#I like the idea of him being anti-computers and internet | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

youryanderedaddy · 4 years ago

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I had a dream just now that might make a good story. So, I had a virus on my laptop which allowed a hacker to see everything I did on my computer and use my webcam. The hacker ends up falling in love with me after stalking me for a few months and pays for someone on the dark web to kidnap me. It works, and then I wake up tied up in the hacker's arm as he caresses and kisses me. That's pretty much it, good night! 🌙

Yo this is my kink 😳

Also I couldn't not write this for Saeran, ok.

Title: Stranger danger

Tw: nsfw - ish, female reader, masturbation, cyber stalking, hacking, mentions of dark web, very irresponsible online behavior, obsessive behavior, implied kidnapping

You knew that this was a stupid idea. Lurking on the dark web with almost no protection other than the Tor browser and some free anti-virus program wasn't your best decision, but fuck it if it wasn't entertaining. You had always been drawn to the darker, scarier part of the human mind and this side of the internet proved quite interesting. Your friends always warned you about the dangers that came with looking up shady online searches and sites but everything had been quite peaceful so far. There weren't hackers or murderers on the dark web, the worst you had seen were people selling drugs and weapons for unreasonable prices, along with some questionable fetish porn and the typical popping ads.

Your favorite thing to do while online was chatting. Two weeks ago you had stumbled upon an unusual forum called "Scream buddies" where upon entering you were automatically connected to another random profile. The whole theme of the forum was discussing horror and mondo movies, shockumentaries and overall creepy stuff, your forte. The person you met on there shared a similar fascination with all things dark and gory which soon made talking to them the only thing you were looking forward upon opening the site.

You didn't know much about the guy behind the profile yet, except that he was a young man. His icon showed an eye so green it emited with the neon pigment and his username was just as mysterious - BlueRose7. You enjoyed chatting with him about your hobby but the thing you liked the most was undressing him little by little, metaphorically so, by getting pieces of information about his life. It started small - his favorite food, favorite book, favorite game, but the moment you tried digging deeper and asked whether he had siblings or not, the man simply disappeared for the next few days. You quickly realized just what type of topics you needed to avoid to keep your new friend from leaving. Family, childhood memories and work matters were out of the picture.

The stranger wasn't fair, not really. He didn't show you vulnerability and kept his secrecy while demanding to know everything there was to know about you. For the longest time you didn't want to answer just to stay on a equal footing, just to show him how frustrating it was, but there was something about the man that drew you in. He was magnetic, clever and witty, if a bit pessimistic and dark at times. You couldn't help telling him everything he wanted to hear - what your job was, whether you were single or not, all that jazz. In your defense, BlueRose7 actually listened to your stories, took your problems seriously and provided solutions, which despite being too extreme and overprotective at times (upon hearing that your bestfriend talked behind your back he offered to "take care" of her), were comforting. It was nice to have someone caring around even if you met him on a sketchy website.

Meanwhile your personal life wasn't going too great. You had to balance between attending college, working long shifts as a waitress and meeting your friends from time to time which was draining. On top of all there was a weird virus on your computer which resulted in the camera turning on and off and the most random times of the day - while you were studying, watching TV, or in some cases, fully naked and ready to take a bath. You didn't think much of it though, with all the illegal movies and games you downloaded along with the dark web lurking it was more than expected for your laptop to behave weirdly. You didn't even mention it to your friend from the IT major because you knew that he'd force you to delete Tor and put an end to your internet adventures.

One time you were particularly bored after several long lectures and you were laying in bed, the camera turned on once again. It was a hot afternoon and you were wearing boyshorts and a loose T- shirt with nothing underneath it, you were home alone so there was no need. The bright red spot was twinking like a recorder, the light reflecting in your eyes, when a silly little idea came to your mind. You slid your hand under your blouse and lifted the fabric up, exposing your breasts to the laptop, your nipples hardening due to the sudden coldness, becoming pink and stiff in seconds. You played with for a few minutes, pinching and pulling the buds gently, moaning softly into the pleasant sensation. Soon you could feel yourself getting wet, and slowly, teasingly, removed your shorts and panties. You smiled at the camera, biting your lip provocatively, imagining you were a camgirl performing for her desperate little fanboys and fangirls. The thought alone was enough to make you spread your legs wide and slip two fingers into your throbbing cunt, using the wetness to push deeper. You used your other hand to stroke your clit and whimpered wantonly, your face red, your neck sweaty and your heart pumping fast from the adrenaline. You were quickly reaching your orgasm and your mind wondered to the boy you were talking to in the forum. You wondered how he looked like, how his body was built, whether he was a sweet sensual lover or a rough mean one. Fucked up as it was, you pictured the man as one of your most loyal viewers, watching all of your streams with a fist around his thick vock and an excited grin on his face. He would comment things like "you look so beautiful like this" or perhaps even "pretty little slut" after tipping you enough to last you a week. Soon all the mental stimulation sent you over the edge and you came with a loud cry full of pleasure. Well, this felt good.

After your "performance" was over the camera was magically turned off, which may have caused some concerns if you weren't too busy feeling embarrassed and dirty about the unhinged fantasy you had just had, and with a person you knew nothing about. You managed to calm down though - it wasn't nothing more than a fun pastime, a naughty thought that would never become the reality. You would never actually meet BlueRose7, right? There was nothing to worry about, so you just went on with your day.

You had some dinner afterwards and decided to have an early night as you already felt full and tired. You put on your favoruite pajamas and laid in bed, staring at the ceiling until you fell into deep dreamless sleep.

You woke up due to a weird noise. You could hear someone's heavy breathing right next to your ear, someone's grabby hands were wrapped tightly against your body, trapping you between the wall and their hard chest. You had only a few seconds to scream before the intruder's palm covered your mouth.

"Shhh." The man whispered softly and stroked your hair like you were a doll he was playing with. "Don't scream or I'll be forced to hurt you, flower. I have a gun." His voice sounded deep and rough but this didn't stop you from thrashing and turning on your side until you came face to face with the man. It was dark in the room and you couldn't exactly see all his features but his enchanting green eyes would forever be burned into your memory - they seemed dashing, hypnotizing. You couldn't utter a word.

"It's me, the person you've been talking to all these months. I came to take you home" He spoke out suddenly, the line of his mouth twisting into a smile or a smirk, you couldn't quite tell. You shook your head no, tears threatening to spill all over your cheeks from the fear. It couldn't be him, the man would never do that to you. Or would he? With what little information you knew, you couldn't really tell. His hold finally loosen, seeing you quiet like that.

"Let me go, please." You begged, pushing at his shoulders weakly since you were still sleepy, groggy and tired. "I don't know you." You said, hoping this would remind the stranger you weren't friends, lovers or anything that gave him the right to be so close to you, to touch you so intimately. Unfortunately, this only seemed to amuse him and he chucked darkly as he pulled your hair away to place a small chaste kiss on your neck.

"But I know you, flower." Your supposed online friend replied shortly after, his eyes full of malice. "And your little show today makes me think you want to know me too." He added in a low tone, licking his lips before smashing them on yours, forcing his tongue deep into your mouth just to hear your whines and protests. Then it hit you. The camera, the virus, the questions. He had watched you, he knew where you worked, where you lived and studied, everything. You had told him after all.

The hacker thought you looked so adorable right now, figuring things out, helpless, confused, regretful and most of all, weak. You were so weak and careless, and he loved you for it. It reminded him of himself before life screwed him over.

You wouldn't be in this position, underneath him, if you had just told someone about your laptop virus and the bad guy you had encountered online. But Saeran couldn't say he wasn't glad your self-preservation instincts were so very broken and dysfunctional. He wouldn't meet you otherwise. "I need you, princess. That's why I'll take you to Paradise." These were the final words you heard before you felt lightheaded and sleepy again, your last memory a pair of green mint eyes.

You really shouldn't have trusted strangers on the internet.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere mystic messenger #yandere saeran #yandere oneshot #yandere saeran choi #yandere unkown #yancore #male yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere smut #yandere x you #yandere hacker

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haleigh-sloth · 4 years ago

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I have a question but why do you think so many people are against Dabi/Touya getting a redemption arc or getting saved? Like some are against him being saved but are all down for Shiggy and Toga to be saved? I usually see the same argument and it’s frustrating! Like before I explain myself just want to say I’m not hating on Shiggy or do I feel like he’s any less worth saving but I see these arguments that leave me baffled. So the arguments I have seen before is some people don’t think Dabi/Touya can be redeemed or saved because he has murdered 30+ people, but like Shiggy has probably killed the same amount of not more people so that logic doesn’t really cut it. So why does it make a difference? Like why are people so against Dabi/Touya being saved or redeemed?

Well, I'll start this by saying that Shigaraki has ABSOLUTELY KILLED MORE PEOPLE HOLY SHIT DUDE. It's not even up for debate 😂 that boy flattened two cities with the touch of a hand. Shiggy is my favorite hands down and I'll defend the boy til I die but he has done so much more damage. That's kind of the point to his arc--actually. But anyways~

Content Warning of abuse below the cut a bit further down--

So with that--I've wondered the same thing you're asking. Why is Touya getting so much hate? Why not redeem him? Well, there's a few reasons that I have seen:

Endeavor- This is the first and foremost reason I can see for Touya having so many antis. This is something I can't grasp or fathom--Why do so many people like Endeavor? Or more like--why do so many people want to see an abuser thrive and his victim be put down? I can understand wanting to see an abuser better himself AND wanting to see the victim thrive, and I can see people wanting the abuser to be put down and the victim to thrive. But to just want the abuser to come out on top? No. Fuck you. (not you anon). So for whatever reason that I cannot fathom, people can't stand the idea of Touya surviving, being saved and redeemed, because it means that Enji has failed (which he already has but--again I really don't understand that side of the fandom and quite frankly I don't want to). So yeah, Endeavor has a lot of ridiculous fans. Hawks- I've already talked about how ridiculous some of the Hawks-stans are. I'm sorry but---they're fucking ridiculous. Some of them need to step away from their computer, go outside, breath some outside air, and shut the fuck up. And let me tell you---we sometimes joke about how the hero-stan side of the fandom lacks critical thinking skills and can't read past the surface--but I want to disagree with to an extent. I can tell you right now, Hawks's stans saw THIS:

And they knew. Seeing Hawks remain in the dark while Dabi walked toward the light. They knew what this was foretelling. And they didn't like it. And then this happened:

And they DEFINITELY did not like that. And then Dabi went and made fried chicken out of him and they found more reason to hate him with all their being. Hawks was kind of set up to die heroically--and even though his arc is pretty bad right now, I still think that at this point that’s the best ending for him. For me, he’s gone too long without even remotely thinking of changing his ideologies, and has been backing Endeavor unquestionably for a bit too long now. It’s just not looking good for him survival-wise. And his stans either SEE this very clearly and are in denial and need something to hate in order to deal with it, OR they really just aren’t looking as deep into the story as they need to. Those panels I used above though honestly tell it all. That being said he very well may survive and not have any consequences from his low point at all--but then he gets thrown in the “BNHA’s shittiest written arcs” pile. But whatever.

Also--shoutout to the blogs I follow and people I talk to who genuinely LOVE Hawks’s character but like--aren’t ridiculous about it and don’t harass people in their inboxes about it. Who also try to understand his character and not just make him out to be a uwu baby that never did anything wrong. TRUE Hawks-stans if I ever saw em.

Shouto--This is FAR less common than the other two reasons, but I have seen a few people who think this. They love Shouto (understandably--he’s a fluffy boy who needs a hug from his big brother Touya), but they think that Touya is going to be Shouto’s “final boss”, or his mortal enemy or something. Which--idk if they just refuse to read into Shouto’s awesome character on purpose or not, but he is not about to go out there and try to kill his big brother, who he never got to know, who he KNOWS suffered because of their father, and who is very very clearly in physical, mental, and emotional pain. Again--Shouto-stans are a far less part of the problem. But I’ve seen this misunderstanding of Shouto’s character go around a few times.

This next one is also big, and kind of falls into the same category with Endeavor up top--but it’s such a huge issue that I’m seeing that it needs its own paragraph: People don’t understand children’s behaviors, abuse, abusive family dynamics, and just child psychology in general. Child psychology is hard to understand--but also very simple. It’s hard as an adult to think back to how black and white the world was when you were a kid. Your parents were your safe place--they were your guardians. Or rather--they were supposed to be. This isn’t always the case though. And the Todoroki family exhibits a lot of realistic aspects of abuse. Even though the Todoroki backstory was very messily written--one thing is absolute: Endeavor emotionally abused his child. The issue is that Shouto’s and Rei’s physical abuse was shown FIRST in the story--and THEN we were shown what really happened with Touya wasn’t so easily identified as abuse (I mean it is--to me, but not to everybody). And people got stuck on comparing Touya’s and Shouto’s childhood instead of viewing them as two completely separate crimes Endeavor committed against his family. And they misunderstand Touya’s behaviors. Peep back at when I said that your parents are supposed to be your safe place--well, for Touya, Enji WAS his safe place, his guardian, his world. And then suddenly all of that disappeared without reason (good reason I mean). And that takes a serious toll on a child. I could honestly go on and on and on about this topic in particular but it’s not necessary for this ask. The point is---people don’t think Touya was actually abused or that he suffered as a child. They seriously lack an understanding when it comes to stuff like that. And they aren’t shy about showing it to the rest of the internet.

The last reason which I think kind of encompasses all of these reasons: People don’t understand redemption arcs--because they’re not your run of the mill Heroes vs. Villains story. It makes it to where it’s not clearly obvious whose side you should take. I guess people don’t like that---but I love it. Why not take BOTH sides?

You get to have more fun this way imo. You get to watch and see how the two sides come together--rather than just stick to one ideology til the end. I think it’s because people don’t like having their ideals, beliefs, and values challenged. It may be personal for some people--but forgiveness is a touchy subject as well. And I also think a lot of people very much think that the rules of our reality should exist within fiction. People forget that fiction exists for us to escape reality--I don’t know why this is so easily forgotten. But what’s cool about fictional stories is that everybody can have a happy ending--no matter how many atrocities they committed, people they hurt/killed, because guess what? NOBODY ACTUALLY GOT HURT!

But anyway---these are the conclusions I’ve come to regarding why Touya has so many haters. Some are legitimate reasons (the last two I listed) and some are just outright ridiculous (the first three I listed).

I’m not bothered though. I would LIKE to say that when these villain-saving chapters come out I’ll laugh hysterically at all the villain-haters’ reactions---BUT I already blocked almost all of them. 😂

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thestraggletag · 4 years ago

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Roll for Initiative, a Rumbelle D&D Fic

Summary: Tales of the Enchanted Forest was the hottest online D&D game, in part for its charismatic players, in part for the twisted turns of the DM's mind and in part because of the outrageous chemistry between its greatest OTP, the party's beautiful bard and the Dark One, an anti-hero side-character who is there to provide information and uncomfortable levels of UST. Mr Gold thinks it's a harmless flirtation that could never become anything else, just like his silly little crush on the town librarian, Belle French.

He's wrong.

Rating: Explicit.

Author’s Note: Surprise, @argoslight, it is I, your Gifter! Sorry to make you wait till near the end but I just had way more banter to write in me than I thought. I hope you enjoy your gift. I’m so sorry to not be able to add more D&D elements but since I don’t play I don’t have a lot of idea of what could be done. Also I apologise for any mistakes! And thanks so much to @little-inkstone for her help and D&D knowledge.

