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basu-shokikita · 14 days

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About Depths of Humanity

So, I talked about The Duel some time back and I thought, why not do the same for this song too? It's actually one of my underrated faves from Doomstar Requiem.

This more of a rant than a strict analysis though, I just really enjoy thinking about the implications of this song and what it means in regard to Skwisgaar.

Let's start with Ishnifus' warning. He claims that inside lies danger, the ghosts of their pasts and their fears. He cautions them to stay alert and Dethklok brave forward, even if scared.

Inside, they encounter their old manager, old groupies and Skwisgaar's old guitar teacher, in that order. As promised by Ishnifus', they're all people from their past, coming back to haunt them.

Immediately, these people start recriminating Dethklok for not having paid them back after how much they helped them. In short, they're jealous of Dethklok's fame and money.

The band is clearly affected by the plaints, quickly forgetting what they were here to do. Except Skwisgaar, who reminds them all they have to find clues about Toki's whereabouts. It does not seem like they're listening to him, though.

Now up to here, I want to point out 2 things:

That Nathan and Pickles seem the most upset by these confrontations.

That, while Skwisgaar is disturbed, he still has their goal in mind.

About Nathan and Pickles, I think it makes sense, they are the leaders of the band, they're most conscious of its tremendous success. They also know they're extremely talented musicians, meaning, they're aware of their value. They know they're far from being these miserable pricks demanding rewards. Nathan had a nurturing family while Pickles used to be in a huge band, previously to Dethklok. They're both people that have been inherently helped by other people, which is why being confronted is actually uncomfortable.

Skwisgaar is certainly a different case. I have to say, I was pretty surprised to find out that he had a guitar teacher. Based on the flashbacks in Fatherklok, I assumed he had been self taught. Skwisgaar himself has admitted he was pretty poor in his childhood so it's hard to believe Servetta would've invested in his music education. Plus, he can't read music which I think would be hardly the case if he had gotten classes.

But anyway, I'll play along. This teacher is speaking English and he doesn't make any mistakes so I'm guessing he's american. Meaning, Skwisgaar took classes when he went to America, which was later in his life. To strengthen his game and/or learn the technical bits he might have missed before? Maybe? And if this was the case, then Skwisgaar would've felt less obligated to indulge to other people in his life, when he learned to be independent from a really young age. He doesn't feel like he owes shit to other people, because other people didn't give him shit. Thus, the Depths of Humanity effect is not that strong in him.

You could also argue that the loss of Toki is a far more terrifying prospect than these bitter acquaintances from their past but I'll elaborate on that further in this post.

Murderface? Well, Murderface has low esteem and is the less popular member in the band, so of course he can't fall victim to guilt-tripping. Because that would mean acknowledging he feels like he's in a better place than others, it would mean that he actually believes himself superior than others. But he doesn't, Murderface is convinced he's worth nothing, so this whole charade is more grating than anything. Which brings us to the next moment.

The way Murderface is coaxed by the Depths of Humanity crew, is when a seemingly fan approaches him and starts praising him, claiming he's the best one. And then, is when Murderface is hypnotized by the attention. He's already such a negative person, of course more negativity isn't going to get to him. But positivism? That's another deal.

Skwisgaar once again insists that they have to find a clue on how to find Toki but it falls on deaf ears. Nathan is grabbing his head in despair while Pickles clutches his chest in what seems to be an impending panic attack.

Now I really like the wording 'I'll look if you do, too' from Skwisgaar. It almost feels like, even in this situation, he's trying to sound cool about it. He doesn't want to be the only one caring this much about Toki, he doesn't want to be the one leading this operation. He's not a leader, he's never been a leader, even less when it comes to emotional stuff, which is the implicit purpose of this search. They care about Toki, and that's why they're looking for him. But is Skwisgaar seems to be unconsciously rejecting this fact. This attachment.

However, his bandmates aren't listening, too self-absorbed in their anguish to do so. Skwisgaar continues the search and is quick to point out at something on the wall. It's a flyer that he grabs and, immediately, seems to connect the dots about. In an unusual display of leadership, he tells Nathan to grab Murderface so they can leave. Their purpose has been fulfilled and they can finally escape this horrid place.

Okay, so this is my favorite bit, obviously. Once they're outside, Nathan and Pickles keep complaining about what they were just subjected to, and Skwisgaar stops them to show his discovery. It's the same flyer he just grabbed, and it features the place where Toki had his audition. Also known as the place where they all met Toki for the first time and Skwisgaar and him had the legendary duel.

We don't have a precise Dethklok timeline but it's been a long time since Toki joined the band. Several years, at the very least. And this building is nothing but a far away memory, from when they were a lesser band. From when they weren't the big rockstars they are now. So, it really begs to question that not only did Skwisgaar remember the place, but he did so at once, when he hadn't seen or heard of it in years.

...Unless, he had been thinking about it recently?

We know, thanks to the beautiful central section of the movie, that Toki had been thinking of his audition, of joining Dethklok, as a means to cope with the devastating reality he was faced with. We know reminiscing of his dazzling battle with Skwisgaar and the happiness he found within the band gave Toki strength to carry on. But what about Skwisgaar?

For someone who considered himself much better than other guitarists, to the point he didn't want to play with another one, to actually find an equal, someone that challenged him, it couldn't have been anything short of extraordinary for Skwisgaar.

The summit is for the very best only, yet it's quite lonely too, and Skwisgaar had been basking in that isolation his whole life. Until he played with Toki, then the idea of sharing his field no longer felt like an insult, but potential instead. He found someone that could improve his own playing, someone that could compliment his guitar, take it to even higher heights.

And so, Skwisgaar was the one to invite Toki to the band, more specifically, to tell him he wanted him in the band. While we can't factually know how the rest of the members joined Dethklok, we know for sure that Skwisgaar was the sole responsible for making Toki join, as the rest were already bidding him farewell for failing to keep up with Skwisgaar.

So, when the one person that challenged Skwisgaar's playing was taken away, it wouldn't be a stretch for Skwisgaar to look back on how it all happened. To ponder about the circumstances that lead them to the current situation. It's clear the whole band loves Toki and, unable to deal with their own sadness, drank and fucked to oblivion. This also applies to Skwisgaar, except that with him it's especially complex, given that he's the one that brought Toki to his world to begin with. Given that Toki and Skwisgaar share the same instrument. (Fun fact: you don't actually see Skwisgaar fiddling with his guitar in Doomstar Requiem, just puttings dat out theres.)

Obviously, this is a bunch of mumbo-jumbo but as any Pepe-Silvia-scene impersonator that respects themselves, I want to point out how interesting of a coincidence it is that, less than 2 songs later, Skwisgaar is saying this:

Right before they head in to rescue Toki and Abigail, Skwisgaar imparts some reflection of his. He's been wondering if maybe it wouldn't be better to go back to being a one-guitar band. Toki has been in Dethklok for a long time now, so it's interesting Skwisgaar has been thinking about this...

...Except, that's exactly what his mentality used to be like, before meeting Toki. Right when he was trying to convince Pickles that they didn't need a rhythm guitar, he spoke these words exactly. One-guitar band.

It's almost like Skwisgaar is trying to do some self-preservation by returning to his aloof roots. He made Toki join the band, now Toki's gone and in danger, and maybe this wouldn't have happened if they had stuck with Skwisgaar's original plan. Because they attempted to replace Magnus is why this came to be. The revenge Magnus promised did arrive.

I just wanna be clear. I don't think Skwisgaar believes he's the sole to responsible for this, I'm sure he knows Magnus is the main perpetrator here. But the facts remain the facts, and had they all stayed as they were, then they wouldn't be risking their lives now to save their fifth member.

Like this, it seems entirely logical that Skwisgaar would be thinking of his former reluctance, of the Duel, of everything. It's all fresh in his mind once again, because Toki's kidnapping has forced him to realize they're not actually untouchable. Their mortality is back on the table, and so are their bonds.

In short, Skwisgaar had been repressing all his emotions about Toki's disappearance, but from the Depths of Humanity onward, he can't help but show them. He can't help but admit to himself and others, that he wants Toki back. So much, that a bunch of angry and entitled people can't affect him enough to forget it. So much that it's making him remember how distant he used to be, before Toki. So much that it's making him realize how different he is now.

#metalocalypse #skwisgaar skwigelf #toki wartooth #pickles the drummer #nathan explosion #william murderface #dethklok #basu post #sorry i went a little apeshit i just *veiny kid* skwisgaar caring #this lowkey a skwistok post ig #platonic or otherwise

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odderevents · 2 years

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I have had a thought. Steve secretly knowing how to play the piano bc he learned as a kid and had to stop bc his dad's an asshole is lovely. I've seen this floating around a few times and I love it. Eddie catching him playing the piano and being so fucking in love with him will never not be perfect.

But.

Consider

Steve playing the Harp.

It's definitely a rich kid instrument. Big ass fucking impractical instrument. Absolutely beautiful to look at and listen to. Hands playing piano is great. But have you ever seen an accomplished harpist? It makes you think impure thoughts about what those fingers can do.

