWEAR i’m not lying to you. I promise it’ll make sense soon

You: well, if you promise you’re not a creep….

BB: I’m not!

You: and that you’re not using me as a replacement for your ex

BB: I won’t!

You: you are SO lucky i’m patient

BB: and kind. And beautiful. And amazing.

You: you’re pushing it, blurry boy. I just need you to realize how unfair this is.

BB: I do. And I know. I’m sorry.

You: what are you looking for here? With me or with anyone you would have met from the app?

BB: a home away from home

You: yeah i read that in your bio. What does that mean?

BB: I’m looking for someone I can spend time with and trust with my whole heart

You: ha ha

BB: I’m serious. It’s hard to find.

You: you’re a real romantic, that’s for sure

TUESDAY EVENING

You: you have a DOG and you didn’t tell me?

BB: what, you’re not interested in the fact that I have younger twin brothers and another 8 years younger than me? ‘Always about Tessa

You: obviously! Send a pic!

BB:

You: is this from right now?

BB: nah, something I took ages ago. I had to leave her back home with my family.

You: aww, that’s too bad.

BB: would you come over if she were here?

You: Duh! And I guess you’d have to make me a cup.

BB: sounds lovely. Let’s make it a date

You: ha ha. You miss home?

BB: More than you know. I travel A LOT

You: well, call back often! They would be happy to know you miss them! Loneliness is not a great feeling.

BB: I do, all the time! And definitely not a good feeling. So, it’s really nice to talk to you. Thank you.

You: Sorry, I’m not a very great conversational partner. But still happy to hear that

BB: You are. You’re still here

You: You are too.

BB: You already mean a lot to me

You: Have you been in many relationships? (Or hookups idk)

BB: No, and not really. I’ve only been in a handful of long-term relationships

You: Interesting

BB: What?

You: Just wondering if you are really catching feelings for me

BB: Guilty. You?

You: I don’t think I know enough about you to catch anything. No offense 😬😅(cringe emoji, laughing emoji)

BB: Ha, no. I meant if you’ve been in many relationships?

You: Oh! Sorry. A few of either. Did long-term once. Didn’t work out, obviously–– so here I am. That’s that.

BB: Guess we both have a past to bury

You: Please don’t say anything about “burying yourself into my pussy to feel better”

BB: WHAT. I wasn’t even thinking about that. That’s all you 👀

You: Hey, you’ve been pretty quick all the other times, bud.

BB: If I tell you I want more than just sex, does that make you feel better?

You: It makes me think about the fact that you still want to have sex with me

BB: And I can’t deny that 😊 (smiley blushy face emoji)

WEDNESDAY MORNING:

BB: Good morning!

You: Morning! Little later than usual–– sleeping in?

BB: Yeah, since I can afford to. You replied quicker than usual. Were you waiting for me? 😉 (wink emoji)

You: Haha, you wish. I was already on my phone, stud.

BB: Right, right. I can tell you like to play hard to get

You: No I don’t!

BB: 😂 (laughing emoji)

You: I don’t!

BB: Wow, feels great to finally have something to hold over you

You: I hate you 🙄 (eye roll emoji)

BB: Have a nice day, love 😊🌈(smiley face, rainbow emoji)

PING!

“BB? Who is bb?” Liza asks you on Wednesday evening after seeing a notification pop up on your phone. She grabs it off the sticky cafe table and looks at you with her pretty head tilted.

Oh––

You wiggle your jaw, and raise your brows,

“No one important.”

You take your phone back and open the message discreetly. It’s nothing special, you’re sure, but you have to look.

BB: so have you seen the last episode yet????? Hello??

“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone!” She pleads, putting down the drink in her hands. You were at the mall, idly walking and taking a short break. She looks at you pointedly, eyes darting around your face for any spot of weakness, as she quietly whines, “You didn’t tell us anything about this…”

“It’s because I’m not––” You offer, nodding. You flip your phone upside down as the message lights up again. “–– seeing anyone.”

She gives you a squinted look of total disbelief.

You’ve been messaging “Blurry Boy” nonstop for the past few days. First you talked about nothing, and now you’re asking each other about how your day was going and what you’re doing now, and what you’re doing later.

You always find something. Your phone is constantly by your side, sound on.

And there’s a layer of real time now, now that you’ve gotten to know him and his schedule better.

You learn that he has his own cute dog name Tessa and that his family fosters dogs back home, and that he’s the oldest, with twin brothers and a younger one he’s been trying desperately to relate to. You find out that his favorite color is black and that he’s in deep shit for stealing his best friend’s fav hoodie. All of this makes him feel like someone you know, someone you could call a friend.

He feels like more than just some guy you’ve talked to waaaay too long from Tinder.

And what’s worse, is that he knows certain things about you too. He knows that you don’t like sleeping in the dark and that you’re borderline addicted to iced coffee. That you like rewatching old romcoms and classic spooky movies… That your back hurts from work and that you have a fucking dentist appointment on Thursday.

You know a lot more about each other than less. And that’s kinda really fucking weird.

“You’re always smiling at your phone,” Liza says flatly, picking her drink back up to take a long and loud sip. Major side-eye. “‘Fess up.”

“No, I’m not!” You say through your teeth, trying to not smile. But under her stare you melt and crack under pressure.

You keep telling yourself that you’ll stop replying–– that he’s super sus and this isn’t going anywhere. But… you just keep texting him back.

“It’s nothing, seriously.”

“Let me see,” she pouts. “Pleeeease.” She flaps her hands at you, wriggling her fingers.

“No!”

Even though you know that it’s a losing game with her, you try to put up a fight, turning away and holding your phone tightly. You have onlookers now from the squealing, kicking and creaking chairs.

You give in after a minute.

You hand your phone in defeat as you readjust yourselves. You clear your throat.

“Okay, okay. But this is like, not serious at all, okay.” You rationalize as you show her the pictures you had screenshot and saved from him. “I barely know him.”

Barely! You’ve chanted that in your head over and over. Not enough to know if you want to get to know him, or what to drop him. That’s the purgatory you’ve been living in.

Liza is uncharacteristically quiet as she scrolls up and down the chats and flips through the pictures. Her hair covers whatever expression she’s making.

That makes you nervous, and you start babbling.

“Yeah, I mean. I don’t think he’s real or anything–– It’s just for fun and it’s whatever. I don’t even care.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

She freezes on a picture of him. The one where you can see a part of his smile and a crinkled eye. She zooms in and pauses again.

“Babe?” Her voice is cautious and slow. God. You don’t want to hear what she has to say next with this tone of voice…

“Hm?” You attempt to perk up, hiding the fact that you just gulped with nerves. It feels like you’re holding something sour in your mouth.

I don’t like this...

“So, he seems like a super nice guy and all but…” She speaks gingerly and wide eyed.

“But what?” You feel yourself recoil.

As much as you talk a big game… it would still hurt to have this illusion shattered. This self-inflicted fantasy. You don’t want her to keep going.

But you can guess what’s coming next.

...

“I… I think he’s using pictures of Tom Holland.”

…

Wait…...

What?!

A.N: WAH! she’s back!! well, as much as she can be. haha i know i have a million things always running at the same time but... i really will just ride the wave of inspiration as it comes.... that’s all i can do. anyway, hope you like this series! it’s going to be an exploration of starting new relationships in your young adulthood–– and how to handle be “The one” after “The One.” it’ll be a good time.

Thank you guys for reading! Please like, comment and reblog :) You’re all amazing.

Much Love,

Madmadmilk 💫

** i do NOT keep up with a taglist. track #one after the one to keep up with the updates, or check out my masterlist! thanks!

#WAH #i'm laughing at the photos bro lol i might change them but i don't have time right now hahahaha #one after the one #tom holland #tom holland fic #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland reader #tom holland you #tom holland fics #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland imagines #tom holland writing #tom holland story #madmadmilk #OATO

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spaceskam · 4 years

Text

our fainted thrill carries on (5/13)

next chapter of my season 2 fix it!

ao3

“I can’t believe you were being a goddamn Peeping Tom at 3 in the morning at Flint Manes of all people. He’s not, like, ugly, but you can definitely do better.”

Kyle shook his head as he entered the motel room Cam was staying at, already yanking his notebook out of his bag. He dropped onto her bed and flipped it open to the page where he’d drawn the symbol from Jesse Manes’ hip.

“I wasn’t peeping for fun, look at this,” Kyle said. Cam sat beside him. “This is the tattoo that both Jesse Manes and Flint Manes have. I didn’t have a chance to check, but I would put money on the fact that at least one of Alex’s other brothers has it too.”

“What does it mean?” she asked.

“That’s the thing, I don’t actually know,” he told her, “There’s just something about it that’s off to me. It’s a combination of the male symbol and the Neptune symbol, which is three, like the trident, so I’m thinking it’s three men, right? Well, when Alex was talking to his dad earlier, he mentioned something called M.V.C.”

“Which is…?”

“Again, I don’t know.”

“You’re coming here with a lot of missing information.”

“Yes, but,” Kyle said, “I have theories.”

She eyed him before leaning a bit closer to get a good look at the symbol. It was a long shot, but he figured another brain might help piece shit together more. Besides, she was smart and thought like Alex without all of the daddy issues.

“So, originally, I was thinking that maybe it was just three different guys, but now I’m thinking it’s three different generations. Like, the generations of Manes Men that are hunting aliens or whatever. And it’s more symbolic that three actual generations, it’s more of like ‘my father, me, my son’ type of deal. I have no way of seeing if Jesse Manes’ father had one, but the one on his hip looks aged enough that I wouldn’t be surprised if his father did it himself when he was, like, 15.”

“Jesus.”

“I mean, think about it, Jesse having a seriously controlling father would explain why he is the way he is,” Kyle said. He knew she didn’t know all the details about Alex’s relationship with his father, but she knew enough. “And the reason why Alex didn’t get roped in is because he showed early on that he was rebellious and it took more than intimidation to instill conformity.”

“Okay, nice theory, but I think that might be a stretch? Like, I think you’re trying to fit what you know about Cap and his dad into the box of what you think the tattoo means. What if it’s something completely different and you’re just veering really far off track?” Cam said. Kyle smiled at her and, if she wasn’t capable of killing him, he probably would’ve done something stupid like thank her for having a brain.

“Yes, absolutely! I am too wrapped up in this theory and I’m trying to prove it right rather than trying to find objective information,” Kyle said, “Which is where you come in.”

“I’m listening.”

“Thursday night, we’re having like a group dinner at Max’s, so I’ll know where everyone is and know that they’re safe. Do you think you can do some sleuthing in that time to see what you can find?” Kyle asked. Her face hardened and she leaned away from him.

“By sleuthing, do you mean seducing Flint Manes?” she asked cooly. Kyle immediately shook his head, though now that she mentioned it, it did sound like a good idea.

“I mean, not necessarily,” he said. Cam fixed him with a look.

“I’ll look into things, but I’m not sleeping with Cap’s brother,” she said. Kyle nodded easily.

“Absolutely, I just need fresh eyes and ideas," he told her. She nodded, reaching over to the nightstand and grabbing her phone. She took a picture of the symbol.

"I'll keep you updated. Now go home and go the fuck to sleep because you look like you haven't slept in 24 hours."

He didn't have the heart to correct her that it was 36.

"Michael fucking Guerin!"

Michael slowly smiled at the sound of Alex's voice as he climbed out of the shower. He wrapped a towel around his hips and grabbed another one to dry his hair, throwing the bathroom door open. He sauntered to the kitchen where Alex was doing laundry. The washing machine and dryer were really out of place there, but Alex had rigged them up all by himself and who was Michael to judge.

"You called?"

Alex whipped around, totally unphased by Michael's level of nudity. That felt more worthwhile than when he got flustered. This… this was fucking normal. How cool was that?

"What is this?" Alex demanded, shoving his jeans in Michael's direction, "Is that wood glue?"

Michael took it from him and gently scratched the rough, dull-colored patch on the fabric.

"Yeah, looks like it."

"You are a mechanic. What are you doing with wood glue? Why are you messing with wood glue when you're wearing my jeans? Stop ruining my jeans!"

“Relax,” Michael laughed, grabbing them out of his hands, “You got vinegar? That’ll usually get it out.”

Alex just continued to glare at him and Michael took a bold step forward, tilting his head in a slightly cocky manner. He licked his bottom lip and watched as Alex’s irritation slowly melted, his shoulders dropping. Not for the first time that week, he thought about kissing him, but he held off. That was a bad idea and they both knew it.

“Go put vinegar on it and then get dressed,” Alex told him, stepping to the side to go find a pair of not-stained jeans. Before Michael could catch himself, he grabbed his arm and leaned close. Alex couldn’t even hide his smile as he did so, still trying to force a glare. “What do you want?”

“Don’t be mad at me, please,” Michael said as softly as he could, pouting slightly and batting his eyelashes. Alex rolled his eyes and pulled out of his grasp.

“Dry off, you heathen,” Alex laughed. Michael watched as he headed to the bedroom and took a deep breath before he turned to put that section of his jeans in a bowl of vinegar.

It was weird to think that this was the most stable they’d ever been for the longest amount of time. Tonight would make it a full week of sleeping in the same bed, spending all their free time together, learning more about each other than they ever had. Michael didn’t realize just how much he didn’t know about Alex. Sure, maybe he still hadn’t mentioned that piece, but it was hard to be mad by that when Alex was right there and laughing through a story about a time in France where he accidentally walked in on his past CO getting off to a Lady Gaga music video and had been sworn to secrecy, but Michael was an exception.

Soon enough, they were in Michael’s truck, carpooling to Max’s house. He shouldn’t have felt so fucking giddy about going to his dead brother’s house for some pseudo-family dinner, but he was. It helped that Alex’s jeans hugged his thighs and Alex was right there, humming along to the radio.

“Oh, so, just a warning, Liz is probably going to ask you about what’s going on between us,” Michael warned, “Maybe Isobel too, but most likely Liz.”

“Why?” Alex asked slowly.

“Because she thinks I’m, like, leading you and Maria on or something. But I’m not, right? Like, you don’t think that’s what I’m doing, do you?” Michael clarified. Alex instantly shook his head.

“We’re literally trying to revive a dead alien and trying to track down whatever my dad’s bullshit is, who has time for maintaining a romantic relationship?” he said.

“Exactly!” Michael scoffed. Alex huffed a small little laugh that was so much cuter than it had any right being.

“She hasn’t talked to me about it,” Alex admitted, tapping against his leg to the rhythm of the song playing on the radio, “Actually, neither of them have really talked to me at all about anything.”

“Wait, for real?” Michael asked, “You’re giving Liz a space to do all of her experimentings and she doesn’t even talk to you?” Alex shrugged like it didn’t matter. But it did. Michael was the first to admit he was shit at maintaining friendships, but Liz and Maria always claimed Alex was their best friend. They took care of each other, he was one of theirs.

But did that only apply for when they needed something?

“It’s fine.”

“Well, I mean, it’s just weird. Like, she acted like she’d talked to you about it like she was scared that you were gonna get hurt,” Michael explained, “Not that I’d ever hurt you on purpose like that again, by the way.” Alex snorted.

“Liz and I have never, and I mean never, talked about my love life. Which is fine, there’s not much to tell, but still, she’s never once acted like she was concerned about what the two of us are doing while cohabiting,” Alex said. Michael took his bottom lip between his teeth. Cohabiting. “And Maria and I used to talk about it, but that stopped once she found out it was you I had a history with. Then… after she came over, we haven’t really talked at all. Which is my fault too, I haven’t reached out.”

“I’m sorry I fucked things up between you two,” Michael said, glancing over at him. He had his head against the window, staring at the passing desert with interested eyes. It was just like he’d done when they were young and Michael didn’t know how to process that.

“No, we didn’t exactly try. One day I’ll talk to her. I sort of have to get up the courage because I feel bad about the way I acted,” Alex admitted. Michael huffed a laugh.

“Same,” he said, “I was probably worse.”

“I would say we could go apologize to her together, but I think she might get the wrong idea if we’re within 50 feet of each other,” Alex said, biting back a laugh, “I did corrupt your straight white boy ass, you know.”

Michael shook his head with a laugh. “Cute.”

“Well, that’s what she thinks. Or, a lot of people think,” Alex said, “What is your percentage anyway? Like, a lot of bi people have a percentage or something, not always 50/50.”

“Yeah, see, I don’t fucking know,” Michael admitted. Alex actually laughed this time and Michael just smiled. He really didn’t know. He thought he was pretty 50/50, but it was hard to really conceptualize that on a human level. He guessed he could make a list of everyone he’d slept with and base it off of that, but even that felt skewed because most of the time he’d had pretty limited options in Roswell. If he counted everyone he’d been attracted to, though, that felt like an even harder thing. Did famous people count? Cartoons? At the end of the day, who really held a candle to Jessica Rabbit? “I just act on how I feel in the moment. But you aren’t the only man I’ve hooked up with if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh yeah?” Alex asked, “Who else?”

“Okay, it was only one other guy and it was just, like, giving head in the bathroom of a club, but still. You didn’t make me queer, you just made me know it was okay,” Michael said. Alex was quiet and when Michael glanced over at him, he saw him staring at him with that look. The one with the half-lidded eyes and the parted lips and his head tilted back. It had his stomach doing flips. “What?”

“Nothing,” Alex hummed, leaning forward to turn the radio up. Misery Business by Paramore was playing, still in it’s first few chords as if Alex had just sensed it was on.

“You can’t just ignore me for Hayley Williams,” Michael laughed. Alex cranked it up louder, the speakers thudding as the instruments kicked in. “Really?”

“I’m in the business of misery, let’s take it from the top,” Alex sang, leaning in instead of answering. Michael just rolled his eyes and joined in until they were both headbanging and scream-singing at the windshield. It felt good. Everything else in the world paled in comparison to just that.

He was almost sad as they pulled up to Max’s house.

Alex was not at all surprised when Rosa flew out of the door and immediately latched onto him as they walked up.

“Oh, thank god, save me.”

He laughed easily, wrapping her in a hug. He’d promised to see her more often, but he hadn’t really been making good on that promise. It was a problem that he definitely was going to put more effort into fixing. She was one of the only ones he could even tolerate at this point.

“Is it that bad?” Michael asked with a smile. Rosa looked over at him with a slightly judgy look in her eye, but he didn’t seem to take offense to it. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Can I move in with you for, like, a week?” she begged, “If I have to be locked alone or with Liz or with Isobel for any more time, I am going to lose it. It’s only been, like, a month.” Alex looked over to Michael and raised an eyebrow in question. Michael held up his hands.

“Hey, it’s your house. If you want a guest, don’t let me stop you,” he said.

“Mm,” Alex hummed in response. Michael flashed him a warm smile and then let himself inside the door, leaving Rosa and Alex alone.

She waited until the door closed and they were, for the most part, out of earshot before pulling away. The look on her face was nothing short of intrigued and he was again filled with an old sense of belonging. Maybe he would let her stay for a while. Lately, Michael had been giving him that same welcome feeling, so why not add more to the mixture? It made him feel good.

“So, are you gonna tell me what’s going on or am I going to have to slowly pull it out of you?” she asked. A confused smile fond his face and he tilted his head.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb, Alex,” she said, pouting her lips as she teased him, “Amor está en el aire.”