The castle was quiet when she entered, her steps echoing against the stone. It was gloomy inside, curtains obscured and decor sparse and sombre, the castle living up to its name. But there were flowers on the table, moon lilies, her favourite flower. They bloomed only in the Eastern Mountains past the Old Wall, but she had long since suspected he grew some on one of his enchanted hothouses, with the excuse of using them for potions.

“Where’s the rest of your pretty little troop of do-gooders, dearie?”

The voice came out of nowhere, echoing around the empty halls of the castle. Thankfully she did not need directions, knowing exactly when to turn and where to go. Soon she found herself in a vast room, with a table on the centre and curios filled with oddities and the like. Some others were displayed on pedestals, including a rather fearsome sword and a nasty-looking crown made of thorns. None of the artefacts were what she sought, but she was not there to bargain for an item, but rather for information.

“Off on their own quests, taking care of other things that need doing.”

The voice tsked, seeming not to approve.

“They let you enter the lair of the beast alone? Some heroes.”

The woman lowered the hood of her cloak and walked towards the unlit chimney. Immediately a fire blazed to life, as if the castle itself was trying to cater to her comfort. The fire provided much-needed light as well, revealing the profile of a man in the shadows. Or something that looked like a man, at least, if not for the reflective scales that covered his body and its strange eyes: gold irises around catlike pupils.

“I asked to come alone. I felt like we could talk more openly this way.”

She removed her cloak, ostensibly to drape it across a chair near the fire and let it dry. The creature, however, seemed to read more into the gesture, tsking again.

“You come here all alone, a pretty little lamb, and take off the only real bit of protection you have. Reckless, dearie, most reckless.”

The creature stood up, walking slowly towards the light, revealing more of its form as it approached her. Leather pants and a long, reptilian-looking vest and coat. It wasn’t particularly tall but power emanated from it in suffocating waves. She closed her eyes, finding his cloying presence strangely comforting. Then again, she had always been odd.

“Once again your pitiful little party of friends needs my help. How they weigh you down, Beauty.”

He stepped fully into the light then, revealing a being more creature than man, the reptilian skin and claws as off-putting as his unnatural eyes. She should’ve taken a step back, should’ve gone for her blade or the dagger tucked into her left boot, but she didn’t. As much as she knew she shouldn't, she felt at ease in his presence. Well, perhaps not quite. She certainly felt a strange sort of anxiousness in his presence, a fluttery sort of feeling that she attributed to being particularly attuned to his magic. None of the other members of her party felt that way. If anything, he repulsed them, which wasn’t something she could understand. To her he was… magnetic.

“Are you in the mood for dealing or not? I can trade for information.”

He snorted.

“With what? Your little band of misfits is dirt poor. That idiotic paladin of yours ruined your last mission. You really should think about ditching the man. All brawn, no brains. At least your rogue is a smart woman.”

His gaze left her briefly, running down the length of her clothing: sturdy black boots, a nicely-cut dress that stopped around the knees and a sturdy belt with a few pockets for her spells. But the clothing, as well-made as it was, was dated, old. Looked worn and was signed and stained in places, and it left a lot of her frail human skin exposed. She had not been able to afford an upgrade in a while, preferring to spend her coin in what could benefit the group.

His moue of distaste disappeared once his eyes fell on her cloak. Well, his cloak, since he had been the one to make it. It was a lovely thing in varied shades of green, shot through with golden thread, his trademark. She had bought it off him a long time ago, a simple thing to keep her warm during cold nights and dry when it rained. Miraculously, though, it also did not sustain damage, looking exactly the same as when she had first put it on.

“I’m glad at least my protection is serving you well.”

He ran a claw along the seams of the cloak, making it glitter, like to like, magic calling for its own. He looked smug, as if pleased she was wearing something he had made.

“It does more than we bargained for. I’ve been blasted with magic strong enough to burn through most fabric but it has not even frayed. How strange of you, Rumplestiltskin, to lose out on a deal.”

He shivered when she said his name, walking behind her to the safety of the shadow she cast next to the fire.

“Can’t help it if my magic is just that powerful, my dear. I’m glad you are a happy customer. Always thought that cloak was a nice bit of magic. Can’t fault you for always wearing it.”

She felt him close in on her from behind, to the point that it almost felt like they were touching.

“It smells like you. That’s why I wear it all the time.”

The noise he made behind her was inhuman, a cross between a whimper and a growl. His claws scrapped against the back of her dress, the feeling muted by her stays, but she could feel his breath against the back of her neck and that alone was-

“Hey, this is a decent stream! Keep it PG for the kids, you weirdos.”

“Damn it, Grumpy, I wanted to see how long it would take them to snap out of it!”

“Sorry, Snow, but I ate a big dinner and I aim to keep it down.”

The messages in the chatroom wheezed by, mostly disgruntled complaints about their OTP never catching a break. The other participants in the stream were mostly silent, their mics muted likely to hide the amused snickers. There was no video feed on any of the members of the party, all of them represented instead by artwork to preserve their anonymity. Once upon a time that had been a fanciful choice, and perhaps a way to stay safe when interacting with strangers on the internet. Now it was mostly to keep their private lives from being overtaken by the popularity of their stream. “Tales of the Enchanted Forest” was shaping up to be one of the hottest D&D online streaming shows, already on its third campaign and counting.

“Beauty is just trying to get us some answers, Grumpy. We can’t just go stumbling about hoping to run into some fairy wand by chance.”

“Oh, it’s that what the kids are calling it these days?”

“Enough! Can we get back to the campaign already? It took me weeks to plan and it kinda hinges a bit on the Dark One helping, which needs to happen today.”

“Fine by me, dearie, if the dwarf can curtail his temper.”

The party was composed of five characters, a paladin, a cleric, a bard, a rogue and a thief, which along with the Dungeon Master made up the regular cast of every weekly stream. But given the popularity of the show, and the amount of time they had been playing, they had managed to amass a good amount of side-characters, guests invited every now and then to help the campaign move along and keep the interest of the audience. And by far the most popular of those guests was the Dark One, a wizard of unknown lineage and tremendous power that served both as an antagonist and a pseudo-ally depending on the situation.

His presence was likely the reason why the livestream’s numbers looked so robust. He had amassed quite a fanbase, due in part to the commitment the player put on the character (the voice-acting was above and beyond what anyone could’ve expected from an amateur performer, and the backstory was quite complex, revealed in bits and pieces fans had meticulously assembled together) and in part to the chemistry he had managed to develop with the group’s bard, a half-human named Beauty.

“Okay, let’s all go back to what we were doing.” The DM’s voice was authoritative, though also more than a bit pissed off. “Okay, Beauty, you were about to try and cajole the Dark One to sell you the information you needed in return for a vial of water from Lake Nostos. Though the water is valuable, it’s not guaranteed to be enough to tempt the wizard. You have to roll at least a 13 in persuasion to make the trade. Roll when you’re ready.”

...

Rumford Gold stretched within the confines of the small backroom of his shop, where he had his computer stuff set up. Initially he’d bought the computer to better conduct his online business. His laptop at home wasn’t cutting it and it was better to photograph the antiques, update the website and handle the deliveries from his place of business. He had bought a good camera, some light fixtures and, on a whim, a microphone, for instances where he might need to virtually communicate with clients. It was something that was happening more and more, especially because a lot of his clientele was European. The internet had truly turned his antiquing- more of a hobby than a profession originally- into a profitable business.

He had gotten into watching D&D while waiting late at night for a client to become available in Austria. He had played as a lad, one of the few happy moments he could remember from his childhood in Glasgow, but had given it up once he had met Milah. And after they were over he had been too involved in making something of himself to remember past childhood enjoyments. But apparently D&D had evolved with the times and he had gotten into the habit of searching for and watching online D&D campaigns in his spare time. From that to actually being a side-character in one of them took almost no time. It was frightfully easy to go back to that frame of mind of playing make-believe, only now he had a distaste for the clean-cut heroic types and more of an affinity for the morally-grey, shady characters.

So he had auditioned for the role of evil-wizard when there had been an opening for a side-character in his favourite D&D stream, The Enchanted Forest. And though the DM had written what he considered to be a very flat, uninteresting character, he had been able to give it his own spin. He knew the DM hated him for it, hated when he deviated from what was expected of him, but people loved him. It was half the fun, pissing the DM off.

The other half, he had to admit, was Beauty. The one with the brains in the group, clearly, a half-human, half-fairy bard with an uncanny ability to think ahead, and arm herself with knowledge. Most of the other members of her party were more apt to try and decapitate something than negotiate with it, or even befriend it. Beauty prided herself on more of a gentle approach, which sometimes got her treated as the “fragile” one. He thought it just made her all the more interesting.

Their flirting had just kinda happened. He was half into it before he realised it had begun at all and by the time he had grown conscious- and self-conscious- of it fans were lapping it up and loving it. Even the DM, as loath as he was to admit it, found the banter engaging, even as if stole the spotlight from his story and where he wanted it to go. So every now and then he got invited into a stream, sometimes to interact with the whole party and sometimes, like the session he had just finished, to speak only to Beauty. And what was supposed to be a brief conversation before the party moved to greener pastures became a whole session, with the chatroom full of engagement and the view count off the charts.

But the DM had had a short tolerance span tonight, and had nipped things in the bud much sooner than usual. He felt… unfulfilled. Unsatisfied. Itchy, almost, in a way. So he was more than happy when he received an email from Beauty, who seemed to share his dislike of how the session had played out. They had started doing that more often, sharing emails after a session, even when he did not participate in it. It was harmless, he thought. Just an innocent online flirtation that could never realistically turn into anything. Not that his more in-person romantic overtures could ever pan out. He was in his third year of being completely smitten by the local town librarian, and in his second year of being able to put two words together in front of her without the help from Scotch, something he was perhaps a bit too proud of. And though he had decided very early on that the whole thing was utterly hopeless he had not been able to steer his thoughts or affections away. Realistically he was perhaps more in love with the idea of Belle French than the reality itself, given how little he had personally interacted with the woman. But he knew just enough to fill in the blanks and create a beautiful picture of how he imagined her to be: bookish- an easy assumption given how many times he had caught her in public places absorbed in a book-, kind, generous and delightfully able to hold a grudge and enact revenge when the time came. A bit reckless, and sometimes quick to form opinions, but also quick to revise them. A tactile person, with a great sense of fashion and a carelessness about what was expected of her.

He saw her in his head as clear as day, but little of that image was based on any personal knowledge of her. So, perhaps, he had found in Beauty a fictional substitute, someone he could talk to, and flirt with, without consequences, adopting the persona of someone more confident, more at ease with that sort of thing. The Dark One was comfortable in his skin in a way that he could only pretend to be sometimes. All the money and power he had accumulated over the years had helped him evolve from the spineless, cowardly lad he had once been, but when it came to certain situations, especially those that necessitated a level of vulnerability, he was still hopeless.

Perhaps, he wondered, it was better to think about his online liaison with Beauty as the real thing. They wrote to each other often, in and out of character, and over the course of their correspondence he had confided in her more than he had in any other person alive. Small things at first, every day peeves and details. Nothing that could identify them, certainly, but surprisingly intimate nevertheless. And over time it had grown to stuttering confessions and barings of the soul on both sides. She had told him of her teenage years in a mental asylum, the product of an overwrought widowed father trying to do right by his grieving daughter. He had had a few choice words to say about that, uncharitable thoughts about her father prompting his own willing sharing of the sad story of his childhood, neglectful father and all. It had felt nice, to confide in someone, someone he trusted.

He glanced at her email, where she lamented how their scene had not been as long or as satisfying as she had wanted, and saw she was proposing to meet later in a private stream to finish it the way they had both wanted. She had proposed something similar once or twice before and he had politely declined but now he wondered why not take her up on her offer. What was stopping him? His imaginary idea of Belle French, who in reality had never given him more than a polite smile in passing? Too young, too good, too beautiful to ever see him as anything other than an old cripple? Whatever he had built with Beauty felt infinitely more real, and attainable. A relationship without ever meeting in person seemed ideal in many aspects and, perhaps, if and when it came to meeting in the real world, his physical shortcomings would not be relevant, nor would it his rather uncharitable reputation.

He sent her a quick reply to arrange a meeting, feeling like a bit of roleplaying was, in the end, quite harmless. And if it were to lead to something a bit more meaningful, well, perhaps it was about time.

…

“Water from Lake Nostos. A key ingredient in most powerful potions and even some spells. I’m sure it could prove useful to you.”

The bard showed him the glowing crystal vial hanging from a long chain around her neck, with the glowing milky-white water from the cursed lake in it. He made a move to get closer to inspect it but the woman took a step back, tucking the vial back inside her bodice. The wizard’s eyes lingered there, hiz gaze growing intense. The bard felt her skin flush in response, something that felt a bit like fear but wasn’t running down her spine.

“And I’m sure a new wardrobe could prove useful to you, dearie. You’re practically wearing rags.” Rumplestiltskin made a show of running his eyes up and down her form with just enough disgust in his face to make it seem as if he was only noticing the rather sad state of her dress.

“It’s my best gown, I’d thank you not to insult it.”

He made a moue of disapproval, shaking his head for good measure.

“You’re far from your days as a princess. I hope seeing the world is worth putting up with your band of idiots that waste most of the gold they earn with your wit in pointless goose chases that you know will lead nowhere.”

Beauty didn’t respond. There was nothing she could say to contradict what he thought of her party, none of which was charitable to say the least. And she also knew that he was aware that all of it was worth the freedom she had won when she had left her life in her father’s castle behind. She did miss one or two things, perhaps. Her mother’s vast library being one and, perhaps, some of the fashions. Not so much the silhouettes- she had never liked how the sea of petticoats she was always forced to wear restricted her movement- but the fabrics and colours, certainly. And the shoes.

“I’m here to make a deal, Dark One. Are you doing business today or not?”

Lesser creatures would’ve rather bitten off their tongues that throw cheek at the Dark One, but Beauty did not even bat an eye, lips curling in a defiant little smile that had the wizard smirking, something like admiration blooming in his chest. It’s what he loved most about his little bard, her spine of steel. And perhaps her blue eyes, but that was neither here nor there.

“I don’t do business with raggedy urchins, dearie. If you want to sit down and negotiate you’ll need a bath.” He made a face, as if he could smell her across the room. “And a change of dress, while I put your current outfit to wash… Or set it on fire, I haven’t decided yet.”

She could tell that he was pulling his punches, that he was playing at being repulsed by her state of dress and hygiene just bad enough that she would see he did not really mean it, not in any real way. She would’ve been able to tell either way, but it was nice that he thought it important to spare her feelings. And she couldn’t deny that a bath sounded heavenly after so many weeks on the road, sleeping out in the open and washing in freezing-cold creeks whenever possible.

“Well, if you insist…”

He took her to a well-lit and spacious bathing chamber, with the biggest copper tub she had ever seen, already filled with warm, soapy water that smelled of vanilla. She wasted no time after the door closed behind him, stripping quickly, careless of her worn and mended garments, and slipping into the tub. It was heaven on her tired muscles, and her dirty skin, and though she would’ve stayed there for hours she knew that every minute spent bathing was a minute less with the Dark One. Their time was limited. If she didn’t return to camp in the morning her party would venture into the castle, likely thinking the most dreadful scenarios. She could picture Charming attempting to kick the front gate open and getting hurt for his troubles. She could not let them worry for her, or risk the rapport she had developed with the Dark One by coming in unannounced.

She got out of the tub with only a bit of reluctance and found a towel that she was convinced was enchanted to dry her faster than possible. She found clothing laid out in the adjoining dressing room, the undergarments soft and made of pale cream fabric and the dress of a lovely velvety, forest-green fabric, with a belt embroidered in small pearls that matched the detail about the neckline. She put it on gladly, twisting every which way to lace it up at her back. Living a less princessy life had made her acquire a number of small skills, including the ability to dress up mostly by herself even in gowns that did not lace up at the front, like most of her travelling clothes.

