#as I was watching the terror I’d use what few lyrics I still remembered to discern which characters had scurvy

[andrew-rannells-mustache]

Let’s get this scurvy started!!1!

(/The scurvy song P!nk sang for a SpongeBob special, Terror!edition)

(For my @theterrorbingo prompt square “there will be poems.”)

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

"I'm truly sorry, but I don't think we've ever met." memory loss angst? 👉👈🥺

anon... fam, this turned into an emotional rollercoaster and totally stole my braincell.

3.8k words. angst with a happy ending. 

tw: memory loss, minor anxiety, repressed memories, idiots to lovers, whump, angst with a happy ending, angst with a fluffy ending

---

It’s been three hours, five minutes, and forty-two seconds since the frigid breeze whipped Geralt’s angry words at him, shattering his fragile, stupid heart to pieces. Every syllable rings through Jaskier’s head over and over, slamming into him from all directions and crippling him with a bone-deep pain far worse than anything he’s ever felt before. The ache ebbs and flows, lancing through him with every step. Not even Geralt’s first frustrated blow to his abdomen had been this terrible.

Geralt… That’s the problem, isn’t it? He hadn’t been smart enough to get out of the gorgeous Witcher’s long, silvery hair soon enough. He’d overstayed his welcome, fallen in love in the meantime, and is now very out of sorts (and also alone in unfamiliar territory). The bard laughs but it’s a hollow sound. Jaskier has reached the edge of hysteria, his intelligent blue eyes now vacant and unseeing. Even as he stumbles through the underbrush, all he can picture is the snarl on Geralt’s face as the Witcher yells at Destiny to take Jaskier off his hands. 

Jaskier’s own hands are covered in sap and splinters from pushing tree branches away from his face as he traverses the darkening forest. His hair is full of debris and his clothes are torn and dirty; Geralt has all of his emergency supplies, still. Jaskier is pretty sure that his lute is still strapped over his shoulder but he realizes, with no small amount of surprise, that he doesn’t actually care.

He doesn’t have the capacity anymore. 

He can’t care… caring hurts too much.

If only Destiny had taken him off Geralt’s hands. Maybe then it would be okay. Maybe then, if Geralt was well and truly free of him and his irritating presence, the Witcher could be happy. He and Yennefer will surely come back around, they always seem to, and Ciri will be joining them soon enough it seems. 

There’s no need - no room - for a humble bard anymore.

Only five hours, thirty minutes, and twelve seconds after Geralt’s outburst at the top of the mountain, Jaskier’s delicate human body succumbs to the stress of the day.

He drops to the forest floor without a sound, grateful for the darkness.

---

Yennefer finds the bard in a heap a few miles away from the previous night’s elevated campsite. When she presses the back of her hand to his forehead she yanks it away almost immediately; he’s burning up, and his skin is clammy and sticky with sweat. The feathery bangs he flicks about and preens so much are stuck to his forehead and temples. He’s on the verge of shaking apart and Yennefer tosses her head imperiously, swearing.

“Damnit, Geralt. You and your incredibly foolish need to be alone all the time so you can brood and self-flagellate. Me, an ageless sorceress from one of the greatest magic schools on the Continent? I can handle a thorough tongue lashing. Fuck, I’m older than you and I’ve seen far worse but this… oh, you great lummox. You absolute bastard…” Yennefer mutters to herself as she assesses the bard’s deteriorating state of health, ranting to an invisible Geralt all the while. “You’re absolutely going to be hearing from me about this, Wolf.”

--- Three days, one hour, and fifteen minutes after Geralt dismissed him forever, Jaskier wakes up with a loud gasp and a violent shudder. He blinks slowly, allowing his eyes to adjust to the bright light streaming in through a window. Whatever he’s lying on is comfortable and the sheets smell fresh and bright, like lilac and freesia. A hint of gooseberry lies beneath it all, delicate and sweet. He glances around the space and finds it to be relatively bare; a guest room, perhaps. Maybe he’s a servant at some noble house? 

Jaskier only really knows that his name is Jaskier and that he plays music. He’s also rather talented with floral arrangements. 

Shortly after he’s finished purveying his (borrowed?) chamber, the very image of grace, beauty, and terror enters the room. The woman, whose coppery skin and enchanting violet eyes practically glow in the midafternoon sun, smiles down at him in a way that toes the line between Motherly and Shark-like. 

“How are you feeling, Jaskier?”

“I’m alright. And you?”

“Just fine. Geralt really did a number on us, huh?” she asks, a playful grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. He has the feeling that something isn’t right; she shouldn’t be looking at him so kindly. 

Her expression changes from friendly to horrified to confused in an instant, as soon as Jaskier manages to ask: “Who’s Geralt? And, pardon me, but I feel as if something is rather amiss. Who are you, my Lady?”

Whoever the gorgeous and terrifying woman is, she grimaces briefly. Then, as if by magic, the comforting smile returns. “I’m Yennefer, of course. I saved your life a few years ago, remember?”

Jaskier wracks his brain but cannot call the occasion to mind. “Unfortunately no, I don’t remember your no doubt heroic deed. Although I suppose that means I’m in your debt, doesn’t it? Do I work for you? Is that why I’m here?”

The woman blinks a few times, slowly, and then nods. “You’re my gardener and personal musician.”

Jaskier brightens, happy to have found himself in a safe environment. 

“But you’ve had a nasty illness and your mind is clearly fatigued. Rest another day or two and then we can see about getting you back into the fresh air.”

“Thank you, my Lady,” Jaskier nods.

“Yen is fine.”

“Thank you, Yen. I don’t know where I’d be without you,” he grins. 

---

Yennefer turns away to hide her pained expression. You’d probably still be with your beloved Witcher. 

She makes her way to the kitchen to fix Jaskier something to eat. He must be hungry after spending three days in a deep, healing sleep. She hadn’t been expecting the amnesia, though; it was an unexpected but not unsurprising turn of events. Heartbreak had done stranger things than a little bit of fever-induced memory loss. When she’d delved briefly into his mind she hadn’t seen any sign of Geralt. His face was absent from the bard’s consciousness; she would have needed to dig to unearth those memories. Whatever the Witcher had done was grievous, especially if Jaskier’s mind compensated with something as dramatic as burying Geralt completely to save itself from further harm.

No matter, she decides, the bard can stay here as long as he likes. It’s the least I can do for all the upset Geralt and I have caused him. Where is that idiot Witcher, anyway?

The sorceress quickly clears her agenda and her mind before returning to her guest room with a large tray of food, a bottle of Toussainti red under her arm. “Jaskier, darling, let’s get your convalescence started in style!”

---

2 months later

---

Jaskier watches a strange man ride up the long path to Yennefer’s manor, the hilts of his twin swords glinting in the sun where they’re slung over his shoulder. He has long white hair and the most devastating jawline the bard/gardener (or ‘bardener’ as he says to irritate his darling employer) has ever laid eyes on. He’s clad all in black, from his plain linen shirt to his tight leather trousers; Jaskier thinks he’d also look rather lovely in dark blue or perhaps forest green.

In front of him, wrapped securely against his chest by one strong arm, sits a little girl with ashen hair and frightened eyes. Haunted eyes. Jaskier’s mind fills with ballads, some familiar and some oddly dreamlike, their lyrics half-obscured and hazy. Ciri, he thinks for no reason. Her name is Ciri. And she is a Princess.

