#also shes beautiful. like wow. shes a supermodel of a cat.

[catalyst-collective]

its international cat day?

Katya Drusilla is ready to be showered in gifts, affection, and treats!

[harrietvane]

do you mind talking about why you dislike Love Actually and Richard Curtis's romcoms? I've seen you mention it in some of your tags and I'd love to hear your thoughts :)

Long post, so scroll now, ye who care not.

OK, so like better voices than mine have articulated Why Love Actually Sucks Balls, but you were kind enough to ask for my view, so strap in I’m gonna talk about Jane Eyre, and the 1990’s Fran Drescher sitcom The Nanny also. It’s coming up on western civilisations’ holiday season, so why not, it’s a good time to tell this movie to choke, because it’s about to be repeatedly thrust upon us once again. (Disclaimer: I acknowledge Richard Curtis is responsible for Blackadder and Vicar of Dibley, so whatever else, we’re still cool on that basis. But I have spite and to spare, so there’s plenty to go around).

My main beef is actually the context. Technically, if all of the below bullshit was in an offbeat movie from any other movie market (I’m thinking maybe a French, or Spanish movie from the 90′s boom, Almodovar style?), the focus would probably be a black humour take on ‘Lord What Fools These Mortals Be!’, sort of look at the inherent ridiculousness of mankind, and how we get in our own way, blah blah, might have been cute. I’d buy that. This movie? A british movie for the american market? It’s sold with a big holiday sticker on it saying ‘ROMANCE’, and specifically ‘ADORABLE ASPIRATIONAL ROMANCE THAT YOU SHOULD ADORE AND ASPIRE TO’. Also the context *inside* the movie itself (through a narration voiceover no less) is that all of these narratives is somehow proof that ‘Love, Actually is all around’, and specifically in a good, wholesome, happy way, overall at least. These stories are redeeming, even if they’re not all happy, they’re Good™ or whatever. The context outside the movie is the same: british TV advertising, hard copy packaging, holiday specials, outdoor gala screenings: they all say over and over: THIS IS SQUISHY HOT PINK NEON LOVE, wholesome, healing, and healthy. You should want this, aspire to this, think this is the cat’s pyjamas! It’s a wide and varied look at the beautiful power of love from all angles, comic, tragic, the lot. 

Is it fuck. The ‘positive’ romance stories range from Stage-5 Creeper to Crotch Puppet Afterthought, the ‘melancholy’, thwarted romance stories seem to say ‘if you’re a woman who’s not readily/immediately bangable to your allocated straight dude, romance is over for you I’m afraid’. Let’s recap, shall we:

Much has already been said about Andrew Lincoln’s character BLANTANTLY SHARKING ON HIS BEST MATE’S WIFE being uhhh, less than fresh. I don’t even feel like I need to justify this one, it’s so over-the-top. The main point is that movie itself maintains this as a tragic, swoony, thwarted, heart-string-tugging missed connection, rather than The Worst Friend Ever (meaning: it assumes we’ll be 100% onboard with Keira Knightley skipping secretly away from Chiwetel Eijiofor to grant his best mate one treasured kiss, as opposed to saying ‘what the FUCK Mark, why are you telling me this, this is super inappropriate?? and my only wedding video is just you zooming in on my face? Pls get help’.

We all love National Treasure Colin Firth and all, but like is Love, Actually fixating on a woman who literally can’t speak to you? Has said nothing understandable to you? About whose own life you’ve never yet, and could never have asked about? Whose main interactions with you have been to wordlessly clean your room, bring you food, and tidy it away after? Your ideal woman, who you meet immediately following a break up, is one who silently meets all your domestic needs, while making zero emotional or intellectual demands on you whatsoever? WOW, SHOCKER. (Oh but it’s cute or whatever, they have him propose, and there’s a mix up when her sister appears, but she’s Ugly™, so it’s funny that the sister is not getting romance. I mean, how could she, an uggo?? Classic joke. Good times.)

The Prime Minster and his tea lady: more on Curtis’ Domestic Servitude Kink below, whoo boy.

Laura Linney would really really like to sleep with Rodrigo Santoro, and god bless her who wouldn’t, but she is tragically unable to, because she has family commitments as being the sister – not even fulltime carer, just RELATED TO -  a brother living with disability. Sorry folks, romance is OFF THE CARDS, FOREVER for Laura here. How can she??? That’s the nature of love, actually. Can you have sex right now this moment? No? Whelp, sorry, thanks for playing, back to the Tragic Assisted Living facility for you. Gosh it’s unfortunate that’s a truth universally acknowledged that any whiff of disability = no romance for you ever. (Don’t start me on 4 Weddings* [edit: *it’s totally Notting Hill, not 4 Weddings, thank] and how that husband is like The Best because he continues to love his wife even though her legs don’t work. What a champ, honestly, do they have an award for that?) I have to stop now before I get sarcasm poisoning, but my eyes will continue to roll.

How could I say anything bad about the Liam Neeson widower and his adorable lovestruck son storyine? Lol, I’m gonna. Have you seen the Buffy episode The Zeppo? Xander is convinced the only way girls (as a concept, not in the specific) will like him enough to sleep with him is if he has A Thing. The Thing is posited as ‘being cool’ by having an object or skill that alone will be the magic bullet to romance. Musical instrument prowess is considered, and he ends up just getting a car to be his Thing. This just seems like a redux of that logic. This kid could get some genuine direction from the movie to get to know this girl, learn her interests and share his, see if she likes him as a person by being A PERSON, but the narrative just backs away from that and eventually DOES just say ‘play the drums in the show, she’ll like you’ and that’s …it. But it’s cool, teenagers don’t learn key interpersonal dynamics at this age or anything, she kisses him for some reason, whatever. (Bonus points for gifting his dad with a literal supermodel as a punchline, after making that an actual joke earlier about the shallow nature of attraction, and love is about filling a one-sided need.)

I could go on, but I have very little to say about Freeman falling for a girl whose tits he’s been holding for a week, the no-homo pop star Nighy plot, or the guy that goes and has sex in Wisconsin with Bond Girls, and can’t be bothered, which leads me to…

Richard Curtis’ Domestic Servitude Kink. Must I kinkshame Richard Curtis in his own home?? Nope, I’m kinkshaming him AT WORK in his narratives, surrounded by his nubile, pliant, adorable female employee characters. Oh Mr Curtis, I seem to have dropped a pencil!

OK, so like a M/F Domestic Servitude romance is an extremely old trope, and extremely common, and I’m not here to tear that up, because done well it’s amazing, lot of petrol in that King Cophetua narrative tank. I’m a fan. The most famous in-context historical example being Jane Eyre, for instance: he’s her boss, she’s his paid subordinate, they’re both 100% aware of that. It’s a great way to explore the real-life class and power dynamics of these 2 train wrecks of human beings, and they vomit their ridiculous drama llama feelings all over a 600 page novel. Super fun, they’re both awful humans, I love them. Mid-century you might have The Sound of Music, and in more modern times you get 1990s sitcom The Nanny, both extremely well-developed romances involving paid employees, and part of their value is that the shows KNOW THIS. They’re aware it’s the basis for their dynamic, that they have to directly play with that, and develop beyond to go anywhere. Watching Fran Fine in her runway-fresh Moschino minidresses jump on Maxwell Sheffield’s desk for the 800th time making him super uncomfortable (and not a little turned on) is always such a treat. It’s right out there on the label. The problem with Love, Actually, is Curtis doesn’t want to admit that naughty secretary seems to be a cornerstone of what gets him going, romantic-stylez. 

One (1) time in the movie would be ‘sure, why not’. Literally the highest political office in the land, making overtures to the woman who brings him tea, i guess might be a bit off, but let’s say it’s done well, and maybe Hugh Grant and Martine McCutcheon’s charisma gets us over the line (his behaviour is cute because her last man didn’t like her body, but the prime minister DOES like her body! so it’s cute!). Whatever, seen worse. Two (2) times however is making a point, and Colin Firth is driving his silent portuguese maid home - not a french maid but so close! - and deciding he’d like her to bring him tea and clean his toilet for as long as they both shall live, and that also seems to be her greatest joy. Ah, l’amour. OK, I guess you like the thing, everyone has a thing, but at least you’re done now. Wait, you mean there’s a third (3rd) one? Everyone’s Fave Alan Rickman drives the plot of his own marriage’s tragic romance because he’s having stiffening feelings about his own Naughty Secretary halloween costume, after all. All the beautiful speeches about Joni Mitchell give Thompson some nice things to do, but it still assumes the Nature of Romance is to want to plough the help. A man can’t help it! It’s how romantic attraction works! Once would be whatever. Three times and there’s a tag on Ao3 for that, so please just scratch that itch and stop selling it to me in a heartwarming christmas movie as the Universal Nature Of Romance, so varied, so vast, the full spectrum! Just 2 hours to tell a story: but 3 whole narratives and 7 actors devoted to the variants on the naughty maid story. My point is be upfront about it and I’d be all for it - pretend it’s not A Thing You’re Doing and my creep-meter goes ping. Steven Shainberg’s ‘Secretary’ has a scene where the boss literally puts a saddle on his employee, and I find it to be one of the most genuinely moving romances I’ve ever seen. Love Actually makes me feel like Curtis is sending me a ‘u up?’ late night text about his secretary fantasy.