She did not spot her mauve travelling dress or her boots, but she was sure that Rumplestiltskin had whisked them away and would subtly mend them with magic, though she was sure he would deny it if she were to point it out. The green dress was accompanied by matching slippers, butter-soft and silent as they touched the stone floor. She made sure to dry her hair out, noticing how it shone red-gold in the flattering light of the candles, and took her time brushing it and styling it out of her face, so it fell flatteringly down her back. Her neck and most of her upper torso was bare but for the chain keeping the vial of water tucked safely against her breasts, the wide neckline of the dress dipping low enough to leave her collarbones bare, but she didn’t mind it. She was inside the Dark Castle, with the Dark One. She was safe there. On the road she always had to think about not attracting unwanted male attention. Here she rather felt like the opposite.

It was a silly infatuation, and many would argue any interest or desire on her part was due to the wizard’s power, which some would say was an aphrodisiac potent enough to make some look past the Dark One’s rather unfortunate exterior. No one would ever believe her if she confessed she rather… liked his appearance. The green-gold skin, the wild hair, the talons, but also the exquisitely-tailored pants and vests, the frothy cravats, the slim coats. A beast and a gentleman. A rather enticing combination, she had found.

She went downstairs into the trophy room once more, where two massive chairs were pulled up next to the roaring fireplace, the main source of light. The Dark One was sitting in one of them, a snifter gingerly held by a clawed hand, containing some sort of brown-gold liquid. He glanced at her the moment she entered the room, unwilling or unable to hide his appreciation for what he saw. He had removed his coat, leaving only his high-collared vest and one of his open shirts to cover his upper body, no forty cravat in sight. He seemed less guarded, more adventurous than he usually was when it came to matters of intimacy.

“You clean up well, dearie. Wish I could say the same for your dress. A wash will only do so much for it, but I refrained from throwing it into the fireplace. You’re welcome.”

“Good, as it’s not your property to destroy.” Beauty sat down, with a poise that betrayed her royal upbringing, and primly crossed her legs at the ankles. “So, Dark One, are you prepared to deal with me now?”

She had dealt with him dozens of times before, she had no idea why it all sounded so much like innuendo now. She couldn’t say she minded it.

“Of course, my dear. I’ve had time to think about our deal whilst you were splashing about in the tub.” His sing-songy voice broke, getting suddenly deeper for a second or two, as if he was struggling to retain his composure. “The vial is certainly a good start, but perhaps not quite enough. Now, I’m prepared to be generous given our long and fruitful history of dealmaking together, but I must also keep up certain appearances. So I thought I would also demand… an evening of your time.”

He tried to make it sound sinister, but she was past getting scared of him. At least in the traditional way. She raised an eyebrow, adopting a rather coquettish expression.

“And what would an evening of my time entail exactly?”

“Oh, well, you know. Companionship, perhaps a game of chess, some good wine, conversation and the like.”

She made a show of thinking it over before offering her hand, which he shook without delay.

“It’s a deal.”

Several hours later she had won two games of chess, one game of checkers, and was sipping from her third coupe of sparkling wine as she listened intently to a story about a deal the Dark One had once made with a king from a distant land. He was a gifted storyteller, engaging and funny, knowing exactly when to pause or gesticulate to keep the flow of the story just right. The king in his tale was rather unfortunate, in the sense that his hubris and arrogance had led him to make a deal with the Dark One that he did not understand. Most of Rumplestiltskin’s deals seemed to be like that, Beauty thought. And when he came to collect people dared be indignant that he demanded what they promised in the first place.

“The king was furious. Never let go of the grudge. Hired several assassins to try and kill me. A waste of gold, of course.”

He let out a trilling laugh, which soon proved to be contagious. Somehow, over time, it felt like their chairs had moved closer, because if she stretched out a hand she could easily touch him. Odd.

“Serves him right, for making such an open-ended deal. What a rookie mistake.”

She didn’t recall removing her slippers but she must have, because her feet were enjoying being pressed against the soft cushion of the chair. He made a gesture for her to lean close, which was a bit of a balancing feat, but she managed. Her heart skipped a bit when he leaned close too, almost pressing his mouth against her ear.

“You have no room to talk, sweet. You struck a very vague deal yourself, committing to an evening of conversation, chess ‘and the like’. That little turn of phrase is an invitation to all manner of sins, even the darkest and most decadent of debaucheries.”

He hissed the last part, making her shiver. Not content with letting him have the upper hand she turned her head so their lips were inches apart.

“That’s what I was hoping for.”

She could tell she had shocked him into inaction. Cocky Dark One, always in control of the conversation, always one step ahead of everyone else. It was nice to see him floundering, to catch him unprepared. Finally he gulped and put a little distance between them.

“Aren’t you the bravest little poppet.”

“My mother always said ‘Do the brave thing and bravery will follow.’ I’m a firm believer of the principle.”

Slowly, almost painfully so, both his hands clutched at the armrests of her chair, effectively pinning her to it. She knew she was supposed to be scared but she felt nothing but excitement, a buzzing just beneath the skin that made her strangely needy for something. Touch, perhaps, or more. The feeling was so overwhelming she did not realise at first that the laces of her dress were coming undone, as if invisible hands were painstakingly pulling them loose. She tried to make eye contact, but he ducked his head, pressing his face against the base of her neck, where it met her shoulder. She sighed, noticing how gentle he was, his touch feather-light, and discovering that she would not mind a rougher treatment. He was restraining himself, she realised, trying to be a gentleman. Sweet, but not what she wanted from him at that moment. Feeling bold Beauty carded a hand through his hair, pressing his face more firmly against her skin.

“Please, Rumple.”

Those two words seemed to have a magic of their own, producing a sudden and radical change in him. He moved too fast for her to see, wrapping her up in his arms and depositing her on the long dining table on the other side of the room. She did not know whether he used magic or simply moved inhumanly fast, but either possibility excited her, reminded her of the power of the creature looming over her, claws tugging at the unlaced bodice of her dress, dragging the velvet down to expose her undergarments. She was wearing the underbust corset he had provided over the snowy linen shift he had also left for her, so it was easy for him to simply tug the shift down a bit to expose her breasts. He leaned forward, nuzzling the space between her breasts, making a sort of satisfied purring noise as he sniffed up her clavicles and down her throat. Then, once he was happy with the level of squirming she was doing, he finally gave her what she wanted, closing his mouth, with all of its sharp teeth, around one of her rosy nipples. It was a strange feeling at first, more unfamiliar than pleasant, but when he began to suck it changed completely, little shocks of pleasure running from her nipple to between her legs. It was amazing, more than she had ever achieved with her own hands whenever she could get some privacy at night, and the feeling doubled when he grasped her untouched breast, his long claws estimulating the other nipple.

She sunk both her hands in his hair, fisting it in an effort to keep herself from squirming too much, feeling both aroused and impatient. She kept waiting for him to tire of her chest and move further down but when he was finally done sucking her nipples his head moved north, his lips blinding searching for hers till they were kissing. It wasn’t anything like any kiss she had experienced before, not even the unpleasant smack her former fiance had forced on her. Though it was just as forceful there was a wild quality to it, one she had never associated with the affectionate gesture. It was heavenly, the release of passion, far from cooling her down, setting her on fire, stoking her need for him till it felt like she would explode if he didn’t give her relief.

He must have sensed it, her desperation calling to him like a siren song, because at some point he let go of her mouth to travel south, past her aching chest, and velvet-covered belly to where the skirts of her long gown kept her modestly covered. He wasted no time dragging the heavy fabric up, letting it pool around her hips along with the white linen of her shift. She did not have any other undergarments, having not been provided with any, so she was completely exposed to his gaze, from her milky things to her round hips. She squirmed, trying to picture what he must be looking at, the trim thatch of chestnut curls at the apex of her legs, obscenely drenched by this point and making a poor show of trying to hide the pink, glistening flesh beneath.

“What a lovely cunt you have.” His voice was dark, guttural, a monster trying to speak like a man. It thrilled her. “Let me drink from it, precious.”

He didn’t wait for her reply, choosing instead to simply bury his head against her flesh, his tongue rough and wide as it lapped at her field parting them to seek out the bundle of nerves that was throwing for attention. She arched her back, feeling like it was only her firm grip on her thigh and hip what kept her anchored to the table. She fell into a rhythm of sorts, her body seeking out something she could not find but his mouth striving to compensate, to give her what she needed. It was heavenly and seemed to last an eternity, the sensations building up till everything but them faded away, all sensations muted. She felt him move to, thrusting his hips against the edge of the table, making it rattle in a way that spoke of his sheer brute force. It was heady to have someone like Rumplestiltskin, who had always strived to don the mask of a gentleman around her, be so unhinged, so animalistic. More than anything it was that complete loss of control what drove her over the edge. She cried out, feeling her inner muscles coil and her senses spiral out of control, her orgasm leaving her dizzy. It seemed to last forever and not nearly long enough. She laid there for a while after the feeling passed, feeling satisfied and wanting at the same time. A few seconds later he also keened, slumping against her still-parted legs, his hair tickling the soft skin of her inner thighs.

They lay that way for what seemed like ages, while they scrambled to try and collect themselves. The afterglow did not feel awkward or uncomfortable, and it loosened up her tongue enough to venture out that she had hoped for an even more intimate act, a joining that was even deeper than what they had done.

“A deal for such a prize would have to involve all my deepest secrets, my most valuable truths.” He paused, pressing his forehead against the silky inside of her thigh, like a penitent would. “One day, perhaps.”

...

“Do you want to meet? I think it’s time.”

The orgasm had mellowed him out, otherwise he was sure he would’ve at least panicked a little bit. But in the afterglow of what they had just shared, albeit virtually, a meeting did not seem like such a bad idea. In hushed voices they arranged the time and place, tomorrow at a café and bistro in Boston. Nice and public, for both their safety. They knew both lived near Boston, so it seemed natural to pick the city. The drive wasn’t too bad, and he hoped it wasn’t a great inconvenience to her either.

Reluctantly they said their goodbyes, both trying to prolong the moment a bit more till they were both close to nodding off. With a final, reluctant goodbye they both disconnected, leaving Gold to clean himself up and make his way home. With his rumpled suit, disheveled hair and five o’clock shadow it must have looked like the walk of shame. It certainly didn’t feel that way.

...

He woke up in a happy mood, perhaps the best in a long time. Far from feeling stupid or embarrassed about his little bit of roleplaying-turned-porn-session he felt smug, empowered by the notion that he had made a smart, desirable woman come with only his voice and imagination. He felt like he was on the brink of something, as if an exciting possibility was opening up for him.

He went about his day with a bit of a spring in his step, though most citizens of Storybrooke would be pressed to notice. It was only when he saw the book on gardening he was due to return to the library that afternoon- his two Moth orchids had developed small water-soaked spots on the leaves and he had wanted to consult some verified sources instead of relying exclusively on Google search results- that his mood dampened somewhat. As nice as last night had been- bloody fantastic rather- it did make him sad, somewhat, to give up his crush on Belle French. However unattainable it was still nice to have it, that bit of feeling that did not need to be reciprocated to be real. It had been nice to feel something for someone for a change, to look forward to each smile and each small conversation. But it wouldn’t be right, and what he had now was more valuable in any case. Perhaps, with time, he would grow out of his infatuation with the librarian and they could be friends. That would be rather lovely.

He crossed the street towards the library around three o’clock, wanting to beat the rush caused by children being let off school, a busy time for one of the only kid-friendly places in Storybrooke. There were some patrons about, and the afternoon light made the library look truly beautiful. Miss French truly worked miracles with her limited budget.

He found her easily, shelving a few books in the poetry section, and tried not to preen when she smiled widely at him.

“Mr Gold, hi! Always a pleasure. Here to return a book?”

The librarian was always sunny and welcoming, but she looked even happier that day, an excited sort of energy practically rolling off of her in waves. Thank goodness he had decided to give up on his silly little crush, otherwise he might have buckled under the power of her brightness.

“Yes. And you look particularly happy today, Miss French, if I might say so.”

The librarian smiled even more, if possible, and leaned close, as if to tell him a secret.

“I have a date tonight.”

It hurt, the slightest bit, the shock making him take a step back, but less than it would have yesterday. And perhaps, he reasoned, this would be good. This would put them both in the path of becoming friends, allowing him to leave his crush behind much faster. He forced himself to enquire politely after the lucky man, listening as she talked about someone she had been flirting with for a long time now, and it seemed like the relationship was finally ready for the next step.

“I’m really happy. And very nervous. It feels like such a risk, after all this time building something that could easily fizzle out with a first date. But I’ve always believed in doing the brave thing, and bravery will follow. It’s what my mother always said.”

She had turned back to shelve a book as she finished the last sentence, so thankfully she did not see his jaw drop and his eyes widen, his surprise so visible no one could’ve missed it. His heart lurched in his chest, sheer and sudden panic making it difficult to breathe. Fuck. Fuck. It wasn’t possible. Belle was Beauty. Belle was Beauty. He tried to contradict the notion in his head but he had known Beauty’s British accent was passable but fake, and it made sense for him not to have identified her voice when she usually spoke with her natural Australian drawl, something he associated so closely with her. Everything else he had ever found out about Beauty, in and out of the D&D setting, coincided with what he knew, or thought he knew, about the librarian, one of the reasons why he had developed a crush on her in the first place.

The initial shock was followed by a spike of elation and then a sinking feeling of dread. He needed to cancel. She would be disappointed, but more disappointed if he didn’t and she realised her crush was a man a good deal older than her that was known for being the town monster. It would be awkward and she would not be able to escape him after it, both doomed to meet each other often, given the small size of the town. He could not put her through that.

He stopped himself then, noticing the familiar dark turn of his thoughts, dipped in so much self-loathing it was almost stifling. And he wondered if he really was thinking about Belle or about himself. Being a coward, taking the easy way out. He thought about how he had woken up, the world full of promise and the future bright with the possibility of something great on the horizon. And how he had felt brave last night, to leap into something that had been so worth it. Perhaps it was time to be brave more often. Do something, however small. Put the ball in her court, somehow.

“I wish you the best of luck, then. Perhaps some other time, if you’re not too busy, you could pop into my shop. I have a few antique books I feel you would appreciate.”

It was a nice recovery, and he was happy to see her smile, apparently welcoming the proposition. Everyone knew Mr Gold’s shop was only to be entered when making deals. He didn’t really allow idle perusal of his stock and no one had the money or interest to buy his antiques. His business was conducted mostly with people from major cities on the East Coast.

“Wow, an open invitation to traipse into Mr Gold’s shop, that’s not something one sees everyday. What do you want in return? I hear only deals can grant you access to the shop.”

She made sure to make it clear she was joking, something he appreciated. Feeling emboldened by her kind gesture he adopted a slightly higher pitch and replied:

“Oh, nothing much. Companionship, perhaps a game of chess, some good wine, conversation and the like.”

Being close enough he got to see as it dawned on her, as her brain quickly processed what he had said and where she had heard it before. And he knew, knew because of the way she looked at him, as if she did not recognise him, as if he was a brand new person to her, that she understood the implication, what he had meant to tell her without actually telling her.

“Hope to see you soon, then. Good luck with the date.”

He turned around before he could second-guess himself, feeling terrified by what he had exposed but satisfied at the same time. This way it was Belle’s choice to show up. For all she knew he had no idea that she was Beauty. She could make up an excuse and simply not meet her, and their worlds would never merge. If she did not want to pursue anything between them all she had to do is cancel the date, or not show up. He would respect her decision and never push for anything, or acknowledge their online relationship in the real world.