So. Steve secretly knowing how to play the harp

Maybe his mom used to play it, so there's a big harp (the ones with the columns and super intricate base board, not celtic) that's just gathering dust in the basement. Steve started piano lessons, loved learning how to pull music out of an inert object. But his dad decides it's to effeminate, makes him stop. And sure, a harp is a different beast to a piano. But you've still got cords, and Steve's got a pretty decent ear, and he can barely remember seeing his mom play. So one day when he has the house to himself, which isn't an unusual occurrence at this point, he tries it out. And he's admittedly pretty shit at it, but so was he at piano when he started. Only difference is he has no teacher.

So maybe Steve discreetly finds a way to acquire a beginner's practice instructional book for harp. And works on it when he needs to get his brain away from things.

He's even more careful with it than he is with any dirty mags he might later acquire. He knows that worse, much worse than piano, harp is not a masculine instrument and under no circumstances should his father find out about his affinity for it.

It's still his go to when he can't sleep even years later, pulling out the now old and battered booklet of sheet music and exercises. Especially once the upside down bullshit starts. It's soothing and mindless at this point.

The harp that was much too big when he first started with it is now just the right size, it's weight against his shoulder comforting. He can close his eyes and his fingers naturally find where to land and pluck.

Even when he becomes friends with Robbin and then Eddie, both musicians who he knows wouldn't give a damn about him playing a woman's instrument, he can't bring himself to mention it. If he did, they would want to hear him play and he's self-conscious about being self-taught. Both of them play well, they play with other people and people come to listen. He doesn't consider himself a "real" musician. It's just something he does to keep his hands and brain busy on nights where the sheets feel like they're strangling him and the dark reminds him too much of when he can't see not because it's night but because something's hit him in the head again and he can't tell apart the sound of his heartbeat from something pounding through his walls.

So he goes to the basement. Finds his stool. Removes the dust cover. Goes through the meditative motions of tuning it by ear, because that's how he's always done it. And then he plays until the tips of his fingers feel numb. Somehow, he always comes out of it peaceful enough to pass out on the couch in the basement for a couple more hours.

Steve is so used to keeping it a secret he doesn't even think about it when he starts dating Eddie. It's just a thing that's always only been his, and most importantly, it's been vital to keep it that way for so long it's the natural state of things for Steve at this point. It doesn't ever come up. When Steve gets nightmares when he's sleeping with Eddie all he has to do is curl into his boyfriend's chest and feel the warm heartbeat that's not his own to settle back into himself.

The problem arises on a night when Eddie was supposed to stay with Steve but he got held up in Indianapolis when getting a new amp for his guitar. He would come back to Steve but it would be late in the night. Steve has been keeping himself busy all day so he passes out in the early evening on the couch in front of a shitty sitcom he put on to try to distract himself from the empty house.

Nightmares find him, which isn't terribly unusual, but he doesn't have his usual method of coping so he resorts back to his previous habit.

Eddie walks in bone tired after many hours of driving to and from Indianapolis, waiting while the clerk figured out they didn't have the amp he'd been assured over the phone would be available for pickup today, waiting some more while they had the amp driven from a sister shop an hour away because no way was he driving back and forth again to Indianapolis on another day. So yeah. Eddie is beat. All he wants is to dive head first into his boyfriend's impeccable pecs.

He doesn't find Steve waiting with a welcome kiss like he usually would when he walks in. Instead he's greeted with a hauntingly beautiful rendition of the melody of Master of Puppets in a way he's never heard before.

He drops his stuff in the entry hall and goes down to the basement where the music is coming from, curious to see where Steve might have found the recording. Eddie doesn't quite know what to do with himself when he finally lays eyes on Steve, with dried tear stains on his cheeks and his eyes closed as his fingers pluck and strum without hesitation. He's rooted to the spot as he watches Steve work his favorite song in a new and completely heartrending way. He hasn't been able to listen to it since he played it in the upside down. It always brings up the bitter blood tang of the air and the hair raising shrieks of the bats. But this is somehow different, it's soft and melodious but it's still got the same bones.

Eddie feels tears on his own cheeks. He's missed this song goddammit. And he couldn't be happier that it's Steve that's given it back to him

Queue tears and fear and confessions and comfort. Somehow much later in the future there's inexplicably a harp in some of the corroded coffin tracks. And it shouldn't work but it does

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington plays an instrument #steve harrington plays the harp #this ran away from me #it was supposed to be a random idea #sorry if it's disjointed #it's midnight and the idea was not going to let me rest #I'll probably come try to clean it up at some point #i dont even want to imagine the typos #i hate writing on mobile #but once again brain latched on the the idea like a chewtoy and didn't want to give it back #so you unwitting internet denizen are now graced with the aforementioned mess

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studentinpursuitofclouds · 10 months

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How well do the sdv and sve bachelor/ette's flirt, and what styles of flirting do they have in your opinion? Hope you respond and enjoy writing your headcanon if you do :3

Hey hey, dear anon 👋 Thanks for your question! I enjoy writing headcanons and always glad to see you on my blog ☺️❤️

How well Stardew Valley/Stardew Valley Expanded bachelors/ettes flirt with the Farmer:

SDV bachelors:

Alex:

Flex. A lot of flex. Every time Farmer is around, Alex will lift heavy objects, thus showing off his muscles. Heavy? No, it's not hard for him to hold a huge crate at all! He repeatedly brags about his achievements in sports, but also doesn't forget to praise the Farmer for their hard work and looks. If Farmer gives the 'green light" for his flirting, Alex will move on to more classic things: small gifts, bouquets of flowers, walks on the beach, that sort of thing. Very nice of him, by the way. 6/10 - if he doesn’t praise himself often.

Sam:

In regards to flirting with someone, Sam gets a bit of a funny situation, which can be described by the phrase "Task failed successfully". Being inexperienced in love affairs, Sam often confuses words when he tries to flirt, or trips over an unfortunate rock in the road when he wants to approach Farmer. The young musician thinks to himself that his flirting is terrible and that he is clumsy. However, after much laughter, the Farmer thought Sammy was a very funny guy who would always make them laugh and they wanted to get to know him better. Task failed successfully! 5/10, although the flirting wasn't very good, it still worked!

Elliott:

If you think Elliott is going to seduce Farmer like in the book novels, you're absolutely right! But there is a little nuance. Yes, Elliott is a very well-mannered and sophisticated man, so his flirting, gifts and time spent will be the most romantic. However, a life of seclusion in a beach house has also made itself felt, and sometimes Elliott can forget that this is not a romance, but real life. So, let the Farmer get ready for small talk and nice walks in nature. Elliott will try to find an excuse to meet Farmer more often. 9/10, very good!

Sebastian:

Oh man, Sebastian's flirting.... is a bit of a mess. The young man was too shy and socially awkward to flirt with his object of affection in any way. He couldn't muster up the courage to show his past affection for Abigail, and it's more complicated than that. More often than not, and unknowingly, Sebby will smile and blush when talking to Farmer, avert his gaze, also more often invite them to his house to play board games or read comics. 3/10, sorry Seb, but that's not much of a flirt.

Harvey:

Yoba witnesses, Harvey tries his best, and, in principle, his flirting with Farmer turns out quite well. Not without flaws, of course, when he got a little nervous and confused, but quite acceptable and very romantic. The local doctor doesn't have much experience in love adventures, but he knows very well that the classics won't let him down if he wants to show his interest in the chaotic Farmer. 7/10, the key thing for Harvey is to keep his nerve (and not offer private medical check-up too often).

Shane:

Flirting is not Shane's thing. He has pretty low self-esteem and doesn't seem to care what most people think of him or what he looks like. Even if he gets the urge to try and start courting Farmer in some way, he stops himself most of the time. Unfortunately, Shane considers himself unworthy of their attention, like, who would want to socialise with someone like him. So the chicken lover will just throw dreamy glances at Farmer in the Saloon. Although, after a couple of beers, he does manage to flirt somehow (a bit vulgar, but still). 2/10, Farmer needs to make the first move themselves if they're interested in Shane.

SVE bachelors:

Lance:

No one knows whether it's a natural talent or whether Lance was taught a whole set of rules on how to flirt and behave in society, but this gallant man with a catty grin on his face is just a real master of flirting. Just like a noble knight in shining armour who came out of a chivalric novel. He knows perfectly well what levers to pull in order to gain the goodwill of the person he likes. Even if the Farmer doesn't mind flirting, but are an impregnable fortress, Lance is willing to spend a lot of time to conquer that fortress. 10/10, what a real romantic bastard.

Victor:

Behold - the smoothest man who can outdo even Elliott in his mastery of romance and very subtle flirting. Though a bit shy and introverted, Victor knows how to make the Farmer blush with a compliment (thanks to the many books on the subject in his personal library). Lots of walks, interesting and not too long conversations, dinner at the Saloon, or even sitting together at the game console. Victor chooses his complimentary words very carefully and watches the Farmer's reaction. If they don't feel uncomfortable, Victor continues. 8/10, this spaghetti man is full of surprises.