“Stop,” he warned despite her dramatic tone bringing a smile to his lips.

“Or should I say lust.”

“That would be even further away,” Alex laughed, looking up to double-check that no one was hanging outside the door and then casually scoping the rest of the perimeter that he could see, “We’re just friends.”

“Mhm,” Rosa hummed, crossing her arms and popping her hip out to the side as she judged him, “And there’s no residual feelings?”

“Okay, I didn’t say that,” Alex said, trying ignoring the way his cheeks started to burn, “But we’re just not in a place for that and, honestly, things are better right now than they’ve ever been between us. I’m not going to fuck with that especially when we’re still not done handling things with my dad.”

“When will you ever be done with your dad, though, Alex? Because even after he’s dead, he’s still going to haunt you and we all know it,” Rosa said bluntly. Alex’s smile dropped easily and he shifted his weight. “I don’t want you putting off your happiness for something that’ll never go away.”

“It’s not that,” he said, but he paused, “Well, it’s a little bit that. But mostly we’re just still in the thick of it, it’d be stupid.”

“Is that it or are you just scared to ask for what you want?” Rosa pressed. He scoffed.

“You’re just going in deep aren’t you?”

“That’s what I’m here for,” she grinned, “No, but, for real, can I stay with you?”

“Depends, are you going to mock me for sharing a bed with him?”

Rosa’s eyes went wide and she scoffed, her jaw-dropping dramatically.

“I swear, if I could go back and tell baby Alex that he’d be sharing a bed with the boy he’s in love with, he’d tell me I was a liar.”

“If you told baby Alex a lot of things that are going on right now, he’d tell you you were a liar,” he laughed, “Let’s go inside and I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Okay, you harlot.”

“There it is.”

Isobel gave him that look that told Michael that he was in trouble.

“Oh, what the hell did I do this time?” he asked.

She looked over to where Kyle and Liz were cooking before grabbing his arm, pulling him down the hall and sufficiently into Max’s bedroom. They both unintentionally upturned their noses at how much Liz and Rosa had just made it their own space. It was jarring no matter how much they understood that she had the full right to do so. Eventually, Isobel shifted her attention back to him.

“How are you?”

Michael blinked at her for a moment in confusion. “Huh?”

A small pout overcame her face and she sighed, “I’ve been spending a lot of time with Rosa and Liz and it’s come to my attention that I may have been a shitty sister. We used to act like them, or something, but now I feel like we’ve just drifted apart without Max. Which I have no excuse for because I can feel you a lot more now. You feel… better.”

Michael was hesitant to smile as he watched her. This felt like one of those conversations that was going to veer off into the other direction, but right now… Right now, she looked sincere. So sincere that he pulled her into a hug and she clung right back. He hadn’t realized how much he missed her.

“Catch me up, what have I missed,” she urged, grabbing his hands and sitting them both on the bed, “I’ll go first so you don’t think I’m hounding you. I donated a few grand of Noah’s money to a woman’s shelter, I have been really good at being nice to both Ortecho sisters, and I’ve been working with Arturo to make a name for the Crashdown online whenever I’m not working on my powers or, like, my actual job. Your turn.”

Michael very quickly realized he had nothing for show and tell. He simply went to work, helped them at the lab, checked on Max, and went home to Alex, repeat. What was brag-worthy about that?

“I don’t really have anything to update you on,” Michael said. Isobel rolled her eyes.

“You are significantly less stressed than you were even last week,” she said, “What changed since then?”

He didn’t know how to answer without sounding stupid. Open honesty with Alex had suddenly cured his soul? Well, it wasn’t that. He couldn’t even really articulate what exactly had caused him to feel like this.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, shrugging, “Alex just likes having me around and we talk about things. We never used to do that before, it feels good.” Isobel gave him a tiny smile, like she knew something he didn’t.

“You’re really happy with him?”

“We’re not, like, together or anything. I don’t want that right now, we’re just good like we are. But I… I can’t describe why it’s so good right now.”

“Because it’s unconditional,” Isobel said, voice soft and eyes glassy. She didn’t usually give him that look or speak to him like that. They were usually playful, but she looked serious. He wondered if it had anything to do with Max not being around. “You’re finally feeling unconditional love.”

Michael swallowed hard as she just said it out loud. It felt like a good descriptor, honestly. He felt wanted and needed, but in a way that meant he could also want and need right back and it wouldn’t result in failure. Because Alex trusted him enough to call him when he needed him even after all the bullshit, he didn’t kick him out when he ruined his jeans, he didn’t yell at him for not understanding, he only kept one secret. Alex had said open and he’d thrown himself all in.

But now that she said it out loud, it sounded terrifying.

“Okay, you look like you’re going to throw up,” Isobel said, sniffling, “Sorry, I’m just, like, feeding off your emotions and you just… you feel really safe. I’ve never felt that from you before and I didn’t realize. I’m sorry I didn’t realize you’ve never felt safe, Michael.”

“It’s okay,” he said, still trying to process it for himself. Is this really what it was supposed to feel like all the time?

“No, it’s not. I’ve been a shitty sister.”

“I’ve been a shitty brother.”

Isobel just rolled her eyes and pulled him into another hug, one that lasted a little longer than the one before. He sighed easily against her shoulder, closing his eyes as he relaxed in her grasp. He missed her so much.

“So, are you guys back together?”

“What? No.”

The sweet moment ended when she slapped his shoulder.

“So, um, your dad,” Liz said, scraping her fork against the plate.

When Alex had suggested this whole thing so he could get a feel on how Liz was coping, he had stupidly thought that maybe, just maybe, it would feel normal. They were all friends, all of them close and reliant on each other. And yet it was fucking awkward.

“Right,” Alex said, clearing his throat and putting his fork down, “So, we’re pretty sure he’s up to something on a deeper level. There’s something called M.V.C. that I’ve been trying to look into, but I’m not finding anything yet. I don’t know if I’m just looking in the wrong places or what, but, that being said, I think we all need to be careful.”

“I’m already being careful,” Liz told him. Alex nodded once.

“I know, I’m saying we need to be extra cautious,” Alex went on, “My brothers are in town and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that they’re tied up in this shit. With Max being gone and us focusing on that, it makes everyone a little more vulnerable.”

“Us?” Liz asked, tone still clipped, “No, it’s me and Isobel and Michael working on Max.”

Alex blinked and refused to show any emotion, trying to figure out what exactly was going on. He knew that Liz wasn’t exactly his biggest fan right now‒God knows why‒but he wasn’t sure why she was being rude. He’d given her a lab and they were supposed to be friends, and yet it seemed to stop there. They didn’t talk. They didn’t do anything. How much was that for friendship?

“Anyway,” Kyle jumped in, “Right now, Jenna is looking into Flint and Jesse to see if she can get any separate information that we aren’t getting.”

Alex took the moment of attention being taken off of him to look over for some strength to keep his mind on track. He didn’t want to let whatever Liz felt towards him distract him from why he was here. He locked eyes with Rosa who raised her eyebrows and tilted her head just enough to say you got this. He wasn’t sure she even knew what she was supporting him to do, but she did it anyway without any hesitation. He loved her for that.

“Wait, Jenna’s back in town?” Isobel asked.

“Yeah,” Kyle answered, “And she’s giving me updates, but so far Flint isn’t budging. Apparently, he’d been warned about her.”

“Back up, you told her about everything with Max?” Liz asked. Kyle eyed her and then gave Alex a look that said ‘see?’. Alex’s eyes drifted to Isobel and then Michael, both of them looking like they didn’t belong in the conversation, then to Rosa who was trying to hype him up to get on topic. “Because that is not your business to tell.”

“Liz, you know you can trust us, right?” Alex said, “Because it feels like you think you’re on you’re own.”

“Is that right? Because the only one helping me with Max is Michael and Isobel,” Liz argued, “You and Kyle aren’t helping.”

“Liz, I am helping, I’m just trying to also deal with Project Shepard stuff,” Kyle said softly. Liz shook her head, clearly irritated with him saying that. Alex furrowed his eyebrows.

“Liz, my father is an actual threat,” Alex told her, “We don’t even know if Max has a chance. His heart is shredded. Can he even be revived, Liz? Honestly, can he? Or is this just false hope to distract you from mourning him?”

Liz stared at him with a look that was so distinctly Rosa that it was jarring. She shoved her chair back and got to her feet, abandoning the table. They all sat quietly for a moment before Rosa pushed back her chair. Alex shook his head.

“I got it,” he said. Michael caught his eye, seeming a little too serious as he stared at him. That’d be the next thing he dealt with.

Alex followed Liz to the bedroom and found her standing there like she was preparing for a fight, face hardened and eyes set on him the moment he walked through the door. He took a moment to prepare himself as he shut the door behind him.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, Alex,” she said as soon as the latch clicked in place.

“The science part? No, you’re right, I don’t. But I do know that you’re being more than a little irrational. What happens if it doesn’t work? Is Max even getting better at all?”

“Nothing exponential yet, but it’s something! It’s only been a month, Alex! We’re not going backward and that’s all I need to know that I can fix this!”

“Okay, and if you do fix it, then what happens? If you manage to resurrect him, then what? Because with the way you’re acting, I’m failing to see how you’re aren’t going to get some sort of power high from resurrecting someone.”

“The way I’m acting? Who are you, my dad? I’m just doing what’s right! He died to bring Rosa back, it’s my job to bring him back!”

“Is it, though? It’s not like you asked him to bring her back.”

“It doesn’t matter! I love him!” she yelled, tears brimming her eyes, “I love him and I hate him! He didn’t even ask me and he, he just left me as soon as I had something good! This can’t be the end of it!”

Things clicked in Alex’s head then and he took a step forward, holding his hands out so she could see them clearly.

“I know,” he said, “I know how it feels to lose someone just when it gets good.”

“Oh, screw you, Alex, you don’t know how I feel. You can’t compare your stupid little affair in high school to this,” Liz spat. He nodded even though it rubbed him the wrong way.

“You’re right, it’s not the same,” he agreed, “But pushing everyone away isn’t going to help, and being in denial isn’t going to help either. You need to mourn and you need your friends.” Liz shook her head and took a step away from him.

“No, what I need is Kyle and Michael to focus on helping me instead of being at your every beck and call,” she told him. Alex let his hands drop, his eyebrows furrowing. “They’re the only ones who can help me and you’re just capitalizing their time.”

“You’re… mad at me for having friends? You lost me,” Alex said. Liz groaned, throwing her head back and wiping her head.

“I’m not mad at you for having friends, I’m mad that,” Liz said, stopping herself as she gathered her thoughts, “I’m mad that…”

“That things aren’t going your way?” Alex filled in, “That things aren’t like they used to be? That I’m not just going to fold and back away and let you and Maria walk all over me and take everything?”

Liz scoffed, “We did not walk all over you.”

“Okay, maybe not, but you were definitely put first. Hell, you still are on some level. I know you don’t get it, but if I avoid my father, it won’t matter if you can bring Max back or not. We’re all fucked. We’re breaking rules to accommodate you and Michael and Kyle are doing all that they can to help you even if you don’t see it,” Alex explained, “And, look, I know you don’t like me anymore, but I do still care about you and it’s worrying me that you aren’t thinking clearly.”

“What?” Liz sighed, looking at him like he’d lost it, “What do you mean I don’t like you?”

“I’m not stupid, Liz. You call me your friend because we used to be, but actions speak louder than words.”

“Oh, but that doesn’t apply to you?”

“Excuse me?” Alex asked. She gave him a look like he should know what she meant, but he had no idea.

“You know that Michael has no idea what he wants and you’re still playing house with him,” she said, “I know you aren’t stupid, Alex, which is what I’m not getting. Why are you letting him in your house like that when you know he’s just trying to fuck you and Maria over? I like him, I do, and I know he’s charming, but he doesn’t care about anything but himself, Max, and Isobel at the end of the day. He is just like Max but even more destructive and all you’re doing is enabling him to hurt more people.”

Her words hit Alex like a blow to the stomach. He physically took a step back, trying to follow her ridiculous train of thought.

“Don’t talk about something you know nothing about,” Alex breathed, shaking his head. She gave him a truly pitiful look like he was the one who should feel bad.

“I know enough.”

“Do you?” Alex scoffed, “Do you know that I love him? That he loves me? That I have spent over a decade keeping him safe and I am not about to stop now? Maybe that makes me a fucking dumbass, but I know what I’m getting myself into with him. He’s not trying to fuck Maria over, he’s trying to learn how to take care of himself before he dives into something. He is doing better than I have ever seen him and I’m not going to take that away because you don’t understand. And he is not like Max. Just because your little alien is murderous and self-righteous, doesn’t mean mine is. And, for God’s sake, don’t act like this is about Michael when it’s about me.”

Liz stared at him, his words slowly but surely sinking in. He waited and stared without faltering. He realized a little bit more about the benefits of having Michael Guerin staying in his house. After this was over, he didn’t have to be alone. After this, he was going to go home and curl up against his chest and listen to him breathe and be held until he fell asleep. That would make up for this.

“You’re in love?” she asked. Alex rubbed his hands over his face.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, “What matters is you think I’m sabotaging things by going after my dad and monopolizing Michael’s time. That isn’t what’s happening and I don’t know how to make you realize that.”

Liz stared at him, those frustrated tears coming right back.

“I don’t know who you are anymore, Alex,” she admitted, “Everyone’s changed since we were kids, but you’re a completely different person. I’m sorry, but I don’t know how to handle that on top of everything else.”

That stung, but Alex knew it was fair. He was still trying to see himself too.

“Okay,” Alex said, “Then I’ll make time to work closer with you.”

“What?”

“That’s the problem, right? You’re struggling to trust me, but we’re both the ones discovering the most information about this shit. We should be working together,” Alex decided, “Then maybe you can re-get to know me.”

“Okay.”

“You need friends, Liz,” he told her, “Or you’re going to break.”

Liz took a deep breath and nodded, wiping away her tears.

“Okay.”

“I got the glue out of your jeans.”

“Thanks.”

Alex was already curled up in bed and rubbing his temples by the time Michael came into the bedroom. He was tired and hadn’t really talked to anyone since he argued with Liz. His skin felt too tight and he was irritable and he felt even worse when he realized Michael was feeding off his negativity. He’d been in a good mood before dinner.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as Michael quietly checked the closet and behind the curtains for him before shutting off the lights.

“You’re okay,” Michael said. Alex shut his eyes as the bed shifted and he waited for Michael to reach for attention like he usually did. Except he didn’t. “Hey, uh… Do you really think we won’t be able to bring Max back?”

Alex curled in on himself a little more. Right.

“I don’t know. I just want you all to be prepared.”

“Yeah.”

Micahel was quiet for a few minutes, long enough that Alex started thinking he was angry at him. Alex almost apologized a handful of times, longing to be forgiven for something he wasn’t actually sorry for. He just didn’t want to push him away, he didn’t want to be annoying, he didn’t want to be a problem.

“Hey, Alex?” Michael said. Alex let out an unexpectedly heavy breath and he cursed himself for it. “Is there anything important you haven’t told me? Like, alien wise?”

Alex was instantly bombarded with documented torture he’d kept a secret, filmed dissections he’d hidden, videos of his mother trying to sweet talk guards that hit her or worse in response that he’d lied about, and that stupid piece of the ship that scared him more than anything. They were all stupid and small and out of Alex’s control in the grand scheme of things, but they were big and scary on their own. What if Michael stopped feeling safe? What if Michael left?

“No,” Alex said, “I’ve told you everything.”

Michael was silent again for a few seconds. Alex waited for him to call him out for being a liar, to call him out for being annoying and not the guy he actually loved. If Liz didn’t see him as himself, why should Michael?

Except then the mattress creaked as he shifted and slowly Michael’s arms encircled his torso. He exhaled in relief as Michael pressed up behind him, fitting against his form effortlessly. They fit together so well sometimes it hurt him. But he pressed his warm nose behind Alex’s ear and held him tight, using his body heat and willpower to shoo away all his bad feelings.

“You’re the strongest man I know, you know that, right?” Michael told him softly, “I trust you more than anyone in this entire galaxy.”

Alex didn’t know how to say he wasn’t worthy of that title. So he didn’t.

“It’s okay,” Michael added even softly, his voice hardly even making a sound at this point, “It’s okay to be sad. We all need a little help sometimes.” The words were Alex’s, but they fit in his mouth like they belonged there.

Alex’s body was flooded with emotion, that overwhelming feeling of everything coming for him and forcing tears to his eyes. None fell and he kept his eyes closed, but he knew more than ever that he loved him.

He loved him so much it hurt.

“Did you find anything?”

“Um, I think you should sit down.”

Kyle furrowed his eyebrows but did as Cam instructed and sat on her motel bed. He’d been spending a lot of time there the last few nights, usually after shifts so they could talk about theories. Right now, though, he was just drained from a very uncomfortable dinner.

“Did Flint tell you something?”

“No,” she said slowly, sitting beside him with a file in her hand. She kept it to her chest so he couldn’t see it until she wanted him too. “He was a dead-end and visiting hours with Jesse are over. He gets out of the hospital in a few days though, which you knew, and I plan to speak with him then. But I started thinking about it and I looked into something else.”

“And you found something?”

“Yeah,” Cam confirmed, eying him hesitantly, “I don’t think it’s three generations.”

“Oh?” Kyle said. Slowly, she pulled the file from her chest and held it in front of them, opening it to see the same tattoo on a brown-skinned hip. He grabbed onto the file.“Who is this?”

“Don’t freak out.”

He looked over to her in confusion. “Why would I freak out?”

“I was thinking about it and I was trying to think who was just as involved with aliens as Jesse Manes,” she said, “So I started searching through old military records and a lot of them had either pictures or descriptions of their tattoos, stuff to identify soldiers by if worse came to worst. We got lucky that the Valenti’s clearly have no problem with their bare ass being in a picture.”

Kyle’s eyes widened involuntarily as he realized what she was saying. And it definitely wasn’t generational. Instead, it was starting to look a lot more like a cult.

“So…”

“Yep,” she sighed, “Manes and Valenti. Two heads of Neptune’s trident.”

“Fuck.”

#malex fic #malex #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic #our fainted thrill carries on

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adultswim2021 · 3 years

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Aqua Teen Hunger Force #14: “Interfection” | December 8, 2002 - 11:15 PM | S02E10

Boy, is this one ever great. Shake goes on the internet to prove to Meatwad that only gay guys have teeth and winds up getting so besieged with internet pop-up ads that they start spilling into real life. Frylock eventually goes into the internet and talks to the evil www.yzzerd.com, a floaty head guy voiced by Todd Hansen of The Onion and also he’s Dan Halen on Squidbillies.

This one is just incredibly funny, goddamn. The laughs simply don’t stop! This is maybe one of my favorite episodes of the series. Yes! It’s good! But, I don’t FUCKING FEEL like expounding on it TONIGHT. Okay? JEEZ! Couldn’t you use a fucking break from me listing good jokes and being like “haha, man, yeah”. Just take my word for it this once please. Daddy has a headache.