The brunette scurries from the garden alongside the house to the kitchen, searching for the familiar cloud of Yennefer’s strong perfume. “My Lady?” 

“Darling?” the sorceress replies, coming around the corner. She raises her perfectly maintained eyebrows and her lips quirk up into a smirk. “Did you sprint all the way from the west lawn?”

“There’s a- strange man- on the- drive!” he huffs. “White hair- horse!”

“Oh,” her eyes go wide with surprise. Then, in a split second, they narrow to slits. “Oh.”

“Do you, uhm, know him?” Jaskier asks, twiddling his fingers. “He’s rather handsome, Yen. Is he a former lover?”

“Unfortunately,” she growls. “I can’t believe it’s taken him two fucking months to get here. He’d better have a damned good excuse.”

By now Jaskier can breathe normally again and he straightens up, shaking his long, shaggy hair from his eyes. “He had a child with him. She looked scared, Yen.”

“Cirilla!”

Yennefer dashes for the front door and Jaskier follows instinctually. They’re always together and he can’t bear to let her confront this man alone. He’s spent every waking moment with Yen since he awoke that first day and she has grown to be his dearest friend; he’ll protect her even unto death. “Yenna, what’s wrong? Who is he!?”

“Geralt of Rivia,” she snarls. The name seems familiar; maybe from a ballad or story? Perhaps Yen has mentioned him before? 

“What about Geralt of Rivia?” a low, rumbling bass asks from the front hallway. Jaskier and Yennefer arrive in the doorway together and the man, Geralt apparently, takes a shaky step back. He recoils a bit, as if he’s been slapped, and Yennefer’s smile grows cruel. His voice, still incredibly low but now with a slight tremor to it, stutters out; “Wha- Yen, what is he- Jaskier? I only came to ask for help with Ciri, I didn’t know- I didn’t-”

Geralt’s stammered speech tapers off into silence and Yennefer’s brow furrows a second time. When the sorceress sets eyes on the child, who cannot be more than twelve years old, her expression softens again. Jaskier watches the most imposing woman in the world kneel, taking one small, pale hand in both of her own. “My name is Yennever of Vengerberg, former Sorceress of Aretuza. I am honored to meet you, Princess Cirilla. Geralt has come seeking protection, no doubt, and it is easily granted. I will do everything I can to help you.”

“Thank you, Lady Yennefer. And, uhm… Ciri’s fine,” the girl replies. Her voice is high and reedy, shot through with anxiety. She’s so young, Jaskier frowns. And yet she seems to have weathered an incredible storm.

“Ciri,” the bard bows from the doorway, low and dramatic. He sweeps his arm out to the side and bends his knees as awkwardly as possible, “I am Jaskier, private troubadour and gardener extraordinaire, under the employ of the magnanimous and dangerous Lady Yennefer, here. It is my greatest honor to make your very mighty and very royal acquaintance.”

“You’re silly, Master Jaskier,” the child giggles, hiding her mouth behind her hands. Geralt’s eyes grow wide and dart between Jaskier and the girl. Yennefer makes meaningful eye contact before nodding toward the door. Jaskier looks down at Ciri again when she asks: “Do you grow lots of flowers in Lady Yennefer’s garden, or just herbs and things for magic?” 

“I grow lots of things all over the property,” the brunette man steps forward and offers Ciri his hand, gesturing towards the front door with the other. “Would you like to come and take a look? I know all the scientific names, you can even quiz me if you like.”

“I know some,” she smiles shyly, accepting the offered hand. “May I go take a look at the gardens, Geralt?”

“Go ahead,” the Witcher nods dumbly. “Jaskier will take good care of you.”

“That I will. Now, let’s take a look at the flowers and let these silly adults have a chat,” Jaskier grins. He winks at Yennefer and disappears out the door, exiled Princess in tow. 

The two lively companions have toured through all the medicinal herbs and are halfway through Yennefer’s large collection of rose variations when the two other members of the party approach. Geralt looks sheepish, his eyes downcast. Yennefer looks triumphant; she is radiant in her victory as always. 

Geralt steps forward, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Jaskier, I’ve come to apologize for what happened when we parted.”

“Excuse me?” the bard chuckles, raising an eyebrow.  "I don’t know what you’re apologizing for, exactly.”

“When I yelled at you after the dragon hunt. It was only two months ago, Jaskier, surely you remember?”

Jaskier blushes, glancing anxiously between Geralt and his friend, whose violet eyes are stormy with emotion, “I'm truly sorry, but I don't think we've ever met."

Geralt gasps sharply and takes a step back, as he did in the entryway. Jaskier winces, seemingly on instinct, and shies away from the larger man. “You don’t remember me?”

“No…” Jaskier sighs. “I really don't. Should I?”

“You don’t… You don’t even remember Toss a Coin?”

“Oh, that ditty from town?” Jaskier perks up. “I know that song! It always gets stuck in my head.”

“You… You wrote that song,” Geralt’s face crumples. “About our first adventure together outside of Posada. With the elves and the sylvan...”

“I’ve never been to Posada,” Jaskier laughs, waving his hand dismissively. “They hate bards. They prefer troupes of traveling play-actors. Posada is far too serious for my tastes.”

Geralt seems to be in agony. His chest rises and falls unevenly, as if he’s on the verge of tears but unable to shed them. Can Witchers cry? 

How does he know that Geralt is a Witcher? Is it the two swords, the scars, or the strange eyes? How does he know that those are common Witcher traits?

His stomach lurches and he turns away from the group in case he needs to be sick. The ground spins and shivers in little ripples around him, unstable and impermanent beneath his feet. Yennefer is calling his name from somewhere far away and a pair of warm, strong arms are looped around his waist. Still, he can’t seem to breathe. Or focus.

There’s something missing. 

He starts to hum, trying to remember the words of that damned song.

The rest of the world fades in and out around him, finally disappearing altogether.

---

He’s gorgeous. 

Jaskier shoves another roll into his pocket. His eyes are focused on the man in the corner. He has long, snow-white hair and his shoulders are hunched forward protectively, as if he can hold the world out by sitting by himself. He’s glaring the table into submission, one fist clenched around his tankard. 

I want to write him a thousand ballads. I want to know what his hair looks like when he wakes up in the morning, before he brushes it out again. I want to know if he snores. I want… he stops himself. 

He makes his way across the room with eyes only for the stranger. “I love the way you just sit in the corner and brood.”

The man looks away and Jaskier notices that his irises are gold. “I’m here to drink alone.”

Gods, his fucking voice… Velvet and gravel all at once. Melitele, does Jaskier want. “Good, yeah. Good. No one else hesitated to comment on the quality of my performance… except for you.”

The man, the Witcher, Jaskier realizes, rolls his eyes.

“Come on,” he wheedles, sitting down across from the gorgeous stranger. “You don’t want to keep a man with bread in his pants waiting. You must have some review for me, three words or less.”

The man’s face stays stoic, expressionless. “They don’t exist.”

He realizes shortly thereafter that this man is not just any Witcher but the infamous Butcher of Blaviken, Geralt of Rivia. He could try to disengage himself from such a daunting character; he could easily make some kind of excuse and disappear back to the troubadour’s path, heading towards civilization, but it’s already too late. He doesn’t want to leave Geralt’s side ever again; he wants to write all those ballads he was thinking about earlier, when he glanced across the room. 