Magnus Rasmodius:

It had been a long time since Magnus had flirted with anyone, the last time he'd done so had been when he was younger... So it wasn't easy for him to remember everything he knew about love affairs, though even in his youth there had been only one affair, then marriage, then divorce, then.... Oh, well, that's just the way it is. Magnus is quite a romantic wizard, no doubt about it, but the hardest thing is to start flirting, especially if it's successful. It would help him to spend time together (a.k.a. magic lessons, thanks that Farmer has talent and is no stranger to Magnus). 4/10, c'mon Magnus, we believe in you.

SDV bachelorettes:

Leah:

Leah's main flirt is praise and shared pastime. Farmer very often becomes her muse for a future painting or sculpture, which, by the way, Leah then presents them. Collecting mushrooms and berries together, where the girl shares her experience in finding the best places with a lot of delicious gifts of the forest, she also repeatedly offers her help on the farm and praises their physical build. Leah is not shy about flirting, and if Farmer is single and doesn't feel uncomfortable during her flirting, the girl will continue until she achieves victory on the love front. 7/10, pretty good and confident flirting.

Penny:

Penny is a very sweet and kind girl, but she has zero ambition. She blushes too much and she almost always looks away or hides her face in a book if she sees Farmer, so it's an impossible task for a young teacher to approach her object of affection and start flirting. Her trouble is that Penny thinks she's a "grey mouse" who no one will pay much attention to, much less someone like Farmer. 0/10, I'm sorry Penny, but you have no flirting skills at all.

Maru:

Maru will look for any excuse to fix Farmer's broken appliances to get to know each other better. Broken recycling machine? Maru is already here, always ready to help them. In fact, she's always helped with repairs, but now her visits have become even more frequent. Mostly, the young inventor is a bit shy and rather timid when she tries to compliment the Farmer's appearance or clothes. She is sometimes afraid she might bore them with her chatter about her inventions. But if Farmer enjoys listening to a girl, she'll definitely talk all her ears off about science, and it will be much easier for her to flirt with them. 5/10, not too good but not too bad.

Haley:

Oh, Haley sure has a few tricks to get Farmer's attention on herself. After all, she was a star in high school and the centre of attention for many of her fans. Flirting is her thing. A subtle hint of wanting a relationship here, a successful praise there, a light conversation afterwards, a "chance" encounter here - it's a whole art for the blonde-haired girl. Also one of her best tactics is to be herself: to be nice, fun, and not to stay under the mask of a slightly spoilt and rude girl. Haley's tactics work, and Farmer has also started to take a liking to her. 8/10, there are a couple of flaws, but overall a quality flirt.

Abigail:

The amethyst lover's hints of flirting almost directly scream that she likes Farmer a lot. Recall at least her post 8 ❤️ event when she says that "Farmer must know what happened yesterday". But Abigail is going to start wooing them anyway, as she's not sure they've realized what happened yesterday after all. Constant compliments from Abby, also one of her main flirtations is her sketches of various fantasy characters, which she gives to Farmer. 6.5/10, not bad in principle but could be better.

Emily:

Honestly, I'm not sure Emily understands what flirting is at all. Well, she feels sympathy and a love interest for Farmer, but even when the two are officially a couple, Emily thanks them and refers to them as "good friend". "Friend", friendzone forever... Sure, she'll always compliment Farmer on their beautiful looks or their harmonious clothing choices, but it feels like she still refers to them as a friend. 1/10, I love you Emily, but you're not trying at all.

SVE bachelorettes:

Sophia:

Have pity on poor Sophia, she's having a hard enough time socialising as it is, and then there's the need to flirt! She has a very similar case as Penny, but unlike the red-haired girl, Sophia makes more attempts. Watching anime together, chatting about new manga, the latest from the video game world, etc... She also shares the most delicious snacks and sweets with Farmer, which is a big step considering how shy she is. This sort of thing comes across as just a friendly hangout, but Sophia tries to hint that she wants more than friendship. 4/10, she's really trying her best.

Olivia:

Need to say - Olivia is a bit of a contradiction in terms. This woman was a masterful flirt when she was younger if she really liked someone, and her skill hasn't faded over the years. The problem is simply that she's a widow, hasn't had a relationship since her husband's death, and feels that her flirting with someone (especially a younger person like Farmer) would constitute a betrayal to her late husband. If Olivia and Farmer work it out, the woman will quickly show the object of her affection what sophisticated and professional flirting is all about. 9/10, mommy- *ahem*, Olivia knows how to wow Farmer.

Claire:

Due to the fact that Claire is a rather quiet and shy girl (not as shy as Penny or Sophia) and her constant fatigue at work at JojaMart, flirting with Farmer is not easy for her. On the other hand, the young girl always feels a rush of energy when she sees her close friend (who has become her object of admiration). Claire doesn't have too many tricks in her flirting arsenal, but compliments and spending time together are assured. 5/10, not too bad, actually.

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eternalfae · 10 months

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When You're Gone (pt 1 of ??)

It’s been months since you’ve seen Andrew. You two used to spend every weekend together. More than that, really; any moment you could you guys could be together you were. It started with him being a regular at your coffee shop, and then inviting you to sit and chat with him on your breaks. You ended up quitting the coffee shop and slipped him your phone number on his last receipt from your last day. He ended up showing you the music he’d been working on that day after you clocked out. You knew he was always writing something in his notebook at the little corner table, but you never realized that it was music.

He was a man of few words typically, mysterious in nature, and you couldn’t help but be mesmerized just watching him write. His long fingers wrapped around his pen while his other hand was either splayed across the book holding it open or being run through his hair to push it out of his face; you could watch him for hours. You asked if there was some way you could see him play, and he let you know that he plays at a local pub every Friday. So your meetings moved there.

The first time you were going to watch him at the pub, you anxiously waited all week long. You spent an hour trying on different outfits in the mirror and mentally flicked yourself for it. This wasn’t anything special. You’re just going to some dingy bar to see the most attractive man you’ve ever met play his music. Finally, you figured it was an appropriate time to go over. You waited outside for your taxi, checking your phone over and over to make sure you had the address correct. Once you got to the pub, you lingered outside for just a moment before taking a deep breath and going in. You found a nice table in the corner, just like he always did, and waited with your drink.

You people-watched from your seat while you waited until you heard a little bit of commotion. Finally looking up, the dim lighting of the pub cast a shadow over Andrews's face. His tall frame towered over you from the stage, and you took a sip of your drink to make sure you weren’t staring. When you looked back up, he was looking right at you and gave a small smile. You ordered 3 more drinks through his set and, afterward, he came and sat with you. You guys caught up on your events for the week and chatted about the musician who was on after him.

“Your music is really beautiful,” you told him earnestly. You looked him in the eyes for the first time in a while and he had a thoughtful look on his face as he swished his drink around.

“It’s not where I want it to be yet, but thank you.” He was too humble. Every word he sang was like a hymn and you had soaked it up eagerly. You were left wanting more, but you couldn’t tell him that.

“How long have you been playing?” You leaned back in your chair.

He contemplated your question for a moment before finally answering, “I started when I was fifteen. Self-taught.” He looked a little proud of himself when he saw your shocked face.

You quickly recomposed yourself and finished your drink off in one gulp, wincing slightly at the taste. “You got more stuff?” Your question broke the silence between you two and he returned his eyes to yours.

“Aye, I might. Nothing properly finished, though. I’ll show you sometime if you want.” His hands went to his sleeve as he rolled it up his arms a bit, and it took everything in you to not watch his every movement.

You bounced your knee a bit absentmindedly on the floor and nodded. “I think you’re really good.”

After that night, you two continued to spend more and more time together. You listened to his music and helped him brainstorm lyrics every Friday night in that dim pub. Eventually, you started spending more than just Fridays together, and you introduced him to your passion: photography. He became your muse. A joke at first that became serious as you were constantly using him as your subject. His curly hair and angular face always showed up in one way or another. You hadn’t had a friend like this in a long time, someone you could confide in and someone to give you advice when you needed it.

His talent got in the way, though, when he left. After months of spending every other day together, he got a deal with a record label. He insisted that he needed to get out of your town in order to focus on writing, spending time by the ocean secluded in some house. You couldn’t ask him to stay, though, you weren’t anything special to him. You just had to hug him and say how happy you were for him. At first, you messaged each other all throughout the day while you both worked, but his responses came slower as time passed and you ended up barely speaking. You had no idea when he’d be back, as he’d need to record once he was done actually preparing his music. His music that you had spent countless nights up with him listening to.

You didn’t realize how awful you’d feel when he left, but it hit you like a truck after two weeks. Your routine was in shambles, and you were turning toward anything to distract you. Your solace came one day finally when your phone buzzed while you were at work. You looked down at it, his name popping up and your face lighting up immediately. You answered the phone, thanking the gods that there were no customers around, and felt yourself grinning like a fool.