Anyway, I fucking hate this film, and not necessarily because of the content, but because of the context. The movie tells me to love it as aspirational romance. My culture tells me to love it as aspirational romance. Everyone tells me to love it as a varied and full exploration of reasons to get up in the morning, because it’s an aspirational romance. It makes me want to claw my own face off.

[miraculousengineerd]

Flameo, hotman

Happy holidays @yulianadr! I’m your @mlsecretsanta this year! I noticed you like Avatar (as do we all) so hope you enjoy this story! (5.7k) 

(Summary: Ladybug is an airbender; her partner Chat Noir is a nonbender. He told her that the first day on the job.

Marinette is the one who found out he was lying.)

“Ladybug is an airbender,” Alya said dismissively. “Everyone knows that.”

“I don’t know, babe,” Nino replied. “I’m not convinced.”

“Just look at how she moves in the air!”

“She has a bond with a ladybug spirit,” Nino dismissed. “It’s the spirit giving her powers. You know bending is incredibly rare, let alone airbending - no offense, Marinette.”

Marinette snapped her gaze away from where she was (daydreaming) (gazing at Adrien’s hands) staring off into space. “No offense taken,” she said. “You know, it’s less rare in south China, where my mother’s from.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” Adrien said suddenly, smiling at her. “You’re one of the only other benders I’ve ever met outside my family.”

Marinette melted inside, for reasons totally unrelated to Adrien’s own firebending. Luckily, Alya piped up in rescue. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, Marinette’s great, we all agree on that,” she dismissed. “We should also all agree that Ladybug is an airbender too.”

“Maybe,” Adrien said.

“No,” Nino stated, pointing a finger at her. “It doesn’t make sense. Chat Noir’s not a bender, and he can do basically everything Ladybug can. He certainly keeps up with her just fine.”

“Chat Noir could be an airbender too-” Alya started.

Marinette snorted. “No way,” she said. “He does not move like an airbender. Ladybug…” she tilted her head in fake consideration. “I mean, maybe, but I’ve never met anyone like that, and I’ve met a lot of the airbending community, you know? Alya, you have some good points, but maybe it is just her powers.”

Alya slumped in her seat. “You haven’t met all the airbenders, Marinette,” she grumbled, but conceded her point that day anyways.

Internally, Marinette chastised herself. She had to be more careful not to use her bending - it was a huge giveaway to her identity. It’s not like she needed it, anyway. Nino was right about Chat Noir - he was a nonbender, and he could certainly keep up with her.

***

Adrien Agreste: Supermodel by day, Chat Noir by other parts of the day, liar 100% of the time.

Ladybug hated liars.

“We lie about our identities all the-”

“It’s different, Chat,” she ground out between clenched teeth. “We have to.”

He shifted his weight from foot to foot. They had been partners for over a year now - he was way too deep in the lie. If pressed, he could always just say that bending was part of his identity, right?

Ladybug would hate it. She’d told him on the first day that she was an airbender. “That’s cool,” Adrien had said, and then compulsively lied on the spot: “I can’t bend.”

That was before he had fallen in love with Ladybug. He’d just been so - frustrated, back then when they first started, of being Adrien Agreste, the prodigal son and firebender. Chat Noir was a second chance, a second life, everything he wanted to be. He may have gone a little over the top, but he was in too deep now.

Chat Noir couldn’t bend, everyone knew that.

It surprised him how good he was at lying, sometimes. “Wow, you can really see in the dark?” Ladybug said, after he volunteered to go down in the subway tunnels by himself again.

He laughed nervously, clenching his fists to make sure he’d extinguished any flames. “Haha, yup,” he said. “So random, right? Miraculous Powers. Crazy.”

“Your spirit gave you so many cat traits,” she huffed. “The most my spirit ever gave me was a rivalry with a moth.”

“Hey, that makes two of us,” he said. “I’m going to go check this subway out, see you!”

It lasted that way for years. Adrien figured that Chat Noir would reveal his bending powers sometime, but only when really necessary. The final battle with Hawkmoth, maybe, whenever they could track him down. He’d whip out a surprise flameblast to win the fight in a burst of badassery, and Ladybug would forgive him. He had the whole scenario that he planned out in his head.

Then that thing happened with Marinette.

***

Marinette loved everything about Adrien, but she had a special soft spot for his firebending. He had all that heat, all that power running through his chi paths, but he didn’t use it for any sort of dueling.

Adrien was a purely decorative firebender.

He’d struggled, at first, to explain the concept to Alya and Nino, who weren’t as familiar with bending culture. “I learned martial bending as a kid,” he said. “Of course my father had me trained in it, but I never really liked it. There’s only so many other firebenders in Paris, and dueling the others over and over got boring after a while. I managed to compromise with him on fencing for a physical activity, and the decorative stuff is great for modeling and bending practice.”

“But what’s the point?” Alya asked, ever-practical. “It’s not like ice or earth sculptures. You can’t save them.”

Adrien frowned, and held one hand up in front of him. A small fire leapt up into his palm. With his other hand, he held it above the flame and spread his fingers; the flame split itself horizontally into five equal points to make a star.

“Wow,” Marinette breathed.

“You’re right, Alya,” Adrien said, not looking away from the flame in his hand. “You can’t save it. It’ll go out immediately once I stop concentrating. But…” he waved his hand again, and the star divided itself into five smaller stars, and then each again into five pieces. He gestured with both arms to the ceiling, and the stars flew up there to hang, a constellation map suspended just over their heads.

It was beautiful.

Even Alya couldn’t take her eyes off it. “Whoa,” she said. “Adrien, that’s amazing.”

He lowered shaking arms, and the flames suddenly went out. “Thanks,” he said breathlessly. “It’s hard and takes a lot of discipline, but it looks great on camera.”

“You must be the best firebender in all of Paris,” Alya said.

He laughed at that. “I don’t know, my father’s pretty good too,” he said. “I mean, he named his brand Fire Lord and all.”

***

Adrien had rescued his friends and family multiple times as Chat Noir. None of them had ever even come close to recognizing him, except maybe his father. Father had looked at Chat Noir pretty funny that one time, but nothing had ever come of it, so Adrien figured he was safe. His secret identity wasn’t going anywhere.

The day he was trapped, he was worried more for Marinette’s safety than anything else. He found her running straight into an akuma’s nest when he plucked her up and started leaping away.

She screamed when he first picked her up, struggling in his grasp before she realized who it was. “Chat! What are you doing?!”

“Hello to you too, Princess,” he responded. “What’s it look like we’re doing?”

“I don’t know!” she shrieked, voice rising as he hopped over a roof.

“Relax,” he said, feeling her grip tense on his shoulders. “I’m just going to get you somewhere safe, okay?”

“You have to hide me,” Marinette said. “The akuma is after me, I ruined a lady’s special-ordered cake when I tripped and fell and it’s all my-”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Adrien said. “Accidents happen, you know. It’s okay.”

“I’m making more work for you and Ladybug,” Marinette said.

“Hawkmoth would have just made another akuma,” he said. “It’s fine, and don’t worry about Ladybug. I’m basically just waiting around until she recharges her miraculous, so you’re not taking up any more time. It’s always a pleasure to speak with one of my prettiest fans, anyway.”

She huffed a little at the compliment, but her grip did relax a little. Adrien checked over his shoulder and decided it was safe enough to stop on top of the roof - it was still made of stone, but it wasn’t directly on the ground, so better than nothing. “Ladybug’s recharging her miraculous?” Marinette asked timidly. “Is it frustrating when that happens?”