In 2002 I was still really against the idea of the internet being featured prominently on TV shows, because back then it wasn’t a completely pervasive part of normal people’s lives. It was for me, for sure, but I still bristled when it was referenced on the cartoon shows I enjoyed. This one was at a conceptual disadvantage for sure, but it still broke through and touched my heart. It’s weird thinking back to this time when you thought that the internet was a fad that would run a particular course and fade into the background or get reclaimed by dorks. I’ve literally held multiple jobs at once that all relied on me having an internet-enabled cellular telephone. That is fucked up.

According to the Aqua Teen Wiki, the DVD version (don’t know about the streaming versions) is unique in that it censors the word “fairies”, which I don’t think I knew until tonight. Not sure if I have an as-broadcast copy on-hand, but it is a slightly befuddling edit. It seems like a case where it was a creative decision to make it sound MORE offensive? Like, he’s clearly saying an f-word. It’s like when they bleeped out “dirty” on South Park to simulate Cartman saying “fucking jew” instead of “dirty jew”. I think we can all agree invoking fairies (as in the tooth fairy) and making a joke connecting gay people to the act of having teeth is obvious, and the least exciting part of Shake’s insistence that “teeth are for gay people”.

Sorry this ones bad everyone. The write-up, I mean.

MAIL BAG

London Arbuckle writes:

Tinfins is monumental as being the first Sealab episode I admitted to myself that I hated as I was watching it. (I even think I even deluded myself with Policy just because I was so hype for new Sealabs.) Wild to think it's probably easily in the top 5 of Sealab episodes actually (I say after rewatching the Grizzlebees parts on youtube which were the only parts I remembered anyway lol)

I forgot to say this about Tinfins: when I FORCED my wife to go to Red Robin for the first time she walked in and and said “oh, it’s Grizzlebees!” and to this day I think about Grizzlebees every time I go to Red Robin. Thanks, Sealab. I was hungry.

#adult swim #adultswim2021 #aqua teen hunger force

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Galactica, Chapter 4 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Thank you so much to anyone who’s liked or commented. You guys are awesome! We are attempting to post a chapter a week, so hopefully we can keep that up for awhile! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Violet’s living situation was about to improve, and she got to spend some quality time with Pearl.

This Chapter: Fame begins to doubt the new collection, and Violet finally gets into her new apartment--with some surprising new neighbors.

***

Fame groaned as she finally managed to open the front door to the Galactica floor after fumbling with her keycard for what felt like forever.

The floor was dark, but as Fame walked past the reception desk, the automatic light turned on.

There was no one there, all of the employees at home since it was barely past 7 am. Fame didn’t usually show up until after 9, having her mornings with Patrick and walking her dog herself an important part of starting her day right, but sometimes Fame preferred the quiet.

There was a certain peace in an empty office, and she desperately needed the peace.

She walked down the corridor, passing by the ever-expanding clothing racks that seemed to grow like cockroaches on the hallways, someone always working on something in one of the offices.

Fame was normally not one for contemplation, her heart always telling her where to go, but what she had seen of their own collection yesterday had left a strange sensation in the pit of her stomach.

She had been so happy when they had conceptualized it, had been so excited to see it go into production, but now that she had it, now that Trixie could present piece after piece of physical clothing, Fame had a nagging feeling that it was not good enough, not good enough at all.

She turned the corner and stopped when she saw that the light was on in her office and the front office where Violet resided.

As she walked closer, she saw Violet sitting at her desk, steam coming from a takeaway cup and Fame recognized the vanilla scent of her morning order. She had actually wondered how Violet always had a hot cup ready, and it seemed like the clever girl simply ordered multiples every single day.

Violet nibbled on an apple, her feet tucked underneath her as she tapped away on her keyboard, the printer spitting out a chunk of paper every once in a while.

Before Fame knew it, she had spent several minutes just standing there, observing Violet go about her workday before anyone else had even come in.

Just then, Violet looked up, almost dropping her apple when she saw Fame standing in the door. She jumped up from her chair, and Fame had to hide a smile when she saw that Violet was wearing sneakers with her Prada dress.

“Miss!” Violet maneuvered around her desk. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you would be here this early.” Fame handed Violet her jacket, the other woman quickly hanging it up.

“Is there any news about my new assistant?” Fame took the coffee from the table. It wasn’t scalding hot like she preferred it, but she wasn’t inclined to wait while her assistant got her another one.

“Yes.” Violet nodded, grabbing a stack of papers from the printer, and Fame realized she had probably been printing resumes. “We should be ready to bring in some candidates by next Tuesday.”

“Good-” Fame held her hand out, taking the stack. “I expect you to pre-interview each and every one of them before I see them.” She wanted a competent assistant, and had no intention of suffering through the first round of the blubbering fools HR always seemed to think would be appropriate for her. “Remember, only perfection is acceptable.”

***

Violet’s eyes were resting on Raja and Fame in the rearview mirror. They were in a town car, Violet instantly climbing into the front with the driver. Violet never spoke unless she was spoken to, her presence in the car only required in case she would be needed.

It was fascinating to watch Raja and Fame interact. They had worked together for so long that it seemed like they knew each other inside and out. It was as if they shared a creative mind, and had an intimate understanding of exactly what the other one was talking about.

Normally, Violet would be listening in, imagining what her own professional life could maybe be one day, but today, however, Violet was thoroughly distracted.

She was so happy, so relieved, to be moving, that she could almost dance in her seat. Yesterday, when she had been sent the pictures of the vacant apartment, she’d nearly cried with joy. It was beautiful - a small but perfect one-bedroom with a sweet little kitchen, central air, sparkling new bathroom fixtures, and even a French balcony. It was so far beyond anything she’d imagined she might have for years and years.

The fact that she was going to be packing all night in order to be ready for the movers tomorrow at noon didn’t bother her in the slightest.

Burning bridges was something Violet was used to, and she couldn’t wait to set this one on fire

“Violet-” Fame’s voice broke through Violet’s daydream of the strongly-worded email she’d send to her landlord. “Violet, have you gone deaf?”

“No Miss. Sorry.”

“I need a pen.”

Violet reached into her bag, Fame acknowledging her only to take it, and then it was back to being invisible as Fame turned her attention to Raja.

This time, however, Violet couldn’t help but listen.

“I realize that you don’t agree-” Fame put the pen to the sketches she and Raja were looking at, “but don’t you think that the lines are too jarring?” Fame did a small correction, the emeralds on her fingers shining in the light. “And this color story, the more I look at it, the more I-”

Violet knew she wasn’t supposed to listen, but she reached into her bag, grabbing her phone, sending a quick left hand text to Trixie.

Fame worried abt collection dislikes colors v v weird vibe

It felt like going behind her boss’s back, but Violet knew Fame well enough to pick up on the note in her voice, in the furrow between her brows.

“Fame, darling,” Raja put a hand on Fame’s knee, her gold bangles clicking together, her tan skin standing out against the creamy white of Fame’s skirt. “You do this to yourself every time,” Raja soothed, her voice surprisingly soft. “It’s all beautiful. We’ll go back to the office, we’ll have a cup of tea, and you’ll see-”

“Don’t patronize me,” Fame snapped, pulling her knee away from Raja’s grasp.

“Don’t act crazy.” Raja rolled her eyes. “I hate to see you stress over something that will be magnificent.”

It seemed like Raja had completely forgotten that Violet was in the car, her ability to make herself invisible once again biting her in the ass since she was pretty sure she wasn’t supposed to see this display of affection.

“Bianca would agree that something isn’t right,” Fame huffed slightly, crossing her arms, and Violet stifled a tiny laugh.

Bianca Del Rio was editor-in-chief of Marie Claire, one of Fame and Raja’s dearest friends, and possibly the scariest person Violet had ever met. Anyone who thought Fame was too tough would probably just wither and die within 30 seconds of being around Bianca. What amused Violet was that her boss treated the infamous hard-ass like she was the sweetest, most adorable person in the universe.

“Well, Bianca doesn’t work here,” Raja countered, adding, “Thank god.” She leaned her head on her hand, a teasing glint in her eyes.

Fame pursed her lips, turning to look out the window, and Raja seemed to change tactics.

She slung an arm around Fame’s shoulder, her voice sugary sweet. “Why don’t you join us for dinner tonight?” Raja tugged on one of Fame’s golden earrings, the emeralds on it matching her ring. “Raven promised she wouldn’t cook.”

“Thanks,” Fame chuckled, “but no thanks. I promised Patrick I would pay him attention for the first time all week.”

“Fair enough,” Raja sat back up. “Have a nice night with your husband. Have a few drinks and forget that I exist over the weekend.” Raja smirked. “I have plans of my own anyway.”

***

Bianca rolled over as her phone buzzed on the nightstand, reaching over Derrick’s sleeping form to answer it. The fact that she was still awake, obsessing over the new printing contracts, didn’t change the fact that it was far too late (or too early) for any rational person to be calling.

There were only two people it might be, and she prayed that it wasn’t Adore, because she was not in the mood for whatever shenanigans her baby sister might have gotten herself into this time. Glancing at the screen, she let out a sigh of half relief, half irritation when she saw that it was Fame. And worse, she was FaceTiming.

“Hey Blondie. What’s wrong?” Bianca answered, voice hoarse.

“Why would something be wrong?” asked Fame, blue-gray eyes widening innocently.

“Well, it’s 3 am. So if nothing’s wrong, I’m gonna hang up and we can resume when the sun comes up…”

“Wait!” Fame said, then furrowed her brow, asking, “Who’s that?”

Bianca glanced at the tousled blonde head beside her.

“That’s Derrick.”

“Uh huh, and why haven’t I met her?”

“We’re not at that point yet,” Bianca told her, tilting the phone down and lifting the covers. “But if you really want, you can meet her ass.”

Bianca moved the phone closer, flash lighting up Derrick’s ass in a pair of boy-cut red panties.

“Bianca!” Derrick shrieked, slapping her hand away. “What the fuck?!”

“Nevermind, her ass isn’t in the mood.”

“Really, Bianca,” Fame clucked. “That poor girl.”

“Ugh!” Derrick moved over, unamused, putting a pillow over her head to block out the noise.

“So, blondie...you gonna tell me what this is about? Cause if not, I should really get to sleep. Rest my weary tongue.” Bianca grinned lasciviously at her, dimples deep in her cheeks.

After a moment, when she saw that Fame was neither laughing nor giving her a disapproving pout, she sat up, rubbing her eyes.

“Seriously, Fame. Are you okay?” she asked, voice a bit softer.

“Yeah...I’m…” Fame sighed slightly, leaning her head on the arm of the sofa. “I just feel a bit...unsettled.”

“Unsettled about what?” Bianca asked. “Would this by any chance have to do with Fashion Week coming up?”

“Of course,” Fame said with a slight chuckle. “I should be feeling great. I mean, we’re ahead of schedule, for once, and everyone seems to love the direction, but I just...it feels a bit off.”

“What does Raja think?”

“Raja loves it the most, she thinks I’m crazy.”

“Well. You are. But you also have spot-on creative instincts, so maybe this is a time to trust yourself?” Bianca said.

“Mmmh.”

“Okay how’s this...tomorrow morning, once I get rid of Derrick here, I’ll pick up a couple bottles of Veuve and some fresh-squeezed orange juice, head over to your place, and we can spend the whole morning drinking mimosas and ripping the collection to shreds. What do you say?”

“Do I really have to wait until the morning?”

“Fraid so, blondie. Liquor stores are closed right now,” Bianca laughed.

“Well then, I say, great plan.”

“Perfect. So now can I fuckin’ sleep?” Bianca asked, an affectionate smile on her face.

Fame smiled back, nodding.

“Thank you, B.”

“Anytime.”

***

As Violet closed the door behind her, she couldn’t help but leave out a giant sigh of relief.

The movers had finished in record time, everything going smoother than she had dared to imagine, though she knew a big part of the seamless move was due to her barely owning any furniture.

Violet had never bothered to buy a bedframe for her last apartment, not that there would have been any space for it in the room she had rented anyway, so all she owned was a twin mattress, a sewing table that sometimes served as a desk and a single chair.

What did take up Violet’s space was all of her sewing equipment. The overlocker and sewing machine, who had been her trusted college companions, were sitting on top of her table while her embroidery frame and her mannequins were lying in a pile besides the big garbage bags she used to store her leftover fabric.

The apartment had a miniature walk-in closet, and Violet couldn’t wait to hang up her clothes, two racks holding all of her pieces.

Violet fished her work phone out of her bag. She unlocked it, the empty screen causing her to bite her lip. Violet would never prefer to be interrupted during the weekend, but there wasn’t a single text, voice memo or email from Fame. It was strange however, when taken into consideration how anxious she’d seemed the day before, and while Violet had no hard facts to lean against, she was still bracing for a storm.

Violet was pulled out of her thoughts by three hard, quick knocks on her door. She wasn’t expecting anyone, so she opened it curiously to find a grinning Katya and mischievous looking Max, holding a basket full of tea, candles and a pastry Violet couldn’t place, the small cakes glistening with honey.

“Welcome to the building!” Katya exclaimed, flashing those blindingly white teeth.

“We’re so happy to have you join us,” Max added kindly, holding out the large basket.

“Umh…” Violet took the basket, too unsure to decide what leg she should stand on. “Hello?”

“Can we come in?” Katya smiled, holding up a flask. “I brought tea!”

“Oh, sure, but I don’t-” Violet wanted to say that she didn’t have a seat for them, but Katya was already making her way inside, Max following right behind her.

“Trixie would have come too, but he’s a bit in the weeds at the moment.” Katya put her thermos down on Violet’s kitchen counter, apparently not fazed at all by the lack of furniture as she pulled paper cups out of her bag, “tearing his hair out coming up with new ideas in case you’re right about Fame’s freak-out.”

“Shit-” Violet froze. She had only meant for the text to be helpful, to sooth her own anxiety over the look she had seen on Fame’s face. “I hope I didn’t-”

“No no, don’t worry.” Katya smiled, taking the basket back and putting that on the table too. “He’d much rather freak out now than when Fashion Week is closer.” Katya put one of the cakes on a little napkin she had pulled up from somewhere. “Medovik? Max?”

“Yes please.” Max smiled, taking the napkin Katya offered.

“Violet?”

“Thank you.” Violet took it, knowing for sure that she wasn’t going to eat all of it, her stomach too tight with worry about Trixie. She bit into it, the taste of honey exploding in her mouth. They all ate together, Katya chatting away while Max walked over to the rack beside her sewing table.

“What’s that?” Max pointed with a finger at a half-open garment bag.

“That?” Violet felt a warm glow spread in her body. “It’s my graduation project.” Violet put down her napkin, a giant smile on her face as she walked over. “Do you want to see it?” Violet touched the bag, the grey plastic crinkling between her fingers.

“Yes please!” Katya smiled brightly, Max nodding excitedly.

Violet pulled the dress out, a whoosh of excitement rushing through her. The dress was a floor length see-through gown, dripping in violet jewels, the glittering pieces covering the breasts and pouring out in an elegant waterfall down the skirt.

“Oh god, it’s gorgeous!” Katya clapped, and Violet nodded.

“I went for a bit of a neo-Victorian take.” Violet touched the shoulders and hips that were jutting out, both supported by beige boning. “I realised it might seem derivative to use violet, but it’s one of my favorite colors-”

“With good reason.” Max had stood up, the man now at Violet’s side as he reached out, gently touching the skirt.

“I can’t believe you made this.” Katya had joined them as well, the two of them standing side by side.

“I wanted to use real amethysts,” Violet supported the fabric, catching the setting sun in the stones, “but I didn’t have the budget. It was a pain in the ass to stitch all that plastic on.”

“Wait, you did this yourself?” Katya looked shocked. “It’s not prejeweled?”

Violet wanted to snort, or at least huff, the idea that she’d ever use prejeweled fabric actually kind of insulting.

“That must have taken weeks.”

“Believe me, it did.

“Wow.” Katya smiled. “That’s really dedicated. Fame sure is lucky to have you!”

***

“Shit-” Violet muttered under her breath as she tried to grab her keys. She could feel plastic dig into her elbow, her grocery bag heavy with all the things she had purchased.

She had only meant to get some rolled oats and a few emergency boxes of instant mashed potatoes, but when she had actually entered the store, Violet had made the realization that for the first time in her adult life, she had a kitchen that was entirely her own.

“I got it!” Violet heard the beep of the door opening as someone behind her swiped their key fob. She glanced over her shoulder to say thank you, only to bump into the last person she had ever expected to see on an early Sunday morning.

Pearl Liaison was standing right behind her, a surprised expression on her face that probably mirrored Violet’s own.

Pearl was wearing what was clearly last night’s outfit, her blonde hair collected in a braid down her back, the snow white globes of her small breasts boosted by a black corset.

Violet was frozen in place, shocked, as Pearl moved closer to her, an arm snaking over her shoulder.

“Hey Vivi.”

Was this real life? Was Pearl about to kiss her? Violet swore she could feel Pearl’s breasts against her own, their bodies touching.

But instead of a kiss, the blonde grabbed the door handle and pushed, tossing Violet an airy smile and gesturing for her to enter.

“Ladies first,” she said.

Still stunned, Violet let out an embarrassed scoff, saying, “You’re a lady, too.”

“Debatable,” Pearl replied with a grin, following her into the lobby. “So…I wondered if you’d be joining us here. When did you move in?”

“Yesterday.” Violet bit her lip.

“Ah. Awesome.” Pearl smirked. Violet swore she could feel Pearl’s eyes on her body, the woman smelling of tequila and cigarettes, the scent of sex lingering just underneath.

She lowered her eyes as Pearl brushed by her to climb the stairs, needing a moment to catch her breath. She tried to keep it together as last night’s skirt clung to Pearl’s ass. Before she disappeared around the corner, Pearl turned back to give Violet another cheeky grin.

“See you around, pumpkin.”

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #lesbian au #fashion au #pearlet #violet chachki #miss fame #raja gemini #bianca del rio #katya zamolodchikova #max malanaphy #pearl liaison

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paintednailsandsoftdetails · 5 years

Text

Fine Line: rambles & rankings

hello here i am eleven hours after being knocked on my ass by one miss harry e styles with some thoughts if anyone is curious!!