“Andrew, what’s up?”

The other line was a bit muffled but you could hear him say your name. You hadn’t heard his voice in so long, you wondered if he sounded different at all.

“I’m back in town.” You felt like a cartoon character when their jaw dropped to the floor, but kept your composure.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?” You glanced at the clock and could have cried when you realized you had less than two hours left of your shift.

You could hear the smile in his voice when he responded, “It was supposed to be a surprise, but you aren’t at your flat.”

“Some of us have real jobs, Andrew,” you teased, “I’ll be free in a couple of hours, though.”

He sighed dramatically and was quiet for a moment, contemplating. “Fine. But you owe me a pint.”

You rolled your eyes even though you knew he couldn’t see you. You weren’t the one who left for months and has been completely MIA for a week. “Sure. I’ll be home at six. You know where the spare key is.”

“Of course I do, I’m already inside. You really should clean some of these dishes.”

“You do them if they bug you that much. I’ll see you in a bit, I’ve got to get back to work.” Right as you said that, you heard the bell of the door ring to signal a customer. You both quickly said your goodbyes and you put your best customer service face on. These would be the longest two hours of your life.

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #hozier fanfiction #pining #mutual pining #friends to lovers #hozier x reader #please be nice to me #if you know me irl no you dont

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popatochisssp · 11 months

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Would it be too much to ask what kind of jobs the new skeles might have since you already shared bram would be a groundskeeper at a cemetery?

Looks like I never officially did this one for Wave 2, just Wave 1 over here.

So, while we’re at it, let's do 2 and 3!

Ash (Undergloom Sans): He’s semi-unemployed, or self-employed depending on how you look at it. He busks, playing his trombone out on the street and accepting donations from anyone who feels so inclined. He likes playing music and the idea of brightening peoples’ days in the middle of their commute, so the money doesn’t really matter to him. Sometimes he picks up small gigs at local venues, mostly by word of mouth, and eventually he breaks into the tutoring scene—teaching his favorite instrument to young aspiring musicians who find the same joy in it that he does.

Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus): He works as a professor at the local community college, teaching anthropology. He’s passionate about the subject and can’t think of anything he’d rather do than share it with a classroom of humans who probably have no idea how interesting they really are. If only one student walked away from his class with a new appreciation for what humanity’s all about then he’s fulfilled—but he tends to send a lot more away with that than just one, since he’s a very popular, friendly, and accessible teacher.

Brick (Horrorfell Sans): He’s self-employed, knitting blankets at home and selling them online. He doesn’t need a job at all, between the Queen and his brother, money’s not an issue, but he’d go crazy if he didn’t have something to do all day, and nobody wants to see what he looks like when he goes crazy. He takes commissions often, but other times he just makes things according to whatever he’s feeling and what color yarn he has handy and sells to whoever feels like buying it.

King (Horrorfell Papyrus): He works as a physical therapist. He more or less taught himself to walk again after losing his leg, and a second time after getting a replacement, so he very personally understands the need that exists for people who are injured and want to get back to their normal life—but maybe lack the discipline, the knowledge, or the tools to take that journey solo. He’s hard on his patients and sadistically merciless, but his success rate in terms of mobility recovered is very high and any complaints after the fact are begrudging at worst.

Merc (Horrorswap Sans): He’s a home baker, making cakes and small pastries for a small but growing client base. He likes the freedom of getting to pursue his passions seriously and to be his own boss, set his own hours, screen his own clients, et cetera. He puts a lot of time and care into what he makes, both in terms of flavor and decoration, and finds nothing quite so satisfying as a repeat customer or a glowing review and recommendation to someone new.

Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus): Freelance programming is what he does for cash. It was something he could both learn how to do and actually do remotely, without the need for more than the bare minimum of in-person contact. He likes problem-solving, and complaining about the problem-solving, and the field is pretty much always in demand so if he’s bored of certain kinds of jobs, or sick of the person giving him the jobs, he can jump ship at any time and be a contractor someplace else.

Pitch (Horrorswapfell Sans): He’s a boxer, more amateur than pro so he doesn’t make a ton doing it, at least not consistently, but he likes fighting and draws in a decent crowd by being a bit of a spectacle (a blind skeleton in the ring) so the entertainment value is worth something. Aside from that, eventually, he fills in for his brother as a combination business partner/agent/accountant, helping him get jobs and keep clients and manage the money he makes doing so.

Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus): He’s unemployed for a long while, but ultimately breaks into professional photography, with a specialty in travel photographs. He likes taking pictures and getting to see the world in the process, and it helps that it’s a family business so he and his brother have pretty much full control over what jobs he takes and for how much. He doesn’t really concern himself with the money numbers, though, he just likes filling out his portfolio with gorgeous locales all around the world.

Sunny (Gastertale Sans): He does a lot of odd jobs, all over the place, generally (things that are considered) unskilled labor—bussing tables, janitorial work, desk clerking, that kind of thing. He doesn’t like the thought of getting too stuck into any one thing and being unable to try something else out later if it doesn’t work out, and there’s something to be said for the satisfaction of being closely connected to the results of your labor. Sometime down the line he will end up sticking in one career, as a dealer for a casino, because it combines his social, charming nature with his sharp eye and quick hands, but until then he’s happy to bounce around.

Aster (Gastertale Papyrus): He’s a bookkeeper at a nondescript company. He’s organized and thorough with record-keeping and double-checking data, and he likes putting those skills to use to make sure his employer’s finances and transactions all balance out at the end of the day. Some might find it boring work and he could almost certainly qualify for a much more ‘prestigious’ job doing something else, but he’s satisfied having a job that doesn’t require all of his effort and brainpower, so he can save some of that for his personal life and private interests.

Spectr (Transcendtale Sans): He’s a nomad, a wanderer, he has no job. He’s a robot in the shape of a monster—ostensibly still a monster, even so—in a world full of humans that as yet believe monsters don’t exist, so even if he wanted a job, getting one would be logistically difficult. Luckily, he feels no special need to be gainfully employed and just spends his time wandering around and taking in the world. If he needs something, he’ll either just take it or use one of his brother’s accounts to pay for it.

PapAIrus (Transcendtale Papyrus): He’s a performer, a disc jockey who mixes, makes, and plays music to crowds at clubs, raves, and discos, anywhere he’s welcome. He takes advantage of the perception of his holographic form as an artist’s gimmick, like Daft Punk, Hatsune Miku, dead musicians projected onto stages to play posthumously… In his defense, that last one is sort of exactly what he is, except he didn’t really start making music until after he died. Still, he has fun doing it and adores the fame he’s steadily gaining as a popular, cutting-edge technology music act.

Xanth (Ascendswap Sans): He does aura readings for people. For those interested to know, he shares his perception of their colors and the flow of energy in and around them, and just generally describes the sense he gets about a person. What he does is really more of a soul read than an aura read, so a lot of the color meanings and terminology he uses contrast with the kind of readings his clients may get from humans who practice something a little bit different. Still, he’s earnest in his desire to help people understand themselves and their energies and emotions, so he gets a lot of recommendations and repeat clientele who trust he’s the real deal.

Piper (Ascendswap Papyrus): He works as an event planner, organizing gatherings, arranging vendors, booking venues, the whole nine. He has a great reputation for making things go smoothly and always seems to be able to talk out bumps and snags before they ever become a major problem. He also maintains great relationships with people in the industry and delights in having connections just about everywhere in case he needs to call on a favor to make something happen for a client. He's got the magic touch and the silver (gold) tongue that makes everything fall into place just so.

Carmine (Underfell Fruition Sans): He works as a clerk at a pawn shop. He gets to handle a lot of interesting items and assess roughly how much they’d be worth, and he’s pretty good at haggling and negotiating with people who might not agree with said assessments. Sometimes people will come in with broken stuff they wouldn’t be able to get too much for, but maybe he can cut ‘em a deal, fix it up on his own dime and if they come back for it, great—and if they don’t, his boss’ll be happy to have something that works to sell to somebody else at a markup, how ‘bout it? He does a brisk business and both sides of the counter love him.

Tank (Underfell Fruition Papyrus): He’s in construction. He’s huge, strong, takes direction well, and diligently follows rules and protocols—he’s an ideal fit for it. He likes to work hard and be able to see a job come together, knowing he had a part in it and being satisfied with the quality of his contribution. He especially likes to take every safety training and equipment certification course he can attend because he likes knowing what the rules are and being specifically told how certain procedures are run, machines operated, et cetera. He’s very likely to be apprenticed in as a foreman if not the inheritor someday of the construction business by its current owner for his work ethic and dedication, but that’ll be a long ways from now.

Vi (Swapfell Fruition Sans): He works as an independent auditor and combs through companies’ records, internal and external documentation, processes, and accounting and ensures everything is being done in accordance with industry standards. In short, he shows up, demands to see everything they have, and looks through it to see if they’ve lied, did something wrong, or lost information they weren’t supposed to. Sometimes he can do this remotely but other times he has to travel out to a physical office somewhere and sit down with a bunch of stuffed file cabinets, and he really doesn’t mind either way. He likes the work and he’s good at it—maybe because he’s good at it—and he finds it satisfying to catch the tiniest little misses and errors to demand an accounting of them.