Adrien shrugged, letting her gently down next to him. She wasn’t concerned by the height - but then again, she was an airbender, so she wouldn’t be. Wait, Adrien knew she was an airbender, but did Chat Noir know? Eh, probably. “It’s a tough akuma,” Adrien answered neutrally. “She’s an earthbender, so that always messes with Ladybug.”

Marinette cocked her head and furrowed her brow. “What? Earthbenders?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, you know, air, earth - wait, did you not know about Ladybug?”

She blinked at him, slowly. “Yeah, I knew,” she said. “Um, shouldn’t you be getting back to the akuma?”

“Eh,” he dismissed. “Like I said, I don’t really want to go in without Ladybug-”

“But what about other people to rescue?”

“Oh,” he said. “The akuma is after you, but...I guess you’re right. I just got distracted hanging out with my favorite civilian.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I bet you say that to all the civilians.”

He grinned down at her. “Maybe. Do you want me to get you down?”

“No, that’s okay, I can get it mysel- ”

They were interrupted by a huge crack in the floor; Marinette yelped as Adrien instinctively scooped her up leapt away from the akuma exploding out from the rooftop beneath them. “There you are!” the akuma snarled, aiming her robo-gun at Marinette. “You’re the one who needs to learn how to walk!”  

“She’s got the catwalk down just fine,” Adrien quipped, and then leapt away again.

Even without a free hand for his baton, Adrien moved pretty fast through the streets of Paris - the akuma was just as fast, though. “Earthbenders,” Adrien huffed to himself, trying to find a good patch of trees that he could leap off of without alerting the akuma - it was no good, though, the section of the city they were in was too urbanized. “Ladybug, come on.”

“Just hide me somewhere, Chat” Marinette insisted from in his arms. “Then you can-”

“No way,” Adrien said. “Ladybug will be here any second, and then we’re home free, okay? No sacrifices necessary.”

“But what if she doesn’t come back?” Marinette pressed.

“Ladybug’s just gone to recharge. She’ll be right-”

***

Marinette’s breath whoosed out of her as she was hit by the akuma’s robo-gun and knocked out of Chat’s arms. She laid stunned, on the ground, as a pair of robotic pants locked themselves around her legs and attempted to move her limbs for her.

Was it a stupid akuma? Yes.

Would she be able to transform into Ladybug with these things on? Probably not.

“Cataclysm,” she heard, and thank god Chat was still here, crumbling her robopants to ash and looking pissed off as he helped her up. “No more time for cat-and-mouse games,” he said, clenching his fist around his staff. “Especially when I’m stuck in the wrong role.” He used the staff to block another shot of robopants. “Run. And if you see her, point Ladybug in my direction, Princess.”

Marinette nodded, taking off in the direction of a corner market and diving through the door. It was, thankfully, deserted. “Finally,” she hissed at Tikki, letting her kwami float out of her bag and shoving random store snacks in her direction. “I thought we’d never get away from Chat and the akuma.”

“Hef doesh’t know dat you’re Ladybug,” Tikki mumbled, swallowing a mouth full of food.

“Yeah, it’s not his fault,” Marinette said, rushing to the front of the store and pressing her nose to the glass. “Oh, he’s getting slaughtered out there. No wondering he didn’t want to go in without me. Tikki, are you ready yet?”

“I’m eating as fast as I can!”

Still watching, she hissed in sympathy as Chat was slowly herded into a corner.  Earthbenders were the worst - hard to budge at best, impossible to fight on the ground at worst. And this akuma seemed to be a good bender, which meant that Chat looked so worried about not getting caught by earth on the ground and robo-pants in the air that he couldn’t get off a good attack in the meantime.

“He needs to run,” Marinette thought out loud. “He has three minutes left, he’s got to get out. Why isn’t he running?”

Tikkie gulped. “He’s stalling.”

“He’s waiting for Ladybug,” she agreed. “I can manage without you, you silly cat.”

Chat vaulted off the ground with his staff - or attempted to, but the butt of his staff got caught in the earth and he got thrown forward instead, crashing hard into the ground instead. Unthinking, Marinette threw herself out of the shop door; both the akuma’s and Chat’s eyes snapped to her.

Well, her distraction worked. Marinette flinched and closed her eyes, for the robo-pants to hit her a second time.

The next thing she knew was heat.

Chat was standing in front of her, a vortex of fire erupting from his clenched hands. Marinette gasped and stumbled backwards, watching in awe as he knocked a pair of robo-pants away with a punch of flame, followed by a kick directly at the akuma, who slammed back into a building wall. There was a loud snapping sound, and a purple butterfly starting struggling free from the akuma’s back.

“Crap,” Marinette muttered, sprinting back into the store. “Tikki, spots on!”

If Chat Noir noticed Ladybug appearing from the same storefront Marinette had just disappeared into, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he frantically appeared to be trying to keep the akuma flying away by batting it with his staff that he must have freed from the ground. At her call, he looked up and made eye-contact; it must have been only a second, but it felt like an eternity they were staring wordlessly at each other.

Then he smiled, gestured to a desperately-beeping ring on his finger, and left.

Marinette cleansed the akuma, cast the miraculous cure, and then swung away silently back to school, thoughts exploding in her mind.

Chat Noir could bend after all.

Chat Noir was a firebender.

***

Adrien stumbled in several minutes late to study hall; he’d barely made it away from the scene of the akuma before his tranformation gave out, and then he’d had to make his way back to school on foot. He nodded guiltily at the teacher as he came in, staring around the room to find an empty seat.

Marinette was sitting by herself. It was good that she’d found her way back safely.

Marinette had just found out that Chat Noir was a firebender.

Plastering a smile on his face, Adrien made his way over to Marinette’s table and pulled out the seat across from her. She jumped as he sat down, a million expressions fluttering over her face as she looked at him. “Oh,” she said breathlessly. “Hi, Adrien.”

“Hi there, Marinette,” he blurted out. “I’m sorry I’m late, I went home for lunch and then the roads were closed because of the akuma attack. Did you see it?” There, it was out in the open. Marinette would tell him about how Chat Noir was a secret firebender all along, and then maybe he could - something. He’d have to convince her of something.

Oh, man, he had to find Ladybug and tell her before she found out from somebody else.

“Adrien,” Marinette repeated, interrupting his thoughts. “You’re a firebender, right?”

He nodded, taking a deep breath. Here it was.

She looked down, a blush spreading prettily across her face. “I mean, obviously you’re a firebender. Duh. No, I just meant - a friend of mine just discovered his firebending. Today!”

...what?

“You mentioned the akuma attack,” Marinette continued, oblivious to his inner turmoil. “The akuma was after me, and then my friend, he just stepped in front of me and was all - whoosh, boom boom!” She waved her fists in the air in a loose approximation of a firebending form.

“What?” Adrien asked, out loud this time. “What do you mean, your friend just discovered his firebending?”

“He didn’t know he was a bender,” she said, and Adrien felt awful. Obviously, Marinette would believe the best of Chat Noir; she believed in everyone. She was the nicest person in all of France, probably. “But he firebent for the first time to save me today! His very first bending was a shield. How amazing is that?”

“Amazing,” he echoed absentmindedly. “Shields are pretty advanced stuff.”

Marinette froze. “Advanced?”

Adrien shook himself out of his thoughts and stared at her. Crap. “Well,” he babbled, “I just say that ‘cause firebending is usually more naturally offensive, but if he was defending you then a shield would be natural, right? Was it static or dynamic fire? Because, you know, keeping a flame still.” He needed to stop talking, right now. He could barely remember the first move he’d pulled to protect Marinette. “It doesn’t matter,” he dismissed. “You said it was his first time, right? He’s probably just a natural.”

“Right,” Marinette said, but she was frowning now. “A natural.”

Adrien bit his tongue before he could somehow make the situation worse. It didn’t look like Marinette was going to say who her ‘friend’ was - maybe she’d been building up to it or something, who knows -

Chat Noir had to have a talk with her. As soon as possible.

***

Hanging out with Chat Noir had always felt like a double edged sword, on both sides of the mask. As Ladybug, he was her trusted partner, and she loved him for it - but not in the way he wanted her to, and it was exhausting keeping herself from falling into a pool of constant guilt and worry that he was going to ask her out again.

(Sometimes with Chat he would smile at her and her heart would suddenly thud what-if what-if what-if so loudly in her ears, and that was exhausting too because if she let her guard down for even a second she was going fall in something else entirely-)

Hanging out with Chat as Marinette was risky for different reasons; for one, that he would recognize her. Chat Noir was the only one who know Ladybug beyond a few generically heroic actions and speeches, so if anyone was going to recognize her, it would be him.

There was also the other risk.