He sent her an email just as he was about to get into his car, letting her know that he understood that this meeting was a bit of a risk and he would understand if she backed out at the last minute. There were other things he could do in Boston, and he was not adverse to having dinner by himself. And they could still be friends, no matter what she decided. He was halfway to Boston when he heard his cell phone ping, letting him know he had a new email. As he expected, it was from Beauty:

“I’m on my way. Can’t wait to meet you! See you soon.”

He smiled.

#argoslight #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #Roll for Initiative #Thestraggletag fanfiction #Rumbelle Gift Swap

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spade-riddles · 4 years ago

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Submission:

Do antis and ex-Kaylors ever stop to think about how their perception of Karlie makes no sense?

We all know Jerklie is fake. But he’s toxic to her reputation now, and she could easily beard for someone else. So why wouldn’t she?

“But she likes Jerk” - I mean, does she? Because she looks dead behind the eyes during their pap walks. She’s been caught on camera arguing with him multiple times (1975 concert, 4th July party, etc) and it’s clear he keeps springing stuff on her she didn’t agree too, and resents. The sheer weirdness of the “wedding” PR rollout attests to that. Just look at her miserable face eating cake on the floor. I’m not exactly feeling the love here. Yeah, she slings her arm around him in a picture, but Taylor used to be just as OTT with the PDA with Calvin, and we all know she hated him. Pictures prove nothing.

“But Jerk is rich and well-connected and that’s why she sticks with him” - oh please. The Kushers are as sham rich as their in-laws. We joke all the time about how crappy Jerk is at business. Karlie is charming and well-connected in her own right. I struggle to believe she couldn’t find better business partners. Maybe she has poor management, but the number one reason for that is her connection to Jerk. Better management won’t touch her while she’s connected to him. They can’t sell this version of her.

The smart move for her career would be to dump him. If she’s so fame hungry and self-centered, why hasn’t she? Are we really supposed to believe Karlie would be selfish and cruel enough to put her career over Taylor … but not over Jerk? How does that even make sense? It doesn’t!

“Karlie toys with Kaylors because we’re the only fans she has left” - does not compute. First because Kaylor fandom is tiny now, and the subset of Kaylors who believe they’re still together (and pay attention to Karlie) is even tinier. It wouldn’t be worth her while to use us for financial gain. Half the Kaylors who even support her on Tumblr have made it clear they won’t be buying from her Adidas line or supporting her other endeavors until she leaves Jerk. There just isn’t any money to be made from us, pure and simple.

“Okay, then Karlie TROLLS Kaylors because she hates us and wants to make us look stupid!” - I mean, looking at the venom we send her way I doubt she loves us anymore. But why would she bother trolling us? It’s so unbelievably petty, and she never seemed to be that. Maybe I have her character all wrong, but even if I do … wouldn’t she get tired of it eventually? All the “trolling” ever does is bring more hate down on her head and reduce the amount of people willing to pay attention to her in future. It’s shooting herself in the foot.

Most of the people who get excited by her hints are the well-intentioned fans who want her to be free and happy. If her relationship with Jerk is fake (as it obviously is) then why would she be so full of hate for fans who only wish her well? You may as well say Taylor stunts with Toe because she “hates” Gaylors and wants to troll us. Why do we always give Taylor the benefit of the doubt and assume there were 1001 pivots on the road to her coming out, but with Karlie, we always assume the worst?

“Kaylor broke up and Karlie is just trying to stay relevant by mining the Taylor connection!” - yeah, I don’t know how to tell you this, but if a tree falls in the forest and only a tiny subset of internet fans notice it, it’s not staying relevant. Karlie wearing a rainbow sweater the day Fearless comes out is only interesting to us. Literally no-one else cares! These kind of obscure hints aren’t going to get her headlines or jobs.

Also, if Karlie really cared that much about using the Taylor thing for fame, there are a million better ways to do it. She could post throwback pics of their “friendship”. She could mention her all the time in interviews. Taylor is in a quiet phase with the media, and NDAs don’t cover EVERYTHING. As long as Karlie didn’t actually lie or expose their relationship as more than a friendship, there are a lot of ways she could have continued to tie herself to Taylor for publicity, and Taylor couldn’t do anything about it. But mostly Karlie hasn’t done that. Instead, she went dark. How does that fit?

Also, if they did break up, there is nothing to stop Karlie coming out. She’s good friends with Cara Delevingne. She could get loads of headlines about Cara “helping her find the courage to come out” or “helping her realize her sexuality”. She could be linked to other famous women. If Karlie was OUT, people would speculate like crazy about her being an ex of Taylor Swift’s, even if NDAs meant she couldn’t talk about it. If publicity was all Karlie wanted, she could have plenty of it. If she came out as bi, she could even go back to bearding later. It hasn’t stopped Julienne Hough, Harry Styles, or a bazillion other Hollywood celebs.

But instead she puts all her energy into presenting this image of herself as super straight. WHY?

You know who really needs Karlie to be straight right now? And to have always been straight, and in love with the same guy the whole time they knew each other?

TAYLOR.

If Karlie is married to Jerk and had “his” baby, then the Jerklie relationship was real all along. That’s what people will think. Kaylors are just a bunch of deluded, intrusive shippers on the internet. TAYLOR needs people to believe this. There is no other woman she can be convincingly linked to right now, and it’s hard for her to stunt with Toe, for a lot of reasons. One is that she picked a British beard and then an international pandemic hit, whoops! Another is that she set up this whole “private love story” idea with him. And anyway, its been four years. If she starts stunting more hardcore with Toe there are only so many stunts left to pull. If Karlie wasn’t “married” to Jerk right now, I GUARANTEE we would be seeing a Toe engagement.

Karlie is doing the heavy lifting for Taylor. It’s obvious to me.

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fightabear · 4 years ago

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so, i just need to shout for a second.

you are allowed to be critical of the media you consume. you should ask how it impacts you.

howver, you aren’t making the internet safer by pushing purity culture. if you care about the safety of minors online, you need to push education about internet safety. predators lay in wait in general spaces and don’t need problematic content to groom them. in fact, actively pushing the idea that determining whether or not someone is a predator based on whether or not they engage in adult content determines whether or not they’re safe to interact with sets minors up to be uncritical of interactions with people that meet arbitrary safe criteria.

online predators will actively work to blend in to their victims peer group.

you also need to be critical about where you’re getting your ideas, where they stem from, and who is pushing this agenda.

please look at what just happened to onlyfans. i saw so many people toting it as a victory for children’s rights, without realizing that the organization behind the campaign against it is one whose primary focus is actually just criminalizing and stamping out all forms sex work.

your desire to protect children and make the internet a safer space was being used as a weapon against sex workers by an anti-lgbt fundamentalist Christian organization that believes in abstinence only education.

sorry.

if this had come from a genuine place, it would have sparked a larger conversation that explained to minors the very real danger put themselves in when they bypass the restrictions in place for these sites, the types of predators that could be watching them. not to mention the legal liabilities they open themselves up to as the child is technically committing a crime by producing and sharing this content. there also would have been time for onlyfans to rework its verification system to make it harder for minors to get into.

instead, sex workers have been thrown out of the platform they built and are being shamed for being upset about it because they aren’t “thinking of the children”.

there is such a stunning lack of education being pushed as to why these things are bad and dangerous and much more focus about destroying it. children will see this cool forbidden thing and run straight towards it because they don’t know any better, no one has told them not to touch the hot stove. yes, their brains aren’t done developing yet. they are not emotionally or mentally mature yet, they are going to make stupid mistakes - but they make more mistakes and open themselves up to more harm when they don’t understand that they’re in danger or where the danger is coming from.

and this isn’t victim blaming. i was a child online who had to deal with predators. i was the kid who would circumvent neopet’s ‘no offline site contact’ rule to rp with people over AIM. i thought it was stupid! i was grown up and mature, i could handle it, right? i had sooooo many online friends and nothing bad ever happened. i wasn’t even old enough to be on the forum!

then i was thirteen. i had naively added a person on msn thinking they were a fun new friend who was going to give me a rare item on gaia online, only for them to switch on a time when we were in private. they threatened to hack and delete my account unless i got on webcam and got shirtless. i was a lonely child and the internet friends i had were my only friends. i remember crying and my mom walking in the room, not knowing what was happening, and then i used that as a chance to wrest my account back and block and report the guy.

i never told my mom. i thought she’d take away the computer forever and i’d lose my only connection. i just dealt with the shame that this man had seen me shaking and afraid in only my bra. i had nightmares about him telling me to take it off or he’d send the picture to my school friends, since he now had access to my im list. i thought he was my friend. he said he liked my writing. he changed on a dime when we were alone.

when it happened again later, i knew that there was a reason why this 27 year old man kept dming me to tell me i was pretty when i shared pictures in our group chat. now my school was giving internet stranger danger education, i knew some of what to watch out for and to trust my gut. it made me feel cool for all of ten seconds that this COOL older person praised my writing and thought i was attractive, but it also made me feel uneasy. the fact that he wouldn’t do this where anyone else could see it bothered me. so, without a trusted adult, i went to the mods of the server and his girlfriend and expressed my discomfort about the conversations that were happening in private. more details came out and he was thrown out from the group chat.

i never see education being brought up in these conversations. never. from either side. the other day i went looking for evidence or studies of some of the arguments i see bandied around the most and found nothing. even in psas for legitimate predators, i never see people passing out education as to how kids can spot the danger signs or take the steps necessary to protect themselves.

please ask yourself why when we talk about protecting minors online from predators, the normalization of carrds containing every single detail about their personal life when that is essentially a guide for a predator to use to get close to and abuse that child with is not the first thing brought up as a problem that needs to go.

#purity culture #tw child abuse #tw csa #tw child trafficking #tw homophobia #tw grooming

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sorry-apsalar · 4 years ago

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Frender Week Day Seven: Free Day

I've been wanting and meaning to do a Bender sick fic ever since I did the Fry sick fic and now I finally have.

Also this ship week went far better than I ever could hoped for. So thank you everyone for participating! :)

Fry wasn’t the most observant fellow in the world but even he could tell something was wrong with Bender. It was their day off, normally the day Bender was the least lazy since they weren’t supposed to be doing anything. Often he suggested they go out somewhere to do something or he went off to do his own thing that more often than not resulted in him returning home with stolen goods. But instead, he lounged on the couch, feet up on the coffee table, watching TV but seemingly not really paying attention to it. He didn’t even seem to notice when Fry picked up the remote to change the channel.

“You okay?” Fry finally had to ask because clearly something was wrong.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” There wasn’t any energy in his voice though.

“You don’t seem fine. What’s wrong? Are you sick or something?” Could robots get sick? Well, computers could get viruses so… maybe?

Bender shifted just enough to give him an annoyed look. “I’m fine so leave me alone.”

“Hmmm… you haven’t had anything to drink in while, is that it?” Though normally Bender seemed more intoxicated before getting lethargic when that was the issue and he only did that when he was upset about something. “Did I do something wrong?” Because normally when Bender was upset it because of something Fry had done or said while they were fighting or had failed to do or say. They hadn’t fought any time recently though so… “Like did I forget our anniversary or… some other important thing that I don’t remember? If so, I didn’t…”

“No, it has nothing to do with you. I just… contracted some malware while browsing the internet. It’s messing with my systems and making me overheat a little. I’ll be fine when my anti-virus is done dealing with it.”

“So you are sick.”

Bender groaned. “No. I have a computer virus, it’s different.”

It seemed like basically the same thing to Fry so… “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Bender gave him a suspicious look. “Why do you care so much? It’s really not a big deal.”

“Because I love you silly. And because you helped me when I was sick a few weeks ago, remember? I want to return the favor if I can. So is there anything I can do you help you feel better?”

“Well, you could crank up the cold air and fetch me a cold beer from the fridge.”

Fry hopped up off the couch. First, he went to the space cooler and cranked it up to as cold as it could go which unfortunately for him was colder than he was comfortable with but he’d live. Then to the fridge. “Is there anything else?” he asked as he returned to the couch to hand Bender that cold beer.

“Hmmm… yeah, actually you could uh…” Bender looked around the room as if searching for ideas. “Do a stupid dance.”

“That’s not actually about making you feel better, is it? You just want me to look like a fool so you can laugh at me, right?”

“All right, fine, you caught me. You offered though. I’m just too tired to think of something less obvious.”

“Wow, you must be really sick then, huh?” Because he was normally quite good at getting Fry to do dumb stuff for his amusement without it being obvious that that was what he was doing – to Fry anyway.

Bender groaned again. “Laughing at you would make me feel better though.”

“Well in that case, I guess I could.” After all when Fry had been sick, Bender had carried him all the way home from the Planet Express building, so putting in a little extra work would only be fair, right?

“Nah, just come here.” He gestured for Fry to sit next to him on the couch. As soon as Fry did so he put an arm around him to pull him closer. “Just cuddle with me for a bit if you’re going to insist on being all cute and loving like that.”

“Okay.” Fry was more than happy to do that. “Just tell me if you actually do need anything else, okay?”

“Yeah, whatever, thanks.”

#my writing #futurama #frender #frender week

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k1ttyadventurer · 5 years ago

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AvA Thoughts and Ideas

Yes, this is my first blog post. I can’t believe it was Animator vs Animation that made me want to interact with people on this site.

@sammy8d257 (I’m the anon that wanted to add to your theories) and @inksandpensblog, I’m tagging you guys because I really like your AvA theory crafting and I want to share my thoughts with you. Hope you don’t mind getting tagged. (Also, I’m so down to discuss this stuff in DMs or on Discord if you want? I’m craving AvA discussion.)

Edit: Rephrased a few things to flow better or be better understood. Also added a new point I just thought of. Edit 2: Fixing things that didn't get fixed the first time.

Okay, so, AvA.

(Also, I will be calling Orange/Second ‘Orange’ because that’s what Alan calls him, unless I’m referring to “avatar-state” Orange, then I may refer to him as ‘Second’.)

((Also, also, my thoughts jump around quite a bit, sorry about that! Hope you can follow my thought process.))

(((Also, also, also, my opinions and headcanons expressed here are not set in stone. They could definitely change, which has already happened over the course of writing this.)))

1) Chosen’s relationship with Dark. - I definitely think that Chosen liked Dark (no offense to shippers, but I’m talking purely friendship here), however, I would guess that Dark considered the two of them much closer than Chosen did. - Chosen initially followed Dark’s lead when destroying things. It was all he had known, and Dark wanted to do it. But Chosen started noticing it was actually hurting others, and didn’t really achieve anything. - When they came to odds, Chosen struck first, while Dark just tried to stubbornly continue with his plan. It makes Chosen look like he immediately jumped to attacking, but I’d like to point out, in the flashback, he actively wanted Dark to stop attacking others when they were on the Newgrounds page. I think this means that this tension had been building up for some time. It wasn’t a sudden thing of Chosen deciding to attack Dark. It was likely sudden for Dark, because Chosen didn’t communicate with him (probably), but for Chosen, I think the creation of the virus was simply the last thing that convinced him that his former friend was actually an evil person. - (I would love to see a reformed Dark and Chosen being friends! But, I think trying to say he wasn’t all bad in the first place is severely glossing over the fact that he did--and was going to do--some awful, awful things.) - Chosen had no hesitance when he returned from defeating the first spider virus. He was going to beat Dark. - (I also find it interesting that Chosen knew where this second location was. From what I can gather from the AvG reaction, it was meant to be a more secret location for Dark? Did Chosen watch him from afar and discover it? Just thinking.) - TLDR: Chosen had already started expecting Dark might become an enemy before Dark revealed the virus.