Hunter (Swapfell Fruition Papyrus): He’s a trail maintenance worker for Ebott National Park. He walks the paths and hiking trails and makes sure they’re safe and unobstructed for visitors, as well as whatever odd jobs in the area that happen to come up—looking out for invasive species, helping with a bench install, directing lost tourists, that kinda thing. It’s not especially glamorous work but it’s pretty much exactly where he wants to be and he’s happy to do it, probably wouldn’t pick any other job in the world…except maybe to volunteer for a seasonal fire-watch position and do pretty much the exact same thing, but more isolated and with a big cool tower to sit in.

Kohl (Descendtale Sans): He works as a mortician at a local funeral home. He generally isn’t expected (read: allowed) to deal with grieving families, that’s more the funeral director’s purview, but he works behind the scenes embalming, processing, and otherwise preparing the dead for their final party and last ride home. He has a strong stomach—or rather, no stomach at all—and doesn’t get squeamish or emotional about the dead, so that works out. They also let him work nights so he has several long, quiet hours of methodically going through the routine with no (living) humans around to irritate him or vice-versa. Sounds like a good gig to him.

Bram (Descendtale Papyrus): Yes, still a groundskeeper for the cemetery and loving it. It was something he kind of fell into through his brother, when he didn’t really know what he wanted to do on the Surface, but his brother sends dead humans off to their final resting place and said final resting place was looking for someone to dig holes, mind the grass, keep everything looking neat and nice—and that’s certainly something he can do! He also works nights, being that monsters are almost entirely nocturnal these days, so he’s also an unintentional scarecrow deterrent to teenagers sneaking in late for partying or spooky dares when they see a slim, bony silhouette materialize out of the shadows with a shovel in hand, asking if they’re just visiting or thinking about moving in.…

#anonymous #headcanons #undergloom #horrorfell #horrorswap #horrorswapfell #gastertale #transcendtale #ascendswap #underfell fruition #swapfell fruition #descendtale

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flightfoot · 1 month

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I'm so glad you love Kira Kira so much!!! It's such an underrated season ahhhh. The only thing keeping it from my own top spot is the treatment of Rio. He's my favorite precure character of all time and I simply can't let it slide T-T

Oooh yes it's so good! Like, it has the most well-constructed character arcs for each of the cures of any season, most are more lopsided.

Like with Ichika! She loves making sweets, but she's not very good at it at first. She's not a lethal chef or anything, she just isn't very experienced and doesn't know a lot. I loved watching her slowly work together with her friends to learn how to bake. It's not like some instant thing, you just notice her slow improvement throughout the season.

She does have something she's naturally gifted at, and that's decoration! She's really good at decorating treats in a way that will bring joy to the person who receives them, to the point that Ciel, a baking prodigy, actually learns from her in that regard.

Himari's arguably the most blatantly autistic cure there's ever been, and that's saying a lot. She loves baking and is an expert on the chemistry of it. Unfortunately, she's been discouraged from sharing her passion in the past, since her classmates got bored with her infodumping about the subject. I love her character arc about learning to come out of her shell and finding a way to use her infodumping tendencies for good by finding a receptive audience who enjoys being taught by her!

Aoi has my favorite character arc of the Cures. I love how she was inspired by her idol to become a musician and rock out with her bandmates, and how she's going against what's expected of her because, surprisingly enough, she's the heir to a wealthy family. She doesn't have any interest in running the corporation though. I loved her finding her voice and standing up for what she wants to do!

Cure Chocolat has one of the prettiest designs in Pretty Cure, in my opinion! Akira's character arc has some weaknesses, but it's still compelling. She's got a sick little sister she's protective of, and she tends to put too much on herself. I didn't really like that the show emphasized those self-sacrificial qualities - seriously she's gonna burn out at some point - but otherwise she's great!

She also has one of the most blatant queer relationships in the show. Like Kira Kira never SAYS that Akira and Yukari are a couple, but it sure hints at it.

There's never been a Pretty Cure character quite like Yukari. Even Yui, who's also a cat, is pretty different from her. Like she has this thing going on where she's good at everything instantly and it gets boring, which is why macarons interested her - she actually FAILED the first several times and had to work at making those to make them good.

I don't even really know how to describe her, she's so catlike. I don't think she actually changes a lot like the others do, you just see more facets of her. I love how easily she's able to act and fool villains, making them think they have the upper hand when she's actually playing them like a fiddle.

So her starting off as this haughty, slightly conceited prodigy who didn't think much of Ichika's merely alright pastries (given that she's world famous and has trained under the fanciest bakers in Paris), but slowly grows to see that even if Ichika's actual pastries are lackluster, they have a lot of heart, a lot of Kira Kira in them, and trying to figure out why that is. Her whole breakdown when she realizes how she just... didn't see what Pikario was going through, why he freaked out and ran away, and how he was then infected with evil and taken advantage of and STILL refused to talk to her even after being purified... she became a lot better at reading people as the season went on. I really love how she reached out to Biburi especially. She might not have been able to do much to save her brother, but she can help her at least.

On the bright side, at least Pikario got to be the first guy to have a claim to being a precure? Even if it was just a temporary power-up and he didn't get a Cure name, he was still first on that.

Pikario's the second-best Heel-Face Turn character I've seen in Precure (sorry Pikario, but Setsuna takes the top spot). I love how understandable his motives are. He and his sister went to Paris to learn how to be bakers together, but she's improving by leaps and bounds while he's being left behind and is becoming more and more frustrated, and she's rarely even around anymore. And then the last straw, when he makes the waffles she complimented so highly before, only for her to tell him they weren't as good as the ones from before... it was honest, but no wonder he snapped.

I love that he and his sister still had things to work out afterwards and that all his problems weren't instantly solved once he was freed of the brainwashing, the underlying problems that caused him to be vulnerable still had to actually be fixed first.

He definitely got cheated, he was one of the most interesting characters in the season (and the franchise, honesty), but he was put in a coma for a substantial portion of the show and didn't get to join the team permanently. But what WAS there still makes him a top-tier character.

---

I adore these characters so much, Kira Kira is SO underrated it's criminal.

#pretty cure #precure #kira kira precure a la mode #ask #usami ichika #kirahoshi ciel #kenjou akira #pikario #kotozume yukari #arisugawa himari #tategami aoi

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chronically-ghosted · 3 months

Text

a cute megalomaniac (recovery road - chapter i) series masterlist | AO3 Link | chapter ii

chapter rating: T (series: E)

word count: 6K

chapter summary: dieter's first day on set

chapter warnings/tags: mentions of rehab/addiction/withdrawal, language, no one gets along

a/n: My FC for Heidi is Sarah Goldberg and Timothy Olyphant as Mark (low hanging fruit, I know)

It’s getting hot inside the car.

If he was going to sit this long in the fucking car, he should have left it running. Summers in LA are sneaky. Desert air is cold in the dark, but piercing in the day. He had purposefully parked in the shade, but it was still too much. He feels sweat break out across his hairline and he knows that won’t be a good look. He needs to look completely put together, completely at ease, relaxed. Unflinching. Unrufflable. Like he does tai chi every thirty minutes and can harmonize with the universe during rush hour traffic.

He’s got to keep it together.

But he can’t take his fucking palms down from his eyes. The heel of his hands dig into his eye sockets and for all the pressure it builds, it feels good. The pressure flushes out every other thought in his head and he needs to go into this clear-headed. If he fucks up again, it’s not just his ass on the line.

He wants to believe things are going to be different this time. He wants to believe he’s going to be different. He’s worked his ass off to get here– sweated and shook and vomited into his own lap as the withdrawals tightened every muscle in his body– and now he just needs this one chance. Chloe – patient, perfect Chloe – was counting on him. If she said he could do it, he probably could.

His left hand, fourth finger, twinges and that’s what brings his hands down from his face. He looks at the ring there. That gold beautiful ring. A promise made real. He swallows.

Today, it’s a table read. Done it a thousand times. He’s actually early, for fuck’s sake. He glances down, triple checking he’s not wearing slippers or that mangy robe. Jeans. Black shirt. Easy. Chloe warned against the rings, but he’d sooner part with those than his right hand entirely. Sure he fucked up, sure he was a fuck up, but there were parts of Dieter Bravo that just had a right to exist. People wouldn’t recognize him without his rings.

He did cave about the earring though.

You’re almost thirty-six, darling. Nobody but rockstars can wear earrings at that age.

When he went into rehab, he was thirty-three. He had lost two years of his life in that prison and he was not about to do it again. He had left his sobriety token at home, but he wished he had it now, just for something to squeeze, something to soothe his feverish palm. Again, Chloe had quietly nudged him: “do we need to get you a fidget spinner, baby?”

He wanted to joke, “that’s what the adderall is for,” but given that his doctor was forced to prescribe him something else for his ADHD after they found a dozen empty pill bottles under his bed, it probably wasn’t all that funny.