Jaskier has fallen head over heels in love. ---

Geralt cradles Jaskier against his chest and presses his nose deep into those chestnut brown waves. “Wake up, Jaskier. Come back to me, bard, it’s been too long.”

“Don’t you usually go all winter without seeing him?” Yennefer asks from the doorway. 

“It’s hell,” he replies easily. There’s no point in hiding his feelings from her. “I miss him every minute of every day.”

“Verbose this evening,” she remarks, taking a seat by the fire. “He’s dreaming, you know. He’s remembering you.”

“He’d forgotten?”

“He’d repressed it all,” she shrugs. “When I found him that day, feverish and nearly dead on the side of that godsforsaken mountain, he was barely coherent enough to open his eyes. He just kept asking for you, Geralt. Over and over he called for you, reaching his arms up, weak as they were. Gods, it was pitiful to watch.”

Geralt swallows. 

“I thought you were going to come back sooner. I was surprised when his memories didn’t resurface after two or three weeks. Short-term memory loss after a fever isn’t uncommon but repressing twenty years worth of feelings and experiences-” she whistles lowly “-it was impressive and tragic, all at once.”

“He forgot me?”

“Entirely.”

Geralt glances down, shame-faced. He adjusts Jaskier in his arms, holding him close and pillowing the bard’s head against his shoulder. “I deserve it, Yen.”

“He’s remembering now, though. He’ll probably be a little less than pleased to see you when he wakes up, but he knows who you are.”

“When will he wake?”

“Can’t say,” she shrugs again. “After I brought him back from the mountain it took three days for him to wake up. The first day was magically induced but after that it was just him… exhausted and heartbroken to the point of self-induced amnesia.”

“Fuck, Yen,” Geralt groaned, pressing his forehead into the soft warmth of Jaskier’s cheek. “How can I make it up to him?”

“Stay.”

“Hmm?”

“When he wakes up and he’s angry and upset, stay. Don’t stomp off or blow up or freak out,” she instructs. “If he asks you to leave, go, but otherwise… prove yourself, Geralt of Rivia. You wanted to be a knight once, didn’t you? Now’s your chance to play Prince Charming. Get down on your lovely knees and beg and apologize.”

“Hmm. How’s Ciri?”

“Fed, bathed, and put to bed. I’ll take care of her for as long as it takes you two morons to make nice again. Good luck, Geralt, I’m sure he’ll forgive you too easily for my tastes.”

She stands from her seat and leaves just as efficiently as she entered, carefully closing the door behind her. Geralt lays Jaskier back on the bed and takes a seat beside him on the mattress, kneeling just within touching distance, should Jaskier reach out for reassurance in his sleep. Geralt closes his eyes and slips easily into meditation. 

The Witcher is pulled from his trance a few hours later when Jaskier makes a startled sound and tries to sit up. Geralt opens his eyes and splays one warm, broad hand against Jaskier’s chest, forcing him back against the goose down pillows. “Stay still, Jaskier. You’re feverish and weak.”

“I’m still dreaming,” the bard grumbles, reaching to rub at his eyes with the heels of his hands. It’s adorable and Geralt grins widely, warmth spilling into his chest from some newly discovered fount of happiness. “You’re being too nice to me, Witcher.”

“I’m so sorry, Jaskier, for everything.”

“What’s everything, Geralt?”

“I’m sorry for pushing you away when I was angry and confused instead of communicating with you. I’m sorry for hurting you with my brash words and foolish actions; you have always deserved so much better and I’m so afraid that I can never give that to you. I take the wrong step at every turn, it seems, and yet you stay by my side. I didn’t want to risk hurting you the way I’ve already hurt Yen and Ciri, by tying us together against your will.”

“Darling Geralt,” the bard sighs. The Witcher scoots slightly closer and Jaskier lays a gentle hand atop his thigh. “It has always been my greatest pleasure to travel the Path with you and write of our adventures. I appreciate your concern for my agency and wellbeing, dear heart, but I am quite happy spending my entire human life in your presence.”

“Hmm,” the Witcher frowns. “You’re going to die someday.”

“And? So are you. So shall Yennefer, maybe.”

“Not likely,” Geralt jokes. Jaskier grins and the sight of it is so heartwarming that the Witcher wishes he could break down into tears. At least then Jaskier could see just how deeply his feelings ran. “I’m sorry, Jaskier, for blaming you for things that I brought upon myself. I love you dearly, and I hope that someday you can choose to travel with me again.”

“Excuse me?”

“I hope that you’ll-”

“No, the other bit.”

“I love you?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“Oh. Yes, I-” Geralt clears his throat and looks Jaskier in the eyes, gold and blue locked together, “I love you very much, Jaskier.”

“Fuck.”

“May I kiss you, Jaskier?”

“Yes,” the bard breathes.

And then Geralt is lifting him up into his lap, one hand cradling Jaskier’s skull so so fucking carefully. Geralt’s other arm supports his waist, holding him steady. Their lips come together softly, carefully, and Jaskier’s soul spirals up to the ceiling with joy, his body abandoned. He is merely a vessel for the happiness that comes with kissing his Witcher. When they pull apart, both men are grinning like fools. “Oh, dear heart.”

“Yes, my love?”

“Never stop calling me that.”

“I swear I won’t, my love.”

From downstairs, Geralt hears Yennefer mutter, “Fucking finally.”

It takes twenty-two years, seven months, and one day, but Geralt and Jaskier manage to figure things out.

[blitheringmcgonagall]

My Gallant Lad - Part III

So I got a wonderful anon telling me that this is their favourite Lily Rescues James fics, it’s part of my canon maraders fic  We Can Be Heroes. But, because it works as a stand alone, I’ll be posting it here in four parts. I hope you enjoy it! Set during first wizarding war, Lily is very BAMF (but tbh so is James)

Read part I here : After their worst row ever, Lily and James get captured by Voldemort

Read part II here : James tries to save Lily

TW: angsty and violence

PART III

Lily’s raw voice echoed through the castle walls, a lone, hauntingly beautiful gaelic song. The words indecipherable to any of the Death-Eaters who heard it, yet clearly a lament of some kind. She hadn’t been able to stand it, hearing James’ screams, imagining what was happening to him. And when she couldn’t hear him, dread clawing at her every pore, wondering…

Are you dead, my love? Did they kill you? Please don’t die, I beg you!

Haunted by the silence, almost relieved when his screams returned, because she was selfish and wanted him alive, needing him to be alive… almost immediately replaced by rage and terror and guilt and begging them to leave her husband alone, screaming herself hoarse.

She couldn’t stand it when the sound from the dungeons suddenly stopped – a spell, she was sure.

What did it mean? Was he-

She started to sing. She sang in Irish. Fuck them, no Death-Eater could get inside her head now. She pictured him as she sang, her lively lad, turning around mid-laughter and catching her eyes as he and Sirius poked fun at each other, she saw him saying something ridiculous to Minnie and watching as the strict teacher’s mouth broke into a huge grin despite herself, saw all the Marauders chasing each other and yelling and James landing on top of the others. And always his mischievous, adoring eyes turned to her, searched for her. She saw him propose to her surrounded by fireflies, vividly heard that muggle record, the lyrics bittersweet…

”Yours in the gray of December Here, or on far distant shores I've never loved anyone the way I love you

Yours to the end of life's story”

“No!” her voice faltered. “No! Not today!”