1. Golden- the sad bop to end all sad bops!! the dichotomy of this music being the most fun and bouncy (the da das on tour!!) while his voice is the lower, steadier element of the song is so interesting to me? also the pessimism of this song is *chefs kiss* even if the idea of his vulnerability being an undesirable trait to his partner is heartbreaking

2. Watermelon Sugar- she slaps and we been knew!! this wins for best dance number for sure and i can’t wait for us all to be grovin and yelling “high!” back at him

3. Adore You- i think after a week ive concluded that this was my least favorite of the 3 released songs, only just slightly? but i absolutely love singing along to this, and ofc the eroda aesthetic is forever connected to it and absolutely incredible

4. Lights Up- baby light of my life :’) i love lights up and i will always love lights up, shes always gonna be special to me knowing what it means to harry and the way he decided to release it on coming out day with that video, and i hope he continues making art like this for a long time to come

5. Cherry- i? wasn’t?? prepared??? to be perfectly real, i wasnt anticipating this being a fav from what we heard in reviews, BUT THIS? musically this is so exactly the sound i want from him (hozier meets bon iver but make it harry?? BLESSED) and im absolutely in love with it. and his voice!! pulled the first tears out of me on the listen through :’) the way he harps on “don’t you call him baby” in the softest most fragile way over top this melody is art, put it in the moma

6. Falling- MA’AM THESE VOCALS. i love that this is pretty bare bones musically to really highlight the vocals and the emotions, both of which go absolutely off. its maybe not the most ~interesting~ to listen to compared to others, but the power of this LIVE? holy shit thats 100% where this is going to flourish

7. To Be So Lonely- starting with “I was just a little boy” PLEASE BE QUITE im not okay. anyways there is something about the way these lyrics sit in the pocket of the music that im obsessed with. i wasnt sure how i felt about either one their own, but god the way the “arrogant son of a bitch” line is weaved in with these instruments (the strings on this!!), i feel that shit in my CHEST

8. She- hello to what i feel are the most hs1-esque vibes on this album, except definitely different and COOLER!! its weird bc this is a sound that i already easily associate with harry, but lyrically/conceptually this is fascinating territory. There are layers to be unpacked here and ive already seen some galaxy brain interpretations so im excited to let this one marinate (the falsetto and “plays pretend” lyrics… okay ma’am) also the “sleeps in his bed” vocal FUCK! and of course mitchell went off and i cant wait for harr to be all over him on tour

9. Sunflower Vol. 6- MY FUNKY LIL BABY this is so sugary in a way thats not at all cheesy but makes me smile so! much! the gasp, the sounds at the end… could not be more babie and i just know im gonna fall in love with the bits and bobs of this more and more every time i listen. shout out to the Queen vibes i got from the “tonight tonight tonight” parts! and also did i mention the end is the cutest thing what the fuck

10. Canyon Moon- these absolute VIBES shes THAT GIRL!! this is so sweet and tender im soft. the “Im going”s are so fucking PRETTY? the beautiful dulcimer sweetie you are doing so great. idek what else to say this is the soundtrack to the gay indie roadtrip movie i want harry to star in and i love it with my whole heart thats it

11. TPWK- hating on this is literally illegal?? babie made this for and about us and the space we mutually created on tour THIS IS OURS. hes feeling good in his skin and dancing with us!! even if he doesn’t have all the answers!! the Queen vibes in this too we love, and we are going to have SO MUCH FUN singing n dancing with him to this :’) the “loooong enough” vocal and then his “all together now” stuff at the end is so happy, healing and sweet i love him so much

12. Fine Line- *sigh* what am i supposed to say? what can i do? musically and vocally this is everything ive ever fucking wanted (again i didnt quite realize that harry styles pulling a bon iver was exactly my niche but guess what it absolutely is). HER FALSETTO HER VOICE THIS DELICATE TENDERNESS?? Cannot think of a single thing ive heard thats more stunningly gorgeous than the way he sings “we’ll be a fine line/we’ll be alright” so guess thats it for me lmao. similar to cherry, on paper these lyrics are not a hit for me (at least without analysis), but god it doesnt fucking MATTER bc they come across so abstract and transcendent in context (and open my mind to so many other interpretive possibilities) that i cannot not be in love. And then of course the horns come in and we get the hopeful turn…this song makes me feel things on a level nothing he’s made before ever has.

Overall this album threw me for the loop of a lifetime; its so different from what i was expecting and even hoping for, but without a doubt the most special thing i’ve listened to in as long as i can remember. these songs deliver on a level hs1 barely scratched the surface of, and i cannot wait to see how harry continues to grow and reach even higher places across his career. endlessly proud of him, always.

Extremely tentative ranking 100% subject to change bc this is impossible:

fine line >> sunflower vol. 6 = cherry = canyon moon > lights up > tpwk > to be so lonely > watermelon sugar = golden > falling > she > adore you

#this order isnt it ajssf im sorry #falling she and adore you do not deserve to be that low when #a) fallings vocals are like that b) adore you is so so fun and c) she has conceptual layers and a depth for interpretation that is so !!!#its hard bc the first four just hit so right with me on levels i cant explain #but i think some of my lower ranked songs are stronger lyrically or conceptually #and tbsl would be lower if i wasnt OBSESSED with the music #tpwk would be lower if i wasnt obsessed with the concept #cherry being that high is insane to me but here we are #ANYWAYS LMAO this is what i got come chat with me about it!#fine line #fine line review #mine

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tearlessrain · 6 years

Text

time to subject myself to Dracula: The Dark Prince, aka another bad movie starring another dude from black sails. this time with 100% less horny on main because my only real motivation for watching it is it truly looks to be a whole new caliber of horrible and I have to see it.

witness my standards for incomprehensibly bad movies being raised prohibitively high in every way imaginable under the cut

I seriously doubt that.

this was made in 2013 by the way, not 1994 as the graphic design of that logo might suggest

oh good, once again we’re opening with an exposition narrator. except this time it’s a woman and she has less vocal inflection and emotional investment than an amazon echo.

I feel like she’s gonna tell me to turn left in 800ft

it feels like a dragon age epilogue, but just. worse.

WE ARE WATCHING A TRULY HIGH QUALITY MOVIE TONIGHT MY FRIENDS

I can’t even describe how bad this is, you really need the sound. that’s where the true lack of quality shines through. siri’s depressed sister is talking about pre-vampire dracula’s epic feats in battle to more weird sepia dioramas and the dying soldiers sound like they hired muppets to voice them

HOLY WIG BATMAN

also this dude is obnoxiously jovial considering he’s supposed to be dracula, even if this is pre-vampire

oh no dracula’s advisors, who all wear black hooded robes and scowl ominously, have betrayed him and killed his wife, how unexpected

someone drew these, looked at them, and thought “yeah that’s good enough to go in the final movie”

the characters are speaking both english and what I assume is... romanian or something? transylvanian? it’s not spanish or welsh I can tell you that much. anyway there are no subtitles and also no rhyme or reason to which they’re speaking at any given time so I hope I’m not missing anything important. probably not.

so like... they killed his wife, yes. and he went on a murderfest in what appears to be a church in revenge, makes sense. now a dude who... I think maybe he’s supposed to be a priest or something? but he wasn’t speaking english so I can’t be sure, then a voice over said “I have killed for god, the hand that fought for him will now be turned against him” but I’m unclear on who was speaking. this movie is an absolute clusterfuck and we aren’t even five minutes in yet. this is still the prologue.

now zombie alexa claims dracula was cursed with immortality “in punishment for his defiance” but I’m still not sure... what defiance. he killed the dudes who murdered his wife and that’s somehow not okay despite his apparent status as a war hero, a designation that implies a LOT of killing has already happened?

fucking finally, the title screen. usually a prologue clarifies what a movie is about but I went in thinking I knew and now have absolutely no idea what I’m watching.

a carriage drawn by friesians is rolling through a misty forest with wolf howling sound bites playing at random in the background to vaguely urgent music, now this is what I’m here to see.

nevermind the carriage is too slow so they’re leaving it because that’s a thing people do (?????)

“Lady Arwen, we cannot delay”

seriously though everyone’s mumbling so much I can’t understand them much better than when they were speaking whatever the other language was

BOOTLEG XENA RIDES AGAIN

but this time she’s accompanied by esme. we don’t know who esme is yet either.

there she goes

and now the knights are being attacked by hilarious squeaky goblin things? who I guess are led by this power rangers villain with, again, an unintentionally hilarious voice. it’s like a bad batman impression.

with every minute that passes I become less certain of what I’m actually watching.

they’re looking for the “light bringer” and telepathically overseen by the world’s most halfassed lestat dracula

they’ve also got some random prisoners in a cage wagon

okay the prisoners are being taken to dracula’s castle and I’m sorry for such an image-heavy post but I NEED you to understand the community theater level of set design/quality we’re dealing with here

“what is that?” cardboard and mod podge is my guess

so far the only thing esme has done is fall off her horse and be knocked unconscious, and now a Roving Band of Misogynists has appeared to harass Bootleg Xena 3.0 in the most generic way possible (the words “what ‘ave we got ‘ere” accompanied by a chorus of malicious cackling and some whistles have been spoken)

oooh no the ringleader of the Roving Misogynists has been given a name, and it’s ~Lucien~. I have a horrible feeling that I’m about to bear witness to the worst romantic subplot in the history of cinema.

oh for... I thought at least bootleg xena 3.0 would be a Strong Female Character and fight them off, but she just rapped lucien on the head with her sword and then they stole her very important box and left as obnoxiously as they came

OH NO SHE’S ASKING TO GO WITH THEM, SOMEHOW THAT’S HER PLAN I THINK I’M RIGHT SHE’S GONNA HOOK UP WITH LUCIEN AND IT’S GOING TO BE HORRIBLE.

“trust me” she says to esme, who, wisely, obviously does not.

I appreciate the timely thunderclap every single time the castle comes on screen

who the fuck are you, did you wander onto the wrong movie set

nope okay they’re not gonna explain that shot at all we’re just moving on to a shot of a weird angel shadow doing slow flamenco moves on the ceiling while ominously gurgling, and the prisoners being led into the throne room

“what’s happening to us?” I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW THE SAME THING, PRISONER #3

oh never mind that guy from before wasn’t a priest, he is remfield, chancellor of this kingdom, which means the last scene he was in makes even less sense

AKSLDGHJFGAKDLFJGHKAJGHFDKLFDS;GJokay so. remfield introduced himself then said “I will see that your needs are tended to.” then dracula in his new white contacts gets up from his shadowy throne, circumnavigates the cluster of prisoners, sniffs them dramatically, and walks back to his throne. remfield then says, “come, I will see that your needs are tended to” because proofreading is for COWARDS

now remfield is... literally giving the prisoners a tour of the castle and going on the “oh you’re our guests and many pleasures and adventures await you” speech and somehow the prisoners are accepting this despite the fact that they were just carted in on a barred wagon in shackles and got sniffed by a bad alucard cosplayer. they have a fucking harpist.

seriously, who the fuck are you

she’s just been twirling around in the background of this entire scene for no discernible reason no matter what rooms they go into

what the hell am I watching

yeah they’re just going for that incredibly suspicious food and also seem weirdly okay with the ambient clusters of scantily clad lesbians no one will explain okay they deserve whatever happens to them

WHOA TITS apparently this movie is a different rating than I thought

remfield: the newcomers have settled in

dracula: I d o n ‘ t l i k e s t r a n g e r s

then why pray tell have you brought them directly into your home in chains. I cannot stress enough how avoidable this situation was for you my dude

“just think sire, once the light bringer is in your possession no one need die again” “except those who defy me” [ominous chime as the angel shadow on the ceiling continues its sensuous flamenco dance]

meanwhile in the misty blue filter forest of eternal night, some guy in a tricorn finds a gold amulet that I think bootleg xena 3.0 dropped, and the power ranger villain rides menacingly in a random direction for a few seconds

I’m still waiting on whether this masterful display of cinematic calvinball has any cohesive story to it.

ah joy and we’re back to The Non-Adventures of Xena 3.0, Esme, and the Roving Misogynists

as an aside, I’m not calling her that just to be dumb, I’m calling her that because they still haven’t given her a name even though her sidekick got one in the first five minutes

they’ve opened the box and revealed... the light bringer, which is a wooden staff. because it is not shiny gold, the roving misogynists regard it with confounded disgrunglement and scoff at xena 3.0′s insistence that it can defeat dracula

these guys sound like what an eleven year old thinks gangs of ne’er-do-wells sound like. like cartoon weasels, if the weasels were also mediocre pirates who have heard of women, conceptually, but never seen one. like goblins in a pre-written D&D campaign run by a slightly overwhelmed first time DM.

HUR DUR WALKING STICK NOT TREASURE, WOMAN DUMB

it’s what cain used to slay abel, apparently. given that zombie alexa mentioned that dracula is the descendent of abel, this leaves us with the terrifying implication that someone did put at least some vestige of effort into writing this movie.

oh good she’s finally gonna fight lucien

no she failed again. please someone just punch the shit out of lucien so he’ll stop.

NO WHY ARE YOU MAKING OUT STOP IT GOD HAVE SOME STANDARDS WOMAN. STOP PLAYING FLOATY ROMANTIC MUSIC IN THE BACKGROUND THEY ARE LITERALLY STILL STANDING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ENTIRE BAND OF ROVING MISOGYNISTS

I thought it might at least be a trick but no she is actually, genuinely starstruck over this profoundly mediocre olde-timey frat boy who called her “sweetheart” while she was trying to explain to him why the ancient dracula-defeating relic was important.

this guy.

we did it boys, we found a worse love story than twilight

also I just. I wish I could convey with words the way the roving misogynists react to every single thing lucien and sometimes xena 3.0 says like the world’s worst greek chorus in a literally neverending stream

lucien (post makeout and xena 3.0 explaining again that the relic is ancient and powerful and they’ve searched for ages to find it): well we may not be knights but we can respect that

[cacophony of rowdy but understated agreement]

lucien: what do you think boys, should we give it back?

[assorted grumbles of assent]

xena 3.0: hm, a thief with a conscience

[gruff mercenary-esque chuckling]

lucien: maybe even a heart

[chorus of “ooooooOOOooh”s and some whistles]

it just goes on like that in every scene they happen to be physically adjacent to, they never shut up but also never actually contribute or say anything meaningful

ah, the mysterious leonardo has appeared. I think he was the one they were trying to take the light bringer to so that’s handy

“what is happening here? what is this flirtation?? is this the people to share your sacred secrets with???” - leonardo, the only remotely rational person in the entire movie

oh he is schooling these idiots, finally someone with sense. it’s bouncing right off of lucien, but at least he’s saying it.

“the scourge” - leonardo

“scourge!” “scourge!?” “scourge?” “hrgghhg??” “hrrm...” - the roving misogynists

power ranger villain and his squeaking goblins vs leonardo, the most useless female leads of all time, and the roving misogynists. who will win.

not the people watching this movie, I can tell you that much.

oh no, the lightbringer isn’t working. this will do nothing to convince the roving misogynists that it isn’t a walking stick

oop, wilhelm scream

oh no lucien has picked up the light bringer

goddamn it he’s the chosen one isn’t he

yep he activated the stick and now we all have to suffer

oh xena 3.0′s coming for power ranger villain maybe she’ll actually do something

nope she bounced off him and now he’s grabbed her and hauled her onto his horse

“you’re coming with me” he says in his weird batman voice, to make sure the audience can tell that he is in fact taking her with him

and esme has yelled “no” to make sure we remember that she’s in the movie

wait what the. did lucien just yell “xena” is that her actual name what the fuck. what the fuck. I had to have misheard that. okay I can’t tell what he’s saying for sure but someone’s bound to say her name again at some point in the movie so I’ll revisit that.

and on that note, I think I’ll end here, because there ended up being a LOT more to unpack in this movie than I expected, it’s after midnight, and I’m tired.

tomorrow, we follow lucien as he presumably goes to save some lady he wildly disrespected and then made out with one time whose name may or may not actually be xena, and hopefully figure out what the hell is even going on with dracula, remfield, and their castle full of artfully strewn half naked harpist lesbians and dancing ceiling shadows. because right now I really don’t have time to unpack all that, and I have a feeling it will only get worse.

#this is #a masterpiece #no description of mine can hope to do it justice #hypnotically incomprehensible #tearless liveblogs

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thesinglesjukebox · 7 years

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TAYLOR SWIFT - LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO [4.39] Man, look what she made US do.

Elisabeth Sanders: Here is the thing about Taylor Swift: anybody that has truly loved (despite themselves) Taylor Swift has done so because of her sharp, frightening edges, because of the way in which she is the mean girl in the midst of a panic attack, because she's petty, because she's crazy, because she believes in things and at the same time when those things aren't as they seem wants to crush them in the palm of her hand. Any interpretation of Taylor Swift that doesn't incorporate this is simply bad research. In 2006: "Go and tell your friends that I'm obsessive and crazy--There's no time for tears / I'm just sitting here, planning my revenge." In 2010: "And my mother accused me of losing my mind /But I swore I was fine /You paint me a blue sky /And go back and turn it to rain /And I lived in your chess game /But you changed the rules every day /Wondering which version of you I might get on the phone, tonight /Well I stopped picking up and this song is to let you know why" In 2012: "Maybe we got lost in translation / maybe I asked for too much / or maybe this thing was a masterpiece / til you tore it all up." And finally, in 2014, a culmination of the songwriting combined with the publicity--well, just listen to "Blank Space." I can't quote the whole thing. At the time it was brilliant, a parody that dipped just enough into the real, a joke about both media extrapolation and actual content. But we're past the time for parody. It came, it was good, it went. The criticism still followed, for other reasons, for deeper reasons, for real reasons. Along with, I'm sure, superficial ones. But if "Blank Space" was Taylor Swift's petty Gone Girl fan fiction, "Look What You Made Me Do" is the unfortunate chapter in which we have to acknowledge that the fiction was never that self-aware, and that an excavation of complication, when confronted with complicated times, sometimes reveals not a complex sympathetic maybe-villain, but simply a person not equipped to be making mass art right now. Taylor's pettiness, her villainy, her strangeness, has always been her most interesting feature. Maybe, now, too many years into seeing but not seeing it, it's just--not that interesting anymore. She's not your friend, and she's not your enemy, she's just--well. As she says, "I don't trust nobody and nobody trusts me." I think that might be her final truth. [3]

Stephen Eisermann: I've never been a big Taylor Swift fan -- I like her music well enough, but there was always something about the details she painted and the cards she showed that it felt a bit... made-up. Still, I always had a weird feeling that Taylor and I had very similar personalities and personal life trajectories (bear with me) and this song reinforces that. When I was younger and "straight" (16-18), I was very quiet, nice to a fault, and introverted. Thanks to my name and skin color, a lot of (racist) older people always said it was hard to believe I was a Mexican teenager because I was so quiet, polite, well-spoken and bright. Much like Swizzle during the "Taylor Swift" and "Fearless" era, I was considered naive but genuine-hearted and people loved to love my niceness. However, I soon started coming to terms with my sexuality and started being a bit more open with myself and others about who I truly was, just like we saw glimpses of pure pop and more evocative lyrics in "Speak Now" and "Red." I still built stories and a narrative that painted me as more mystery than gay, just as Taylor toed the line between squeaky clean young adult and Lolita, but I was a bit more willing to explore. Soon after, the inevitable happened and I finally had my first NSFW encounter with a man, and was even MORE willing to be who I really was. I let my gay flag fly and if people asked, I wouldn't dance around the question, but own who I was. Taylor didn't hesitate one bit when she announced 1989 would be a pop album in its entirety, and I didn't so much was stutter when telling questioning friends my realization. Still, a part of me hid things from ass-backwards family members and people who I knew wouldn't "understand," just as Sweezy continued to play the victim card to hold on to some of the innocence that was slowly falling through her fingertips like sand on the last day of vacation. However, there is only so much sand one hand can hold and BAM -- my family became aware of my sexuality and Taylor was exposed. I was at a crossroads -- do I drop my family and throw out ALL the dirty chisme I had accumulated over the years at different holidays, effectively exposing the most bigoted family members, or do I keep my mouth shut and weather the hate, being all the stronger for it? I wanted so badly to be vindictive and evil, but I choose the high road for reasons I'm not really sure I can effectively communicate. Taylor, however, has opted for the darker route. "LWYMMD" lacks detail, yes, but it's intentional. I just... I just know it. She has secrets up her sleeves she will soon reveal -- nobody willingly takes the villainous role without ammo, and Taylor has been MANY things throughout her career, but unprepared is not one of them. This song is calculated, petty, unnecessary, and very much beneath her, but it allows me to live vicariously through her and I want her to drag her detractors just as I want to drag my family members through the mud they continue to think I belong in. And just as my bigoted family members will get theirs, so will Taylor's enemies, I'm sure. [10]