Marinette came home from school that day, head buzzing from her conversation with Adrien, and not for her usual reasons. Chat was a firebender. Chat had just learned he was a firebender that day - he wouldn’t have lied to her. But Adrien was right, no one was that good at bending naturally. Chat Noir must have known, must have been trained. But that meant Chat Noir had lied to her, and Chat Noir wouldn’t have lied to her-

(“Have I ever lied to you, bugaboo?”)

She was startled out a her thoughts by a knock on her window; she glanced over to see Chat Noir hanging outside, sheepishly waving at her. When she gestured to her trapdoor, he climbed up and around before dropping down onto her bed. Chat Noir made an incongruous addition to her bedroom, hard and black instead of soft and pink.

“Did you tell anyone?” he demanded quietly.

She knew immediately what he was talking about. “No,” she said. “Not that it was you, anyway.”

Chat was staring at her. “Thank you. I don’t know why - you didn’t have - thank you.”

She didn’t know why, either. Partner’s instinct, maybe. “Did you know you could bend?”

His face darkened, and he held up a single finger, a flame springing to life on it. “Yes,” he muttered. Marinette flinched away from the sudden light.

“How long?”

“Have I known I could bend?” he asked. “I don’t know. I was five or six. My parents were both firebenders, so it wasn’t a surprise.”

She blinked at him. Once, twice. “Does Ladybug know?” she heard herself ask, even though she knew damn well that Ladybug didn’t.

“No one knows,” he said. He curled his finger back into his palm and extinguished the flame. “About Chat Noir bending, I mean. You’re the first one.”

Marinette inhaled slowly. Her eyes felt dry. “Why,” she choked out.

Chat clenched his fists in his lap, staring at her helplessly. His eyes, unnaturally huge, never wavered from hers. “I could lie to you and say it was a strategic decision,” he said. “Keep it a surprise for Hawkmoth, or for my secret identity or something. But honestly, Marinette, there’s not good reason. I just - didn’t want Chat Noir to be a firebender.”

“But you are a firebender.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s different, having a double life,” he said. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“I would understand?!” Marinette echoed, and she could suddenly hear her heart pounding in her ears. “What’s there to understand, Chat?! You’re still you, no matter what mask you have on-”

“You don’t get it,” Chat hissed, narrowing his eyes at her.

Marinette bit her tongue in her frustration to keep her words in. He lied to her! For self-admitted no reason! Why wouldn’t he tell her? They’d been partners forever, she couldn’t imagine her life without him in it - and he would just lie to her? That easily, just like that, like their partnership meant nothing-

But Marinette wasn’t Chat Noir’s partner. She was just an unfortunate civilian he’d met maybe half a dozen times at most, who happened to witness him in a desperate moment. Marinette had no reason to feel this betrayed.

“No,” she spat sullenly instead. “I guess I don’t get it, Chat. I mean - not even Ladybug?”

“You can’t tell anyone,” Chat Noir said.

She clenched her teeth. “I don’t like lying, but I won’t tell anyone,” she said, and then an idea sprang to mind. “As long as you promise to tell Ladybug.”

Chat blinked at her. “Okay,” he said. “I promise to tell Ladybug.”

“Really?” she blurted out. “That was easy.”

Chat Noir smiled at her, his crooked pre-victory smile he got whenever he spotted an easy target during an akuma attack. “Marinette, thank you so much,” he said. “I really should get going, but this is a relief. You’re amazing.”

And then his crooked smile slid down into a real smile, and Marinette’s heart skipped a beat, and she remembered the other reason hanging out with Chat Noir out of costume was dangerous.

***

She waited for days, but there weren’t anymore akuma attacks for the rest of the week, so she didn’t even see Chat Noir. She tried to push the issue to the back of her mind - she had a student council meeting to attend, and a school field trip where she tried and ultimately failed to rescue Adrien from Chloe all day - but it was seared permanently into her thoughts.

Chat Noir was a firebender.

He was a bender, like her.

And he was good.

The next akuma attack he showed up a little late to, and she was so caught up in the fight that she actually did forget about it until their triumphant “Pound it!” and she was reminded that the fist currently resting against hers was spewing fireballs the last time she saw it.

He still didn’t mention anything, but their time was running out then, and maybe - maybe he just forgot?

Maybe he was nervous.

This is Chat Noir, her brain reminded her. Chat didn't get nervous. He must have forgotten, and then ran out of time - their akuma fights were fairly formulaic; after defeating the monster you had to run.

She better remind him, then.

***

2:30 PM

“There’s an akuma attack at Les Invalides. Come soon!”

3:00 PM

“Hello my lady - I hope you can free yourself from whatever you’re stuck doing soon, I could really use the help.”

3:03 PM

“I could REALLY use the help Ladybug. Oh my god, this one sucks. Make your excuses and get out of there!”

4:27 PM

“Um, hello, Ladybug?! Have you forgotten about me, your partner, the light of your life? If not me, perhaps your job protecting this little town, you might have heard of it - PARIS?! Constantly plagued by akumas? Ring any bells??? I gotta go - come quick.”

4:44 PM

“Alright, maybe you have amnesia. Here’s the rundown real fast: Just say ‘transform me’ to your earrings or whatever you do and GET OVER HERE, THERE ARE CIVILIANS GETTING EATEN BY MONSTER TRUCKS AND I’LL NEVER BE ABLE TO WATCH A TRANSFORMERS MOVIE EVER AGAIN.”

5:19 PM

“Look, I know there were akumas that we could afford to leave alone for a few hours in the past. The ones that like to brood. However, this is NOT one of them, and even if you deal heal everyone I don’t want anyone to have to suffer through the memory of becoming monster mash. Please come soon.”

6:06 PM

Adrien scrunched down behind a heating unit, trying to keep any of his limbs from poking out while he wearily dialed Ladybug. “Hello, my Lady,” he whisper-screamed flippantly into the phone. “The time is now 6:00 PM. I have been fighting the akuma by myself for almost four hours. At this point, I can only assume that you’ve died. For the love of Paris, I hope you are not being buried with your miraculous and have willed it to me, your best friend.”

There was a high-pitched scream from behind him, and Adrien flicked his staff shut with a sigh. He thought he’d trapped all the monster trucks in a homemade pen he’d made in the museum’s courtyard out of cannons, but if the Akuma had figured out a way out -

-no. It was just a dumb human who’d snuck inside. Adrien hopped nimbly from the nose of truck to truck, scooping down to grab a dark-haired girl with - actually, her hair smelled surprisingly good, like cookies and croissants and all his favorite -

He let her down on the roof of the museum and got a good look at her face for the first time. “Marinette?”

Marinette nodded, holding a phone out in front of her with trembling hands. “Hello, Chat Noir. Alya had to go home for dinner, and I thought…” She stopped to take in a shaky breath, and then added: “Do you have any words for the Ladyblog?”

Adrien scoffed, ripping the phone out of her hands and throwing it over the side of the roof.

“Hey!”

“It’ll come back,” Adrien said, keeping a close eye on Marinette as she ran to the edge of the building to watch the phone get immediately smashed to pieces by the trucks. “Assuming Ladybug ever shows up, that is. What on earth were you thinking, going in there?”

Marinette rubbed her arms. “I do regret it a little. It’s scary down there for a human - I mean -”

“You’re not a truck, yeah, I know,” Adrien said impatiently. “I’m going to stop giving interviews to the Ladyblog if you and Alya keep this up. Ladybug too, I’m sure. Pass that on.”

She nodded. “I will.” She glanced down at her shoes for a second, and then back up at him. “So, while we’re waiting, and since you mentioned Ladybug - how did it go? Telling her?”

Adrien glanced around wildly - it would be just his luck, for Ladybug to show up now, wouldn’t it - but she wasn’t there. “Um, I…” he stuttered. “I haven’t.”

Marinette’s jaw dropped. “Chat!” she squeaked. “We had a deal!”

“I’m sorry!”

“What are you waiting for?” Marinette continued. “Do you think it’s going to get easier the longer you delay? Ladybug deserves to know about your bendi-”

Adrien strode forward and shoved his gloved hand against her mouth. “Shush, someone will hear you!” he hissed, glancing around before looking back down at her blown-wide eyes. They were giant, and blue, and had they always sparkled like that…?

She stopped struggling against his hold, and was just staring at him now.

Adrien gave a nervous laugh and pulled his hand away. Where had that come from? “I’ll tell Ladybug,” he said. “I’m just waiting for the right time.”

Marinette frowned. “When?”