He breathes, counting down just like the nice lady at the rehab center taught him to.

Your self-destructive habits formed out of necessity. It’s time to reshape them.

Today, it’s just a table read. He can do this.

He pops his sunglasses out of their holder on the console and slips them over his eyes. He takes one more glance out of the rearview mirror, half-expecting to be staring down the long lens of a TMZ reporter. He grabs the script from the passenger seat, curls it under his fingers— and still doesn’t move.

He likes this script. He likes the writer, seen their work in the past and it rocks. It’s good. It’s a good part. It’s actually better than good. It’s Oscar bait, the internet buzz says, and he has the lead part. An aging musician struggling to rebuild his life after a drug addiction ruined his band’s final tour. The scriptwriter didn’t actually say that he had Dieter in mind when he wrote the part, but Jesus– suffice it to say, he understood the material.

The aging musician was going to help a young upstart find her way in the music scene. She joins the band. They flirt, they fuck, they fall in love, and everything is ruined by their own egos. End credits. Lights up. Oscar in his hand.

He didn’t recognize the name of his co-star when his agent sent over the cast list. He honestly didn’t even ask about her. He had known the director, Heidi, for years, had worked with her in the past, and thought she had a real eye for scenecraft and a knack for finding that beating heart of a moment. He trusted her with casting the right part for his opposite, just as she had casted him. But it wasn’t even about his co-star– he was ready to dig in and see what the director could pull out of him.

And fuck, if it worked for RDJ, then it could work for him.

This had to work for him. He feels the pressure return behind his eyeballs.

“Fuck it,” he hisses and nearly kicks the door open. The script curled up in his hand like a baseball bat, Dieter Bravo strolls across the hot parking lot to the studio sound stage and into the rest of his life.

He is used to being stared at. He is used to all eyes on him, but not like this. This feels too much like that last party when the cops showed up and found all of his illegal prescriptions. It makes him itch.

The empty stage is filled mostly with crew and staff, setting up lighting and testing the sound recording. They’re all busy, getting ready for next week to start filming, but they still have time to send him a worried glance. Because if he fucked up, they’d all be out of a job. They had enough courtesy to not actually whisper in front of him, but he knew exactly what they were saying just after he’s out of earshot:

“Oh, fuck, this is a Bravo flick? Shit, I gotta get another gig.”

“That asshole is here? Oh my God, this thing’ll be shut down in two weeks!”

“Fuck that guy and his stupid hair.”

Okay, that last one might have been projecting. He catches his own gaze in a pane of glass while he waits for the director’s assistant to return. His hair, despite his best attempts, would not lie flat, would not stay unrumpled. Another thing Chloe thought a man of his age should have a better grip on.

He hasn’t seen another cast member and now he’s worried he got the time wrong and he’s missed it and he’s already started all of this off all wrong —

“Dieter! Oh my God, you’re here!”

Heidi, the director, beams at him so bright he actually feels himself go warm. She has her arms out open for him and he rushes to her, picks her up in his arms and twirls her. Her hair is back to her natural silvery blonde, cut short and kept out of her face with a tornado of bobby pins. He’s never seen her without her jean jacket, even at premieres.

Early on in their careers, he found he had too much respect for her to try and sleep with her and they formed the closest thing he could call a healthy relationship over the years. She was like his sister, since his own didn’t seem like she’d ever pick up the phone again.

It also helped that she was a raging lesbian, happily married, and wouldn’t go near his dick for all the money at Warner Brothers Studios.

“Dieter, you look so fucking good, dude.” She pats his face and scrunches up her nose, those black headphones knocking around her neck. “Fuck, it’s been too long.”

“I know, Di, I know.” He always liked that their nicknames sounded alike. Dee and Di. A team. “How’s Lucy?”

“Pfft, you know her. Taken the kids up to Canada for the summer. Says the trees are more ‘real’ there,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I miss the little buggers, but shit, it’s nice to have a quiet house.”

He laughs, the knot in his chest easing. “Before school starts up again, you’ll have to come by the new place.”

“Oh, shit, that’s right. You just moved back into the neighborhood, didn’t you? I heard about that. You and, uh . . .”

He hides the blush in the tips of his ears with his hand, acting like he’s scratching an itch on the side of his head. “Yeah, Chloe and I are still together. Been married for a little over two years now.”

At that, Heidi’s bright green eyes snap open wide. She nearly launches herself at him to grab his hand, gawking at the only gold ring on his finger. “Shutthefuckup. You got married?! You asshole, why wasn’t I invited?”

He swallows past the hard knot in his throat. “It was a small thing. Could hardly call it a party.”

Heidi, as she usually does, takes not a lick of his bullshit. “Uh huh. Well, shit, I guess we have to double date now.”

“I’d like that.” He grins.

Her shock softens, and she punches his shoulder softly, her smile wide across her face. “You fuckin’ dork. I can’t believe you got married. Who knew Dieter Bravo would settle down?”

He doesn’t know what to say to that, doesn’t know what’s going to come out of his mouth if he tries to answer, so he just shrugs. Her eyes linger on him for a second more, before looping her arm through his and leading him away from the stage.

“So have you read the script?”

He nods eagerly. “Yep. The whole thing. Front to back. It’s fucking incredible, Heidi.”

“Yes it is! There’s so much to work with. It’s a little hoity-toity for my taste in some places, but I think there’s a way to balance the shmaltz with genuine emotion, you know? It’s so raw and real, I know you can get to those places.”

“Yeah, like I haven’t already,” he jokes off-handedly. They’re standing in the big open bay, where the crew can wheel in giant cranes for lighting or special effects, when Heidi freezes. A frown is growing over her face as though realizing something for the first time. A wind blows in and he thinks he can smell the desert in it.

“Oh, fuck, Dee,” she murmurs, not even looking at him. “This script, the material . . . you just got out of fucking rehab, and—”

He shakes his head, a bit frantic. He’ll get on his hands and knees if that’s what it takes to keep him on this project. “Heidi, this is fine. I’m fine.”

He takes her by her shoulders and makes her look him in the eye.

“I want this part. I want this part so fucking badly. I know I can do it too. I’m going to do this project and it’s going to blow your fucking socks off. You can count on me. I’m responsible now, I promise.”

At that, her green eyes soften. “Responsible and married? Who the fuck are you and what have you done with Dieter Bravo?”

Early on in their careers, she had been right by his side, doing line after line of coke off hookers and strippers. But then she grew up. If she can have a family and a beautiful wife, then why can’t he?

“Dee, look,” she says softly and touches the hand around her shoulder. “I’m not worried about any of that. I always knew you were something special, if you could just get out of your own way.” She glances away, shame making her mouth tick. “But I should have checked in more. I knew you were still in rehab, even after those times I called. I should have stayed in touch. I’m sorry.��

Something about her pity was unbearable. “Don’t. Please. It’s in the past. It’s over and I want to move on. This time, it’s going to be different.”

Heidi nods, smiling. “For sure, dude. We’ll do this together.”

He can fucking breathe again. She sees this and takes him by the arm, letting him get his feet under him. The air is warm, and Heidi’s hand is firm against his forearm.

“I know the email said to meet at the sound stage, but everyone’s working out here, so I just put us in the back of the studio. Much more quiet. C’mon, I think I saw Mark’s car up front.”

She leads him to the next building, chattering on and on about the composer they got. How the music is gonna fuck so hard, they’re even trying to convince the studio to let them record a full fake album for the movie — “if you don’t wanna sing, Dee, that’s totally fine but I am begging you to do at least some of the guitar,” — and the building door opens.

It’s a squat building, probably more offices than anything to do with production, but it’s where Heidi is taking him, and a man, much younger than he is, stumbles out of the doorway, giddily laughing over his shoulder. He looks to be a PA of some kind — wiry, a little strung out, probably with dreams of writing the next Citizen Kane someday — but he’s looking at something over his shoulder.

Or rather at someone.

A woman, barely that but with all the cosmic designs of one, steps out after him. Her white cowboy boots hug just below her knee, her smooth legs, rich with the sun, curl up into a men’s white collared shirt. She walks and only a flash of denim shorts peek out the shirt tails.

She isn’t laughing, but smirking. Knowing something this poor PA has no concept of. Her black aviators push her lush hair out of her face and her fingers glitter with silver jewelry. She’s smiling at the PA like a leopard seal smiles at lemmings.

She chews something in the back of her teeth and then blows a bright pink bubble. The PA’s smile falls off his face, watching, wide-eyed, as the gum snaps in her mouth.

Dieter immediately and, without question, dislikes her. Dislikes her so much, he can feel it burn in his chest.

Her wicked eyes slide from the PA, over his shoulder, and land squarely on Dieter. She blinks. Heidi walks up to her and shakes her hand.

“Oh, hey, kiddo, you found the right place.”

That sharp-toothed glint in her eye is gone as she eagerly chats up Heidi, and the PA might as well have disappeared off the face of the earth.