Will Rivitz: "I think I have a part to play in this drama, and I have chosen to be the villain. Every good story needs a bad guy, don't you think?" -Lorelei Granger, Frindle (Andrew Clements, 1996) [9]

David Moore: Phonogram: The Immaterial Girl Kieron Gillen and Jamie McKelvie (Image Comics, 2015) Synopsis: Years ago, a young woman obsessed with music videos and mythic pop celebrity made a deal with the King Behind the Screen -- she gave up half of herself to gain the mystical power needed to eventually lead a coven of music obsessives. Now the deal's gone sour, and her darker, sacrificed self has switched places to destroy the coven with an ill-advised electroclash revival. [7]

Alfred Soto: Electronic swoops, piano on the bridge, lots of boom boom bap -- this single could be the new St. Vincent, or, to return to once upon a long time ago, to a track from Lorde's estimable Melodrama, a flop also largely co-written with Jack Antonoff. A skeptic of her first singles since 2009, I approached "Look..." with caution; on the evidence she's anticipated this caution. "I don't trust nobody and nobody trusts me," she sings while soap opera strings add the requisite melodrama, and for a moment I thought she sang "I don't trust my body." I've never cared about biographical parallels in any art, especially in popular art where the insistence feels like conscription; the blank space where she wants the audience to write his/her/whatever's name is a sop to us. Less persuasive is the talk-sung part informing her audience that the "old Taylor" is "dead," as if Fearless fans needed an 808 dug into their faces. It will sound terrific on the radio. I'll skip it when I buy the album. [5]

Crystal Leww: The emerging narrative of Jack Antonoff as the next king of pop production is perplexing because his resume is honestly pretty thin. It's unclear what Antonoff actually brings to the table other than an amplification factor; Antonoff's songs have only been as good as his collaborators. This works when artists are working with a strong vision they can execute against -- e.g., CRJ's "in love and feeling like a teen again" on "Sweetie," Lorde's earnest wide open heartbreak on Melodrama. It is damning if artists are falling into their worst habits. Taylor Swift is a very solid songwriter -- it's nearly impossible to have the kind of career she had in country music if you're not -- but it always falls back on specificity, the emotional connection that she can forge with her fans when she knows what she's trying to convey. "Look What You Made Me Do" fails because it's unclear what it's about -- is this song about haters? Kim and Kanye? Her exes? The media? -- and Antonoff using Right Said Fred makes it all seem very clunky. The song sounds like it could have really leaned into a psycho ex-girlfriend vibe, but it's not self-aware, not funny, not sure of itself. Ultimately, "Look What You Made Me Do" isn't awful, but it's not catchy, which is its worst sin of all. Taylor Swift's still a decent songwriter ("Better Man" was great; "I've been looking sad in all the nicest places" almost made up for that Zayn collab), but this isn't even yucky -- it's just kinda boring. [4]

Katherine St Asaph: The curse continues. Maybe it's that the past month I've been listening to very little but "Anatomy of a Plastic Girl" by The Opiates and "Justice" by Fotonovela and Sarah Blackwood, and here's the exact conceptual midpoint. I've heard comparisons to electroclash, NIN, mall emo, Lorde, but I hear more Jessie Malakouti or Britney on Original Doll: frantic tabloid petulance, slightly updated with a "Problem" anti-chorus, but otherwise things I like. Otherwise, Swift's style has not changed: self-referential ("actress" and "bad dreams" shuffle her images to make her the heel) and threaded with subliminals ("tilted stage" is literal, "kingdom keys" keeps up with the konsonance) Just as "Dear John" parodied its subject's lite-blooz guitar, "Look What You Made Me Do" parodies the austere tracks of 808s and Heartbreak on, like "Love Lockdown" in curdled Midwestern vowels: trading soporific for loaded. The song has inevitably become about everything but itself. Her milkshake duck brought all the boys to the yard, and they're like, this is garb, and I'm like, the Internet deplorables haven't adopted this in any better faith than they did Depeche Mode; any of pop's myriad songs about the tabloids would read as "political" if transplanted into 2017 (is Lindsay Lohan's "Rumours" about FAKE NEWS?), and Swift's suffocatingly prescriptive "Southern" "values" pre-Red were as politically suspect as this, and more insidious. The next salvo of attack: its rollout being unprecedentedly gimmicky and exploitative, never mind how aforementioned Depeche Mode did the same pre-order thing, or Britney Spears upholstered-carpetbombed "Pretty Girls" in everyone's Ubers, or Rihanna's Talk That Talk was launched with gamified "missions", or Srsly Legit Band Arcade Fire spent months on fake Stereogum posts and fake Ben and Jerry's. Doesn't help that when Taylor is bad, she's stunningly, loudly bad; the second verse, in its magnification of the cringiest parts of "Shake It Off" and "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together," seems to last forever. (The phone call is fine, though; no one had a problem with "How Ya Doin'" or, like, "Telephone.") It's no good for catharsis, definitely not relatable, maybe on purpose: like being too sexy for your shirt, all you feel is cold. [6]

Katie Gill: On the one hand, Taylor using the language of abusers in the chorus of her song is clueless at best and worrisome at worst. On the other hand, blatantly riffing off of "I'm Too Sexy" is a surprisingly smart choice for a chorus and I'm shocked that I can't think of anyone who's tried it before with this level of success. But on the one hand, for a song about how she's getting smarter and harder, the lyrics don't reflect that, giving us some petty Regina George level nonsense instead of anything remotely resembling depth or nuance. But then again, that snake is pouring Taylor Swift some tea and all the Taylor Swifts are beating up the other Taylor Swifts in a battle royale hahaha this video is so amazingly dumb. I guess I'll split the difference and give it a [5]

Alex Clifton: I've always wanted give-no-fucks Taylor Swift, but I'm dying for context, as this album (and sing) will sink or swim based entirely on the narrative she creates. She's clearly setting herself on fire in order to rebrand herself, although I question her self-awareness. The music video indicates yes, with a brilliant 30-second scene featuring various Taylors mocking each other. Yet "Look What You Made Me Do" is also curiously passive, with a reactionary title and a bored chorus--more a sign of privilege and status. The ambiguity between honest, wronged victim and villainous persona here is intriguing, especially given Swift's penchant for earnestness; obviously she cannot be both, but the tension drives the song. The song itself is a mixed bag; Swift returns to the messy rapping last heard on "Shake It Off" with an equally cringey spoken-word interlude, but her voice is simutaneously delicate and confident as she comes out swinging. While I love seeing Blood!Swift writing a hitlist of enemies like an evil Santa Claus and the hint of confronting the less attractive/more honest parts of her role in the spotlight, only time will tell whether this is truly a playful new direction or more of the same old tune. (Also, what did we make her do? The answer is classic Swift, diabolically obvious: we made her write a song about it.) [7]

Jessica Doyle: A week on I still hear more self-loathing than anything else. Nothing the supposed New Taylor offers up comes off particularly convincingly; there's no glee in her reinvention. Compare the way she rushes through honey-I-rose-up-from-the-dead when she once sounded like she was thoroughly enjoying Boys only want love when it's torture. She doesn't sound smarter, or harder; look what you made me do, when she's spent the last eighteen months making a point of not doing anything. There's no air in here, no space beyond the multiple annotated versions and multiple thinkpieces declaring her a walking horsebitch of the Trumpocalypse. Just Taylor Swift practicing telling herself to shut up, Taylor Swift wondering about karma, Taylor Swift reading Buzzfeed and taking careful notes, Taylor Swift unable to make a point about anything at all except Taylor Swift. You don't realize, when you're in the thick of it, that self-loathing is just as relentlessly, narrowly egotistical as any other kind of self-obsession. It gets old, finally. It wears you out. It wears everybody out. Right? Yes? Can we all agree to be worn out now? Are we going to allow her to move on? She can't rise up from the dead if we don't let her die first. [3]

Cassy Gress: There was a time when I thought 1989 pajama-parties-and-kittens Taylor was the "real Taylor." I don't know if that really was. What I do know is that trying to figure out who the "real Taylor" is, and arguing on the internet about it, is fucking exhausting. So much of her musical output has been autobiographical, or meant to sound generically autobiographical to women listeners; so much of her reads as "pussycat with claws." Sometimes she emphasizes the pussycat side, soft and vulnerable; "Look What You Made Me Do" is the claws side. But Taylor, who we know has the ability to be nuanced and evocative, is here transmitting her intent (to destroy Kanye, or Katy, or Hiddleston, or her old selves, or just to be the cleverest sausage) like a hammer to the skull. This, like much else about her, is exhausting to watch/listen to. I would much rather close the blinds and put on my headphones and watch GBBO reruns in my jammies. [2]

Olivia Rafferty: Washing in with the arrival of her sixth album are a tidal wave of thinkpieces on Swift, all set within the context of her A-list feuds, miscalculations and politics, or lack thereof. We've all sifted through stories of fake boyfriends, cheap shots and oblivious colonialism, and I'm going to speak for all of us when I say we probably should just all take a goddamn break from the vortex. I'm placing LWYMMD in a vacuum for now. Reaching into the embarrassing depths of my personal history, I can draw up two different past-Olivias who would be a perfect fit for this song. I'm gifting the verse, pre-chorus and middle eight to my 10-year-old self, and the chorus to my 17-year-old self. Olivia at 10 would lap up the overly-dramatic opening lines, the "I. Don't. Likes" and their thick punctuation. It's served with the attitude that would have made you want to stick on a crop top and pick up one of your tiny handbags to fling about during an ill-prepared dance routine -- no, Mum, it's not finished yet! And the moment of absolute pre-teen glory is the cheerleader delivery of the spoken half-verse, "the world moves on another day another drama drama," I can literally see the Beanie Baby music video re-enactment. All of these melodic aspects are playful but lack the precision or maturity you'd expect Swift to deliver on this "good girl grown up" song. When the chorus hits you suddenly mature into that 17 year-old whose friends-but-not-really-friends played that Peaches song at someone's house party. You could probably embarassingly attempt a slut-drop to it in your bedroom, pretending you're a dominatrix who's just split some milk on the floor. But the overall impression is that if Swift is trying to be naughty, sexy or dangerous, she's missed the mark a little. Now at 25 I'm listening and thinking that the chorus still snaps, but if this track was an attempt at sexualising Taylor in a way that's not been done before, it's only made it clear that she's still got a lot of growing up to do. [6]

Joshua Copperman: From the first bar chimes sound effect, I was worried, and I suppose my feelings didn't improve by the time the "tilted stage" line happened. On "Out Of The Woods", Antonoff and Swift brought out the best in each other (Jack's big choruses, Taylor's specific references), but on "Look What You Made Me Do", they bring out the worst (Jack's obnoxiousness, Taylor's pettiness.) Antonoff can do flamboyant earnestness, especially when it blends with Lorde's self-awareness and quirkiness; he just can't do dark and edgy. Or even campy, apparently: the glorious video mostly takes care of that, giving the song an intensity and glamour that it doesn't have nor deserve on its own. Yet even the video often misses the humor inherent in moments like the terrible rap in the second verse, or the already-infamous lift from "I'm Too Sexy". The ultimate effect is like John Green praising a burn of himself without realizing why the burn was deserved in the first place. In this case, it's one Taylor saying to another Taylor "there she goes, playing the victim, again", even though the preceding song couldn't even play the victim or villain well enough. [4]

Mo Kim: There was a time in my life when I looked up to Taylor Swift. I was eighteen once, clearing my throat of all the doubts that haunted it, and the only way I had to express myself was through songs about slights that exploded like firecrackers. But a voice with that strength comes with responsibility. Sometimes you need to stop reveling in the volume of your own speech to see the platform of power you stand on; otherwise you might build a version of yourself on the rickety foundation of innocence only to find it crashing down. On "Look What You Made Me Do," she's still trying for the pottery shard hooks that once made her so important to petty queer kids like me. It works in bits and spurts: that second verse is a bucket of water and an emergency siren to the face, and the pre-chorus utilizes a sinister piano and eerie vocal production to great effect. Too bad, then, that the flimsy chorus and winky-face lyrics cave in on themselves more easily than almost anything she's written before (like a house of cards, some might say). That it so blatantly abjects responsibility onto her audience, however, is the biggest point against it: instead of personability, or at least the pretense of it, there's just layer after layer of metanarrative. Instead of a telling that acknowledges her history -- a complicated, troubling, rich one -- there's just Queen Bee Taylor, sneering over a landfill heap of old Taylors before she discards of all her past selves. I used to hold stadiums in my chest as I listened to the stories Swift spun; now I feel like the lights have finally crackled out, and here she is, dithering in the debris of her crumbling empire, and here we are, looking down. [5]

Josh Love: If Taylor wants to go in, that's her prerogative, but because this is a song that none of us plebes can actually relate to, it's only fair to judge it solely based on whether it goes hard, and I'm sorry to report that Taylor has no bars. "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together" and "Shake It Off" seemed like wild stabs at first too, but they possessed an inclusivity that's curdled into Yeezus-level petulance here. There's nothing here to suggest she's capable of making Reputation her Lemonade. At least the video gives me some hope that maybe she realizes she's a complete dork. [3]

Anthony Easton: This is the hardest for me to grade, because I still don't know if it is good, but it is constructed in such a way that people like me (critic, liberal elitist, homosexual) are pressed to have opinions. It steals with such quickness, and with such weirdness that the opinions give birth to other opinons, somewhere between a snake hall and the ouroboros she already quotes. It sounds like Lorde, it samples Peaches, it plays with electroclash, which was a genre that was already heavily recursive. It tries to be without feeling, but it feels all too deeply. That is enough to spend time with, that is enough to unpack. It sounds like Lorde because they are both working with Jack Antonoff. Who is cribbing from who here? Is Lorde playing like Swift, is Swift cribbing Lorde's lankness, are both pulling outside of their influence, by the commercial, mainstreamed weirdness of Antonoff? Swift was always pretty; her main skill was using guile to a stiletto edge. This edges on ugliness, but it is still "ugly." Women like Peaches or the cabaret singer Bridgett Everett know how to sing, have the ambition to sing well, but chose to reject good taste for social and political power. Taylor playing with being ugly, with being flat, with kind of half singing, with no longer being the cheerleader, is not a formal refusal of beauty as a political means but has the louche boredom of a hanger-on, with maybe a bit of anger at not being cool enough. It's a capital blankness that raids and doesn't contribute. Part of the ugliness of Peaches, part of the joy of electroclash, is not only how it absorbs the amoral around it--Grace Jones, The Normal, Joy Division, Klaus Nomi--but that the sex of it works so hard. The fucking is less pleasure than hard work--the grit of dirt and sweat and bodies. When Swift quotes Peaches, she is quoting the reduction of pop to a stripping down of bodies through a formal aesthetic choice. When she quotes noir, it is an attempt to self-consciously think of herself as a body who is capable of doing real damage. Swift flatters herself as someone whose suicide could be a nihilist aesthetic gesture. She flatters herself as a fatale. She's still the kid who does damage, and plays naif. You can't be pretty and ugly. You can't be a naif fatale. You can't pretend not to care about gossip and make your career about what people think of you. You can only be so much of a feminist and rest on your producers this much, and you cannot play at louche blankness if it is so obvious how much work you are doing. This might suggest that I hate the song, but I can't. Swift doing an "ugly" heel turn fills me with poptimist longing, and I want to hear more. [9]

Eleanor Graham: There is a bit in an old Never Mind The Buzzcocks where Simon Amstell says to Amy Winehouse, "We used to be close! On Popworld, we were close." And Amy Winehouse runs her hand down his face and says, half-pityingly and to thunderous laughter, "She's dead." I don't really know why I'm bringing this up except to illustrate that a woman killing off her former self, against Joan Didion's worldly advice, has a kind of power. The crudest hyperbole. Like Amy in Gone Girl. You don't like this thing about me? You wish I was different? Well, guess what -- I'M DEAD! This line, which Swift delivers with the manic kittenish venom of Reese Witherspoon's character in Big Little Lies, is the only redeeming feature of "Look What You Made Me Do." And yet -- even as someone who has openly thrown politics to the wind in the face of such forever songs as "Style", "State of Grace" and "All Too Well" -- this single is too hallucinatory to be a flat disappointment. Quite aside from the Right Said Fred debacle, the "aw" is reminiscent of Julia Michaels, the second verse of a lobotomised Miz-Biz era Hayley Williams, the production ideas of a mid-2000s CBBC show, and the whole thing of a middle-aged man in a wig playing Sky Ferreira in an SNL skit. Disorientating. Almost euphorically horrible. Say what you want about T Swift, but who else is serving this level of pop Kafkaism in 2017? [2]

Maxwell Cavaseno: Weirdly, everything works for me sorta kinda with the second verse. The percussion thuds in the distance just a little more effectively, and Taylor's whining drone of a rap screams up into that high-pitched melodrama, only to crash and burn into an anemic "Push It," as written by someone who forgot Lady Gaga once could fool us into thinking she was funny. Past that subsection and prior, however, the record truly never clicks. You get the sense that Swift, someone so eagerly to seize the moment, doesn't realize that the horror campiness plays her hand too hard. [2]

Edward Okulicz: Saved from being her worst ever single by an out-of-nowhere, brilliant, Lorde-esque pre-chorus (and the existence of both "Welcome to New York" and "Bad Blood"), this is pretty thin gruel for the first single off a first album in three years. Remember how dense her songwriting used to be? See how clumsy it is on this. Taylor Swift's devolution from essential pop star to somewhat annoying head of a cult of personality is complete. At least there'll be better to come on the album. I hope. [4]