“I’ll know it when it happens.”

She snorted. “That’s bull. Tell her tonight, after the attack.”

“Tonight?” Adrien squawked.

“Tonight,” she repeated, sure of herself. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it, then.” She walked over the the opposite edge of the roof, conjuring an air ball in her hand as she did so. “I can get down myself. I’ll tell the Ladyblog you said hi?”

“Tell Alya she’s a menace to herself and others,” he replied dryly. “Fly safe, Princess.”

She waved at him, and then bent herself down off the roof.

Adrien sighed and turned back to his post guarding the monster trucks. Tonight? That was so soon. That wasn’t nearly enough time to plot his escape for when Ladybug inevitably tried to kill him for lying to her.

Then again, he couldn’t tell Ladybug tonight if she never showed up tonight.

“Hi.”

Adrien yowled in surprise, whipping around as he was startled out of his thoughts by their subject. Ladybug was smirking at him. “Geez, my lady, a warning next time. You scared one of my nine lives out of me.”

“I got your messages,” she said. “I am not dead, but thank you for that vote of confidence. I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier.”

 “Better late than never,” he sighed. “Alright, this should be relatively quick from here. I think akuma is the license plate, and then...” he hesitated, and then bit out, “I have to talk to you afterwards, could you stick around for a bit?”

Ladybug looked unusually pleased about the request. “Sure,” she said. “As long as you have the time? I know you’ve been out here a while already.”

“I’m already late,” he dismissed. “Can’t get much worse than it already is. Hopefully nobody’s noticed, anyway.”

She shot him a look, but swung down into the monster-truck pen anyway. The akuma was in the license plate, which felt gratifying - they were able to clear it out almost immediately, with no need for cataclysms or lucky charms needed.

Absolutely nothing to procrastinate with.

***

His gaze was shifting back and forth at their feet. Marinette decided to help ease the conversation into the right direction a little bit. “So, sorry I was late. Again. I was napping, I had such a busy week.”

"Oh?" he said, glancing at her for just a split second. Was it her imagination, or was his face pale?

“I've actually had my hands full lately with airbender training recently. One of my relatives came to town - he's not around much, but he's a big deal in the airbending community back in his homeland, and we hung out all weekend. His French isn't great and I'm not too good in his language, so we our only way of communicating was through bending. It was nice. I'm sorry we'll never get to experience it like that."

Chat made a face. “Well, we get by just fine now, right?”

She wanted to stomp her foot. Just tell me, she begged inside her head. Then she could finally react, finally - finally - "I wish you were a bender," she blurted out.

He turned away from her, staring out over the city skyline. He didn't say anything.

"Not that there’s anything wrong with being a nonbender," she said. "I know bending's not really good for anything practical these days in real life, it's just a genetic mutation, but - there's something different about it, Chat. I don't think a nonbender would ever understand."

"Maybe I wouldn't," he said softly, his back still to her. His tail started lashing back and forth on the behind him, treacherously. “But maybe...Ladybug…” he trailed off, and didn’t finish his sentence.

She clenched her fists and continued, "I got my fortune read once. The fortune teller told me that I would marry a powerful bender."

His voice was completely flat this time, on the border of sarcasm. "Good for you."

"So I know it's probably stupid, but I've always looked for bending,"  Marinette continued. She felt like she'd never ranted at Chat Noir this long before - he was barely saying anything compared to his usual self. "In guys, I mean. It's really too bad you aren't a bender."

He turned around sharply, his cat-eye pupils narrowing as he looked at her. "What if I was a bender?"

She snorted. Gotcha. "You're not."

"But what if I was?"

"You would have told me if you were," Marinette said. She took three steps closer to close the gap between them, leaning up and into his face. "Wouldn't you, kitty?"

His pupils dilated again. "Why are you asking about this, all of a sudden?"

“I don’t know,” she whispered, face still within inches of his, she did not know what she was getting herself into but she couldn't stop now. It felt like there was something building inside her, rushing through her veins like starlight in the night sky. "But you're not a bender."

"What if I was a bender," Chat said. He licked his lips nervously, and her eyes tracked the gesture. "Would things be different?"

She took a tiny half-step closer; they were practically pressed together now. No, her reflexes said, stubbornly holding the line in the back of her head. What are you doing, they cried, stop it, what about Adrien Adrien Adrien Adrien -

“What element?” Marinette said, dragging her gaze from his lips back up to his eyes.

He ducked his head down so that his forehead was brushing against hers. “Guess,” he whispered hotly, and then kissed her.

***

“Um,” Adrien said, having resurfaced much, much, much later. Ladybug’s hair was a mess, and he suspected that his wasn’t much better. “You guessed fire, right?”

Ladybug rolled her eyes at him, but her cheeks were flushed red and she wouldn’t stop smiling. “Really? I thought earth-”

“Earthbendering?” Adrien interrupted, raising a hand to his chest in shock. “After all we’ve been through, Ladybug?”

She laughed. “Calm down, smokebreath. Yes, I guess fire with all your firebending passion.”

“Good,” he said, and kissed her again.

[heycoffeeatmidnight]

“Do you need any help?”

[Karlie walks towards the singer but careful not to stand too close to her. Taylor looks beautiful in her black sweatshirt dress with her natural curly hair. She knows Karlie is watching her. Her heart pounds heavily]

“No, I’m good. I’m almost done.”

[She still can’t believe Karlie is actually here, standing in her kitchen. She’s even more surprised that she did not ask her to leave. “What was I thinking?” Taylor thinks to herself. Karlie’s tall presence makes her extremely nervous and she’s trying hard not to let it show. Karlie wants to move closer to her but she knows better than to do anything that will make Taylor feel uncomfortable]

“I’ll go get the plates. The food smells really good, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

[Karlie has always been complimentary of her cooking skills. Even if the dish is not perfect, she always manages to say something nice about it. She misses cooking for her more than she’s willing to admit. Taylor suddenly remembers Martha’s teasing earlier and again feels a tinge of embarrassment about the whole situation. Of all the dishes that she can possibly cook, she decided to go with her ex’s favorite dish on the very night she unexpectedly shows up in her house. She’s annoyed at the coincidence and frankly feels a little defensive too. She feels the urge to say something about it and explain herself to Karlie]

“Martha wanted fish.” [Taylor says, feeling very guilty of this little white lie]

“Did you say something?”

“I said Martha wanted fish tonight for a change. You know I don’t really know a lot of fish recipes except this one so…I wanted to make a pot roast but—“

[Karlie smiles and interrupts her]

“Tay, you don’t have to explain.” [God, why is she being so cute? She’s so cute when she’s being defensive like this- Karlie thinks to herself. She also knows that Taylor’s not exactly being truthful cause Martha practically lets her cook whatever she wants. Karlie knows that for a fact]

“Yeah, I know. I just don’t want you to think.”

“Think what?”

“Nothing.”

“Ha! I still know where the plates are.”

[Karlie beams as if she unlocks some secret achievement. Taylor looks over her shoulder and sees the tall model grinning from ear to ear looking like an idiot. They’ve shared so many great memories in the kitchen. Probably more so than in any other room in the house. She shakes her head. No, she doesn’t want to remember. She doesn’t want to entertain these thoughts. Not now]

“So where are the furbabies? I haven’t seen them around.”

[Karlie asks as she gets the plates from the cupboard]

“Upstairs. Sleeping.”

“Can I see them later?”

[Karlie waits in anticipation for Taylor’s response. She hasn’t seen Olivia and Meredith since they broke up and she misses them so much. Taylor doesn’t really mind. She’s sure the cats would love to see Karlie, especially Dibbles, but at the same time she doesn’t want to give her ex girlfriend the impression that she’s ready to be friends again. “No, we’re not cool,” the singer whispers to herself and remains silent. Karlie takes that as a no and remembers what Taylor said earlier - don’t push your luck]

“Taylor girl!!!”

“Todrick! Finally, you’re here!”

[Taylor runs to him and gives him the biggest hug. Karlie looks at them, a bit jealous of the warm welcome in comparison to the cold reception she received earlier. But she understands, of course, and honestly she’s just happy Taylor even let her in her house]

“Sorry, love. I’m late. The boyfie is in town so…”

“Why didn’t you bring him?”

“He’s going out with friends tonight. So that’s fine… Oh my Lord! Is this for real? Miss Karlie Supermodel Kloss in the house?”

“Hey, Todrick.” [Karlie gives him a warm embrace]

“How’ve you been, girl? I haven’t seen you in ages!”