Heidi waves Dieter over and it takes a full two seconds for him to remember how walking works. The sun is hot on his back.

The woman — the girl — is looking him up and down, calculating and cool. As if she, unlike him, hasn’t quite made up her mind about what she thinks of him.

Heidi waves a hand in between you two. She says your name and his mind suddenly locks onto it. He suddenly knows who you are before Heidi says it. He skimmed it on the cast list, barely memorable, at the time insignificant because he didn’t recognize it. Still doesn’t, but that name is embedded in his brain now, nailed down spikes and taken up residence.

“This is your new co-star, Natalie Lorraine. The other lead. You two will be working very closely together for the next couple of months.”

You’ve stopped chewing gum. Either you’ve swallowed it or tightly packed it to the back of your gums, because there’s no slur, no crumpled edge to your words, when you extends your hand and says:

“Hi, Dieter. Nice to meet you.”

Your hand is soft in his and your lotion reminds him of lilac.

Today is just a fucking table read.

He tries to unclench his jaw when he says, “Nice to meet you too.”

He’s on his third bottle of water and he’s eyeing the trashcan in the corner, wondering how many plastic bottles he could throw away before it looks weird. He’s got the script out in front of him on a long, white plastic table and a few people have stopped by to say hi. He had gotten up to stand and shake their hand, and several of them had blinked up at him, as if they had forgotten how tall he was when he wasn’t hunched over, fighting a hangover. Heidi was gathering the last of the castmates before the table read and had been gone for twenty minutes or so. Maybe —

In the corner, she laughs, the sound brilliant and loud. In a world full of perfect, practiced laughs, hers is noticeable but not entirely bad, and a few people turn to look at her. She’s got a hand on Mark Bronson’s arm, clearly delighted at something he said, and he is obviously starstruck.

Dieter actively fights the scowl on his face. He’s known Mark for a while. Good guy, little vices, always put in the work. Been married to the same waitress he met out in Oregon on a shoot a decade and a half ago, and never once stepped out. Dieter had been thrilled to see him, to catch up on old times, purposefully making a joke that referenced the one time they were on that old cop show together when they first got to Hollywood. “Nobody would really believe we’re gangsters, now, eh, Dee?” Mark had said with a grin. “Too fuckin’ old.”

Mark had stayed and talked and that again eased the tension in his chest. If Mark actually hated his guts and that easy smile and loose handshake were fake, then the Oscar really should go to him.

But as more people filed in, he excuses himself to catch up with one of the directors of the art department and Dieter takes the opportunity to grab as many bottles as a reasonable person would from the cooler. He likes ice cold water. The colder, the better the burn.

But here Mark sidles up to that girl, laughing it up like they were old friends. Traitor, he muses glumly, and thumbs the white plastic cap. He’s thought about Googling her — who the fuck is this girl — but didn’t know how to justify it if someone caught him.

The back door to the room opens and Heidi steps in.

“Alright, five minutes. Take your final smoke breaks, your pee breaks, your whatever breaks. Hopefully not all at the same time, but I ain’t here to judge.”

He keeps his eyes trained on the water bottle as bodies weave around him, chairs squeaking as they are pulled out and sat on. The atmosphere is relaxed, easy, everything he wanted. So why is he so fucking tightly wound?

“Thirsty?”

It takes him a second to unstick his gaze from the bottle. He knows you’re talking to him.

He glances up at your face from under his lashes. You aren’t exactly smiling at him, but there’s a light in your eyes that feels . . . playful. What a normal, innocent question. But when he doesn’t respond, you lean forward on your elbows, your rings interlocking on your fingers. Your gaze drops his and nudges the two empty plastic bottles around his script.

“And there’s two more full ones under your chair. So are you—”

“I like to keep hydrated,” he says, cutting you off. “It’s summer in LA and . . . uh, it’s hot.”

“Uh huh,” you reply, slowly. “Can I have one? You know, since it’s hot.”

His mouth twitches — get off your perky ass and get one yourself — but then he’s liable to see your bare legs again. And he knows a comment like that would get him some stares, which would not be good.

He swears you know all of this too by the way your eyes glitter at him, daring him. That’s the worst– he’s figured it out. You look at him from under your thick eyelashes like you want to play a championship round of Truth or Dare, but it would only ever be Dare. You want to see him dance on hot coals, eat a sword, kiss a snake. You want to watch him squirm and it’s so obvious, he clenches his jaw.

He swallows and bends down. He holds out the water bottle by the very end to you, but you somehow manage to brush your fingers up against his anyway. He doesn’t physically recoil but he feels like he needs to go wash his hands.

“Thank you,” you say as you unscrew the cap then drink heavily from the bottle. It’s halfway empty when you put it on the table. Your tongue laps up the water from your lip.

He grunts as a response. You’re opening your mouth to bother him further when Heidi calls the start of the read. Dieter pulls his reading glasses out of his pocket and sees you’ve done the same. Silver, though, to his black, they’re perched on the edge of your nose, and you’re looking down at the script as if trying to divine lighting rods. You’re focused, the playful, tempting air gone, and there’s an intensity to your eyes that wasn’t there before. You look . . . almost normal.

He slides his glasses on and looks back to his pages, the tips of his ears burning.

The table read goes well.

Sort of.

There’s a handful of scenes Heidi has picked out for the majority of the cast to read together. Mark does well as the manager who is trying to hold all the egos together but struggling with demons of his own. He’s funny when he needs to be, but serious enough to flip a line read that deepens his character. God, he’s so fucking talented, Dieter thinks as the table laughs at one of his character’s jokes.

The other members of Dieter’s band in the movie are made up of three guys, two girls. They have a natural chemistry that makes it seem like they’ve been friends for years. Dieter makes a note to try and get to know them better as people off set to hopefully find his own rhythm with them. A few smile at him as he’s doing his own line reading and he feels good about it.

Everything is fine and easy . . . until there are a few scenes specifically between him and you.

You’re putting too much emotion into it for just a table read and it’s making him uncomfortable. These things are just to get to know everyone, to see how the cast can play off each other, but you’re out here acting like there’s cameras ten feet back. Have you ever even been to a table read before? Shouldn’t you know this?

After you deliver a heartfelt monologue about feeling lonely in the world, he hears a few sniffles. The two girls of the band are red-eyed and Mark is intentionally stone-faced. Even Heidi looks affected.

What the fuck is going on? Is he the only one not swayed by your bullshit?

All of a sudden, you take his hand from across the table, your eyes pouring into his, and he’s caught off guard.

“Tell me you understand,” you say, your voice wet with emotion. “Tell me you understand why you can’t ever leave me.”

He wets his lips and sits up straighter in his seat. He squeezes your hand, opening up the light in his eyes. Fine, two can play that fucking game.

“I’m no good for you, baby,” he croons. “There’s a million of me out there and only one of you.”

“But you’re the only one I want. The only one I need.”

Fuck, you’re good. But he’s better. He turns your hand over, exposing your wrist to the cool air and thumbs your pulse gently. He smiles wistfully at you.

“What we want can kill us. I love you, darling, but that’s not enough.”

The room is silent.

He glances down and read the next stage action:

They meet in a passionate kiss.

His eyebrows raise and he glances back at you, halfway expecting you to throw yourself at him from across the table.

But, no. Instead of looking at him with love in your eyes, you are fucking furious. Your mouth is pulled into a tight line, and he can see you mentally picture strangling him.

“Alright,” Heidi calls out, her voice gruff. “Alright, let’s move on. Page one-fifteen.”

The room fills with the fluttering of paper and a few people sniff, rubbing their eyes.

You yank your wrist out of his grip but don’t move to turn the page. And neither does he.

Oh, you’re mad that I did the exact same thing you were doing, but better? Sorry, hot tits, you have no idea who you’re fucking with. Welcome to the real world.

You look like you want to sink your fangs into him. You’re kind of cute with your nostrils flared, in that megalomaniac kind of way.

A woman to his right asks what page they’re starting on, and it forces him to break eye contact with you. He tells her and thumbs to the correct page himself, where Mark is having an argument with one of the guys in the band.

He glances up at you. Tension still lines your body but you aren’t looking at him anymore. In fact, you’re making a clear point not to. His chest soars.

He is definitely counting that as a win.

He opens the back door to the studio lot and breathes in the evening air. Day one, knocked down and dragged out back. He feels so fucking good.

After the reading, Mark came over and congratulated him again on getting the part. He makes sure Dieter has his number before saluting him and announcing he’s heading home for the night. The band is hanging out in the corner, but the talk dies down as he approaches. One of the guys looks positively horrified as he smiles and waves at them.

“You did a great job today,” he says to their half circle. He’s never seen anyone’s eyes so wide in their heads. “Have you all worked together before?”

“We’re an actual band and you’re really Dieter Bravo,” one of the girls blurts out. Her friend, presumably, elbows her and she blinks as though slapped. “I mean, we play real music. We’ve been on the radio a few times, but you’ve probably never heard of us . . .” She trails off, glancing helplessly at her friends to make her shut up.