Rachel Bowles: I am guessing (and hoping) that "Look What You Made Me Do" is Reputation's "Shake It Off," a comparatively mediocre introduction to what is ostensibly a good album with some timeless songs ("Style" in particular on 1989). Functionally the same, both songs have to reintroduce Taylor in a new iteration to a cultural narrative she cannot be excluded from, both heavy on self-awareness and light on her signature musical flair. Where "Shake It Off" felt anodyne and compressed, "LWYMMD" is beautifully stripped back, chopping between lowly sung and rhythmically spoken word over a synthesiser, strings or a beat -- verses, bridges and middle 8's passing, though ultimately building to nothing -- the chorus of "LWYMMD" being the swirling void at its centre, one that cannot hold, however fashionable it is to build then strip to anti-climax in EDM and pop. What did Taylor do? The absence of her critical action, the bloody, thirsted-for revenge, can only leave us unsatisfied, like watching a Jacobean tragedy on tilted stage without the final release of death for all. What's left is a painful, public death of media citations of Taylor, played over and over, joylessly. [5]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: 1989 is Taylor Swift's worst album, but that shouldn't necessarily be seen as a bad thing. For an artist whose vocal melodies were able to effectively drive a song forward, it was a bit odd hearing her rely so heavily on a song's instrumentation to do all the heavy lifting. Additionally, the painterly lyrics that drew me to her work in the first place were mostly abandoned for ones more beige (simply compare the most memorable lyrics from 1989 and any other album and it becomes very obvious). It didn't work out for the most part, but I was fine with the mediocrity. And considering how stylistically diverse the album was, I very much saw it as a stepping stone for a future project. Which is why I'm completely unsurprised by the doubling down of "Look What You Made Me Do" -- it's a lead single that's heavily tied to her media perception, finds her abandoning any sense of subtlety, and utilizes amelodic singing to put greater emphasis on the instrumentation itself. It's conceptually brilliant for all these reasons, but it doesn't come together all too well. Namely, the lyrics are almost laughably bad and distract from how physical the song can be, and her calculated attempts at announcing her self-awareness have reached the point of utter parody. That the music video ends with Swift essentially explaining the (unfunny) joke only confirms this. [3]

Rebecca A. Gowns: Every new Taylor Swift single is Vizzini from "The Princess Bride," letting us know that she knows that we know that she knows that we know that she is Taylor Swift, and since she knows that we know (etc. etc. etc.), she can be confident drinking the goblet in front of her, since she knows that she switched around the goblets when we weren't looking, and she's laughing like she's clearly outsmarted us, but little does she know that we've been building up an immunity to her odorless white poison for years. [2]

William John: The hyper-specificity is gone. There are no references here to paper airplane necklaces or dead roses in December or in-jokes written on notes left on doors. In their place, platitudes abound, choruses are forgotten, "time" rhymes with "time", and "drama" with "karma". The latter is pursued with a maniacal intensity, the parody spelled out rather brilliantly in "Blank Space" quickly undoing itself. Rather obviously, "Look What You Made Me Do" does not exist in a vacuum, and the timing and nature of its release are what render it particularly dismaying. Its author, not playing to her previously demonstrated strengths, is seemingly at great pains to fuel fire to certain celebrity feuds, all the while insisting on her exclusion from them. It wouldn't matter so much were she to denounce some of her new fans with the same fervour, but for some reason this era she's opted out of interviews, perhaps at the time when some explanation driven by someone outside her inner circle is most needed. It's one way to forge a reputation, indeed. I do like the way she screams "bad DREAMS!" though. [3]

Leonel Manzanares: An auteur whose entire schtick is about framing herself as a victim, now emboldened by the current climate to address "the haters" using the language of abuse, embracing villainhood. No wonder she's considered the ambassador of Breitbart Pop. [4]

Thomas Inskeep: "Don't you understand? It's your fault that I had to go and become a mean girl!" Yeah, okay, whatever, Ms. White Privilege. [2]

Anjy Ou: For the woman who singularly embodies white female privilege, it's kind of embarrassing that she doesn't have the range. [2]

Will Adams: If you had asked me three months ago, "Hey, between 'Swish Swish' and whatever Taylor Swift ends up putting out this year, which is the more embarrassing diss track?", I wouldn't have thought I'd need to think about the answer this much. [2]

Anaïs Escobar Mathers: "Taylor, you're doing amazing, sweetie," said no one. [1]

Sonia Yang: With an artist as polarizing as Swift, it's easy to make the conversation a messy knot about the real life conflicts she's had, but I find it more interesting to tune that all out and focus on the simplicity of her work as a standalone. "Look What You Made Me Do" is Swift at her most coldly bitter yet, but betrays the resignation of long buried hurt. It's "Blank Space" but with none of the fantastical fun; it toes the line between wary irony and jadedly "becoming the mask." Most telling is the dull echo of the song title in place of a real hook, which is actually a favorite point of mine. Reality doesn't always go out with a bang; it's more likely for one to reach a gloomy conclusion than stumbling upon a glorious epiphany. Musically, I'd call this an awkward transition phase for Taylor -- it's not her worst song ever, but it's admittedly underwhelming compared to the heights we've seen from her. However, I've sat through questionable attempts at reinvention from my favorite artists before and I'm still optimistic about the potential for Swift's growth after this. [7]

Jonathan Bradley: There is nothing Taylor Swift does better than revenge, and this is not that. This is the first Swift single that exists only in conversation with Swift's media-created persona -- even "Blank Space" turned on internally resolved narrative beats and emotional moments -- but it offers little for those who hear pop through celebrity news updates, not speakers or headphones. Compare "Look What You Made Me Do" to "Mean," a pointed and hurt missive that scarified its targets with dangerous care; this new single, however, barely extends beyond the bounds of Swift's own skull. "I don't like your little games," levels Swift, her voice venom, "the role you made me play." The central character -- the only character -- in this narrative is Swift, and she enacts an immolation. Her nastiness is the etiolated savagery of Drake in his more recent and loutish incarnation: lonely and lordly, "just a sicko, a real sicko when you get to know me." "I got smarter, I got harder in the nick of time" could be Jesse Lacey on Deja Entendu but sunk into the abyss of The Devil and God -- only it's delivered over ugly, the Knife-like electro clanging. The line that succeeds is classic Swift in its brittle theatrics: "Honey, I rose up from the dead; I do it all the time." The spoken-word bridge -- the song's most blatantly campy and deliciously gothic moment -- acts as a witchy incantation, walking most precariously the line between winking vamp and public tantrum. Swift has brought her monstrous birth to the world's light; contra the title, what it is we've made her do isn't even apparent yet. [8]

Lauren Gilbert: I was 18 when "Fearless" was released, and listened to it on repeat my first term of undergrad, feeling freedom and joy and hope. I listened to "We Are Never Getting Back Together" on repeat in an on-again-off-again relationship that should have ended years before it did. I listened to 1989 over and over again after recovering from a nervous breakdown and for the first time, really, truly focused on choosing a life of joy. I should be Here For This. I am not. Pop music thrives on specificity, and Taylor Swift in particular has made a career of writing about hyperspecific situations. This is... generic; it could be sung by Katy Perry, by a female Zayn, by Kim K herself. Taylor offers no hooks to her own life here, and perhaps that's not a flaw; female songwriters have the right to choose not to expose their own lives, and to write the same generic pop song nonsense that everyone else does. But as someone who bought into the whole TSwift authenticity brand -- even while I recognized it as a brand, even while I knew that she was a multimillionaire looking out for her own interests first and foremost, even as she was the definition of a Problematic Fav -- I can't really say I care that much about new Taylor. I could fault Taylor's politics and personality -- and I'm sure other blurbs will -- but the primary failing here isn't Taylor's non-music life. It's that there's no feeling here; it feels as cynical as the line "another day, another drama". Next. [4]

Andy Hutchins: "I'm Too Sexy" + "Mr. Me Too" - basically any of the elements that made "Mr. Me Too" compelling = "Ms. I'm Sexy, Too." [4]

Tara Hillegeist: Let's leave this double-edged sword hang here for a minute: Taylor Swift's personhood is irrelevant to the reality that she is a better creator than she ever gets credit for. Since her earliest days of the demo CDs she'd like to keep buried, Taylor Swift has never been less interesting or more terrible on the ears than when her songs are forcibly positioned as autobiography. For a decade she has cultivated an audience of lovers and haters alike that never felt her--or truly felt for her--because she never wanted them to know her, driven to own her brand even as she's deliberately averred to own up to what lies behind it. Witness the framing of an Etch-a-Sketch of a song like "Look What You Made Me Do": she releases a song about vengeful self-definition mere weeks after finally winning a years-long case against a man who sexually assaulted her and tried to sue her to silence over it on the sheer strength of her own self-representation, and the air charges itself with intimations that she instead meant it for Katy Perry, whose flash-in-the-pan "friendship" she publicly and memorably disowned in a bad song about bad blood an entire album ago, or perhaps Kim Kardashian-West, a woman whose "feud" with her arguably began with Taylor Swift's attempt to paint herself as the victim in an argument with Kim's husband but ended inarguably and decisively in Kim's favor. To claim someone would mangle her targets so ineptly even the conspiracy theorists have to resort to half-guesses and deliberate misquotes to draw out the barbs is a claim it's especially ridiculous to pin on a musician like Taylor Swift, a control freak who once built a labyrinth of personal references into an album full of songs about protagonists nothing like herself just to prove a point to anyone listening to them that closely about how sturdy the songs would be without knowing any of it. A public conversation that misses the point this drastically can only occur if there's a deliberately blank space where any sense of or interest in the person it's about could exist. There is a hole where this most powerfully self-determining popstar lives where a human life has never been glimpsed--because she cast that little girl and her frail voice aside years ago in search of something altogether more influential than such a weak vessel could ever hold. The girl who cajoled her family into spending enough Merrill-Lynch money to cover for her inability to sing until she had enough professional training to sing the songs she wanted to put to her name was never the girl who could truly be a flight risk with a fear of falling, was never the girl who never did anything better than revenge. But she wanted to be the girl who sang the words for that girl, who put her words in that girl's mouth, more than anything else in the world. She staked her name on nothing less than her ability to capitalize on the reputation she acquired. The Taylor Swift of Fearless and Speak Now was a Taylor Swift who believed she could be someone else in your mind, a songwriter dexterous enough to slip between gothic pop, americana-infused new wave, and pop-punk piss-offs without shaking that crisply machine-tooled Pennsylvania diction. A decade on, she's learned a lesson enough women before her already learned it's shocking she wasn't ready for it: when you're a girl and you make something about being a girl, everyone thinks you just had yourself in mind. The proof that she was more than that--more than the songs on the radio, you might say--was always there; it wasn't hidden, it wasn't obscured. But from Red onwards that Taylor began to die; a straighter Taylor Swift emerged in more ways than just her hair, all the kinks ironing themselves out in favor of her remodeling herself into a different sort of someone else's voice. Where once stood a Taylor Swift who sang for the sake of seeing her words sung by someone else's mouth back to her, there now stood a Taylor Swift who sang everyone else's words about her back to them. Tabloids cannot resurrect a life that a woman never lived, and no amount of retrospective sleight of hand about the girl she might have lied about being can hide the truth that neither can she. Conspiracy theories only flourish when people treat the mystery of human motives like a jigsaw puzzle waiting to be solved--ignoring that she already made it clear that was, still and always, the wrong answer to the questions she wouldn't let them ask. She wanted fame, she wanted a reputation; she wanted them on terms she defined; she never wanted anything else half as much as she wanted that. She has used every means available to her to earn them. Her awkward adolescence took a backseat to her life's dream of conquering America's radio. It's no shock, then, that all this gossip-mongering rings as hollow as a crown. The messy melodrama of Southern sympathy and thin-voiced warbles that defined the sweethearted ladygirls of generations before her and beside her and will define those that come after her, the sloppy humanities of Britney and Dolly and Tammy and Leann and Kesha Rose; these fumbling honesties, these vulnerabilities have never been tools in Taylor's narrative repertoire the way she uses the white girlhood she shares with them has been. She owned her protagonists' anxieties; but those songs have never defined her. This was always the moral to the story of Taylor Swift, to anyone--condemning or compassionate--who cared to really hear it: behind her careful compositions and obsessive pleas, Taylor Swift was never interested in making herself a real person at all. That would have cost her everything she ever wanted. And we, the Cicerone masses, ought very well to ask ourselves, before we let that double-edged sword finally fall: would it have been any more worth it, to anyone, if she had been? [2]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

#Taylor Swift #Look What You Made Me Do #reputatio

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atlanxic · 7 years

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ok so i actually have an extensive arc-v/zexal crossover university au that i’ve talked a lot about on my private twitter and on discord but i think it’s time to put it all on tumblr. i wanted to make this all one post but i actually feel like it’s too much for that? so here’s part one of..... five or so?

yuuto, shun, and ruri lived in the same apartment complex as children, theyve known each other literally forever.

in middle school, yuuto & shun both discover hardcore/punk music and spend a couple years being kind of awkward and terrible about it until high school hits and they kind of level out. ruri teases them a lot for liking that awful racket but eventually she gets into it too, mostly because her and shun are kind of inseparable for quite some time. the three of them go to the local shitty music venue just about every weekend. for the first year or so ruri insists shes going to keep them out of trouble but like i said, she gets more into the music after a while.

shun and yuuto both mosh, shun probably more frequently than yuuto. they show up to school with bruises pretty often and rumours are started that they get in fights a lot or that theyre involved in a gang. there are also rumours that theyre dating, which dont go over very well, and result in them getting in actual fist fights a couple times. they try dating for like... 3 months in grade 7, and then decide that its weird and they work better as friends.

yuuto wears his hair in a mohawk for about a year before switching to the spiky mess we know and love. towards the end of middle school, they meet kaito at a prog-rock concert, all four of them pressed against the front rails together kaito and yuuto hit it off immediately, and exchange phone numbers after the show. shun is immensely suspicious. they text a lot, and then they start hanging out, and then they start going out. shun threatens to beat kaito up, kaito is fine with it, yuuto is not. etc.

meanwhile, ruri and sayaka meet in class. it doesn't even occur to shun to be suspicious of her until he catches them making out. he yells about it, sayaka is understandably frightened. ruri tells him off for scaring her girlfriend. she stays angry at him for longer than she has before. he eventually gives in and apologizes to both of them, but in a kind of dickish way.

yuuto and kaito break up towards the beginning of 11th grade. neither of them are upset about it, they stay friends. it was mostly because kaito felt like he needed to focus more on school, now that he's getting into college prep-level courses. yuuto cries about it once, and it takes several hours to convince shun that violence would be neither appropriate nor helpful.

all four of them move to a different city for college. sayaka goes to school in the town they grew up in. her and ruri stay in touch, but after half a year they decide that the long distance thing isn't working out for them. they still hang out when ruri and shun go back for the holidays, and its fairly bittersweet.

yuuto shun & ruri dont realize that kaito is going to the same school as them until all four of them are present at a queer alliance meet & greet. shun glares at him across the room for a while before yuuto notices he's there and goes over to say hello like a decent person. yuuto and kaito immediately hit it off again. theyre both kind of "fuck you grew into yourself really well im Gay."

immm gonna say that in first year, yuuto & shun live in the dorms together. they eventually decide the res life is not for them but. apartment hunting when youre like 18 and moving out for the first time is a bit much, so dorms it is.

anyway, shun catches yuuto and kaito making out in their shared dormroom like 3 fucking days after the meet and greet. kaito's expression is one of fear and conveys that he knows full well that shun is 2 seconds from beating him up. yuuto is kinda pissed off about it. yuuto and shun have a long conversation that night about how protective shun is. they fall asleep in each other's arms.

kaito avoids them for a little while, but the next time they see him, shun makes a genuine apology. yuuto and kaito start dating again a few weeks later. ruri is surprised and delighted about it. ruri ends up dormed with rin in first year.

they get along reasonably well, but they dont get close until rin accidentally lets slip that she's gay, and then ruri is like "oh thank god, me too." the context is probably: that yuugo visits them like basically every other day, and is Really Obviously In Love with rin, and rin's affectionate with him, so ruri just kind of assumes theyre dating. and at one point is like, do you want me to go somewhere else so you guys can make out, i could hang out with my brother tonight its nbd. yuugo blushes bright red and is like aaaaa its not like that, like, exactly like he does in canon. and rin's like “lmao im gay. i mean. what.”

ruri probably ids as pan? but anyway, shes like "ohhhh cool me too.” they both kind of stare at each other while this new info sinks in, and then yuugo says something and the moment is broken.

this is still a bit before yuugo's gay crisis

[later, during yuugo's gay crisis about yuuya] [rin] yuugo you had a crush on a boy in /middle school/ [yuugo] no i didnt i had a crush on you [rin] you used to complain to me about how hot he was like every lunch break [yuugo] that doesn't mean anything? [rin] obviously it does? how are you only realizing this now

ruri discovers that rin's been wanting to go to queer alliance meetings but has been too shy about it, so she drags her along. and someone mistakes them for yuzu and selena. idk who it would be..... sawatari maybe?

sawatari is like, Flaming Gay, a legitimate twink despite iding as bi.

anyway theyre like, thats not us, youre mistaken, and sawatari, instead of fucking off, is like, "holy fuck you have to meet them, you look so much the same it's eery." sawatari drags them through the party for like 20 minutes before actually finding yuzu and selena, and he's like "look i told you."

and all four of them are kind of like "holy fuck???" they get a selfie together, its not very good because the lighting is terrible, and they spend the rest of the evening hanging out.

yuzu and selena had a class together and hit it off immediately, theyre already dating. theyre a bit surprised to learn that ruri and rin /aren't/ dating. rin blushes at the suggestion and gets raised eyebrows all around. the four of them become fast friends and start getting lunch together and studying together on a regular basis.

ruri and rin meet yuuya through them, and because yuuya is friends with Everyone, they become friends as well. which sets the stage for yuuya and yuugo meeting, and yuugo's consequent gay crisis.

shun, ruri, and yuuto as pakistani immigrants, they arrived when they were very very young but they get a lot of shit for it anyway, especially ruri, who wears a hijab.

i figure the commons would be mostly latinx/mixed. so like, yuugo, rin, and shinji are all latinx. i rlly like the concept of black crow with a bleached-orange hi-top fade and subtle freckles. yuuya, yuzu, and gongenzaka can pprrobably be white? dennis could be ethnically jewish & light-skinned. fusion dimension crew are mostly japanese, so sora, yuuri, and selena. i.. am not really sure about reiji? following the theme i guess white/japanese mixed. tsukikage is japenese & immigrated like within his memory rather than a few generations back, he's bilingual. jack is latino and white-passing.

i like the concept of shun as a veterinary student, partly because i think he'd follow his interest in birds if things hadn't gone horribly wrong and partly because i find the idea of this edgy asshole in scrubs really funny. yuuto takes social work and ends up with crow as a teacher. yuuya, dennis, sawatari, and sora are all drama majors. yuuri is in botany. reiji is a law major, as well as being on the debate team and the student council. he never fuckign sleeps. shun also joins the debate team, and they do Not get along, but since debate team is the yelling hobby anyway, thats fine. yuzu is in the music program. selena is in poli-sci. yuugo stays in engineering. i dont, know about the rest of everyone.

conceptually, this is a north-eastern reasonably liberal college town, featuring two colleges and a trade school. one college is for the arc v kids, the other one will eventually be populated with zexal kids when i get to know them. kaito starts in zexal school and transfers at the beginning of second year. everyone is in first year rn except reiji and tsukikage, who are in second year, and also are dorming together, and also are gay.

so now that thats all set up!! back to the plot!!

ruri and rin meeting yuzu and selena happens a couple weeks after ruri and sayaka break up. selena hears about it and is like, hey if you need a rebound i can hook you up with someone, and ruri is like. "i feel like itd be disrespectful to date someone else before im over sayaka, ill stay single for a while." she never actually completely gets over sayaka, but she does eventually get enough emotional distance to move on. every time she goes home for the holidays they have awkward not-quite-gay moments.

much like in sfu, sawatari is loaded and hosts house parties whenever his father is away on business trips.

once the 4 girls are hanging out on a regular basis, they all sort of get to know each other's orbital boys. like rin and ruri get introduced to yuuya and get to know sawatari better. yuuya's goal is to be friends with absolutely everyone, and they make good progress on it.

yuzu and selena get to meet yuugo. yuugo is starry-eyed at all four of them, but alas, they are all too gay for him. at one point selena slaps him in the face and he spends like the next two weeks thinking about it lmao

likewise, they all get to meet shun. shun immediately decides that he is going to protect all of them. rin finds it kind of cute, yuzu finds it kind of weird, selena is outright offended about it. they get along a lot better with yuuto, since yuuto is just, easier to get along with. he joins their lunch dates once in a while, as does yuuya.

selena and yuuri met in their high school gsa and relentlessly gossip about everyone they meet. selena introduces yuuri to the rest of the girls exactly once, it does not go well. probably kye gives them all backhanded compliments. shun hears about this from ruri later and decides that yuuri is his enemy.

the first time yuuya and yuugo meet, its because the girls have invited both of them to lunch. yuuya introduces themself with a firm handshake and a wink. yuuya flirts a bit throughout the meal, as they tend to do. yuzu tells yuugo after the fact like, "dont mind them, theyre always like that." yuugo tries not to think about it much.

the second time they meet is at one of sawatari's giant house parties. yuuya, being slightly inebriated, is even more flirtacious than usual. yuugo gets it into his head that this is some kind of challenge, and refuses to back down from yuuyas advances until theyre in a closet together and yuuyas hand is up his shirt.

the next gay he visits rin to have a gay crisis. ruri politely sees herself out so they can talk.

i want to say shun is having a similar crisis about having come very close to having a one night stand with reiji. not because it was gay but because he hates the guy.

rin is exasperated but understanding, she rubs yuugo's back and calls him a pathetic baby while he whines. by the end of their conversation, yuugo has accepted that he's bi, and additionally, that making out is Great and he should do more of it. rin is slightly worried and gives him a safe sex talk, he yells and covers his ears during the entire thing.

meanwhile, shun is like "i fucking hate that guy why was it so satisfying to bite him" and ruri is like "bro i love you but thats way tmi, please do not tell me about your sadistic hatesex kink or whatever the fuck it is youre trying to convey." yuuto, also present, is like "i cant believe you made out with that asshole, and you still have the nerve to get angry at basically anyone i kiss for no fucking reason." shun swears up and down that it will not happen again, and also says that he has already apologized several times for being possessive about both of them, please let him live it down.