She breathed in sharply, as someone knocked on the door, twice, in abrupt succession. She recognised that trademark sound.

“Severus?” she croaked.

Severus pushed the heavy door slowly, almost reluctantly, now that it came to it. He looked uncharacteristically agitated, his waxy cheeks flushed. Relief swept over him as he looked at Lily. She looked upset but safe. She was shackled to the wall, her hands above her head, tied together. She was trembling and pale. There was no sign of the Cruciatus, or other dark magic.

“Are you alright, Lily?” He said, hurriedly throwing a potent heating charm at her.

“What are you doing here?” Lily’s husky voice surprised him, he hadn’t heard her screaming.

“What happened? Did they hurt you?” Severus said, moving closer to Lily and regarding her anxiously. “They hurt me by hurting him,” she whispered.

Tears tracked down her cheek, and Severus wiped it with his thumb. “I’m so sorry, Lily,” he said, his voice trembling – he was slightly scared of her, and then there was unexpected guilt - guilt about lying, guilt about how James was going to die. “I tried to... I tried...”

He stopped and took a few breaths, looking at the ground.

“I tried to save him, I tried some healing charms and... and I sent the others away. I wasn’t sure what to do, Lily, but then I was called away and Avery had... I was too late, Lily, I’m so sorry.”

He couldn’t look at her.

“No, Sev, please, not James, please,” Lily’s broken whisper made Severus’ heart ache.

“I’m so sorry, I’m... you don’t know how sorry I am,” Severus whispered back. “I’m desperately sorry.”

Lily didn’t say anything, silent tears streaming down her face.

“He... James and I, he spoke to me, he thanked me for trying to save him, before he... he asked me to save you, to get you out of here. I promised him I’d do it. Do you understand Lily?” She was looking at him blankly, through her tears, her mind far away in some distant time or place. “Lily!” Severus whispered urgently. “Lily, he wanted you to be safe! He insisted I save you! He told me a code word - I’ve no idea what he meant, but he said to tell you - Graham’s Number.“ “Graham’s Number,” Lily repeated quietly, as though dazed. “James.” “Yes, James,” Severus said, trying not to sound impatient. “We have to leave now, I promised him I’d get you out of here! Do you understand?”

Lily nodded, still crying.

“My beautiful,” she said. “My gallant lad.”

“Yes, yes,” Severus said, eying the door of the cell. “We need to leave! Now! If Voldemort finds us, we’re both dead!”

Lily stared at him intently. After a few seconds she smiled vaguely.

“I’m so sorry Sev, let’s go, I just... it’s so much to take in, you know? I can never thank you enough, for trying to save him, for being such a noble person?”

Severus squirmed.

“It means everything to me,” she said, her red-rimmed eyes looking into his soul.

“It’s nothing,” he said firmly, refusing to hold eye contact and pointing his wand at the chains. “Frangit!”

The chains broke, and Lily collapsed into Severus’ arms.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Can you help me? I don’t think I can walk?”

“Of course!” Severus said, feeling a bloom of warmth spread through his chest.

This was what he had longed for, desperately, for as long as he could remember – Lily, holding onto him, needing him, weaker than him, reliant on him, asking him, begging him for his help. He tucked his wand in his pocket and lifted her up, looking lovingly into her stunning eyes. Surely she could also feel the deep attraction between them, the passion sizzling beneath their fingertips?

“Lily,” he murmured, bringing their lips closer.

“Severus?” she said hoarsely.

“I love you, Lily Evans,” he said, holding her closer. “I always have.”

“Your idea of love sickens me, but I’m glad you’re so predictable, Severus.”

Lily’s voice was cold as she stepped back from him in disgust, and he found himself staring at the tip of his own wand.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he said, his heart pounding as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

“Change of plan, Snape!” Lily said. “You don’t get to sweep me away like a lying bastard-“

“Your husband agreed to this! It was his idea!” Severus’ voice rose.

“Gobshites, the pair of you!” Lily said, her voice quivering with rage. “Probably one of the only things you two ever agreed on - that James Potter should sacrifice himself to save me? That James Potter was expendable, that I would cope without him?” Severus dropped his gaze in the face of such fierceness. “You see, I’m not leaving here without James. If he’s dead, and you better hope to fuck he isn’t, I’m still bringing him with me. He means more to me than anyone else, everything else, in the entire world. I’m not leaving my soulmate to rot in this hell!”

Severus looked at her hand with trepidation as she aimed at his chest.

“I was trying to save you, Lily,” he said, stepping away from her.

“Trying to save me for yourself, Severus! Killing my husband was never going to buy you my love!” Lily’s green eyes were incandescent.

“I didn’t… I had no part in it, it was Hugo Avery!” he said.

“No part at all? That’s strange,” Lily sneered. “Because your friend Hugo payed me a lengthy visit which only finished a short while ago, you practically overlapped.”

Snape’s eyes widened with surprise and alarm.

“He wasn’t meant to go near you!” he said.

“He did,” Lily said, shuddering despite herself. “Came in to tell me everything he was planning on doing to my husband, and later on, to me. It took rather a long time.”

“What do you think you’re-“ Severus said in fear, as Lily lifted his wand.

“I’m sorry, Severus,” Lily’s voice was hard and implacable. “Imperio!”

Continue reading BAMF Lily here

Snape’s eyes widened for a split second as the invisible spell hit his chest (so powerful it almost threw him backwards) before they seemed to fade, the fear in them replaced by a dullness.

His hands fell by his side. “Is this castle surrounded by anti-apparition wards?” she asked.

“Yes, and the nearby forest,” Snape answered mechanically.

“Where can we use a portkey?” Lily ordered, poking Snape with her wand.

“From the courtyard in front of the main entrance.”

She hated the strange empty look in his eyes, as though he was unable to think for himself and devoid of any thoughts at all, until commanded by her to do so. She hated it.

“Good,” she said. “Now you will do exactly as I say! You will bring me to the oubliette, and you will help me save my husband if it’s the last thing you do! But first, you will bring me to your potions lab!”

                                                             ********

“Step away from Potter, now! I’m taking over!” Avery’s head jerked upwards in shock as Snape landed with a heavy thud right beside him, closely followed by Lily Evans, who had a glazed look in her eyes.

“She’s under the Imperius,” Snape added, glancing around at the other men.

“Snape?” Avery said, glaring aggressively at the half-blood. “What the fuck are you doing here? You said I could finish him off?”

“Change of plan!” Snape said, sounding furious. “Back the fuck away from him now, or you’re a dead man!”

“What?” said Avery. “Why?”

“The Dark Lord wants to take over torturing Potter and Evans himself, he needs to find out about his missing book. He will be livid if Potter is dead or unable to answer him! I mean murderous.”

Avery looked terrified.

“Fuck! Snape, you said...” Avery whispered hoarsely.

“You fool, you should have thought to check with your Master before you went this far! If I were you, I’d make myself scarce, unless you want to face the Dark Lord’s wrath!” Snape hissed.

Avery had never seen Snape look so imposing, so powerful. He looked like he wanted to obliterate them all.

“Shit! I... but what if he asks who...” Avery stammered.

“I’ll cover for you as best I can, but I suggest you leave until he calms down, unless you want to risk being here when he loses it,” Snape said, looking at Avery as though he detested him.