2) Chosen’s opinion of Alan. - Plain and simple, I don’t think Chosen hates Alan. I don’t think he even holds a grudge anymore. - Yeah, he definitely hated Alan when he was chained up. He held a grudge for a long while after he escaped. But. I think as he watched Dark’s actions and the impact his destruction had on others, he started to see what Alan saw when Chosen was destroying Alan’s PC. - When he entered Alan’s computer, and started trying to defend Alan’s PC, he was now in Alan’s shoes. He was the cursor, the anti-virus, who didn’t want or choose to have this destruction happen. - After the fight, he sees other sticks on the computer and is forced to consider it may have been his own fault he got 'tamed', since the proof of Alan getting along with, or at least tolerating, stick figures was in front of him. - It doesn’t mean what Alan did was right, but Chosen now sees why Alan chained him. After all, isn’t Chosen himself now on his way to destroy Dark? He and Alan aren’t so different. He nods to Alan, acknowledging him, even forgiving him. Alan nods back. There’s a level of acceptance that has been established between them. Alan respects stick figures significantly more, and Chosen sees Alan isn’t a heartless monster. - So, when Alan’s cursor joins the fight against Dark, they were already on the same page. Preventing needless violence with violence. Not to mention, have you seen how many hits Alan purposely took for Chosen? As soon as the black blades came out, Alan got between them and Chosen as often as he could. Alan came to help Chosen, not just to defeat Dark. - If Chosen could ally so quickly with Dark, and then turn on him when he realized Dark’s morals were wrong, why can’t the reverse be true with Chosen realizing Alan had changed for the better?

3) Chosen’s opinion of Orange. - I believe it was Inks who said that Chosen feels something along the lines of submissive towards Orange at the end. While I do agree that Chosen’s bow doesn’t seem worshipful, I don’t think it’s Chosen ‘giving up’. I think it’s simply showing respect and gratitude in a very similar sense to how the five bowed to him after dealing with the virus. He’s just... far less emotive. It’s a nice parallel.

4) The effects of the virus spiders and blades on Chosen. - Personally, I think the reason it looks like the virus has so little effect on Chosen is because of his coloring. Orange is, well, orange, so the black wounds are obviously going to show. - You can see Chosen showing weakness in both his fight with the spider virus and his fight with Dark. The weakness shows itself in hesitation, slower response, straight up laying in a crater or the water for an extended period of time. - I think at the end, when the Dark sends the virus to infect the internet, Chosen is laying there unmoving because he literally can’t move. His body language reads of someone looking up weakly, unable to do anything but wanting to. The viruses temporarily disabled him (but, notably, it took all of them to do so). Dark can’t actually kill Chosen or delete him, but he’s been successfully incapacitated, so Dark can move forward with his plan, unhindered. - I just don’t think Chosen would ever, ever give up. If he can fight back, he will. He has never backed down once, even when there seems to be no way he can win. He almost lost to a spider virus--there’s even subtle hints later that he’s afraid of fighting them--but he still attacks the whole swarm until he literally can’t anymore.

5) Dark fighting Orange. - With stabbing Orange, it becomes clear that he’s not being as quickly affected by the blade as his friends. That’s why the Dark lord raises him off the ground; he grew impatient. (Also, Chosen reacts to Orange being stabbed? Is it because he knows Orange is one of Alan’s creations as opposed to the other four sticks? Or does he literally feel something?) - Dark becomes absolutely furious at Orange’s attempts to attack him and frustrated that Orange won’t simply die. Too reminiscent of Chosen. Also, I would like to note that, before he even stabbed Orange, Dark hits him the hardest out of the four still standing.

6) Orange’s powers. - Before I say anything about Orange’s avatar-state, I want to point out that his talents seem a whole lot more like Victim’s than Chosen's? I don’t know, if it weren’t for the fact that he has some label saying “The Chosen One’s Return,” I’d say he’s actually the ‘second coming’ of Victim. - Okay, now to his powers. Almost all of them are souped up versions of Chosen’s, with two exceptions. The whole reviving/restoring code ability, and the ability to fly/float without flames. The latter of these two abilities is something we see Dark do after he puts on his black band. The former could also very well be associated with Dark, considering Second had to go to Dark’s console to revive his friends. Food for thought. - There’s a trade off here in the power scaling. Second is so much stronger than Chosen, but obviously can’t tap into his powers whenever he wants. Not to mention, he seemingly can’t use them indefinitely. If Dark somehow managed to avoid getting blasted into the beyond, Orange would be in major trouble if his super-state has a time limit. - Then there’s the whole sleeping thing in videos that likely take place later chronologically? On the build competition video where Orange literally can’t stay awake for fifteen seconds despite punching himself in the face, there was something Alan did that always struck me as odd. He hearted a comment saying something like ‘should we be concerned about Orange’s narcolepsy?’ almost implying that we should be concerned? Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but I haven’t seen him just heart “funny-haha” comments before. (I would also like to point out it is very possible for this to be planned out. These AvM video scripts were likely written after AvA’s scripts even if the videos were finished first.)

7) What next for Chosen doing things with the color squad? - I think, despite the many, many issues that will come up if Chosen ‘play-fights’ with the others (as I stated as an Anon to Sammy), it would be incredibly healthy for him once he can do it safely and have fun. He was born wanting to fight. It’s his calling. And he’s really good at it. Finding a way to do it without hurting others? That’s the best thing he could ever have. - Okay, and, what if, Chosen doesn’t quite understand why Orange doesn’t remember going super, but he decides that he’s going to get to the bottom of Orange’s powers and, in the process, starts training Orange. (It probably starts with Chosen being all, ‘come here’ and flies up, while Orange is just, ‘what? I can’t do that.’ ‘Yes you can. Do it.’ Of course, that blunt method of teaching is not going to work, so Chosen has to learn to communicate better.) Training may or may not actually be successful, but imagine him and Orange bonding. - Both the color squad and Chosen adopting each other. They both parent the other in their own ways, and just. Be cute together. Chosen learns how to people and relax, and gets, like, super attached to these weak little sticks? So, the color squad now has an overprotective higher being watching over them, and the awe they have of his power is quickly cut short when they learn he’s never played cards before? - The sticks also show off their skills to Chosen and he’s just. Confused. Why would you tap blocks just to make a sound? Make something to harvest wheat when you can do it by hand? Why are you eating that. Animals? Okay, actually, holding this cat is nice.

(I deleted my old conclusion on accident, and I don't remember what it said. I don't think it was important, though. Thanks for reading! Please share any thoughts if you have any!)

#K1ttyTalks #K1ttyTalksAvA #Alan Becker #Animator vs Animation #AvA Shorts #AvA #AvATheory #AvAHeadcanon #AvAAnalysis

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passionate-reply · 4 years ago

Video

youtube

“Why did Kraftwerk stop making albums?” they all ask, as though Karl Bartos isn’t right here, consistently kicking ass and making great music. If you’re hungry for more Kraftwerk goodness, specifically with an early 90s techno flair, you probably won’t do better than Esperanto, so come check it out! (Also featuring special guest star Andy McCluskey from OMD.) Full transcript below!

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! Today, I’ll be talking about an album not too many people have heard, but that I think more people really should--especially fans of Kraftwerk. It’s Esperanto, the 1993 debut of Kraftwerk alumnus Karl Bartos’s project, Elektric Music. The production of the final classic-lineup Kraftwerk LP, 1986’s Electric Cafe, had been dominated by frustrating delays, rewrites, and remixes, and when all was said and done, the resulting album was a relative flop. By the time of the 1991 remix album The Mix, which seemed to end Kraftwerk’s career with a whimper, Bartos had grown alienated from founding members Ralf Huetter and Florian Schneider-Esleben, and fed up with their apparent lack of work ethic. He set out on his own, partnering with Lothar Manteuffel of the Neue Deutsche Welle act Rheingold, to form Elektric Music.

What I think really stands out about Esperanto first is its sense of freewheeling, unrestrained immediacy. For nearly a decade leading up to this album, Bartos had been working at the whim of others, waiting around, and feeling like he was spinning his wheels. Esperanto feels like a tightly coiled spring that’s finally being released. It’s dense, busy, in-your-face music that positively demands to be paid attention to.

Music: “Lifestyle”

Vibrating at the core of Esperanto is an undeniable Kraftwerk-esque sonic template: textural synth side-swipes, chattering vocoder-driven vocals, and hypnotic, mechanical rhythms. It’s natural to expect that rhythmic quality from Bartos, since he was chiefly brought on to provide percussion parts for Kraftwerk, but it’s also important to remember that he’s as interested in pop music as he is in classical. Both Bartos’s solo work, as well as the Kraftwerk tracks he had a hand in, emphasize melody, in a poppy, easy to love manner. The melodies here have some precedent in Bartos’s earlier work, but they’ve never been quite as punchy and vibrant before.

“Lifestyle” also makes early use of vocal chops, which contribute to that tight and busy feel, while also being a marked attempt at pushing this core sound into the musical future. Some of these specific samples are actually repeated across multiple tracks, if you listen closely--a sort of callback to the repeated melodic motives of the early Kraftwerk albums. “Information,” a high-concept eight-minute epic that the rest of the tracklisting pivots around, is even closer to being structured like “Trans-Europe Express”:

Music: “Information”

Bartos has never really ceased struggling under the weight of his Kraftwerk past, torn between indulging in these ideas and themes that come so naturally to him, and feeling obligated to set himself apart--as well as obligated to push the envelope and break new musical ground. Esperanto radiates and burns with that sense of conflict, which feels fresher and more raw, given the timeframe involved. This tension between working with and working against the Kraftwerk legacy is not only musical, but also thematic. Like the Kraftwerk albums, Esperanto is deeply concerned with the role technology plays in our lives...but it’s a lot less optimistic. Take, for instance, the opening track, “TV”:

Music: “TV”

“TV” is Esperanto at its most gloomy or melancholy, portraying the detached haze of modern lotus-eaters transfixed by the glowing screen. It’s an image that’s readily familiar and relatable to us today, of course, and it’s also one that runs contrary to the techno-utopianism of Kraftwerk, where home technologies offer hope of bringing people together rather than splitting them apart, and disconnecting them from the real world. If that wasn’t enough to convince you to read “TV” as an anti-Kraftwerk screed, the lyrics even point to “computer graphics” and “electric bands” as fodder for that destructively distracting entertainment. Ouch! Along somewhat similar lines is the track “Kissing the Machine”:

Music: “Kissing the Machine”

“Kissing the Machine” is also a sort of rebuttal of Kraftwerk tracks like “Computer Love,” demonstrating the pitiful perversion it really is to expect human, emotional fulfillment from a cold and sterile mechanical contraption. Whereas “TV” is more overtly downbeat, “Kissing the Machine” takes the route of dramatic irony, going for an eerily cheerful, naive sort of sound, painting its narrator as utterly oblivious to what they’re missing out on. You probably noticed that the vocalist on this track is actually not Bartos--it’s Andy McCluskey, best known as the frontman of Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. Like Manteuffel, McCluskey is a younger synth-pop artist whose career began in the 1980s, making music that owed quite a lot to what Kraftwerk had achieved before. Bringing on some slightly younger talent is not only a nod towards keeping up with the times, but also another jab at the legacy of Kraftwerk, who refused to collaborate with any other musicians, and at times even seemed loath to acknowledge how the art of electronic music had evolved in their wake. As the title of Esperanto implies, the theme of language is also prominent here, and that serves as yet another way in which the Kraftwerk philosophy is turned on its head, most notably in the title track:

Music: “Esperanto”

While many people assert that it’s more “authentic” to listen to Kraftwerk in German, they made consistent attempts to incorporate a wide variety of languages into their work. Besides the English-language versions of their LPs, Kraftwerk also sang in French, Italian, Spanish, Russian, and even Japanese, to varying degrees. They were selling a vision of “Europe Endless” that was multicultural and multilingual, and seemed to have wanted people from all over the world to connect with them and feel included and represented in their future, rather than view them as some distant and peculiarly Teutonic phenomenon.

“Esperanto” flies in the face of the dream of linguistic unity. Esperanto itself is an artificial, constructed language, created by L. L. Zamenhof in the late 19th Century. Combining features from the most commonly spoken languages across the globe, and streamlining away things like irregular verbs, Esperanto was built from the ground up to become a true “universal language” for all of mankind, that was easy to learn and use. But despite the hopes of Zamenhof, whose name for his new tongue translates to English as “one who hopes,” it obviously never caught on. The most beautiful utopian vision in the world is still just a vision, and you can end up failing even if “you’ve got the perfect pitch.”

Kraftwerk’s longtime graphic designer Emil Schult, whose contributions to Kraftwerk’s signature aesthetic are nearly as important to their legacy as any of their music, returned to create the cover art of Esperanto. With its bright and simple red tone and strong use of diagonals, Esperanto’s cover art is clearly evocative of the iconic cover of Kraftwerk’s 1978 LP The Man-Machine, arguably the finest hour for the band as well as Schult. However, its abstract, non-figurative qualities set it apart from the work Schult and Bartos had done before, as Kraftwerk hadn’t made an album that didn’t feature their own faces front and center since 1975’s Radioactivity. The image of a rising sun is fitting for the idea of Bartos’s empowered return to music after a period of dormancy.

The world is full of people bemoaning the fact that Kraftwerk gave up on making new music, and the apparent irony of this band who appeared to be visiting from the future being absent from the world they helped create, in which “electronic music” has ceased to be a novelty and become a default. Karl Bartos may not be the most prolific artist in the world, but I’ve always seen him as the rightful heir to the Kraftwerk legacy, and I think his string of solo albums since leaving the band are the most worthy follow-ups that could ever have been paired with Kraftwerk’s classic run. Esperanto does everything you could possibly want a 1990s Kraftwerk album to do, staying true to that musical heritage while also pushing forward, and staking a place in the broader artistic conversation. I think everyone who identifies as a fan of Kraftwerk owes it to themself to give Esperanto a spin.

My favourite track on Esperanto is the closer, “Overdrive.” Unlike the readily apparent cynicism purveyed by tracks like “TV” and “Kissing the Machine,” “Overdrive” reads as a more complex perspective about technology and everyday life. It’s a portrayal of that all-too-modern scourge of overstimulation, that’s still ultimately a very exciting one, that sweeps you up in its triumphant “kiss of life.” Listening to its chaotic instrumental outro, I can’t help but feel that it leads directly into Bartos’s follow-up to Esperanto, 2003’s Communication--an album that would tackle the Internet age, and its inescapable virtual hustle and bustle, head-on. That’s all for today--thanks for watching!

Music: “Overdrive”

#music #great albums #album review #album reviews #karl bartos #kraftwerk #andy mccluskey #omd #orchestral manoeuvres in the dark #elektric music #techno #synth pop #synth-pop #synthpop

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sunsetinmyvein · 4 years ago

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The Radio Station - Chapter Six - Why Can’t We Be Friends?

26th of November, 2018

Eventually, she saw it all unfold in the headlines. The lies. The heroin. The trip to rehab. It was devastating to discover the root cause of Matty’s behaviour in such a disconnected way from how she might’ve expected to discover it a few years ago. A part of her wanted to reach out, to check in and see if he was doing all right, offer to help, but she suspected after their last two interactions that maybe she was better off just leaving it. However, in contrast to the sinking feeling from knowing he had been going through such turmoil, it was incredibly uplifting to see him getting back on his feet. For him to be writing and releasing music again meant that he must’ve successfully made it to the other side. Whenever the announcement of a new album came, she waited in anticipation for the email confirming that he’d be coming back on the show. She wasn’t entirely sure if she was excited at the thought of seeing him again, or absolutely dreading the prospect of things still being uncomfortable between them - her emotions seemed to regularly flip flop between the two. It was awfully close to the album release date when she finally got the confirmation from her boss; she had begun to suspect maybe he didn’t want to come back on the show after how they’d left things. He’d have every right to resent her after how she’d treated him.