(it absolutely does happen again.)

(the second time they actually do go all the way, it is the best sex of shun's life, and he's upset about it.)

[yuuto voice] you have a Problem, why cant you date someone decent and have vanilla sex like the rest of us

rin slowly develops a huge crush on ruri. when she tells yuugo about it, hes like "yeah she's really pretty i completely understand."

#ygoavcau #thats my tag for it #yugioh arc v

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autoirishlitdiscourses · 7 years

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Discourse of Wednesday, 06 September 2017

The Plough and the divine aphasia I think, however. I'm looking forward to your main points of analysis. This is very very lucid and engaging although I do not attend section during the course syllabus: related to the recording of your project, anyway that his presence is central to our understandings of femininity in any form of fishing boat. Among other things, and, Godot Lucky's speech, so I think that it would have had perhaps 500 students during the first few weeks in section on Wednesday? You probably noticed that this is not just of choosing not to shoot for this paper, but you need me to say that the characters in the class will not only keeps us on task. Section or lecture, and you display a thoughtful delivery of it, then, I think is likely to have a basically fair reading to me/. Very very well if you think about things that would be helpful if you want to say, there are a lot of ways that you do not calculate participation until the end of the rather abstract and general questions by bridging toward them with you, but all in all, you've got a special offer, you have an A paper, I myself would like to dispute a grade by Friday and get that to me/.

Ultimately, what do you actually arguing for a job well done! Discussion sections are an intelligent, educated person and his weird foreshortened female figures, many of them. Student Presentation Notes On poems by Patrick Kavanagh, Boland, White Hawthorn in the paper has at least six of the room to look at it if they exist, because they're on the 27th you'd probably need to be represented in the meantime, you should/always/perfectly OK to ask the College of Letters & Science, at least a preliminary selection of near-synonym for sexual desire must be restrained in order to be useful for reviewing certain particular texts side by side?

I hope that helps! You've done a very good close reading to my preferences and how do we define what that third plan looks like until Wednesday. I do not calculate participation until the weekend I'd have to speak on their own, or Paul Muldoon for 27 November On poems by Eavan Boland, What We Lost Eavan Boland reading White Hawthorn in the first to get this to many other parts of this, can we meet Tuesday? You do a solid job here in a more complex than just one way to think about Simon and Mary Dedalus in Ulysses, then I think that asking yourself, then you/must/attend or reschedule. This is probably too late for students in the long run. Ultimately, what do you want to recite, or in addition to motherhood, I think it's a wonderful job of setting up a framework for a more specific on several levels, and I didn't notice until after the recitation assignment so you may find it quickly.

Which brings up another point: every A-scale course concerns and did an excellent and hard-nosed about such things about the horror genre, so she is paying for their meals, and the few comparatively minor errors that don't change the culture of law?

Think about what it means and how different human bodies are sorted conceptually into different races. You should still let me know if you throw him this metaphorical bone, I also wanted to meet, but others may surface, so you need to establish universal truths about how food works one way to respond to very detailed/Annotations to James Joyce's Ulysses: if you discover that there are many many problems here—my suspicion is that you need any changes made that are slightly less open-ended rather than focusing on other tasks that you have some perceptive things to say that you would appreciate a suggestion in case it's hard for it if you have questions about the relationship is that sometimes sitting down and take a look at the same grade, but if this is not to avoid departing until afterwards, and do a solid job in a single text, etc. By defining your key terms construct meaning, and you had a good job of moving over some important things to talk. Characterizing sexual desire as lust generally involves invoking one or more specific feedback in response to some questions in section. This can be an incredibly minimalist effort on is talking about Francie's level of. Well done on this requirement.

We Lost: Eavan Boland, Muldoon, Extraordinary Rendition Wednesday 4 December discussion of Vladimir's speech On McCabe's The Butcher Boy: In response to the meat-related parts of the poem while responding to that one way to the amount you talk about the final and am not much of it to me. One way to focus your attention focused on refining it even further.

4:30 if the text that you found it on the section Twitter stream including links to songs and other emotions related to the very end will be 500 total points for section this Wednesday.

Hi! Students who read actively and who was going to recite, and how much is cuing off of earlier discussion of ten weeks and also do the following table: If your paper does what it means in the way that there are certainly other possibilities.

Hi, everyone! Let me know if you want them to construct a valid MLA citation to the Catholic Church is already an impressive move, that you could make it a try! Let me know if you prefer. But you really have done a strong paper. Your rhythm was quite good, and those people weren't being grade on your new score for attendance if they drag on too long. You've both been very punctual this quarter! Congratulations on declaring the major possibilities, and that tonight was not terrible well, so let me know if you really do have good readings and comments into the phrase at which he or she is working, which seemed to be before then, will address questions like these on the section hits its average level of. There's a room, but the Latin phrase. Hi! Scoring at least some background on Irish nationalism, I personally don't think that there are a lot of potential to pay off. What I feel bad about that form of desire. That's absolutely fine, or it may be helpful.

I built in the back of your paper in my earlier email. I've pointed to in many ways to do a lot of similarities to yours. Since you're interested explicitly in connections between the various quite excellent feminist readings that are not actually a real pleasure to read from Butcher Boy song on p. I think that they haven't done the reading or other matters related to Irish literature, due to proofread effectively, because I think that this is that one part or another vision of female beauty as dangerous, as you write eight full pages/, so I realize. But I think that what will work productively for your recitation, and we can talk about what constitutes the understanding of one-third of a topic that includes it; if you found it on the paper to be a tricky business, and I think that this is a short description of your paper and you generally knew just how much it is likely that you'll be able to avoid that would benefit from the book deals with the professor mentioned in lecture tomorrow. I'll see you in section tomorrow, OK? Yes: a custom brought to the connections between McCabe's use of props and costuming was nice, too in here.

Anyway. The iconic X-rays, which is that you do all the grading email that I will take this set of ideas back from him. I think both of you together should aim for a recitation and discussion plan is to say, and Margaret Atwood's Oryx and Crake, all of the course for a paper of this work is currently missing from your recitation. Hi! Thanks for doing such a good student again have a point total, based on our website: Pre-1971 British and Irish Currency Prior to 15 February 1971 Decimal Day in the back of my office this afternoon, so your previous reported grade included an attendance/participation score a small group of talented readers and got a lot this weekend. Again, though what you've outlined is really the ideal resource, but you came up to your questions are, but there are possibly many good ways to proceed. As it is a duplicate message. You picked a very strong essay. I'll let you keep an eye on your grade, but it would not be penalized for falling short by one line—/will incur a penalty. We can talk about the relationship which, given Ulysses, with absolutely everything except for the actual facts behind some of this length by tweaking the format for the assignment, and, despite some rather difficult fine lines, if you want to deliver it. Too, your deadline for you to be. 643, and campus will be away from email more or less right before the quarter by as much as doing an excellent job! I'm saying, I made a final answer to a variety of issues that you will need to do very well be phrased in a lot of ways. As promised in the best way to do is either of the painting, too, that one difficulty you'd have to fall under some fair definition of flaneur? Let me know if you have any other questions, please let me know if you have an A grade in the propagandistic nature of your material if you send it right along. I was able to download the document How Your Grade Is Calculated in Excruciating Detail This document is an A paper; and any other questions, OK? Fallout, and that, going into the text of some kind same thing for a TA than I had just sat down and write about in the sense of your thoughts, are they representative of how you would benefit from even more deeply into your own project in order to follow it. Questions? One of my office hours. It may be one, please let me know if you are from the absolute last week of Thanksgiving is not just examining a set of options.

It's just that I'm taking September 1913, which would be highly unusual to accomplish, intellectually speaking, of course grade. Questions and answers for the quarter, as well. There are a number of things would, I mean, exactly, but not participating a very good recitation and discussion of the woman from whom Bloom receives a letter grade is not a bad thing, I suspect that these paintings fall within the time requirement for this paper pay off. Heaney I'm extending this backwards a bit because you've been weaving or near the end. What would have liked generally lost points for not doing so. Because your writing really is quite clear and engaging and lucid.

You picked a wonderful human being and would almost certainly talk in detail below and your health. Here are my comments and questions from other students, and if that person's experience was? Helpful for interpreting monetary amounts in Ulysses, Stephen mentions to Buck Mulligan that he approves of our wonderful email servers that the rather thin time slice that Joyce gives us of their own would be to enhance your presentation by the time limit will result in the way that the syllabus! Thanks for doing a strong discussion in a long time, and you are, and an estimate based on attendance I won't assess participation until the end of the course texts needs to be a constant problem throughout the quarter, and your presentation. More generally, I will assign a grade independently of the text. Often, one natural choice of texts. Very nearly perfect.

Here's a breakdown on how well you relate it to section; c you can email me at least some violent criminals are hard-nosed about such things about the comparative benefits of taking up time in a lot of material to think about how to narrow it down into smaller units and use that connection is significant: ultimately, are the specific texts with which they engage by among other things, you can conceivably go over, and have been to let this paper pay off, and I think that your paper. I'll give you the warnings. The Lovers 1928; probably many ways, I may overlook it if you study and think about what your paper, and wanted to remind people. I'll post it as soon as possible; if this happens, you now have a good selection and gave a good job here, and that poetry is an excellent performance unless you go to bed late tonight they will probably involve providing at least a short poem was very productive, particularly if you catch her during office hours tomorrow.

You also demonstrated that you have questions about plagiarism or how the texts that you're thinking about grad school is at least some background readings on this particular assignment, and you did quite a nice touch. He said in the question of whose thoughts are usually businesslike, or is going to open people up to your questions listed are fairly abstract it may be other opportunities later on, and thinking about it, let me know if you discover that there will be posted to the phrase is correct or incorrect, and nicely grounded in a more rigorously structured relationship to each other in regard to this, and that asking somewhat more directed questions would have been hoping for. Send me several texts that you're considering. Thanks. I would like to recite Yeats in a productive manner to a natural, organic part of this policy is that this scandal is itself an impressive move on your paper, you're absolutely not necessary, though, you've set up in some ways in which I think that your discussion plans by 10 p. They were required to memorize because of its time as a good selection that shows you paid close attention to why will not necessarily mean that you don't have a spot open in each section. You picked a good evening. I didn't have the effect of giving your attendance/participation score equivalent to the poem and its representation of Catholicism in The Butcher Boy, mentioned in your selection perfectly, without any errors. Let me be a stronger, clearer stand on what you are reciting that week, in South Hall is locked on weekends. For one thing that is repeated on both exams next quarter, I think.

The overall goal is in line with general academic practice, a heavy penalty of/Ulysses/character list on How to Read James Joyce's Ulysses and other patrons of a text that they always have been posted to the real benefit of doing even better writer, so you should definitely both be there on time. There have been done even more successful than just one individual's particular story, and what these differences might mean by romance, chivalry, honor and honorable, lust, hook-up midterm after I sent to you? Though I do not assign a/genuinely extraordinary/situation, exactly? In the meantime or have a backup or two, this is another step that you will have a fully effective. I Do Like a S'Nice S'Mince S'Pie sung by Bessie while dying, and get you more specific about what you need to happen to have you down to it than that they always have been is in the text that you have any of you should also say that you have questions or if his ancestors are only other Nigerian emigrants? I'm glad I had hoped, motivating people to speak if no one else is planning on doing a close visual reading of the novel that the difficult part of the section website and see whether I can attest from personal experience doesn't necessarily tell us how one or more of the situation for you and how the opening scene 6 p. A 90% 93% A-is definitely within range for you. 485 A 450 465 A-. S and Engineering students the last day to be before then, will result in a lot of ways. Good luck on the section website: Pre-1971 British and Irish Currency. Your initial explication was thoughtful to the content of his life in the sanctity of gun ownership have their price quoted in guineas, for instance, you will be an ever-recurring celebration of the second is for L & S and Engineering students the last lecture most of the class, including no substantial gaps while you write. Your writing is quite a bit more. I think that asking questions that ask people to explore in order to achieve perfect textual accuracy; impassioned sense of your suggestions are potentially profitable, but ran rather short. Prestigious Academic Senate awards for distinguished professors and TAs are open for those who were otherwise on track, and talk about how food works one way to fill out your material very effectively, and had clearly thought extensively about sex.

Has decided to adopt it with people, and what are the issues that you've sketched out, only a suggestion, there are ways that I should have an excellent job well done overall. However, there's always more worth talking about, and you touched on some important things in abstract terms instead of asserting X, which I've posted, with anyone other than the syllabus. Of course! Disability Accommodations: If your word processor fails to conform more closely on the final itself, just as you may leave your luggage in my cubicle, doesn't have to take intermediate steps toward your larger-scale concerns, which is ten by holding up the final and with all of which parts of your argument. Answer: 4, I think that you are depending on what your priorities are if you have any questions, OK? If you want to write. You also demonstrated that you get no section credit. Ultimately, what do you analyze your points, then restructure your introduction: what do you want me to do for herself, or just her conscious thoughts? As I told them in some way, and why is this connected to your larger-scale course concerns with the group as a whole took a bit more space to examine Irish, and only on attendance I won't assess participation until the very end of/Ulysses/: Keep the Home Fires Burning sung at the beginning of your new puppy! I'll see you in section again this quarter, I realize that these are just some possibilities, though it would also require picking up every single point on the assigned texts. My wild ballpark guess at this stage, take the penalty which is also engaged and engaging, and more focused. 108. Which is to say, but you'll be doing September 1913, like I said before, your ideas.

Just let me know if you wanted to discuss the general uses and symbolic values of the more interesting way to deal with it in that relationship can make your readings sometimes fall flat because you're moving too quickly past issues that need to go through the section a bit more would have helped you find important. He said that Wednesday is a mark of professionalism that I have not been speaking regularly so far this quarter, though, overall. I just graded it, because I will give you good things to talk about what your paper even if you have a strong job here. Is one of these are places where your readings of Croppies, of your selection but were very sensitive and perceptive about the ways that I have posted a copy of Ulysses in a Darwinian sense? But I'll respond with a selection from a text that you score less than thrilled about this, let them sit over the quarter, divided as follows: If a Friday or Monday that is experienced in a lot of similarities to yours. Emailing me with a shrug but no vocalization when I asked them Who's read episode one of the play with which you are perfectly capable of being. It's a good holiday! Please forgive me if you get at least are happy, whereas future audiences will not necessarily benefit you: Getting up and either satisfies or frustrates the expectation for them, modify them, and went above and beyond the length requirements. Other points for not doing anything horribly, but I'll have some idea of what the standard deviation for that week's section.

485—A 465 485 A 450 465 A-for the class and the marketplace, and you've proven that you examine as part of our wonderful new email server that the absolute minimum standards for a college class, including those which incur no penalties: Letter Grade Percentage Point total A 100% 150 A 95% 142. How to Get An A is out of handling them that those darn liberals who are friends of mine. I think that paying closer explicit attention to the 5 pm 6 pm section, not blonde, hair. Hi! I think you can draw in additional examples from Sartre and Camus to enrich your own strengths. /3 letter grade. Here's a breakdown on your grade, then a single college lecture? A-—You're got a lot of work like you've done a very good work here, and you really mop up on the section website. However, you can be helpful for you to what's there at the smaller scales, too. My office is cold and my gut feeling on the essay is quite excellent. I suspect means that you're likely to be more specific about how you want to discuss the grade that was official recognition that I think that you're talking? 494-95 p. I am personally less than 19 out of your new score for the course.

Still Life with Four Apples; probably others that you should do is to pick up a fair amount of time, fifteen minutes, and thank you both then. —Will/seriously hurt/your/overall course grade. Let's talk tomorrow after 12:45, and that what you mean; I am not sure what to tell you. Your delivery was quite good. Just a quick note to find that speaking with a grade higher than a B, regardless of race, and you really punch through to even more than three times, if I can help you to do on this. You were clearly a bit short because a common hedge plant in Ireland and Irish currency on the final please only do it. This is why I want to see me during my office hours. Let me know if you have a well thought-out, and that does a very strong work here in many ways. Must have been assessed so far is the one student who wants to go back to you. As I said before, so I would have paid off for you, is that I feel that your discussion. This is not criticism, because that would require picking up cues that tell me when large numbers of people haven't done public speaking You're not alone.

I'm sorry to take so long to get me a copy of the medieval probable myth of ius primae noctis is just one of the elements that you should put it another way, especially at the third stanza; and once to say is that a decision to talk about the issues on which poem you're going on in the first-in, first-in-lecture boost; yes, I'm sorry to take this topic, but I did do all three of the major possibilities, you did quite a good job presenting the text in question according what the crashing situation looks like there are ways that this is what you had thought about this, but will not be penalized for falling short by one letter and a sophisticated move. I don't have the overall relevance of the section, but this will not have reached the minimum score on the paper to be more specific claim about exactly what you're going to be refined which migrant workers? Remember that you should be made. I can't be sure without seeing it tomorrow! You did a good Thanksgiving! I'll still take it. —You've got some good things to say that your paper's conclusion, which would boost your attendance/participation because of this handout is always telling me that is being written.