“I know. Been awhile. I’m doing well. How are you?”

“I’m fabulous! You look so gorgeous ! As always! And still very tall! Love the hair!”

[Taylor looks at Karlie and thinks to herself - yes, still very tall… and yes, still very gorgeous]

“Well, you’re not so bad yourself.”

“I know right?” [They all laugh]

[It’s dinner and Taylor is seated at the head of the table. To her left are Todrick and Martha while Karlie sits on the opposite side]

Todrick whispers to Martha “You know what? I almost canceled. And girl am I glad I didn’t. I don’t want to miss this for anything in the world.” They giggle.

“Having your own little party there?”

[Taylor asks her two friends who are clearly on to something]

“No, I was just telling Martha about something Jesse and I did today. You know, some fun loving action.”

“Ugh! I don’t want to hear it.”

[Todrick knows that the easiest way to shut Taylor up is to talk about sex]

“Please… Not in front of my salmon”

[Taylor jokes and they all burst out laughing]

[During dinner, the conversations center mostly around the recent VSFS, Todrick’s broadway show and of course Taylor’s new album]

“So Karlie, what do you think of reputation?”

[Karlie is caught off guard by Todricks’s question. She’s waited for this moment to tell the singer what she thinks of the album and now that this moment is here, she doesn’t know what to say all of a sudden. She starts getting butterflies in her stomach. She thinks she’s going to pass out]

“Oh wow! Where to even begin?” [Karlie starts nervously. Taylor, sensing the awkwardness of the situation, avoids Karlie’s eyes]

“Um, I was really surprised when I first heard the first few tracks on the album…It was not what I was expecting… but in a good way… Actually I don’t really know what I was expecting to hear in the first place, to be quite honest… It’s just so different and there are a lot of interesting sounds, but again, all in a good way…”

[As Karlie speaks, Taylor remembers about their Big Sur road trip and playing 1989 for her for the first time. She heard it before anyone else did. And this time around, Taylor realizes that Karlie heard reputation about the same time as the rest of the world. This thought makes her unhappy and if she’s being honest, it makes her feel a little guilty inside]

“And the production of each song is so incredible…”

[Karlie is starting to feel like a dork. She wants to speak intelligently about the album but she’s so nervous now the words are not coming out the way she rehearsed them in her head. She’s embarrassed for being inarticulate in front of Taylor, who everyone knows is good with words]

“So yeah, I love it! I can’t stop listening to it…”

[Karlie looks at Tay, addressing her directly]

“The album’s great, Tay. Your passion, all the hard work that you put into it - it’s on full display. Congratulations.

[Karlie stops herself from saying “I’m proud of you” thinking she has no right to say those words now that they’re not together]

“Thank you.”

[Taylor gives her a quick glance and takes a sip of wine]

“So, how does it feel to have songs written about you?”

[Todrick blurts out. Taylor almost spits out her wine. Martha kicks him under the table and Karlie gives him a look of disbelief]

“Fuck! Did I just say that out loud? It’s the wine talking!”

[Todrick snaps his fingers three times] “Let me press rewind. Ladies, can we all just pretend that that didn’t happen?”

[They all give out a nervous laugh. Karlie catches Taylor looking at her. Both their cheeks turning red in embarrassment].

[vectorgallery]

3am magazine 

niconomicon: a conversation with lutz graf-ulbrich

Interview by JJ Brine and Cat Marnell.

Lutz Graf-Ulbrich is a prolific German musician with a varied discography spanning several decades. He’s been a member of many groups, from the 70s art rock band Ash Ra Tempel to his current folk ensemble, 17 Hippies. What might be most intriguing to rock historians, though, is his long relationship with Nico, which he recently documented in his book, In The Shadow Of The Moon Goddess.

If The Velvet Underground was the first “alternative” rock band, Nico—the Andy Warhol Superstar and original art house chanteuse most famous for her contributions to 1967’s The Velvet Underground & Nico, the band’s debut—was the first alternative to alternative music. Warhol essentially imposed the German supermodel on the band, as though she were an art installation. The result, arguably, was the advent of contemporary pop culture.

The solo careers of Lou Reed and John Cale bore traces of their roots in the avant garde, whereas Nico’s musical sensibility seemed to have no roots at all. Rather, it was the zeitgeist that had its roots in her, ones that are still growing. She was not simply the first goth girl, but the first goth (the first use of the term “gothic” in the rock press as a musical descriptive came from Rolling Stone in 1971, in reference to Nico). She was “the most beautiful woman in the world,” whom the Ibizan authorities would not allow out of her home unveiled, for fear that her beauty would cause civil unrest. She was a tabloid fixture who had given birth out of wedlock to the son of the most famous man in France, actor Alain Delon; the model turned actress turned singer who, by Andy Warhol’s reckoning, seemed to change careers whenever something was beginning to really go well for her; the woman whose only regret was to have been born a woman instead of a man; the interdimensional songwriter who taught herself how to play the harmonium and channeled a mystical operatic alien civilization that peaked in its apparent nuclear winter; and the junkie with the lowest female voice this side of everyone.

This past summer, I met Lutz and his wife Daniela at a cafe in Berlin, along with my friend Cat Marnell, a former beauty editor and the author, earlier this year, of the amphetamine-addled memoir, How To Murder Your Life. Considering Nico’s unapologetic, perennial drug use, and the media’s determination to cast her persona in a Warholian mold—something critics have tried to do to my own work as an artist—Cat and I were perfectly placed for this assignment.

—JJ Brine

*

JJ BRINE: How did you meet Nico?

LUTZ GRAF-ULBRICH: We met in 1972 in Paris because we had the same manager. He promoted a concert in Paris and I was playing with a hard rock band called “Agitation Free” in Berlin. Nico was playing there too. That’s when I first saw her. Nobody knew who she really was. There was a strange aura, and lots of rumors, and nobody knew what to make of all that. Before we met she was already a mysterious thing. When she performed it was really strange, with her harmonium and the way she sang. The audience was very enthusiastic. I was stunned. And of course we talked. As we had the same manager, we met a few times. There was a party held by our manager and she took me aside. She saw my record cover and she said it was strange and frightening. Her aura and personality were just so strong that I felt like a little boy. I was 22 and she was 36.

JB: How did your love affair begin?

LG: In ’74 my band split up in June or July. I stayed in France because I loved the people and I wanted to live there as a solo musician. We met again at a musical festival we were both playing at. I was backstage with a band called “Creme Delirium” and I drank some tea, and I remembered that this band puts acid in their tea. It wasn’t normal, I felt intoxicated. I closed my eyes and played the guitar. When I opened my eyes Nico was there. I was on the acid level, and Nico was always sort of over the moon. It was a very good time. After our concerts Nico asked me where I was staying. I didn’t have a hotel and she invited me, she bought me a room. I went to her room and said bye and she said, “Oh no, you’re not getting away.” She was naked on the bed and she was very good looking. I was too shy, I went back to my own room. We sat together on the train to Paris and I played her all of my songs and the whole thing started.

CAT MARNELL: What were you guys wearing at this time?

LG: Nico was wearing a red cloak like a curtain. I was probably wearing a leather jacket.

JB: Were you a fan of hers before you two met?

LG: Of course I had known the Velvet Underground, but only some songs. I hadn’t really connected her history. I only knew a photo of her but I had forgotten about it. One day when we were together she showed me a German fashion magazine, Twen, and it all hit me. Maybe when I was sixteen I had seen this cover.

JB: How was it to be in a relationship with Nico?

LG: Nico generally liked philosophers and drug dealers and gangsters and anything like this. I was an exception to this. She didn’t hold hands in public. She called me her “German friend.” There was one time that she did give me a huge compliment. She did say in public that I was the best lover she ever had. But Nico had many lovers in her life. She could be jealous when provoked. One day she walked into “our” New York restaurant close to the Chelsea Hotel and saw me with the model Angeline, a friend of Nico’s whom she had introduced to me. Nico was very angry and she left.

JB: You and Nico remained close friends even after your love affair ended. But how did that breakup come to pass?

LG: One day we were both in her room and she wanted to be alone but I wouldn’t leave the room. So she threw an iron at me and I went for her and we fought. That was 1979.

JB: Was Nico proud of her body of work? Did she feel that she was a great artist—the greatest?