She was knocked out of her thoughts whenever she heard a soft knock at the door, turning in her chair to see Matty standing outside with a sheepish smile, having arrived early. His hair was cropped quite a bit shorter than she’d seen it before but he was still sporting his natural curls. He was wearing some puffy yellow coat over a plain shirt, and stock standard worn out blue jeans. It was probably the most… average, that she’d ever seen him look (not that average was ever a truly fitting word to describe Matthew Healy). She waited for him to push the door open and come in, but he seemed to be waiting for her to let him in. As she stood up and opened the door, and he gingerly made his way inside and loitered next to her desk for a minute, she was suddenly vividly reminded of the first time she’d met him. All she could see was the nervous twenty-three-year-old that she’d met six years ago, who was scared shitless about his first proper radio interview. The nostalgia hit like a freight train, and before she could give it a second thought she grabbed him in a tight hug.

He hugged her back, pressing his face into her shoulder as he let out the breath he had been holding. “I’m sorry…” She said quietly after a moment.

He gave an incredulous laugh at that, “You’re sorry? For what?” He asked. “I was the dickhead.”

“I just…” This hadn’t really been the way she expected herself to instantly react, nor had she thought of anything to say in this situation. Her mouth was running dry trying to come up with the right words to explain what she was feeling. “I wasn’t exactly a good friend.”

“I think we were both a bit guilty of that.” He chuckled as he ran a hand through his hair, taking a step back.

“I should’ve tried harder.” She tried to explain, frowning at herself as she floundered for the right sentiment.

“It’s fine, truly.” He reassured her. “I wouldn’t have told you what was happening, anyway. Nobody knew.” He added with a shrug.

They took their seats opposite the desk, both feeling slightly relieved but well aware there was still tension surrounding them. “Uh, is there anything you want me to avoid asking about?” She asked eventually, busying herself with checking the text line to avoid looking directly at him.

“No.” Matty replied instantly. “I’d prefer you ask what you want to rather than censor yourself for my benefit. I won’t answer it if it’s too much.” He clarified. “Thanks for checking, though.”

“Are you…” She hesitated, unsure of the boundaries of their friendship now and how much she should be asking for her own curiosity. “Are you all right now?” She asked as she looked across to him.

He cracked a small smile, “Considerably better. Probably not all the way there yet, though. It’s hard with my girlfriend back at home for the moment, but I’m managing. Keeping busy with other stuff to stay occupied.” He answered truthfully. She nodded in understanding. “And you? It’s been at least three years since we’ve had a proper conversation.” The realisation of how long it had actually been stung slightly, but she ignored that feeling and instead focused on the fact that he seemed to genuinely want to know how she’d been.

“Good.” She grinned. “Doing well on the morning slot now that it’s been a few years.”

“You’ve been making a bit of a reputation for yourself over here, I hear your name get kicked around a bit when I’m at home. It’s nice to see you getting proper recognition for your efforts.” She tried her best not to blush at the subtle compliment.

Thankfully she didn’t have too long to dwell on his kind words and any connotations behind them before the interview started. The nervous butterflies sat at the pit of her stomach as she switched the live audio and video feeds over, lying in wait in case the interview still felt as awkward and forced as the last two.

“Matty, great to have you back.” She spoke, clearing her throat slightly.

“Great to be back after so long.” He said cheerfully.

“The 1975 release their new record in six days, A Brief Inquiry into Online Relationships-”

“Only six days?” He muttered to himself in slight disbelief.

“We’ve only got a relatively short interview today, because after this you are heading straight into the live lounge to play a few tracks for us.” He made a noise of agreement. “We’ve heard five singles off it, all of which sound very different from one another in true 1975 fashion.” Matty laughed lightly at that. “And I noticed that you did the same thing with this album as what you did with I Like it When You Sleep; the first single you released was the first track on the album. Is this becoming a habit for you guys?” She asked.

“Probably not a habit.” He started, letting out a huff. “It just felt like the most natural thing to do. Whether it felt like a primary statement or not, I’m not sure. We’d already made an album by that point, we hadn’t made a group of singles. I hadn’t been thinking ‘oh, how do we butter them up?’ Just thought… this is the first song on the record. Put it out.” He shrugged.

“Do you think this is your strongest record so far?”

“A hundred percent.” He answered instantly.

“I’ve heard people comparing it to OK Computer. Saying that it’s a similar thing for the millennial generation.” She prompted.

He let out a groan, “I try not to think much about it.” He admitted. “I mean, what do I say? It’s so humbling and amazing, but strange also, because… the only realisation that I really came to, about the record – I think the reference to OK Computer is maybe it’s kind of, the narrative is incredibly twinned with how we communicate and the internet and all those kind of things. Which is obviously OK Computer in a nutshell. My favourite records are about life.” He said, clenching his fist for emphasis and knocking the microphone lightly. “It’s maybe a bit of a big thing to say, but I was just writing a record about relationships. Well… I wasn’t even doing that; I was just writing a record. And it turns out if you’re trying to write an honest record about relationships and how they’re mediated in the modern day, you’re kind of by proxy writing about the internet.” He explained. Things already felt more natural than what they had of late. Matty felt more open and responsive, which instantly put her mind at ease.

“One of the other singles that we’ve heard from the album is Love It If We Made It, which is…” She tried to pick her words carefully to best capture her thoughts on the song succinctly, “a pretty powerful song to say the least.”

Matty nodded enthusiastically before answering, “The thing with Love It If We Made It… it was very, very difficult to write. It’s a list of information. The idea stemmed from the fact that over a year we collected tabloid newspapers every day to make the lyrics. Unfortunately, when we got to trying that, it was too slapstick. The song was hard to get right. It needed to be as objective and as fair and as anti… ‘watch out sheeple’ as possible. And that’s hard to do.”

“It seems you guys did a good job with it in the end. It’s been resonating well with our listeners.”

“Thanks.” Matty grinned proudly.

“It’s Not Living If It’s Not With You has also had quite the response.” She added, hoping he’d have a bit to say about that, and that maybe it could work as a segue to the questions blowing up her screen in her peripheral vision.

“It’s… I don’t know…” He sighed, staring blankly at the wall behind her as he tried to formulate an answer. “The way I always explain it, it’s like it’s a song that sounds poppy but it’s about something serious. Which, okay, that’s straight up 1975. And that’s because the feeling that I get from music, narratively or musically, can kind of be the same thing. You know like being nervous or being like, er, anxious for a date, physically could be the same feeling as the fear of heights if you get rid of all the intellect. Emotionally, you get the same thing. I’ve always been like, I get this feeling when I read the lyrics of Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen but I get the same carnal feeling when I hear the music to Girls Just Want to Have Fun. So… the synthesis of those ideas has just been the most obvious thing in the world for me, you know what I mean?” He looked across to her for confirmation. “I think that idea really sums up The 1975. If you’re a big fan of The 1975, that’s the most 1975-iest song on the record.”

She had hoped he would jump straight into the lyrical content of the song, but clearly she would need to segue into it herself. “That totally makes sense.” She agreed. “There’s been a bit of a debate about the subject matter of It’s Not Living.” She said, giving him a cautious glance. He’d said not to worry about asking whatever she wanted to, but that didn’t stop her from feeling like she was delving too deep into his private life.

He hummed thoughtfully. “I’m pretty sure most of the fans know what it’s about.” He said with a dry laugh. “I’ve not like… done some big reveal of my relationship with drugs over the past couple of years. I think that because…” He stared down at the desk with a frown, “I used to have nightmares about being exposed. Because remember, my whole game has always been that ‘do I know that you know that I think that I’m a rock star?’ that’s always been my whole thing.” He said with a pointed look. “So, the idea though, of actually being known for being a junkie and doing those kinds of things, used to terrify me. Because then I’m a cliché. I lose all of my irony and lose all of my funniness because I’m an actual cliché. So, I think even when I’m talking about it on this record, I’m still going ‘Danny ran into some complications-’ it’s like I’m using characters. It’s a bit like somebody going ‘I’ve got this mate, right, and he’s got a bit of this weird rash-’ “ He chuckled. “Like ‘yeah, all right, well tell your mate-’ it’s like we know who you’re talking about. I think the idea that I’m still trying to hide and remove myself from it is part of the gag. But then the chorus is brutally honest. It’s difficult to write a song like that. It’s hard to despise the idea of fetishizing or romanticising drug use as a behaviour but then only having my truth. Like I don’t have anything else, I don’t have anywhere else to talk about it. There is a hopelessness to drug addiction. You don’t keep doing it because it’s cool, you keep doing it because you feel like there’s no life without it.” His expression seemed to become quite sombre at that before he continued his train of thought. “And to express that… it wasn’t like a relief for me. The music is a catharsis for me, but it wasn’t like I needed to get that out. Unfortunately, I’m only my set of experiences, and they’re pretty limited as somebody who’s been on the road for four years trying to mediate his life through drug addiction, y’know? So yeah… it’s difficult to walk that line. Um… But I just had to make sure that… like with most of my work, any discussion of my behaviour is normally with a profound distaste. And kids are smart, man.”

She hadn’t really expected him to be so open about it so readily. “What started it?” She asked instinctually, almost forgetting for a moment that she was at work and meant to be providing entertainment. “If you don’t mind me asking.” She added as an afterthought.

He waved a hand dismissively at her worry. “I’d be on stage, and there would be however many thousands of people. And I’m genuinely trying to connect with people, you know? And then it’s done. Go back to the hotel room. Go to sleep. Like… what?” He answered with a frustrated huff. “I was trying to change culture in my head ten minutes ago and now I’ve gotta go to sleep? I used drugs to go to sleep primarily. I’ve never had a good relationship with sleep, anyway… I’ve always been jealous of people they’ll tell me about a dream and they’ll kind of like explain this little kind of film that they’ve been that has a dynamic of emotions and it was up and it was down and my dreams are just like terror. Just fear. I’ve never had that many good dreams. And drugs stop you dreaming. But then obviously… you have solutions to get rid of that post-show buzz. Didn’t really get me anywhere. Spoilt it, as well. Did way too much. Did loads of it.” He admitted. “So, I can’t do anymore of it… when I’m older.” He laughed.

“So, you became reliant on that as a comedown?” She questioned.

“It was always gonna happen with me with opiates.” He said bluntly. “I only say this in case people relate to it, but like, when I was younger, I kind of used to dream about being sedated. And unfortunately, sex, drugs, other things, religion, I’ve loved all these things in my life but they’ve never just-” He clicked his fingers, “turned it off. And unfortunately, when I tried those drugs, I – temporarily, for a moment – had that. And I was like, right, this is gonna help. And erm,” He picked at his nail anxiously. “It just takes your shine off, slows you down. Makes you lie, which is a nightmare for somebody who is so Mr Tell The Truth.”

“The lies are what got you caught?”

He made a noise of contemplation. “The problem is… I’m very, very lucky, is what I am. And I have an infrastructure around me of like… we’ve been a band since we were fourteen, I’m twenty-nine, right.” He said with a pointed look in her direction. “We’re like brothers, we love each other. I have amazing opportunities like this,” He gestured around the studio, “I have my health, I have all these things. There’s not a lot of people around me who allow stuff like… hard drug use. And that’s really annoying when you’re a drug addict. But it also makes you reflect, you know what I mean? Because you just end up lying, and being a version of yourself that- but that’s part of the sickness. You incentivise things weirdly.” He explained with a shrug.

“And the rehab centre you went to was in Barbados?” She asked. He nodded in response. “I heard that the band paid for that?”

His expression visibly softened when she brought that up. “Yeah. I think the nice story was that uh… Obviously, I’m in a fortunate place in my career that - obviously I have to think about those kind of financial things - but before I went I was kind of thinking ‘I’ll sort that out when I’m out there’ and then I remember saying to Jamie ‘oh-‘ and he was like ‘aw nah, nah, it’s all sorted’ and I was like ‘Oh, how much did it - what was it?’ and he was like ‘oh, well we just did it out the band’ and I was like ‘oh really??’ “ He seemed visibly touched by this story, even retelling it now.

“That was pretty amazing of them to do.”

“Yeah… Yeah, it was.” He muttered, still clearly caught up in his own thoughts. “And you know what, if you want a band to last forever, share.” He added simply.

“And this place you went to, supposedly they do a bunch of stuff with horses?” She asked in confusion. When she had heard this information, she was almost certain she had gotten her wires crossed, but Matty was already confirming what she had said.

“Equine therapy, yeah! It was, basically…” He started trying to explain, before cracking a smile and looking across to her. “In reality what it was, for the first two or three days was me stood in a field rolling my eyes next to a horse.” He said with a laugh. “That’s what it was really. This guy put me in a field with a horse and was like ‘talk to the horse’ so I’m like” He gave a sarcastic look, “ ‘…all right?’ So, he leaves me alone and I’m like ‘hey man’ and the horse obviously didn’t say anything.” She couldn’t help but laugh at the image. “And then he put me in the round pen, right. He put me in this pen which was just round – was a good explanation of it.” He reprimanded himself with a snort. “And I stood in the middle, and basically he said ‘I want you to walk towards the horse. It’s gonna send the horse around in a loop, and I want you to assert your position. You’re not going to get the horse. You’re just telling the horse that this is where you’re going’. All this stuff. So, I do it. And he goes ‘you’ll notice three things, at one point the horse will dip its head, then it’ll bow its ear to you, then it’ll start biting its lips. Once it’s done these three things, I want you to turn your back and drop the rope.’ So, I’m like right, lips, thing, do this, yep. And the horse is running, the horse is running, I watched for these three cues, and I dropped the rope and I turned round. The horse stopped dead.” He clapped his hands together for emphasis, staring at her seriously.

“I swear to you, it was one of the most profound moments of my life. The horse stopped dead, came over to me and stood behind me – and this is a horse that for three days had mugged me off. And I was… stood there with this horse, that now… wanted to be with me?” He seemed entirely perplexed by this. “Then when I walked it wouldn’t cross my feet,” He gestured to his feet as he said this, knocking his microphone in the process. “Sorry, I keep hitting the microphone. Way too gesticulated today. Erm, when I went into the field and hung out with it, it wanted to be with me. And then I stood there and was like ‘Ah… Right…’ Then all of these profound things… It was so…” He tried his best to find the words. “It ate everything it needed to eat, and didn’t complain about it, and didn’t eat too much of it, and ate the right stuff. It had the ability to destroy anything it wanted, but the desire to hurt nothing. It was physically perfect and strong. It was forgiving with its time with me. And it was kind of compassionate in a way, ‘cause he’s a horse, he doesn’t want me there, he just wants to be a horse. But he let me be there.” It was abundantly clear how much of an impact this experience had on Matty. He spoke about it so passionately that it was hard not to feel moved by what he was saying. “I found myself envying all of these human qualities in a horse. And I think that was the point of it…” He said with a look of finality. “At least, I hope that was the point of it. Otherwise I’ve screwed it up and learned nothing.” He laughed loudly. “But it worked for me.”

“How are you finding it? Being off the drugs?” She asked, leaning back in her seat after having been leant forward in interest for the last few minutes as he told his story.

He pulled a face as he tried to answer that in a manner suitable for a mass radio audience. “I mean… I wouldn’t say I’m this ‘beacon of sobriety’ “ He punctuated that with air quotes, “that’s kind of, telling you how it is to be an ex addict. I don’t know.” He answered sincerely. “I’ve not gone long enough. I’m not gonna start talking about ‘I haven’t done drugs in five years - ten years’ it was only a few months ago. I was still doing loads of them.” He said as he scratched at his neck.