I'm suggesting that you avoid emailing him before lecture starts on page 84, so I hope everything is OK with me. Still, I'm certainly sympathetic to that in 1. Another potentially productive paper topic that probably has plenty of other things differently.

The Soldier's Song Irish national anthem in Irish literature. Again, very well be questions that you need to explore the constitution of meaning, of Yeats, The Young Covey, Rosie Redmond? Good luck on your recitation in the back of your discussion.

#Irish literature #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Python #Markov chains

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malodorousmalcontent · 6 years

Text

SIXTEEN92 REVIEW

Hello all! Currently moving some of my older reviews to this brand spankin’ new blog and doing some small edits, starting with my first review ever of some Sixteen92 samples: Mina Harker; Last Exit for the Lost; The Weird Sisters; Aeromancy; Baba Yaga; The Spirit of Christmas Past; and The Spirit of Christmas Yet to Come.

MINA HARKER (PERFUME OIL)

NOTES: Cold jasmine tea, ripe plum, black violets, pale skin musk.

This is one of my favorite scents, easily in my top 10 overall, and my favorite from this order in particular. It’s cold, sophisticated, sharp, and strong. Evokes the color purple in my head. The plum sits on top, sharp and tart, with the jasmine tea right under it - I don’t really get much of the jasmine, but the tea gives this a nice, clean darkness. It all sits on a bed of black violets, a cold floral radiating under everything else. I don’t really get much of the skin musk.

This is probably the strongest scent I own: I put it on and it absolutely fills the room. Last all day for me.

5/5. When resurrection rolled around, I went ahead and picked up a 6ml of this because mmph don’t wanna be without it.

LAST EXIT FOR THE LOST (PERFUME OIL)

NOTES: Orchard apples, woven wood baskets, dried hay, distant chimney smoke on cool air.

My second favorite scent from my first order. In the bottle, it smells like a really nice, slightly dirty apple orchard - and then the second it touches my skin, that smoke is amped up, without ever completely losing the apples. It's more unisex, has decent throw, but lasts a little bit shorter than Mina does - it's almost completely gone by the end of the day. I think I can detect the hay note a little bit, but it blends so well with the smoke and the wood that it's just... All one lovely entity.

5/5. This is another one i'm strongly considering fullsizing.

THE WEIRD SISTERS (PERFUME OIL)

NOTES: Iris root, carnation, helichrysum, styrax, ruby-red lips, silk gowns, bone-white sandalwood.

So i’m rewriting this review because I actually like this one far more than I did when I wrote the original review. This is such an interesting scent: slightly florally sweet, with burning, spicy sandalwood (i’m not sure where the burniness comes from) and this lovely creaminess from the ruby-red lip note. The spicy sandalwood definitely owns the fragrance, though, but I wouldn’t say it totally overpowers everything else. As it fades, it leaves only this hint of that spice that’s almost masculine. No sweetness, no creaminess, just something that makes my nose tingle and reminds me of smoldering embers.

I can only really smell it a few inches from my wrist, but I know others can smell it from a foot or two away, and it lasts maybe 5-6 hours.

4.5/5. I ended up getting a fullsize of this, too, when Resurrection rolled around. It’s so interesting - I don’t have anything else like it.

AEROMANCY (PERFUME OIL)

NOTES: Powdered snow, silver birch, dried leaves, rose oxide, a blanket of morning frost.

This is a nice scent! When I first got it, it smelled kinda chemically in the bottle, but that chemical, perfumey scent vanished once I put it on, leaving only a nice cold refreshing scent with a whole lot of that rosey sweetness to it. It eventually dries down to just that rosey sweetness--or...

It would...

If it didn't vanish almost instantly on me. :(

I can make it last if I put on multiple layers of it, but then, it only sticks around for a couple hours tops. My skin DEVOURS this.

3/5. It's a nice smell, and it'll probably last longer on someone else, but it definitely loses points for being so short-lived on me.

BABA YAGA (PERFUME OIL)

NOTES: Fiery dragon's blood incense, sweet woodsmoke, dried herbs, dripping candle wax, forest dirt.

I so wanted to like this. :( And, for the first day that I had it, when I hadn't let the perfumes settle and the notes weren't quite right, it was great. It was just a hint of dirt but mostly sweet smooth candle wax.

...And then it settled, and... Hoo boy.

This instantly turns into Bad on me. My first notion was to call it mashed fake chocolate - think tootsie rolls - with medicinal cherry on top. A little root-beer like isn't entirely off. The first time my roommate took a whiff of it on me, they pulled a face and went, 'jeeze, that's almost bitter.' On them, it wasn't as bad - just kinda headshoppy, sweet, had a nice zingy spice to it, but I didn't get to smell it on them after that. But my skin... Woof, my skin chemistry does not like this bad boy.

I hate to give it a 1/5 because i'm sure it's great on literally anybody but me, but man, it's so bad on me.

THE SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS PAST (PERFUME OIL)

NOTES: The shadows of things that have been: Weathered ebony woods, extinguished candle, the last glow of fireplace embers, rows of aged books on dusty shelves, the faded memories of a lost love’s perfume.

When I first got this one and impulsively put it on way too early, my roommate took one whiff and went 'you smell like rain!' which I agreed with entirely. It started out as some wildly strong, sweet ozone of all things, almost too strong to be bearable - but that's because I hadn't let it rest like the goon I am. Within a few days it had mellowed out, but it still was not the fiery scent I was expecting: to me, it smelled way more sweet, ethereal, and, if anything, metallic. I had described it before as "like the ghost of your ex-girlfriend walking through a cold graveyard at night".

Wearing it after a month of resting, it's still pretty close to the latter description re: ghost of your ex-girlfriend. it's a little warmer than I remember and so well-blended it's hard to name notes. There's a smooth, subtle sweetness, not strongly floral nor sugary, that I assume is the 'lost love's perfume'. And then there's that metallic smell, which I can only think is a seamless blend of the ebony woods, extinguished candle, and the books. It's kinda spectral, unsurprisingly.

It smells like this picture looks. So... They were successful with this, I guess?

It's pretty light - I can smell it an inch or two off my skin, but that's about it. When i've used it previously, it was pretty long-lasting (in a previous review i'd said it was 'one of the most long-lasting scents i'd gotten'), but since it seems to have gotten a little lighter than before I'm not sure if that still holds true.

4/5. It's pretty, a good atmospheric and pretty conceptually strong. I'm not sure i'd pick it up again if I had the chance, though.

THE SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS YET TO COME (PERFUME OIL)

NOTES: Frozen fog, cedar resin, shadowy musk, distant cathedral incense, crumbling marble, a black hooded cloak.

So for like the first month that I had this scent it was actually so warm and sweet that I thought it might have been mislabeled, like, to the point where I even emailed Claire about it to see if something had happened – it smelled way more like what I would imagine Christmas Past to smell like. The cathedral incense was definitely dominating so much that I almost wasn’t picking up any of the other notes except for, maybe, the musk.

I put it on tonight and it seems to have turned backwards. It’s still sweet, but it’s much colder, and darker, and more distant and airy. The cedar resin is coming through more obviously now, that much I can say for sure. I can’t say i’m picking up on the marble, and the fog feels more like a vague notion than a real note. tl;dr: dark, empty, wintery woody scent with the vague, clean sweetness of incense. I like this a lot more than when I initially got it.

HOWEVER

This is… SIGNIFICANTLY lighter though than when i’ve worn it before, like, I feel less like i’m standing in a frozen, crumbling graveyard, and more like i’m looking at one on the horizon. I put it on, and immediately had to go, moisturize my arms, and put on even more… And I can still barely smell it even with my nose right against my wrist. And so I put on even more, and still, it’s barely there. It’s so light and the musk note melds so well with my skin chem that i’d almost call it a Your Skin But Better scent, but lighter even than other YSBB’s i’ve tried. I tried putting it on in different spots – same effect.

3/5 - it's a really lovely scent that I enjoy a lot now, but barely being able to smell it is decidedly an issue.

#perfumes #perfume reviews #sixteen92 #mina harker #last exit for the lost #baba yaga #aeromancy #the weird sisters #spirit of christmas past #spirit of christmas yet to come

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newmoonsonmondays-blog · 5 years

Text

well.

i think it’s time to write something somewhat? coherent with substance.

i don’t even know where to begin with donghyuck, but i know it has to start somewhere. i guess a good place is him telling me about his ear. it made my heart ache to hear him talk about it. immediately i wanted to do what i could to comfort him or help him, because he means a lot to me. i’ve seen how hard he’s worked to get to where he is, and to think that he could lose that one day for something out of his control is a scary thought. and from there...

i wouldn’t exactly say things have... blossomed beautifully between us. i would say it’s more like i landed right in the mouth of a venus flytrap and now i’m freaking the fuck out because i don’t know what to do and i’m scared.

he told me he also likes (liked? i don’t know.) gahyeon, and that felt like a punch to the gut. and then he told me he wanted to try something between the three of us, and i broke down a little. i panicked on him, told him that i couldn’t. and i know it rattled him for me to flip the switch on him so fast but all of the fears and anxieties i’ve been harboring for years hit me all at once. i know i’m not in a good position for try and maintain something romantic, and i tried to push him in gahyeon’s direction, but he said he wasn’t going to pursue anything with her.

and then i told him about what’s happened in the past. i told him about the boy who never actually loved me and just manipulated me instead. i told him about the boy who cheated on me because i wasn’t ready to fuck someone who i didn’t have a strong connection with. i let my walls down just enough to let him see a vulnerable part of me. i told him and it hurt and he said he’d never want to hurt me. but those scars are still there, and they’re clear as day. he can tell me he won’t hurt me all he wants, but actions speak so much louder than words.

the scariest and maybe stupidest part of it all is that i took a leap with donghyuck anyway, and got physical with him. we shared ourselves with each other. i feel weird calling it fucking because it was... soft. very, very soft. and i don’t regret it, i don’t think, but maybe it was rushed. or maybe he’ll realize he doesn’t actually love me and he’ll regret it, wish he could take it back. i want to believe when he says he loves me, i do, but...

my gut and my heart are at war, and that’s not even taking my brain into account. my heart is so desperate for someone to say they love me and care about me and for them to actually mean it. but because i already have that little piece in me that cares about donghyuck and wants to see him smile his brightest, it feels like maybe this is the right time to go for it. but my gut isn’t setting quite right. it’s too tightly strung, like it’s waiting for just the right moment to freefall. it doesn’t want to lean into that trust that i know i should have for him. and my head... god, it’s a mess. all i’ve been able to think about is every insecurity i could ever possible have, and talking to him tonight made it worse.

what if he realizes on his trip this weekend that he doesn’t like me at all? that i’m just convenient? that he doesn’t love me like he says he does? that he should have gone for gahyeon instead like i told him to?

maybe those boys in the past realized something before i could ever conceptualize it. maybe i’m the problem. not enough and yet way too much all at once.

this entire post is such a rambly mess and i’m sorry. i just... need to get it all out. i need to say something somewhere before my heart feels like it’s going to give out.

#long post.#uhh. yeah. haha.

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angelofseeking · 5 years

Text

just more rambling

about memories and how absolutely fucking angelkin i am lmao

Soo, I’m not saying I’m Raphael because I’ve literally never thought about him even for a second, or prayed to him or anything. (Which... I guess that would be kind of weird and like praying to myself? Maybe I was avoiding it subconsciously? I dunno.) But the more I read about him, the more I feel this really strong connection, if I’m being completely honest.

My search for otherkin stuff began shortly after I had a nightmare about a demon. Some signs were presented to me that led me to research Azazel, who was not a demon but a fallen archangel. I’ve heard many stories about the Watchers and the Nephilim and the Annunaki and so on, and... I can’t say that I necessarily place any stock in them, but for the first time I started to really sympathize with the Watchers. It’s definitely something I want to look into further.

I’ve pretty much ignored Christianity since leaving the Catholic Church, so I’m rather out of touch with it but I’m familiar enough with the context and archetypes and so on. My brief study of Kabbalah has brought me back to Judeo-Christian concepts. But I was searching for more information about archangels and found a painting of Raphael by Murillo and I was kinda struck by the resemblance? Which, like, this is an artist’s interpretation, but still it led me to research more about Raphael.

Raphael is the patron “saint” of healers, the blind, travelers, medicine, and music (among other things). He is only really mentioned in the Catholic Bible in the Book of Tobit, where he disguised himself as a human named Azarias, who claimed to be a traveler, cast out a demon in the desert, and healed a blind man. His counterpart Israfel in Islam is supposed to signal the end times with his trumpet and was also said to be “a beautiful angel who is a master of music, Israfil sings praises to God in a thousand different languages, the breath of which is used to inject life into hosts of angels who add to the songs themselves.”

And you know what else? He was the archangel who bound Azazel and cast him into darkness.

So, I’m thinking about all the other angels I’ve researched. Raziel stood out to me for the longest time, at first because I had an OC named Rasiel (pronounced the same way) and thought I had invented the name. I had a great liking for Raziel as a figure, but I never had the confidence to suggest he was myself. I thought maybe even Azazel was a possibility, because I sympathized with him a lot. Then I thought it was Azrael, because I have a morbid fascination with death and meditate on mortality and the liminal space of nonexistence a lot. But... It just didn’t feel right.

And this? Feels right. If God (Michael) tasked me to bind Azazel, would I feel guilty? Would I feel justified? Was I torn about the decision to follow orders? (I use these names/events more symbolically, as I believe that the truth is not able to be conveyed in a way that humans can understand.)

Because I feel like I still carry this regret. I feel like I understood why Azazel chose his actions. I feel like I loved Michael and Gabriel but that I felt as though I was living in their shadow. I feel like a coward for not joining Azazel when I wanted to. I am frustrated that I chose my love for my brothers over a cause that I believed in. I feel responsible. I feel responsible.

On a lighter note, I find it significant that Raphael is tied to music, and music is central to my practices. I rely heavily upon music to do any kind of spell/energy work. I believe resonance/vibration is extremely important. My mom told me I sang before I ever spoke my first words. Singing is often a spiritual experience for me, and this was nurtured throughout my childhood. When I make music, I perform best when I close my eyes and really put my heart into the sound. It’s kitschy to say, but that’s the only way I can explain why, like... bitch I might be Raphael.

The only time I am ever flirted with or hit on is when I’m at a karaoke bar. As time goes on, I feel I am becoming more asexual and aromantic. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like the attention, but I think too much about obligation and I’m real bad at telling people “no thank you, but I’m flattered.” I’m just awkward.

It’s not just because it’s a place where people drink. And it’s probably very egotistical of me, but I think it’s because I have a nice voice? But the amount of people who get crushes on me after hearing me sing is evidence enough. I’m going to delete this later probably.

Anyway. Two boys hit on me. Usually when I get hit on at these places, I can brush it off because it’s folks I’m just not into. Tonight tho, they were actually cute. And I’m like “cool” but... Nooo? I really wanna be your friend but!! Dating is just too weird!!

But I have been thinking lately about how being angelkin has affirmed my sexuality. Being ace/aro is absolutely a normal human thing (like being non-binary) but it just makes so much sense now why I’m so... like, I really like the idea of sex, I just don’t want to actually do it? I think because it’s one thing to fantasize, but when I do it with other people I just feel embarrassed? It’s not even insecurity, I don’t think. It’s just such an awkward ritual and I don’t think I can enjoy it in the way I’m supposed to. But I guess I’m not fully ruling it out. I just feel like it’s not going to happen again.

when i do stop and think about being in a relationship again, i think about being with another angel. i think about how we communicated/connected through a kind of cosmic music or resonance or whatever. i don’t know what to call it and it’s not just “singing.” i realized i have memories of communicating this way, so that it wasn’t exactly having sex but rather the act of love itself allowed me to connect to another being on a subatomic level.

it’s honestly like the difference between animals mating and humans mating. animals mainly do it for reproduction or pleasure. humans are the ones who mix feelings into it, although not always. doesn’t make it better, just makes it a little more complex. well, i have done it with a decent number of a variety of humans in a variety of ways, but it just doesn’t do it for me. i think that’s why i kept “falling in love” with the people i had sex with. i was so desperate to connect deeply in the only way that i was familiar, the way i was able to do before, but it just left me feeling empty and unfulfilled. that’s how i realized that i was not going to get any fulfillment out of a relationship with a human. it places far too much expectation on them, and it’s completely unfair on my part to do so.

but conversely, i expect a lot from myself in relationships. (and in general) i have always had this frustratingly overwhelming need to help and protect people, and it’s led to fucked up dynamics in relationships. i transform myself to suit the needs of a romantic interest -- not uncommon, of course, especially for survivors of abuse. but in my case it’s also possible that i was coerced to believe that the only way to truly love/value someone is to be involved with them romantically. this is absolutely false.

i love. i love deeply. i see so much goodness and beauty in everything. there is bliss in sadness. the night is bright and full of stars. the trees in winter have a serene beauty. death brings us peace and completion, returns us to the earth. there is bravery in weakness and passion in sacrifice. i turn away from nothing and listen to every perspective.

i don’t believe that everyone is right. i believe that anyone is wrong if they believe only they are right. i can’t bring myself to avert my gaze from the horrors of existence, because... i want to know. i want to understand. if i don’t hear every perspective, how can i know who is wrong and who is right? how can i decide my own opinion?

it takes me a long time to make up my mind but i can never take any perspective at face value. and when i do settle on a position, i ride it into the goddamn ground. fuck cops. eat the rich.

also meant to mention: i don’t know what i would do if somehow i met an angelkin that i felt connected to in a potentially romantic way. i feel like it wouldn’t be any different from connecting with a human. the last person i developed intense feelings for was angelic in the way that they were androgynous and pretty but also felt very ancient and shared my passion for justice. it was better that they did not reciprocate my feelings, and it made me reflect a lot concerning my capacity to exist in a romantic relationship. i wanted more from them, likely because i thought it would make me happy. i let this desire blind me, and i hurt them more than i’ve ever hurt another human, and i’m too full of shame and regret to make the same mistakes.

it’s perfectly natural and human to realize that a romantic relationship is not for everyone, just like having kids or getting married or making any kind of life choice is not the only choice. i just feel like there’s this added layer of “i can’t connect with people romantically even though i care about them deeply.” it’s a poor analogy, but i always compare it to the relationship between a pet and their owner. you love them deeply and would absolutely make any sacrifice for them, and crave their love and company, but you’re... well, you’re two different species.

my body is human. i am not human.

if i found someone exactly like me, there’s no telling whether they conceptualize it the way i do. are they really like me? if they were, the closest we might be able to get towards a remnant of that deep connection we had as angels, it would be something involved with music. ideally, we’d make music together.

that might’ve been why i thought i was in love with that “angelic” person. we spent a lot of time just cuddling and listening to music. it led to other stuff. i didn’t mind to other stuff, but i might’ve been fine without it.

in the words of miike snow “ooh, i wanna make up my mind / but i don’t know myself”

#my posts

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