“Fuck. Okay. Thank you, Cerberus,” Avery said, frantically grabbing his cloak and stepping across James’ body as he latched onto the rope ladder and sped upwards. “Fuck Voldemort, I hate that bastard!”

Nobody answered, aware that Avery was extremely unwise in voicing his feelings about the Dark Lord’s unpredictable behaviours.

“Severus, you moronic shit,” Severus said between his teeth. Mulciber and Rosier snorted, enjoying Snape’s irritation. “You two better help me get Potter looking more presentable and less dead, unless you too want to join Avery and get AK’ed to hell!” Snape whirled around menancingly. The two men looked at him blankly.

“You don’t think the Dark Lord is actually going to forgive Avery, do you, you pathetic fools?” Snape scoffed dangerously. “Throw every healing spell you can think of at this traitor, and I’ll see what I can do for you two imbeciles!” Rosier cleared his throat and looked stunned. Mulciber glared at Snape.

“We hardly did anything!” he said. “You probably did more of the Crucios than we did!”

“I presume you haven’t forgotten that the Dark Lord is an extraordinarily gifted Legilimens?” Snape smiled thinly, sticking the tip of his wand into Mulciber’s abdomen. “He’s going to die of blood loss, not of Crucios, obviously, you fool! Care to tell him yourself the extent of your role in this… shambles?”

Mulciber’s lips thinned and he shook his head.

“Thought as much,” Snape replied smugly. “Mulciber, get me the blood replenishing potion immediately. Rosier, give me a hand here – Vulnera Sanentur over his entire body, Brackium Emendo over his ankles, quickly!”

Rosier nodded his head and started firing healing spells anxiously. Snape did the same, deep in concentration, his wand flying over James’ body. Mulciber reappeared moments later, holding a half-empty bottle of dark red liquid. Snape grabbed it off him wordlessly and carefully placed three drops into James’ mouth, scanning his face anxiously. Blood trickled from James’ right ear.

“Still looks pretty moribund to me,” he muttered to himself, touching James’ hands tenderly.

James’ fingers felt frozen, white, almost blue.

“Perhaps Rosier should come with you?” Mulciber asked, inching backwards towards the rope ladder.

Snape’s lip curled.

“Don’t be pathetic, Rosier is a liability, and far too skinny to be able to lift Potter. I need you with me,” he ordered.

Mulciber opened his mouth.

“The Dark Lord specifically asked that you accompany me,” Snape said. “He said he may need our help in questioning Potter, that’s if he isn’t already dead by the time we get there. We need to hurry!”

Mulciber swallowed.

“Now help me lift Potter, and for fuck’s sake be careful, he’s perilously close to death as it is!” Snape said.

[mikaze-discord]

OG Heavens: Love letters

For these Heavens posts, I had reached out to a few people who just never ended up responding. With projects like these, please at least hear them out, you don't have to do it because I know its a huge project but at least tell them you won't be doing it instead of ghosting them. But apart from that little road block, this project was really fun!!

Please enjoy under the cut!!!!

EIICHI OTORI

From @milkmateartist:

I have always leaned towards megane characters and Eiichi is no exception. However, it's not often you see idols wearing glasses, and that is something I appreciate about Eiichi's design. His color palette also intrigues me since I love deep shades of blue. His royal blue jacket is very attractive, and the way he pops the collar also makes me go "kya!".  His voice is also very sexy as well and is pleasing to the ear uwu. I love how egoistic he is too. Being incredibly ambitious he has been able to reach amazing heights that surpass other idols. The one thing that seems to make him unique though is that he really gets zealous and overly passionate when it comes to the power of music, so much that it makes him physically tremble. You could get high off that shit literally. His entire being is centered around being an idol, and all the components of him go above and beyond the requirements. It's not just a job for him or something that simply makes an earning or brings satisfaction. It's pretty much everything to him. For that reason he has made it to the top. There is also the component where he's lonely and isolated emotionally that interests me. Despite being a beloved idol, he clearly didn't get the love he needed growing up. Even though he had Eiji I feel as though his nature was more to protect Eiji and shield him from whatever terrors would arise. I admire his ability to come through all of that and pay attention to the things he really cared about. Eiichi can be himself, his strange, sexy self, but also he acknowledges the lonesome darkness within too. I think that component makes him incredibly powerful.

Extra Details:

While appearing to be a bad guy in the anime (at least), Eiichi seemed to be that typical bad boy idol that would steal away Haruka from the main group. The time when he approached Haruka and took her by the chin is a perfect example. How dare this new guy just think he can have his way with our protagonist!  To be honest I liked that aspect about him a bit. While I can't remember my first impression of Eiichi aside from not knowing how to feel about that, he slowly grew on me. He had the appearance of just another selfish idol, demonstrated by swiping the mic away from the announcer at one of his concerts and immediately declaring their foreseen victory. So far that looked rather bland to me, and I was still cheering for STARISH. They really made him out to look like some bad guy who would not play fair and do whatever he could to take the throne (and the girl).  It's not surprising his glasses shine adds to his 'freaky antagonist' vibe that the show seemed to try to give off, but however for me I love the glasses beam, thus having the opposite effect.

And then there is the Next Door episode. Now here's where we got to see more of Eiichi aside from when the HEAVENS Dragon demolished the entire stadium. Aside from kya-ing over the EiichiOtoya content (especially where he goes behind otoya and covers his eyes), I got to see more of him here. It surprised me that someone so cocky and confident was actually the same depressed, lonely person that Otoya was. But it was also evident to me as well that he did care about the effect it had on Otoya as well after he sort-of-well mind broke him. I like how he is ambitious but also still caring, as compared to an antagonist that would stop at nothing to achieve their goal regardless of how much pain they cause.

I also enjoy Eiichi because I feel like I can roleplay him well. Usually for me, roleplay has to achieve some kind of goal since I tend to be business oriented. I think to some degree I'm able to practice being a eboy idol through Eiichi, as I do enjoy charming the fans. It also helps that I can naturally play characters with an inflated ego who enjoy charming people.

From @/egoisticCEO on twt:

July 2019. When Eiichi was first introduced to me via his voice, I hated him from the very beginning. His singing, his appearance, his personality – everything about him made me despise him. It’s funny looking back and seeing how quickly my attitude changed towards him, realising I’d been biased against him because of a friend. Finding more about him, hate turned to interest. It seemed like his life hadn’t been the best. Maybe that was why he acted in such a way? Interest turned to liking him more. Maybe I’d misunderstood him. I’d made the mistake of taking him at surface level.

December 2019. Like was slowly turning to love. More and more, I found myself looking at him instead of my current favourites. I found myself wanting him to actually be a part of Egoistic. Once I started devouring HEAVENS Radio and unveiling his true character, it was shocking how quickly I fell. He truly acted like a father to everyone in his band. Giving them what he never received. Everything was for them to thrive.

2020. With how much I was at home, it only made sense I grew more obsessed. I found Life with Thanks’ translation. “We’re irreplaceable to him,” he tells us, and that made me certain that his heart wasn’t as evil as some people liked to believe. He’s a caretaker, someone who wants everyone to feel like they matter. Even at his own expense. Instead of selfish, he’s selfless.

I related to him more than I have to any character – it was comforting. Seeing someone have no choice but to put on a brave face, even when his confidence was at an all time low. 2020 got a lot harder for me, but when I recovered, Eiichi was like a home to go back to. Time and time again, I’d have to break away, but I’d always be invited back in by that stupid smirk and overexaggerated ego and the warmest heart you could ever find. Every scene I watched with him would make me smile. I’d tease him to myself. I still do.