LG: Of course. I think she found herself underestimated, which was true. A lot of people say, oh yeah, she can’t sing and all that. Of course sometimes when you hear live recordings the tone was sort of off, but at the same time she was such a fantastic singer. When you listen to a song like Tananore, it’s really difficult to sing! She had such a powerful voice. Nico’s body of work was the greatest contribution to music. That’s what makes her so fascinating. The way she was composing and writing songs. There’s nobody who can really explain her music. So dark and poetic. And the combination with her voice. People talk about All Tomorrow’s Parties and Femme Fatale, but of course Nico was more than that. She thought she deserved a better audience, she should’ve sang in an opera hall and all that. But instead she was playing to this young punk audience.

JB: Do you think Nico was thinking of herself as a celebrity—as a star? Was she consistently aware of this?

LG: She was always aware and thinking of things in this way. Nico was a star and everybody knew it.

CM: What kind of scent did Nico have? What was her favorite perfume?

LG: Well, Nico did not like bathing much. She hated water, like a cat she didn’t like to get wet. But she wasn’t stinky, and I do remember her fragrance. It was Chanel. That was her favorite.

CM: Did Nico ever exercise?

LG: One time in Los Angeles, at a friend’s place, I saw her in a bathing suit and I said wow! That was the maximum.

JJ BRINE: What was her attitude toward Andy Warhol? Did she speak of him often? Did they keep in touch over the years?

LG: Andy Warhol I met for like 15 minutes in Paris, actually. Nico had her money stolen and we went to see Andy and she said, “Oh Andy, can you give me some money?” And he gave it to her. He was very generous.

[Warhol recalled this incident in a diary entry from 27 May 1977: “Nico was there with a young kid with a big bulge in his pants, she asked Bob to photograph him. Bob already had. Nico looked older and fatter and sadder. She was crying, she said, because of the beauty of the show. I wanted to give her some money but not directly so I signed a 500-franc note ($100) and handed it to her, and she got even more sentimental and said, “I must frame this, can you give me another one, unsigned, to spend?”]

JB: What do you think of the narrative presented in the documentary Nico Icon about Nico wanting to lose her good looks so as to be taken more seriously as an artist? Do you think this is in any way reductive or misleading?

LG: I don’t know what to say. I know that Paul Morrissey said that.

DANIELA GRAF-ULBRICH: I asked you the same question a few years ago and you told me she was always putting on makeup and that she was very concerned with her appearance. And that she used that as an excuse, like she didn’t want to be beautiful anymore so she gave it away.

LG: It’s true. She could be insecure. When we were living at The Chelsea at one point she had put on a lot of weight. And she didn’t like that.

JB: How do you think Nico wished to portray herself?

LG: More than anything, Nico wanted mystery. And to provide this air of mystery, Nico sometimes lied. Often, in fact. I mean, what happened to her father in WWII, or saying her grandfather was a Whirling Dervish or something, he wasn’t Turkish. Acting lessons with Marilyn Monroe, meetings with Ernest Hemingway, et cetera. She was also very self-absorbed, narcissistic. For instance, she was convinced that right before he died, Jim Morrison came back to Paris just for Nico. I’m not sure that it’s true.

JB: What do you think Nico was most proud of?

LG: Her artistry. She knew that there was nobody else like her, not anywhere. Also, she would always say in interviews that she was most proud to be the mother of her son, Ari [the result of an affair with Alain Delon, who refused to recognize his paternity].

CM: Were there some things about Nico that you came to understand as you got to know her, related to her addiction?

LG: It began when I met her. She was smoking heroin. I didn’t want to take it. But when you’re in love with a person, you want to get on their wavelength. And Nico was so hard to follow as a person, even though we were really close. I could never tell what she was thinking. When she was taking heroin she went even further away. After awhile I gave in to her. I only took it for about a year and a half, maybe in 74 and by 76 I was done. I think Nico thought she was productive! I remember she once said, “I wrote already three albums with a lot of songs. That’s enough, what more do people want?” I think she was lazy actually. She was not productive. She was sitting hallucinating. She wasn’t working on songs all the time. There were two concerts in a month or something. She would rehearse right before a concert or a few notes occasionally.

JB: Did Nico have any phobias?

LG: The sun. And that was what killed her in the end.

JB: I know that you arranged Nico’s last concert, Fata Morgana, where she performed a set of completely new material—hinting at what her next album would have been like, with her alone on her harmonium. Was that the last time you saw her before her death?

LG: Well, she slept at my place after the concert. The next day we talked and she was staying at my place, she was sick of hotels, and I took her to the airport. She was angry at the airport staff because they charged something for her harmonium and she had been told she wouldn’t have to pay but it turned out she did. I remember the woman telling me at customs, you should take care of this woman because she won’t last much longer like this. And then of course six weeks later she died.

JB: Can you tell us more about the circumstances leading up to her death?

LG: I remember she invited me to stay with her in Ibiza, telling me she was going with Ari for three months to write songs or write a book, and I wasn’t sure because she was smoking so much hash, and at that time I didn’t want to do that. But then I had this answering machine message from Ari that said, “It’s so nice, come to Ibiza with us!” And so I bought this ticket the next day. The same day I bought the ticket, I got the news she had died.

JB: If you could say one thing to Nico today, one last thing, what would it be?

LG: I would tell her how grateful I am to have had the luck and fortune to meet her, I still don’t know why she chose me to be with her. That was the great gift in my life.

ABOUT THE INTERVIEWERS

JJ Brine is the creator, owner, and artist behind the Vector Gallery installation project, which also encompasses its own religious movement, a governing body of Ministers for a self-proclaimed sovereign, Vectorian State, and even its own singular Vectorian time zone. Often called the founder of the PostHuman Art movement and the Andy Warhol of our time, you can follow “The Crown Prince of Hell” straight to heaven at jjbrine.com, or Twitter and Instagram (@jjbrine).

Cat Marnell is the author of How To Murder Your Life (2017), a memoir centered on her experiences with the revolving door of drug addiction and drug rehab by way of high fashion offices like Condé Nast, Nylon, and XOJane. Previously, she wrote a column for VICE Magazine titled “Amphetamine Logic.” You can keep up with Cat’s wizardly ways on Twitter and Instagram (@cat_marnell).

https://www.3ammagazine.com/3am/niconomicon-conversation-lutz-graf-ulbrich-nico/

[znks]

my dearest charlotte aka um0v3dm3kurt and charlotter stroganoff circa like 2012 and Pudding Life circa 2017

today on the day celebrating your birth I would like to take it back to those 2012 fandom days by publicly and obnoxiously posting a Birthday Letter™ for all to roll their eyes at and scroll the fuck past because who interacts on this website anymore I mean honestly

look at this supermodel wow amazing beautiful gorgeous 

(do not be fooled she is even more beautiful in person but I also still have hundreds of pictures/screenshots of her making the most glorious of ridiculous faces)

I also have like 40 pictures of her trying to “sit like a lady” like this cat

anyway,

on this day 22 years ago a thing happened (u happened) and then a few years after that, like 16 of them, we met irl but like didn’t know each other so I’m not counting that as our origin story but thEN a few months later we met online and thus started a sweet sweet friendship that still continues to this day

we spent a good chunk of our ~teen years~ and young adult years (ya lit son) and now 20s together either on tumblr, on skype a few times, on tinychat, on like AIM for a week just for the lols, by text until someoNE stopped having an iphone, on whatsapp, and now mostly on messenger but also in real life when you lovingly came all the way to ShitHampton to stay with me in my rad dorm room where I would like stock up mattresses from flatmates for you then later when you spend a godawful amount of hours on buses on mutliple occassions to come sleep on my (or ben’s) floor in Paris, AND all the way to san francisco to go bike riding and buy some bras and get scared to death by a wild boar (seriously though this friendship is really one sided one day I will come to you instead jfc) and we chilled in our pjs and sometimes napped together during the day because we stayed up all night playing video games or watching things or reading things silently next to each for like 7 hours because bb we have a perf friendship tbh

and we would go out like Once during the week and then either stay in the restaurant for hours playing our own version of million dollars but or cut dinner short because we once wanted to run home to build massive ore blocks or like build a fucking moat around our anti-zombles bunker 

but in all seriousness you have been a constant in my life, a rock, an anchor of support and friendship and caring, like we don’t get sappy often but bruh get ready for it because what better way to be wished a happy birthday than by having a friend of yours publicly pull out the friendship receipts on you

you were there for me throughout some of the shittiest years of my life (high school and then shithampton) and though we grew up a lil and changed and like moved away from our beginning fandom dayz we were still always able to come back together over and over and we still talk almost every day like you mean the fucking world to me you have no idea how much you’ve helped me and how much I love and value having you as my friend beyond this hellsite where we can still scream about dumb boys playing video games or in bouncy castles or about the sims whenever we get obsessed with it again for a few days (weeks) but also talk about our future or our ~feelings~ and like sometimes that happens with distractions and jokes and quiet support because that’s what we need that day, and you have always provided that for me, comfort and safety and warm happy feelings and a lot of laughter along with the words of encouragement of the unwavering support and faith I hope you know I have in you (for you?) 