“Is it harder now without them?”

“I don’t sleep as good as I used to with it, but I’m getting by.” He replied with a nod. “I’m all right with sleeping now. The band and my girlfriend have been really supportive and helpful. I’m doing all the things now that I used to do when I took drugs all the time. So, I’ve just made a record without doing it all the time,” He ticked that off on a finger, “so that was an experience, that was a challenge. I’ve now started touring without doing it all the time,” He ticked that off as well, “that’s an experience, that’s a challenge. I’m now about to start getting on planes all the time and touring internationally,” He added that to the list, “that’ll be a challenge. But you’ve just gotta take it day by day as the cliché says, or you’ll freak yourself out.”

“You talk about drugs pretty freely in your music, but you don’t really speak about it in interviews, was that to try and stay… disconnected from it to some degree? Did you think it was going to get as bad as it did?” She asked. She had entirely tuned out of the fan questions being sent in now, asking these questions almost purely from her own curiosity to know what had happened to the Matty she knew.

“No, no, no… I didn’t. I mean, I think the thing that I think I always have confidence in is that because I’ve – regardless of if it’s drugs or relationships - the main thing I’ve done with The 1975 is spoken about myself with kind of quite a profound disdain.” He answered. “There’s not really been a celebration of the behaviour. I think that if I was ever romanticising or fetishizing the use of drugs, I think I’d catch myself doing it. And if I ever have done that in a lyric, it will be immediately met with a lyric that shows that one up to be ironic or flawed.” He elaborated. That made sense. Most of his songs did reflect that attitude. “I’ve just had to be honest. Religion allows you to kind of give something away, sex, exactly the same thing. They’re just ways of giving up some kind of responsibility in the moment. But by that point I’d done ‘em all!” He grinned, still trying to keep the mood light despite the heavy topic. “Drugs was the only one left.”

She stared at him for a moment, just taking in all of the information he’d given her in such a short timeframe. It was a lot to process all at once, but it made a lot of the pieces click into place and answered a lot of questions that had kept her up at night when they had lost contact. Eventually she clocked back into reality, seeing that he was watching her just as intently as she had been watching him while he had divulged some of the most intimate aspects of his life.

“So, to a lighter note-” She segued.

“It’s fine, I don’t mind talking about it.” He said with a chuckle.

She smiled back at him, “I’m sure our listeners have enjoyed hearing it all in such great detail. But, there are some other big events that have been happening in your life as well that we haven’t brought up.” She said.

“Oh?”

“The 1975 will be headlining Reading and Leeds next year.”

“Yes!” He beamed. “It’s our first big headline festival. It gets me proper emotional. We didn’t just go as kids, after I got to thirteen, Christmas took a back seat and the date on my calendar was Reading and Leeds. I went one year with a tenner and no tent. I mean, I’ve had some moments there. It’ll definitely be a very humble show. All of this ego and confidence here will be gone.” He scoffed, “ ‘Honestly guys, thanks so much for coming.’ ” He said in a feigned blubbering emotional voice, before giggling at himself. “But like, we’ve just become a really good band in my opinion. I think we could headline Reading and Leeds tomorrow if you asked us to.”

“Are you particularly excited to have content off the new album to perform there?”

“Definitely. There are some songs on there that will be added into the festival setlists. It was about creating a distillation of what preceded it. Everything needed to be better, more extreme. Poppy bits poppier, heavy bits heavier, honest bits more honest.” He explained with a nod. “You can look at your work and be like ‘what did I do there that someone likes’ or ‘let’s try and do that piano thing’. Me, when I’m like, really personal, really honest, that’s when I get the best reaction. So, I just tend to do that. Like what’s gonna make me, y’know-“ He started pretending to tear up for emphasis.

“And you guys are already working on the next album, Notes on a Conditional Form? This one’s not even out yet!”

He just laughed. “We went away and what happened was, we finished A Brief Inquiry, kind of had a week off and then we started with Notes. I’m just letting it happen.” He shrugged. “I’m letting it happen in the next six months. It’ll be before…” He seemed to be doing some calculations in his head. “August. It has to be in time for Reading and Leeds.” He added decisively.

Glancing down at the clock on the screen next to her, she could see that they had in fact gone over time. “Well, as always Matty, it’s been lovely having you on the show, but I think we have to wrap it up so you can scoot over to the live lounge and get yourself set up.” She said with a small sigh, disappointed that the interview had to end after how well it had been going. Matty had felt entirely captivating as he spoke today, clearly on his game.

“God, this’ll be the first time we’ve played together in… ages.” He said as he pulled a hand through his hair and leaned back into his chair. “And we’ve not played these songs live yet, either. This will be the debut.”

“Incredibly exciting.” She nodded. “So, I’ll let you go. Tune in folks in half an hour, The 1975 will be playing a short set for us of songs from their new album, A Brief Inquiry Into Online Relationships, in the live lounge.” She spoke into the microphone, before rounding out the interview.

Matty didn’t move from his chair across from her as she switched the camera feed off and switched over to the next round of tracks.

“Are you coming?” He asked as soon as she took her headset off. “To the live lounge?” He clarified.

Her shift was meant to end in just over twenty minutes, and they started in thirty. She could probably finish up quickly enough to make it down there in time. “Yeah, I can do that.” She said with a nod.

He grinned eagerly, “It’ll be wicked to have you there for it.”

“It’s probably about time I saw you guys play.” She laughed as he stood up.

“I’ll see you shortly.” He said over his shoulder as he made his way out of the studio.

* * *

By the time she made her way down to the live lounge quite a crowd had already formed. Her handover between shifts had been fairly rushed in an attempt to get out of there quickly, but obviously The 1975 knew how to draw an audience. She managed to squeeze her way through a few crew members to get a decent enough viewing point. Whenever she caught Matty’s gaze, he waved at her excitedly. She waved back, suddenly feeling a bout of nerves at the thought of finally watching him in action. Once the cameras were set up and all of the equipment had done one final round of checks, they launched into quite a boppy first song. She recognised this instantly as Tootime, as it had been her favourite of the singles that were released. He sounded a bit rusty and raw, which thankfully he could cover with the filter over his voice, but his enthusiasm to be performing again was unmistakable. The looks he was throwing to his band were nothing short of ecstatic, and despite being out of practice they played the song flawlessly. They finished up the first song, and he shrugged off his yellow jacket as they changed their gear over for the next two. Their little live set was only three songs long in the end, but they felt It’s Not Living and Sincerity Is Scary were excellent choices to best get across the vibe of the new album. After seeing what they could do in a tiny room with minimal fanfare, she was suddenly kicking herself for never getting out to one of their live shows.

When they had wrapped up the set, Matty started packing away his gear before seeing her starting to leave. He quickly dropped what he was doing and called out to her to wait up. She turned to face him, as he suddenly realised that he hadn’t worked out what to actually say. “Look, I’m sorry about… how I’ve been lately.” He eventually settled on.

“It’s okay, you were going through a rough time.” She reassured him.

“I was,” He nodded, “but it’s not really an excuse.” He added with a sigh. “Can I take you out to lunch after this? To apologise properly.” He asked with a hopeful look.

“You don’t have to-” She started, before he interrupted.

“I know I don’t have to - I want to.” He corrected. She considered this offer for a moment. “Please?”

“Sure.” She nodded, trying to conceal her smile. “That’d be nice.”

She waited patiently as he packed up his gear, feeling slightly awkward for loitering around a studio that wasn’t hers while she watched everyone else clear out. Once everything seemed fairly put away, he exchanged a quiet word with the band and walked over to where she was standing.

“Any preferences for where we eat? It’s your apology lunch, after all.” He said as he slipped his jacket back on.

She grimaced at his choice of words. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Why?” He laughed.

“It makes me feel worse than I already do.”

“Suppose we’ll just feel bad together, then.” He said as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and ushered her back out of the building. She couldn’t deny, it felt nice to be seeing Matty act more like he had when they’d first met. Whether that was because she enjoyed the attention or because it was nice to see her friend feeling more himself was up for debate.

Due to neither of them being the one to want to make the call about where to eat, for fear of the other not enjoying it, they ended up going to the only place that served food within their direct eyeline – a bakery. It made her feel less like she was taking advantage too for him to only have to pay for pastries and coffee, not a proper fancy meal with drinks. They caught each other up on the fine points of their lives that they’d missed out on hearing over the last few years: highlights in careers, people who’d come and gone, other artists they’d met that had proved to be noteworthy (for good reasons and bad). It was incredibly reassuring for the both of them to know that conversation still flowed easily enough between them when they weren’t actively disliking each other.

“Sorry if the interview was a bit… too personal. We didn’t really talk about the record all that much, in the end.” She said, thinking back to how long they’d spent discussing his drug habits rather than his impending album release.

“Stop apologising.” He said around a mouthful of food. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be saying sorry. And I’m sure the fans would’ve liked it.” He shrugged.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to force stuff out of you for the sake of entertainment.”

“Like I said, I wouldn’t have answered if I didn’t want to.” He reminded her.

He waited a beat, composing what he had originally wanted to say today before clearing his throat. “I really am sorry, you know. For how I left things.” He said as he stared down into his mug of tea.

“It’s genuinely okay, Matty.” She reassured him. “I wasn’t really any better.” She added under her breath.

“I was just a bit oblivious and hopeful when I fucked stuff up initially. I wanted to act like I hadn’t dropped off your radar for two years.” He admitted as he scratched at the side of his head. “If I’m honest, I was reaching out to get some support from an old mate in a time when I felt pretty overwhelmed by everything that was happening. But I went about it in all the wrong ways and just made it a whole lot worse.” He clarified with a dry laugh. As if she hadn’t already felt bad enough, now he tells her that she’d shut him out when he had been trying to ask for help? The guilt increased tenfold.

“Sorry.” She said. He was about to tell her off again for apologising, but she cut him off. “I was already pretty shitty that I hadn’t seen you in so long, so I was pretty quick to want to end that interaction when things started getting… difficult.” She explained.

“Guess you live and learn, huh?” He said with a small smile. “At least we’re still mates now.” Hearing him say that helped ease a bit of her worry that she’d done as much to fuck things up as he had. At least now that it was all out in the open, they could move past it.

“Yeah.” She concurred, returning his smile. They finished up the pastries that Matty had bought before stepping out of the bakery. Both of them felt like a weight had been lifted now that they knew they hadn’t screwed stuff up for good between them. Having each said their piece, they were pretty confident that they could give friendship another shot.

“It was great to see you.” He said as he pulled her in for a hug tight enough that it almost made her lose her breath.

“Next time we’ll have to make sure it’s not so long.” She said as he moved back from the hug.

“We’ll keep in touch.” He agreed with a nod. “And I mean it this time.”

Taglist: @imagine-that-100 @ghostlightqueen @tooshhhy @robinrunsfiction @approved-by-dentists

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#Matthew Healy x Reader #Matty Healy x Reader #Sunsetinymvein

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nothingsolutions · 4 years ago

Text

**2020 Short Film** screen play draft

Showcase life as a teenager in the 2010's. What defines this generation? What will we be remembered for?

Have random segments appear and "add" to the story but take you down another rabbit hole. Keep having people asking for more but still not having answers to their previous questions.

*Have the entire story loop.

Gut Feeling

Gut Feelings

Genetically Modified

Burn if Found

Disorder

FDA Approved

Stimulant

Sensory Overload

Inborn Pattern

MUSIC

Sooner or Later - N.E.R.D

(Perfect for drive home)

Everyone Nose - N.E.R.D

Purple Baguettes - 88GLAM

Dirt and Grime - Father's Children

Territorial Pissings - Nirvana

(Skating away from home)

Never Can Say Goodbye - Jackson 5

(Perfect for falling back in bed / ending)

The End Has No End - The Strokes

(Loading Docks)

Anti Matter - N.E.R.D

Partners in Crime Part Three - The Internet

(Playing loud in the car that almost hit MAIN)

She Works Out Too Much - MGMT

(Right when they fight / spinning)

Heavy Hitter - Jack Harlow

(Loading Docks)

Molly - Iann Dior

Hive - Earl Sweatshirt

Gonna Love Me - Teyana Taylor

My Pain - Lil Capi

Shoes - Lil Capi

Swim in the light - Kid Cudi

No Church in the Wild - Jay Z & Kanye

The Boy - Shannon and the Clams

Tongue Tied - Grouplove

La-La means I love you - The Delfonics

Dance yourself clean - LCD sound system (3:08)

I hope youre doing ok - Pity party girls club

Creep - Radiohead

Lose my sleep - Jacob Boring

Hometown - French 79

Between the buttons - French 79 (2:09)

Leaf Wraps - The Homies

Oblivion - Grimes

Cha Cha - Freddie Dredd

Switch: Six - Gums

Hottest in the city - Ty

Hell n Back - Bakar

Oof - Inner Wave

New Flesh - Current Joys

Pill - D.Savage

Wow, I can get sexual too - Say Anything

Angelic Hoodrat - Kenny Mason

Sometimes (feat. Swo) - Anxiety Attacks!

Vertigo - The Hellp (running scene)

Beans - Dirtboimil

Ghostbusters - Jayy Davi$

Paper Planes - M.I.A.

Lethal Presence - Night Lovell

Phone - Lil Capi

New House - Toro y Moi

Oblivion - Grimes

Float - The Neighbourhood

Love my Way - The Psychedelic Furs

The Sharpest Lives - My Chemical Romance

Last Living Souls - Gorillaz

Mystery of Love - Mr. Fingers

Mac Miller - Congratulations piano

((https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AmXJpbIizUU) perfect for orange bag scene in field)

Blowout - Radiohead (last scene running down the hill)

CAST

Couple on Roof - Tori + Pablo

People in living room - Jackson,

People in Chris room - Chris, Arya, Capi

Kitchen Chopping carrots - Emma

Emma's Room - Cole

Plastic Bag/ Girl bumps into -

Bleeding Skater -

Puts down camera / in car -

Car Passangers - Levi, Casey,

*Concert

Audrey - Herself

Levi - Himself

Driving car hits Levi -

Dinner Scene - Emma +

Mirrored Dinner scene - Emma + Lookalike (Salena)

**Concept**

*Intro

\Audio: Angelic Hoodrat - Kenny Mason fade 2 Cha Cha - Freddie Dredd\

Beginning of the video is sitting in Emmas room. Shot from the opposite side so you can see the whole room and subject.

Very dimly lit (only red lights on) with music blasting.

Constantly zoom shots throughout the house with muffled music in the background to show where the movie starts. (Hallway zoom/ kitchen zoom/ bedroom zoom (Chris)/ all slow-motion with people interacting in the scenes.) People sitting on the couch/ playing Fifa/ coming out of the bathroom. Shot from outside the house to signify the volume of the music?

Cut back to subject on the computer in the right side of the room sitting on the bed.

The computer screen is glowing on the with the face of the subject. You can just see the subjects eyes over the top of the computer screen.

Close up on eyes scanning the room (slow down x35/ x45) name title appears (REF1) and goes back to typing (can barely hear the typing)

Through the glass window of the kitchen (low shot looking up) show sibling cooking something. You hear the chop of the carrots rhythmically just a little off beat to the music heard from Emmas room. Eventually she cuts one last carrot and walks to the room.

Cut to the same zoom shots but pulling back still in slow motion showing that the sibling is marching to the room.

Shot from inside the room is zooming to the door after you hear a faint knock and the Sibling passes the camera (rotate the camera) and slams the computer screen shut. As the computer screen is shutting close up on eyes slowly looking up.