2021. That brings us to now. I can’t see my love for this one of a kind man dying any time soon. I don’t want it to, either. Just looking at him makes me happy! He’s the type of character with so many facets to his personality that you can keep digging and never reach the end. So, in conclusion, I hope I never stop finding new things out about this wonderful idiot. More than anything, he deserves all the love he gives to others, and I’d love to provide it tenfold.

KIRA SUMERAGI

From Anon: 

Many have their reasons to love their favorite characters. As for me, why Kira Sumeragi is my favorite character is because there are several things about him that I can relate myself to and there are a few qualities he has that I like about him. If many do not know about Kira that much, they’d look at who he is. He may look intimidating at first and may not talk much, when in actuality, Kira is a considerate, dependable, and mindful guy. Mainly, he is the type of guy that lets his actions do the explaining. He is a hard worker, as an idol, he looks after his bandmates, HEAVENS, like family. It’s like what Eiichi said in HEAVENS Radio about Kira, “he is HEAVENS’ pride!” Although he may not say much, Kira is very observant of his surroundings and never hesitates in his decisions. The members of HEAVENS understand and acknowledge Kira, knowing that he means well.

You can even tell in his solo music! Although there are only two solo songs for Kira, if you read the lyrics carefully, Kira’s thoughts and feelings are shown. Kira always knew that if he cannot explain his feelings through words, then he’ll let his songs and his actions do it for him for you to see.  Although the anime doesn’t show much of Kira, the only way to get to know him more is through HEAVENS Radio, also drama CDs like Paradise Lost, and other media like LINE Messenger Japan. There’s still much that I’d want to know about him, but as a start, these things are what makes Kira my favorite character for HEAVENS.

From Anon: 

Aside from my huge bias towards OnoD the first thing that drew my attention to Kira was his design. Dark haired anime boys with bright eyes have such a vibe and I loved how mysterious he was set up to be in season 2. But the thing that really hooked me a lot was the found family that Heavens became over the progression of the anime.

Particularly since people in the fandom have a bunch of funky headcanons about Kira being the mom friend in the group, which is incredibly wholesome. Kira’s very quiet and reserved but clearly holds a deep caring for his group members and does what he can when needed which is one of the reasons why he became so loveable for me.

NAGI MIKADO

From @/_PXRFECTIONIST on twt: 

If I managed to stan Nagi, so will you.

Greetings. I present to you, once more, a story of how I came to love a character that I wished I threw hands with.

So.

Nagi Mikado.

The possible only utapri character that Shinomiya oshis despise. Thanks to what happened in the anime.

Truth be told, I too was one of them. Until I came to love Both Shinomiya and Nagi. Reason?

Research.

Ya see, it is universally agreed upon that the way Nagi was pushing and pulling at Shinomiya's trauma and DID was… Not okay. So I said "yeah okay what an obnoxious kid i dont think ill ever like him lol" especially since I never come to really warm up to people younger than me.

Boy was I wrong.

My heart really sways easily when I go deep into characters, and why they act the way they are. And also because I chose to roleplay as him, but let's not. Speak of that.

(its actually the main reason i like him in the first place who am i fooling)

Nagi is… Indeed obnoxious, and really has bad manners that are covered up by his cute looks and fame, especially since he's one of the original HEAVENS members, but once you get to really know him.. It makes sense why he's being such a brat. And that is sort of endearing. And knowing how his group is like family to him too, it becomes harder and harder to completely dislike him.

….

He really is a boss man.

He knows what he wants, and how to get it. He knows how to get people to like him without handing over the tiniest sliver of his weaknesses. He acts in his own way that shapes his personality to suit him, yet still manages to be caring and helpful, even if it's hard to see tenderness and good will through his aggression.

Reading his solo lyrics, listening to the drama CDs, even thinking of headcanons due to lack of lore, it all slowly comes together like a lovely parfait to suddenly make you realize..

'Wow…'

'I really do like that rat.

[shivroyslut]

I just listened to the whole Evermore album and I’m now on my second listen so here is Evermore songs I think are destiel related and whether they’re from Dean’s or Cas’ perspective (or both) - add more lyrics/parallels if you like

willow - both

“Wherever you stray I will follow”

champagne problems - okay tbh i dont see this as either of them but that one line...

“Your Midas touch on the Chevy door November flush and your flannel cure” - MS SWIFT ??? ARE YOU A HELLER ???? CHEVY, NOVEMBER, AND FLANNEL IN THE SAME SENTENCE ???

gold rush - Cas

“Cause I don't like a gold rush, gold rush; I don't like anticipatin' my face in a red flush; I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch; Everybody wants you; Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you; Walk past, quick brush; I don't like slow motion, double vision in rose blush; I don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush” - yeah this is just Cas simping on Dean for so many seasons

“What must it be like to grow up that beautiful?” - But still beautiful. Still Dean Winchester

 ‘tis the damn season - both

“There's an ache in you, put there by the ache in me; But if it's all the same to you; It's the same to me” - uhm this is just them fighting every season then making up a few epis later

“I escaped it too, remember how you watched me leave” - PURGATORY

“I won't ask you to wait if you don't ask me to stay” - THIS IS JUST THE ENTIRE DESTIEL ARC IN THE FIRST HALF OF S15 LMAO

“Now I'm missing your smile, hear me out; We could just ride around; And the road not taken looks real good now” - this is Dean brooding every time Cas dies

tolerate it - Cas

“I sit and watch you; I notice everything you do or don't do”

“I wait by the door like I'm just a kid“

“If it's all in my head tell me now; Tell me I've got it wrong somehow”

“While you were out building other worlds, where was I?” - okay this is dean though

“Where's that man who'd throw blankets over my barbed wire?; I made you my temple, my mural, my sky; Now I'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life” - this is Cas when they are fighting

“Always taking up too much space or time; You assume I'm fine, but what would you do if I; Break free and leave us in ruins” - again when Dean is being an idiot and they fight

happiness - Cas

“But there was happiness because of you” - Knowing you has changed me. Because you cared, I cared. You changed me. 

“Past the blood and bruise; Past the curses and cries; Beyond the terror in the nightfall; Haunted by the look in my eyes; That would've loved you for a lifetime; Leave it all behind” - ms swift are you a Cas girl ??