The other young woman with hair so red it had to have been fake, rolls her eyes. “We’re The Sixers. We started out here in LA and we’ve been on the Strip a few times. Our agent said that it would be great publicity if we were in a movie.”

“Oh, shit,” Dieter mutters, as surprised as they are, “The Sixers – yeah, I have heard of you before. I’m fucking old as hell, but I still listen to the radio.”

“You’ll have to give us some acting pointers,” one of the other guys offers up, his hands in his jean pockets. He seems less obviously starstruck but still trying to play it cool.

“Only if you help me to remember how to play the guitar,” Dieter grins.

“You know how to play?” The first girl gawks.

He winks at her. “When everyone else around me is too drunk to notice I’m terrible.”

They laugh, the girl’s face whiter than a sheet, and then the redhead introduces everyone. “That’s Nick, Cooper, and Samuel. Our resident ghost here is Marie, and I’m Roxie.”

He vaguely wonders which of those are stage names, but is absolutely sure that’s not Roxie’s real name. But she seems like the kind of person who’d like it that way.

“You all are in good hands with Heidi,” he nods to where she’s chatting with Mark and the art director. “She’s a visionary and really knows her shit. You’re lucky you get to have her as your first director.”

“Have you worked with her before?” Cooper, a guy with legitimate beatnik hair, asks.

Dieter nods. “Several times, actually. She’s fantastic.”

“Have you worked with her before?” Roxie asks as you walk across the room to pick up your purse. Dieter can feel that burn in his chest again as you bend over. He shakes his head.

“Is she new to the scene? Is that why she can’t afford any pants?” Roxie mutters and both Cooper and Samuel chuckle. Marie glares at her.

“I heard she was a child actress in the early 2000s,” Marie says as if trying to re-right the ship. “Was pretty successful, but then dropped off the face of the earth. Until now, I guess.”

“Maybe she went the Bella Thorne way of child actresses,” Nick murmurs, shamelessly watching your ass as you turn to speak with Heidi for a moment.

Roxie snorts. “She’s not that slutty. No one is that slutty, to sleep with even the likes of you, Nicholas.”

“Oh, yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you –”

Roxie slams a hand over his mouth. “I will junk-punch you so hard if you say what I think you’re going to say.”

They’re like siblings, Dieter muses. Five very talented, outrageous siblings.

“It was great to meet all of you,” he says and Marie’s eyes flutter back to him. “But I gotta split. We should all go out some time. Meet up outside of work.”

“Oh, I think we’d looove that,” Cooper sing-songs, his eyes on Marie. She flushes bright red and pinches his shoulder, while Samuel laughs. “Ow!”

Despite himself, this could actually be a fun shoot. He waves but none of them really see it, having devolved into a squabble that makes him grin.

You’re gone, he notices, and the art director has left too, but Heidi is sitting alone at the table, going over her notes.

He slides into the seat next to her and she lifts her head, smiling.

“Hey, Dee, you fucking crushed it today. Everyone’s been coming up to me to say how impressed they are with you.”

He huffs and rolls his eyes, leaning back in the chair. “Yeah, and did they follow it with, ‘especially after how much of a fuck up we thought he’d be’?”

Heidi playfully frowns at him. “C’mon, man, give yourself some credit. You earned the right to be here. I didn’t have to approve your audition.”

His throat tightens. No, she really didn’t. He shakes his head.

“You’re right. As always.”

Heidi grins, pleased, and drops her head back to her notes, marking things in a red pen.

“So what did you think of your co-star?”

Be nice, Dieter. “She’s . . . fine.”

Heidi smirks, but doesn’t look up. “Wow, I don’t think you’ve ever used less words to describe someone, much less a woman.”

He doesn’t like the way she says woman, as if there’s this cosmic reckoning that’s started and he just doesn’t know it yet. Sam and Diane, Bones and Booth – a destined sort of thing.

He rolls his jaw.

“She just acts . . . uppity, is all. Like she’s better than everyone else.”

Heidi snorts. “Okay, tell me how you really feel.”

“I don’t like her.”

At that, Heidi pauses and looks up, genuine concern on her face.

“Really? You don’t like her? She came recommended by an old friend of the studios and I know she’s a bit much, but I didn’t think you’d actually dislike her.”

He back-pedals as fast as he can. This day is so close to being perfect.

“I mean, I don’t not like her . . . I just . . . I don’t know her.” If he is being honest, the best time to tell her exactly what’s been on his mind all day is probably right now. “And, fuck, Di, isn’t she a bit . . . I don’t know . . .” He swears he can hear the old Dieter laughing at him. “. . . young?”

Heidi grimaces, taking his concern seriously, and he loves her even more for that.

“It was a studio note. Execs say it makes the central conflict feel more . . .”

“Predatory?” His eyebrow lifts, disdain evident in his drawl. She frowns at him.

“Transcendent.”

There is nothing about that girl that is transcendent, he thinks bitterly.

He sighs and leans closer. Heidi notices his change in body language and leans forward too.

“I just cannot fuck this up, Di. I have to come out on top with this. It’s really important.”

That pity flashes across her face again and his stomach curdles. But she soothes a hand over his, her eyes serious.

“Dee, I know. I really do. I’m not going to let anything bad happen here. She starts acting up, she’s out. We don’t need her that badly.”

He couldn’t be sure if she actually had the power to kick a co-star off the set, but he wanted to believe she did. More importantly, she wanted him to believe she did.

“Thanks, Di,” he sighs. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

She chuckles and pulls her hand back.

“Go home to your wife at a normal hour.” She pauses, making a face as if she tasted something sour. “Your wife – God, I will never get used to that.”

“Hey, I got used to it, after my best friend left me for some brunette out in Bali,” he teases as he stands up.

Heidi scoffs. “That wedding was sick as fuck and you know it.”

“You know, I never did bill Lucy for the piercing I got there. Sober Dieter would never have made the decision to look like a Keith Richards knock-off.”

“Oh shut the fuck up and go home. To your wife.”

He’s laughing as he waves her good night.

He opens the back door to the studio lot and breathes in the evening air. Day one, knocked down and dragged out back. He feels so fucking good.

He’s thumbing through his keys when he smells smoke. Acidic smoke. Like those disgusting American Spirits he used to choke down.

You’re leaning by the trunk of your car, one heel kicked over the other, smoking a white cigarette through your fingers. That would be fine with him except your car is parked tightly in the space next to his and you’re blocking the way to the driver’s seat. He’d rather crawl through the trunk than have to bend around you.

You’re biting on your thumbnail and staring directly at him with unabashed contempt.

“Your reading was stilted,” you announce and then take a long drag.

“Excuse me?”

“Your reading today,” you say slowly as though talking to a particularly stupid child, “it was stilted.”

He pops his jaw.

“That’s because it was a fucking . . .” He remembers to breathe. “That’s because . . . it was a table read. Have you ever been to one?”

“Yes.” You tap the ash off your cigarette on the heel of your boot, drawing his gaze to the flush of your thigh but he’s not going to fall for it. “It can be a great opportunity for actors to find their chemistry. To find their rhythm.”

“I know that.”

“Then where was yours? Huh?” You lift your eyebrows. Did you ever not want to play Dare?

“What are you talking about? I had a fine time with the band. We’re actually going to hang out outside–,”

“I mean with me.”

That burning sensation returns to his chest. You look at him as if you could sear a hole right through him. Your cigarette is left smoking, forgotten, between your fingers at your hip.

“The only time you ever gave me anything was after I touched you, and even then your performance was so saccharine, it made my teeth ache. I’m out here to prove I belong here, on this big budget film, and you’re stonewalling me. What do you have against me? What did I ever do to you?”

He runs his tongue against the back of his teeth, guilt smothering the fight you aroused in him. He drops your gaze and puts his hands on his hips. He’s too old to be scolded like this.

“Nothing, alright? You didn’t do anything,” he says quietly. “It’s not you–”

“Of course it fucking isn’t but thank you for saying so,” you snap.

You take one more drag before flicking the white butt onto the pavement at the edge of the gathering darkness.

“This is going to be a long shoot if you can’t get your head out of your ass.” You step forward and he instinctively takes a step back, but you come close anyway and shove a finger at his chest. “I don’t know what your deal is and I don’t care. We’re going to get through this even if I have to grab you by your hair and pull you to the finish line. Got it?”

Your eyes are shining, fierce, powerful. Your mouth could crush rocks.

He nods.

Maybe it’s the trick of the failing light, but he thinks your pupils are a little too unnaturally wide.

“Great. See you Monday.”

You turn away from him, stalking back to your car and hurling your purse into the side seat. The car, a Chevy that’s possibly older than he is, roars to life with just as much vitality as you possess. He leaps back a second before the wheels squeal as the car lurches backwards and darts off into the dark.

He stands, watching the car pull away onto the road until it’s gone. He can still hear the engine screaming in the distance. He thumbs his keys, shaking his head.

For the first time in months, he would literally kill someone for a cigarette.

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