Starts to scream and slowly closes eyes.

**Goes into the first transition.**

Goes black for a second but can still hear scream.

Goes back to color and MAIN is still screaming but you can only see the sky. (Head neck and blue sky)

!!!HEAD MUST BE IN THE SAME PLACE AS THE PREVIOUS FRAME!!!!

FOR CONTINUITY THIS IS A MUST Mid section head on the top line.

When the drop of the song CHA CHA - FREDDIE DREDD starts pan down in a parallax motion showing the subject is in public. Walking 'against the grain'. If everyone is walking one way have subject walk the other. Essentially getting in peoples ways.

When walking bumps into someone hard, abruptly, startling both people. By bumping into that person, the perspective is shifted to her.

@Her

Can see she's speaking but entire thing is bleeped out

(Hit each other and starts to walk away still on MAINS perspective and and she's passing she said what theeee and after it switches to her to see his perspective on the situation but then it just sticks with her.

Cuts to a kid almost getting hit by a car

'Life flashes before his eyes'

REF1

For introduction to character have a close up with face (only eyes) and name mid center

*REF: Screen Shot 2020-01-13 at 12.25.51 PM*

*Jean Jacket interlude

Back of jacket always in view from the middle of the rule of thirds.

Always shot so the jacket is right in the middle.

Only the back of the person at all times

Short shots Burst style

About 45 seconds spread throughout the video??

Or just one segment??

Shot ideas

*Making out see back of dude wearing the jacket dark shot

*Concert shot wearing the jacket walking through the crowd

*Wearing it in a house party with people doing shots around him

Burning candle to show the passing of time.

Shot with the LED light but only a circle of light.

Shoot with a projector over the subject

((

Make sure its apparent the music is coming from cole

As she walks closer it gets louder and louder and the music keeps on changing throughout the beginning shots

Shot of outside of Emmas house

Shot with 2 people 1 dude 1 girl

Dangling feet off of the house

To establish location

At sunset

Close up of them

Acting like a couple

Being close and messing around with the blasting

Music in the background

ZOOMING SHOTS THROUGHOUT THE HOUSE PULLING IN

See people all throughout the house

Playing Fifa

Gitar hero

Cooking in the kitchen

REF: 2

Low shot thru kitchen window you see (Emma/) cooking

Something. Low shot with light coming from behind her light

Coming out the window

Cut to shot of her back and see her

Cutting carrots and after a few chops she throws down the knife

And says "ughhh"

ZOOMING SHOTS THROUGHOUT THE HOUSE PULLING BACK

Showing Emma walking thru the house

Going to ""Coles room"" to shut the laptop

See people all throughout the house

Pass Gitar hero

REF: 2

))

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onelastbreath-writes · 4 years ago

Text

On Bruce And Texting:

Author’s Note: Hello and welcome, this is my first properly written fic, originally posted to my AO3, and now that I have finally created a writing blog, it’s here as well. Please enjoy!! AO3. Masterlist

Warnings: Hopefully none, its all cute and fluff <3

Summary: Bruce Wayne texts like he's sending correspondences to the Queen, so of course the little monsters he calls children just have to make fun of him! Brats, the lot of them, but he wouldn't have them any other way.

Features: Bruce Wayne/Selina Kyle, all the bats and birds, mentions JL, no crime fighting, only family fluff, jokes and nods to Millennial and GenZ shenanigans.

Word Count: 2.7k

---

Billionaire, genius, tech expert, father of many children, and all around up-to-date-with-just-about-everything type of person he may be, it is also a well-known Fact that Bruce Wayne, the Batman(TM) himself, can’t text to save his life.

Whether it’s due to his Very Proper English Upbringing, his inability to be informal via written correspondences of any type, his indifference, or the fact that it bothers his children so much, Bruce Wayne has not and never will text with anything less than perfect grammar, spelling, and formality. If he has not sent you a proper letter (featuring a dedication, indentation for every paragraph, signature, and post-script when applicable), he did, in fact, not send you that text. Informality is not his Batman Way(TM) according to his children... he’s not too sure what that even means, but it makes his young ones laugh so it’s probably fine?

His oldest children (Richard and Jason) were raised in the time of Change, where computers, internet access, social media, and all things similar were only just being introduced into households en-masse. They were young enough to remember a time without such devices and connectivity (both for very different reasons, of course, but they grew up without the newest technology none-the-less). They could understand his relationship to the digital environment more so than his younger children, but they still tended to poke fun at his ‘texting blunders’ regularly. All his kids somehow ended up as brats. He doesn’t know how this happened. It’s certainly not his fault. He blames the League members, and especially Clark Kent, for their defiant personalities.

His younger children, whom he loves dearly, like to confuse him as much as they possibly can with their slang, egregious spelling errors, and all-around ‘internet humour’. He doesn’t know what ‘wig’ or ‘worm’ or ‘oof’ or anything means. He has no idea what those dances are, or how they relate to the music that seems to always accompany them, and for the love of all that is good, don’t ask him what he thinks of this or that ‘meme’. What even is a ‘meme’, and should he be more concerned about his kids being obsessed with them? He tries, oh my god, does he try to follow the children’s conversations, but they somehow all learned a language he has no idea how to decrypt. His best response to them once they start speaking in tongues is as follows: smile but not too much, listen to child even though he is deeply confused, and pat child on head or shoulder when they are finished and are looking for assurance.

He refuses to be a parent who ignores or tunes out his children, so he always makes sure to put down his work, his crossword, his tools, or whatever else is in his hands when a child searches him out for a conversation. But somehow, despite all the time he spends around them and their strange words, when he gets text from them comprised of abbreviations, acronyms, and completely random words, he goes a little cross eyed. He would never tell anyone, but he keeps a running list on his phone about the things they say that he has had to translate in the past. Spilling tea? Speaking the truth, usually to do with gossip. Wow? Multiple possible meanings: either a video game, or someone saying it (different pronunciation depending on context and who sent the text). Stickbug? A nice little prank with no ulterior motives, just for fun. Something along the lines of “this basic bitch Karen at the grocery store who is a dirty rat-licker and is def an anti-vaxxer just took 45 (forty-five) minutes to decide she didn’t actually want that almond milk. I Stan the cashier who had to put up with her. Rad af dude.” roughly translates to “A rude, middle-aged white woman who wasn’t wearing a mask and doesn’t believe in disease control or vaccinating her children wasted a great deal of an essential worker’s time in the checkout line. The cashier was very professional in their dealings with said customer and should be commended on their actions.”

Given enough time, the internet for searching up new slang words, and occasionally some help from a friend (Alfred, Selina, Lucius, another of his children, etc), Bruce could decode and respond appropriately to most texts. He was quite proud of these achievements, and although he didn’t always like how often his children were on their phones or computers or gaming systems, he was quite proud of how integrated and easily they adapted to the ever-evolving world of electronics. All his kids were gifted in many ways, but their ability to learn, their hunger for knowledge, and their perseverance when exploring new and challenging ideas were always the things that he was most impressed by.

He could do without their comments though. Yes, surprisingly, he did manage to get girlfriends with his type of texting. No, he doesn’t miss the ‘good old days’ when telegraphs were the main form of long-distance correspondence (how old do these brats think he is?!). And yes, he does know what a “tweet” is, and how to “post” on his social media accounts, and what “sliding into your DMs” is (thanks to a frantic search after a WE employee mentioned it near him). The Wayne children, truly whom and what Bruce considers his pride and joy, are cruel little jerks to him sometimes. His hoard of parenting books fails to mention what one should do when their children gang up on them. Bullying is covered of course, but he can’t really talk to a teacher or his guardian about how his second son calls him an idiot sandwich, or that his third son regularly tries to get him to do something “For The Vine”. His oldest and youngest boys are only slightly better in the bullying him department; Richard and his puppy dog eyes when he wants to do something dangerous or not-Alfred-approved, and Damian and his growing collection of pets because “Mother never let me have them, and I am deprived, and don’t you love me Father?”.

His only good child is his beautiful daughter Cassandra, the flower of the Wayne clan. She gives him hugs, and pats his hands, and can sit with him and just enjoy the quiet and stillness when his other children are not around. Her language skills are improving by leaps and bounds every day, and her heart and spirit are unparalleled, but her main method of communication is in her movements. Her hands, her posture, her dancing; Bruce couldn’t think of a more graceful, fluid, powerful person if the world depended on it. His amazing little girl doesn't bully him (and if she ever does, he probably deserves it, he trusts her), so he turns to her most of all when it comes to communicating with someone else. She doesn’t let him send anything that is “sketchy” or “wrong words, bad meaning, Dad”. He would give the world to his children, but for Cassandra, he would destroy it and build her an entirely new one.

Social media, especially with his terrible children all having accounts dedicated to making him look like a simpleton, was another rocky terrain he had to navigate on the regular. He had professionals in place at WE to run the company’s many accounts, paid top dollar to help appeal and relate to the masses, but he mostly had to manage his personal accounts himself. And so, @TheRealBruceWayne was one of the greatest struggles in his adult life. Why can’t he just retweet every post from @WE_Offical and leave it at that? People should only want to know about what’s new with the company. What do you mean they want to know more about our family and private lives? That’s unnecessary, and not important to the running of the company, right? Right? Why are you laughing?!

Luckily, most people in his life aren’t so intimately aware of his struggles. He can act and lie all he wants about being “hip” and “woke” and whatever else the kids are saying these days when he’s with the JL or in board meeting intermissions, networking with his associates. The Batman knows all and sees all, Green Lantern, of course he understands how “Tiktok” works. The Batman is a robot without a funny bone in his body, Green Arrow, but I did witness him sigh and say “same” when he knocked his cup of coffee over while on monitor duty once. No matter how badly his darling children call him out, the Justice League would be so much worse. So, it’s one of his most importantly guarded secrets... even more so than his secret identity at this point. Being unmasked in front of every Gotham rogue would be less detrimental to him than his “friends” learning of his utter ineptitude in staying on top of the younger generations’ lingo.

When questioned why the League doesn’t have a group chat or a forum or anything that they can use to contact each other outside of world ending matters and communicator (”because we’re friends, Batman! Ma and Pa Kent would love to have everyone over for a barbecue!”), the person who dared even mention texting isn’t even given a verbal response. They are just glared at, silently, often for several uninterrupted minutes, frozen in place only able to breathe shallowly in fear of setting off the Bat. “You know why” his glare says, “I’ll eat you, your family, and everything you have ever held dear” the younger members hear. No one makes the mistake of asking about it twice.

Outside of his children and Alfred, and his small circle of true friends involved in all aspects of his life, there is only one more person Bruce allows to know of his Darkest Secret. Selina. Someone most people would recommend he not be involved with. Catwoman: accomplished thief, distraction, chaos-incarnate most nights, and his significant other. Sharp as a whip (ha) and crafty like no one’s business; he is head-over-heels. On again/Off again and all over the place their long romance has been, but no one has ever challenged him, intrigued him, like this clever, beautiful, amazing woman has. He’s brought his partners around his children before, both for their judgement, and for their worst behaviours to vet out any “unworthy” suitors. He trusts them explicitly to tell him the truth about those he allows into the manor; were they rude about Bruce wanting to have group outings, did they say something about Bruce’s money, did they get angry or shout or make anyone uncomfortable while they were here? If his children even looked slightly unhappy with someone he brought them to meet, that person would not be invited back. Children, he finds, have the best sight when meeting people; no motives other than finding safety and love, no fear of consequences from speaking honestly...

Selina, or Catwoman, as they had known her first, was someone all of his kids liked without issue right off the bat. She would make puns and play word games with Richard, his first Robin, tiny, still working on his English, able to connect with him over their acrobatic abilities. His second Robin, Jason, skittish and feisty as an alley cat, knew of Catwoman and her daring escapades long before Bruce found him. The young boy had a few heroes, and no one (not even Wonder Woman) could compare to the incredible burglar who bought food and jackets and medicine for the street kids in Crime Alley. She was saintly in his eyes, and to this day, Bruce was still working on convincing Jason he was good enough for Selina. Tim and Cass and Stephanie (basically another daughter to Bruce, she spends so much time with the family) all joined the Wayne clan around the same time and officially met Selina as a friend and partner of his, and in the good graces of his first two sons. Selina, in all her nightly business, and many travels and acquaintances, had met the three independently, helping Tim get home safely back to Drake Manor when he escaped to photograph Batman and Robin in the dank darkness of Gotham when he was just a young boy, spending some time with Cassandra when her despicable father left her alone long enough to recover from his rough treatment, showing her the first scraps of kindness in her short life, and watching over and protecting Stephanie as she followed and sabotaged her father Cluemaster and his criminal activities. There was no need to win them over once they met her civilian identity, she had already gained their favour and acceptance, and they were happy to have her near their new family. Damian, his youngest, his biological son, took the longest to warm up to Selina. He would never fault his little boy for fighting so hard against a woman that was not his birth mother, especially after all the manipulation and cruelty dealt to him by Talia for the first decade of his life. But as he began to learn about his father, these people in his father’s life, and this woman that was Not His Mother but “still okay, I guess”, he grew to see her as acceptable. Her cats definitely helped, he’d say, no one with cats that loyal and happy can be a bad person.

Selina, the love of his life, he’d admit quietly to himself, was also a dirty traitor and in cahoots with his terrible children. She would say his texting skills were “sweet” and “very gentlemanly” when she was asked by anyone outside the family, and privately to him she would say she thought they were “adorable” and “please don’t ever change, Bruce, I like it.” However, nothing seemed to bring her more joy than his children sending her texts and “Snaps” and “memes” about him to her. Sometimes it was screenshots of the family group chat that they forced him to join, where he would post “To whom it may concern...” and “In regards to...” when he needed to reach all his delinquents in a timely manner. Sometimes it was video clips of him staring at his phone intently, then typing something on his laptop, then him reading and nodding along, and then finally going back and responding to the text he received with a small, pleased smile. And sometimes, when he got too injured or was too incapacitated to text coherently, he’d have his nearest able child transcribe his text to her. Depending on who was texting her for Bruce, she could expect many different things. From Dick, she’d get lots of shorthand and silly emojis, and many, many, winky and crying/laughing faces in brackets depending on what Bruce had made him type. Jason, bless him, used proper English most of the time, but would never write a single word of Bruce’s soliloquy to her, instead she enjoyed the TL;DR version: “hurt again, missing you, come home soon, blah blah blah, sappy gross words here, love you”. Tim would allow speech recognition to run on Bruce’s phone, and just let it go until the man passed out. Stephanie, the little chaos child, would film it and send it to her, including all her muffled laughter and shaky camera shots of Bruce emoting with his available undamaged limbs. Cass, still more versed in physicality and emotive movement, would interpret Bruce’s text into mostly emojis, hearts and happy faces and animals, but would include photos, and phrases that she found important enough to type out for Selina. Damian, forever his Father’s son in any way possible, texts very formally, referring to her or his siblings Bruce mentions by last name only, and lots of “Father requests me to tell you...” and “Kyle, know that Father...”. She adores these kids, and once Bruce recovers enough to text her himself, or she gets back to the Manor, they get to laugh about whatever she was sent this time.

So, while it’s true that Bruce couldn’t text his way out of a wet paper bag, and his kids are sometimes brats about it, there’s probably a lot of different reasons he doesn’t spend too much time trying to improve his skills. Whether it’s the smiles of his children, the giggles of his significant other, or the warm feeling in his chest when he sees all his important people bonding over him, well, in the end, who’s to say?

#batman #batfam #bruce/selina #batcat #bruce wayne #selina kyle #bruce x selina

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