“All you want from me now is the green light of forgiveness” - literally Cas just wanting Dean to forgive him for everything

coney island - Dean

“If I can't relate to you anymore; Then who am I related to?” - every time Dean feels betrayed by Cas but especially in s6 when Cas teams up with Crowley, like my man had so much trust in Cas only for him to be wrong

“Sorry for not making you my centerfold”

“The question pounds my head; What's a lifetime of achievement; If I pushed you to the edge?; But you were too polite to leave me; And do you miss the rogue; Who coaxed you into paradise and left you there?; Will you forgive my soul; When you're too wise to trust me and too old to care?” - no offence but this is exactly what went through Dean’s head when he was sitting there crying after Cas got yeeted into the empty

“Over and over; Lost again with no surprises; Disappointments, close your eyes; And it gets colder and colder; When the sun goes down” - Dean mourning every time Cas died after the second time

“And when I got into the accident; The sight that flashed before me was your face; But when I walked up to the podium I think that I forgot to say your name” - uhm Dean seeing Cas as his life flashed before his eyes when he got impaled by the rusty nail and wanted him by his side but the writers were cowards he got caught up in the moment with Sammy and didn’t pray for him to come

“But I think that I forgot to say your name; Over and over” - i just think Dean is hard on himself for not keeping Cas closer to him after Cas died in 15x18

ivy - Dean

“How's one to know?; I'd meet you where the spirit meets the bones In a faith forgotten land; In from the snow; Your touch brought forth an incandescent glow; Tarnished but so grand” - I’M THE ONE WHO GRIPPED YOU TIGHT AND RAISED YOU FROM PERDITION

“And the old widow goes to the stone every day; But I don't, I just sit here and wait; Grieving for the living” - Dean just wanting a win (Cas back) in s13

“I wish to know; The fatal flaw that makes you long to be; Magnificently cursed” - you know just Cas being very cursed throughout the whole show, and the fatal flaw is his love for Dean humanity

“I'd live and die for moments that we stole; On begged and borrowed time” - i think this is for both cause Cas’ line “Dean you know I always appreciate our talks and our time together” but Dean definitely feels the same way I mean he made Cas watch all those movies

cowboy like me - both (very destiel)

“Never wanted love; Just a fancy car; Now I'm waiting by the phone; Like I'm sitting in an airport bar” - this is painfully obviously Dean

“Eyes full of stars; Hustling for the good life; Never thought I'd meet you here; It could be love; We could be the way forward; And I know I'll pay for it” - very obvious Cas line 

“And the skeletons in both our closets; Plotted hard to fuck this up” - just the universe not wanting them to be together

long story short - Cas

“I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me”

“And I fell from the pedestal; Right down the rabbit hole” 

“When I dropped my sword; I threw it in the bushes and knocked on your door; And we live in peace; But if someone comes at us, this time, I'm ready” - Cas always coming back and willing to give up everything for Dean

“And he feels like home”

“Now I'm all about you”

marjorie - both (but mainly Dean)

“Never be so kind; You forget to be clever; Never be so clever; You forget to be kind” 

“And if I didn't know better; I'd think you were talking to me now” - No I’m not talking to him, *proceeds to talk to and protect each other*

“What died didn't stay dead” - yah

“I should've asked you questions; I should've asked you how to be; Asked you to write it down for me; Should've kept every grocery store receipt; Cause every scrap of you would be taken from me” - Dean keeping the trench coat every time Cas dies

closure - Dean (but a little Cas)

“And seeing the shape of your name; Still spells out pain” - Dean after 15x18 seeing ‘Castiel’ on the table

“It cut deep to know ya, right to the bone”

“Don't treat me like; Some situation that needs to be handled” - can be Cas too

“I'm fine with my spite; And my tears, and my beers and my candles” - his anger stage when hes undergoing his 5 stages of grief after 15x18, and like every time he and Cas fight

“I don't need your closure” - ^

evermore - both ( this song is so destiel make this their fucking theme song)

“Motion capture; Put me in a bad light; I replay my footsteps on each stepping stone; Trying to find the one where I went wrong; Writing letters; Addressed to the fire” - Cas whenever Dean kicks him out and he doesn’t understand why or when Dean just let’s him go; and Dean in purgatory when he realises Cas was hiding from him, when he changed his memory to believe he let go of Cas, when he found out that Cas is the one who let him go. There is honestly so many examples for this line

“And I was catching my breath; Staring out an open window; Catching my death; And I couldn't be sure; I had a feeling so peculiar; That this pain would be for evermore” - Cas when he realises that he is in love with Dean but he can never be with him; and Dean when he thought he left Cas in purgatory and every time Cas died

“Hey December; Guess I'm feeling unmoored; Can't remember; What I used to fight for; I rewind thе tape but all it does is pause; On thе very moment, all was lost; Sending signals; To be double-crossed” - Cas when heaven pushed him away repeatedly and also when Dean pushed him away repeatedly when he was the whole reason he rebelled; and Dean when he just wanted that win in s13 and every other time he had doubt 

“Cannot think of all the cost; And the things that will be lost; Oh, can we just get a pause?; To be certain, we'll be tall again; Whether weather be the frost; Or the violence of the dog days; I'm on waves, out being tossed; Is there a line that I could just go cross?” - you know like whenever they feel hopeless; reminds me of the diner scene in s14e14 where they are talking about Michael

“And when I was shipwrecked; I thought of you; In the cracks of light; I dreamed of you; It was real enough; To get me through; I swear you were there” - Cas simping for Dean; Dean after escaping from purgatory seeing Cas everywhere

Anyways these are just my thought and links don’t attack me I’m just out here wasting time on a ship I was obsessed with in 2015 (I mean I am on break from uni and am jobless). Feel free to add more lyrics or parallels I’m pretty sure I missed quite a few. I do acknowledge that the album is definitely not about destiel and about Taylor herself but its just fascinating to find all these lyrical links to Dean and Cas’ relationship. 

[paullicino]

On the Internet

Taken from, and thus generously funded by, my Patreon. The above image via ExtraFabulousComics.

Do you have a flashlight nearby? A lamp, or other light source? Keep it to hand, it might become relevant for something, something I’d like to demonstrate later. The demonstration is simple and entirely voluntary, the flashlight is not essential. It works just as well as a thought experiment in your head.

Meanwhile, I’m going to write about the internet on the internet. Because that’s what we all do these days, isn’t it?

---

I still remember the excitement of our first explorations online. It was a kind of hidden, secret space of unknown dimensions when we found it as young adults. A weird sort of Narnia. A modem meant you could open this door to an entirely different place full of entirely different people obeying entirely different rules. You had to find ways of telling one another about what you’d found this week, either the next time you were together in person, via an email or, God forbid, by printing out a webpage. Twenty-five years ago, the internet was a collection of imperfect search engines (crawlers) taking you to out-of-the-way websites that were as likely to have been made by someone just like you as they were to belong to some major company or organisation. Its mess was egalitarian. It was a decentralised place full of curious corners and sudden surprises. It wasn’t somewhere we logged on to with an expectation of finding the familiar. It was a place of discovery.

It wasn’t simply that the tech wasn’t as good as it is nowadays. That much is obvious. It was the fumbling newness of the place. It was a primordial soup, we were all blobs and we blobbed around together, testing out the water.

It was a tremendously international space. It was easy to stumble across websites in other languages, to find places that weren’t for you, that were never created with you in mind, and at the very edges of these places their owners and their users might just blend together. Spill over, even. Everyone was from everywhere and they were all mingling, uncontrolled. It was liberating. It was mind-expanding.

The internet was exciting, it was new, it was unfamiliar. It was a place to learn. It was a place without an agenda.

It was also a place to be different. Niche interests found their audiences and young people could be united by what they enjoyed, not marginalised. There was no need to fit in when the place didn’t even fit together properly. For those of us bullied, bored, or worse in tiny homogenous hometowns, isolated or upset by the toxic social dynamics and popularity contests that school can create, it offered little judgement about what you should want or who you should be. It was a place to be genuine. 

I still remember the end of the 1990s, too. It was a decade of growth and change not just for a young generation, but for the wider world we were learning about. There was a peace deal in Northern Ireland, there was optimism in the media and there was a coming millennium that was supposed to be defined by technology and communication, the internet at its forefront. I was not a young man who could identify with very much of this optimism, but I was at least a young man looking forward to change, who could be accepted as who I was on the internet and who could be excited about what it represented. I’d never tried to be anyone else, even though being different rarely works out when you’re young, but now I knew for sure that I didn’t need to.