like there is literally zero doubt in my mind and heart and soul that you will have an amazing life and go so far and accomplish many great things and ur already a pretty fucking swell person so I can’t wait to get to know who you will be in 5 years or 10 or 30 or 50 (when we move in together and get 10+ cats if we’re single)

I love you so fucking much and your happiness means a lot to me okay

so happy birthday, Charlotte Rose [last name], I hope that your cats step on ur boobs lovingly and your family and friends and bf smother you with love and affection and kindness and though I can’t be there to physically help them out with that I can still post this ridiculous thing where we first wrote porn for each other and whatnot and send you all dem good birthday vibes your way over the internet because it’s pretty gr8 and allows me to talk to one of my bestest friends on the regular god could you imagine if we had to send each other letters by pigeons fuck man

happy birthday charlotteR, I love you <3

and to conclude here are some fab pictures from our years of friendship

Gabby’s Laptop Mitch, “Bloggers In Their Natural Habitat”, 2012, Webcam

Our amazing bunker before the Renovations™ 

that time we went outside (lol get wrecked @those I badly cut out of the picture)

when u and ciara came to shithampton for one of my greatest birthdays ever and we set up camp in the flat kitchen, A+++

just.... this

aforementioned reading in the same room together sending each other various links and never wearing anything other than pjs 

or that one time a few years previously on a different bedroom floor in a different country when I sent you a super angsty thing to read and I broke you oops xoxo (stutter stiles)

the greatest thing that ever happened to me tbh

THESE ARE OUR FIRST INTERACTIONS OH GOD SO EMBARRASSING AND GLORIOUS I LOVE IT

and another instalment

stunning

that time you made a secret fucking birch (THE WORST OF THE TREES) room in our world which I found like a year later

and thus concludes this long ass birthday post of friendship and love and here’s to many more years of that!!! <3 

[thewildwilds]

Super model au?? 👀👀👀👀

HAHA GOODNESS THE RESPONSE WAS IMMEDIATE.

Okay so this is something me and @fearandloathinginheaven have riffed on and it’s kinda elaborate but it is awesome and fun, and Delaney please jump in if I am missing anything but.

SO THE GIST OF IT. Peko is this gorgeous and popular supermodel who never smiles because her manager leads her to believe that she’s more beautiful when she has that striking, serious look.

Her parents are totally uninvolved in her life. She’s lived on her own since she was 16, traveling the world for various fashion shows and photoshoots, also she has three ugly cats.

AND THEN there’s confectioner Fuyuhiko whose family runs a super popular chain of patisseries and bakeries. Both Fuyuhiko and Natsumi run their own stores and the place is always packed and sometimes the lines go out the door.

The Kuzuryuu family hires Peko to model for an upcoming brand promotion, like all the fliers and signage and billboards and shit. The photoshoot takes place at Fuyuhiko’s patisserie.

So Peko arrives and she’s posing with all the cakes and pastries all dolled up in the patisserie’s uniform and the photographer is snapping photos telling her she’s beautiful, she’s gorgeous, etc. etc. but Fuyuhiko’s watching the whole thing and she won’t? even? look at any of the pastries??? what???

During the middle of a break, Peko busts out her celery shake and it looks terrible and unappetizing and Fuyuhiko just casually mentions, “You can, like… eat one of the cakes, or something. Y’know.”

And she’s like. “Oh. Um. No, that’s okay… I don’t really like sweets.” Because she’s on a very strict diet and eating even just a bit of cake is going to ruin that.

Fuyuhiko is frustrated because what??? Everybody loves his confections?? So while the crew keeps snapping photos, Fuyuhiko goes into the kitchen and starts whipping up a bunch of not-too-sweet pastries and waving them under Peko’s nose every few minutes like, “What about this?? This??? Cream puffs?? Macarons?? Cheesecake?? Anything???”

Peko has NO idea how to deal with this because this has never happened to her before?? but he’s SO determined that she finds it kinda… amusing. Plus?? They honestly all look gorgeous, and she hasn’t had sweets in ages. So eventually she caves and says, “I’ll just try a bit of the cheesecake.” She takes the tiniest bite and fuuUUUUUUCK. HEAVEN ON EARTH WTF.

Fuyuhiko sees the change in her face and the light in her eyes and he is IMMEDIATELY BEAMING. YES, HE DID IT. HE DID ITTTT.

They wrap up the photoshoot. The photographer sings that he’s got all the shots and Peko is wonderful and gorgeous and all the shit she’s heard a million times already. But before she leaves, Fuyuhiko boxes up the rest of the cheesecake and shoves it into her arms like. “HERE. Since you like it you can have the rest.”

Peko is too flustered to say no. So she gives the tiniest smile and thanks him and leaves.

On the way to the car, Peko’s manager sees the box in her hands and asks what that is. Before she can answer, he rips it out of her hands and looks inside. “Cheesecake? Oh no no no. You can’t have this,” he says and dumps it in the trash.

Fuyuhiko’s looking through all the photos and… like okay, she looks beautiful, of course, but she also looks MISERABLE. She’s just holding up the cakes and not smiling and she looks so detached and unhappy. What the hell???

Peko tries not to think much on the experience, until a week later when her manager lets her know the Kuzuryuus want some more shots.

She goes back to Fuyuhiko’s patisserie, feeling guilty that she wasn’t able to keep the cheesecake he so nicely gave her. Fuyuhiko spots her and goes over and asks how she liked the cheesecake and she’s like, “Oh. It was. It was good.” But Fuyuhiko can totally tell Something’s Up.

The crew starts snapping photos. It’s the same thing. Peko looking super serious and striking but not smiling at all.

Finally Fuyuhiko can’t take it anymore. He yells, “WHY DON’T YOU LET HER SMILE?”

(VINYL RECORD SCRATCH SOUND)

Peko’s manager goes nuts. Like naw, kid. Don’t you know anything about the industry?? Models have to look a certain way. And she looks the most beautiful when she’s serious and blah blah blah.

But Fuyuhiko’s having NONE of it. “Or. OR. How ‘bout this. HOW ABOUT YOU LET HER SMILE?? How about we photograph her actually ENJOYING the pastries? I mean the whole point is we want people to buy our products?? How can we do that if she looks so goddamn UNHAPPY? And for FUCK’S sake, let her eat some of them??”

It is SUPER TENSE. After a long moment, the photographer goes, “………….. Well, I guess there’s no harm in….. trying…………”

So they give Peko a fork. She very tentatively tastes a bit of one of the cakes. INSTANT BLISS. The photographer manages to snap a good photo of the way she practically lights up. It’s awesome. Everybody on the crew starts getting Into It and the photoshoot is a hit.

At one point Peko even pulls Fuyuhiko into some of the photos, for fun, and the look of joy on their faces while they goof off is Adorable.

Fuyuhiko and Peko end up exchanging phone numbers. They text each other a lot and grow closer over the weeks, though Peko’s usually very busy with traveling for shows and all that.

Fuyuhiko makes a bunch of pastries inspired by Peko. Like a bunch of strawberry pastries inspired by the color of her eyes and such. It is Way sappy.

A few months later, she ends up having a show in Kobe, so she and Fuyuhiko get to spend some time together and Wow they are Totally Crushing on each other. Natsumi rolls her eyes.

Her manager’s still a giant asshole though.

There’s stuff about Peko dealing with her eating disorder and seeking help for it and it’s very very hard on her, but she’s not alone and slowly she gets better.

Eventually Natsumi tracks down a better manager for Peko. His name is Koichi Kizakura and even though he’s really laid back, he’s super well-known managing really famous models’ careers. He knows all about the unsavory parts of the industry and how girls are treated like shit. He’s super passive-aggressive with making sure nobody takes advantage of his girls and it’s honestly kinda terrifying. Plus as soon as he saw Peko’s photo, he was sold.

Peko, Fuyuhiko, and Natsumi come up with increasingly elaborate ideas to fire Peko’s current manager. They settle on sending him a cake with “Hey guess what? YOU’RE FIRED” and a hand giving the middle finger drawn in icing.

Okay that is way longer than I thought it would be but point is, this AU is Good and Pure and Fun.