As my friends and I grew, so did the internet, and it became a place where we could share more about ourselves, where we could play together and where we found a bunch of ways of keeping in touch whenever we were apart. It became a tool to help me work, that kickstarted my career as a writer, as well as an ever-widening window on the world. It wasn’t yet too corporate, its websites and its tools not yet too monolithic.

I remember some of that early sharing. I remember talking to total strangers, a world away, about some part of my life or theirs. I remember talking to one internet friend of many years, who I never met, about British and American spelling. And about spelling in general. I remember they told me they weren’t sure how to spell a particular word and I said they could look it up in but a moment, since they were online there and then. “I can’t be bothered,” they replied, and that frustrated me so much.

The 90s passed and on September 11th 2001 whatever vision there was for the coming century was erased. The course of world events shifted immediately and dramatically. Never before had mass murder been so visible and so immediate. I remember talking not about how different the world was going to be, but that we had no idea how big a difference this would even make. In a very short space of time, it felt as if the world became not only so much more cruel and so much more cynical, but also so much more divided. I remember the weeks and months after those terror attacks as being my first experience of seeing people sharply divided in their politics, divided enough to be extremely angry, extremely offended, by the many suggestions of what should be done next. It set the scene.

As the decade continued, technology and communication certainly did change us. More of us were using the internet not only to talk, but for more and more of our everyday tasks. We were also sharing ourselves, too, in ways more personal and profound, and there was so much to know. I read a blog post by a Black woman from the American South describing the ways she had to bring up her son to interact with the wider world, how angry he was about it, how unfair it all was. I read updates from those caught in the civil war in Myanmar, talking about what they claimed the news didn’t show. I read about the realities of the rapid growth in Dubai, the working conditions and pollution. I read diary entries by people surviving the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, weeks without power and wondering when help would come. I read about the world in a way I’d never been able to before.

More than ever, the internet was a library of lives.

The first trip overseas I took by myself was all planned, booked and executed with the help of the internet. I flew to Chicago, in the United States, and I stayed in the most average hotel in the most average neighbourhood and it was wonderful. I heard real cicadas for the first time and walked through concrete valleys between towering skyscrapers that my tiny mind couldn’t process. In the evenings, I watched a plethora of American news, which was only ever about America, and that frustrated me so much.

The first interview I ever conducted with someone who wasn’t making a video game was with the writer Mil Millington. The interviews I really wanted to do were about people, their experiences, what they liked and why they do the things they do. Mil Millington was the perfect subject because we had both written about games, we both understood the reach of the internet and we were both interested in what the future of this medium would be. He had recently scored a book deal and written his first novel, Things My Girlfriend and I Have Argued About, based on his semi-autobiographical, tongue-in-cheek blog of the same name, listing comic domestic disagreements. I asked him what it was like to share all of his personal life online and he told me that, actually, he didn’t:

“I'm, honestly, almost obsessively private. It's just the way I write that, for some reason, if I say, 'Margret won't let me watch a film in peace,' causes people to think, 'My God! Mil's laying his whole life bare!'”

And then I realised that he had, of course, chosen to share all the things that he had. And carefully. It didn’t mean that those things were less honest, less real or less interesting, but he had been doing what all of us writers do: picking his words and his moments. We should all get to share on our own terms.

I liked his honesty. He wasn’t trying to prop up any persona.

---

A little after this time, I was asked on a date by a conservative American woman who I met in my first year at university in London. We saw each other a few times and stayed in touch when she returned to California. A couple of years later, the American Vice Presidential candidate Sarah Palin spoke about “death panels” run by Britain’s National Health Service. Online, I expressed my annoyance and anger both at Palin just making things up, as well as at the volume of people who seemed to simply accept her words. My former date said that Palin was allowed to “express her opinion” and I didn’t know how to begin to explain, to an adult in her mid 20s, the difference between fact and opinion, or that she could check such things in a moment, since she was online. That frustrated me so much.

This discussion played out over a relatively new website called Facebook, which had become an invaluable way to connect with my fellow students. I had feared being alone at university, lost in a big city, but the opposite had happened. As soon as we all finished our first year of studies and were hurried out of our student residences, we scattered across the capital and the closeness I had taken for granted was suddenly lost. But Facebook became a directory of friendship, another library of lives. In its early days, I made jokes about people oversharing, or using the site to attract attention, but this wasn’t any different to how some of us might behave anywhere else. It wasn’t such a big deal. That’s just humans.

And anyway, I like to share. My whole life, I’ve enjoyed sharing things I think are important because I feel like it helps me make genuine connections, express myself and feel useful. I saw the internet becoming another way of doing this, another way to be genuine. The younger me had played in bands and held dreams of reaching other people through music, in awe of those moments when an audience sings an artist’s lyrics back to them. I still wanted that, that connection, or some version of it.

On the ever-growing internet, we could all share ourselves more. It could become a new medium for acceptance and understanding. What a glorious future it promised.

---

In time, I adopted all of the social media platforms that I use because I enjoy human connection and I think one of the fundamental traits of people is that they can be so interesting. They do stuff, they make things, they go places, they inspire and they pull humour out of the most difficult of situations like a conjurer tugging an elephant from a beanie. I’d like to be able to do those things. Some days I can barely make a pancake.

Social media allowed me to make and share even more, and now I was sharing things with two people at dinner, ten people at a party or a hundred people online. The number mattered less than the creation’s ability to connect, because it all helped me figure people out and it helped me figure myself out. It helped me figure everything out so that, perhaps one day, I might also learn the trick that lets you tug an elephant out of a beanie. I would be able to say to people “Ah yes, you start with the trunk,” or “Surprisingly, you pull from the tail.” Then they could pass that on. Social media seemed particularly good for this, a way for us to all enrich one another.

In 2008, a series of devastating terrorist attacks erupted across Mumbai. Many of the events were documented in real-time by both journalists and locals using Twitter, which made the site seem to me to be an invaluable new perspective on current events. By the start of the next decade, the Arab Spring saw a broad uprising across North Africa, with thousands of people united in protest by the unifying power of social media. It felt like these tools could change our world forever.

Some other things happened as that decade wound down.

A woman on Twitter made a poor joke about AIDS and Africa before boarding a flight, only to find that, by the time she had landed, her words had been shared around the world many millions of times. A woman in England was caught on camera putting a cat in a bin, the footage of which went viral and received such an overwhelmingly furious reaction that one national newspaper asked, only half-joking, if she was the most evil woman in Britain. These events were shared, discussed and dissected with a comparable passion and level of investment as the terrorist attacks and the Arab Spring. On the internet, a cat in a bin was becoming as important as terrorists in a hotel.

I flexed some cynical opinions. We all had opinions by then (though still not the same as facts), because it was increasingly difficult not to get swept up in things like these as and when they happened. They were everywhere, echoed and repeated, with a kind of mentality of momentum. Countless people changed their profile pictures to something green in support of protesters in Iran, or added a flag to support victims of terror in France. They signed internet petitions demanding Something Be Done, though it wasn’t always clear where these petitions would be delivered or how they would compel someone to act. None of these protesters or victims were in any way saved, protected or enabled by a person on the other side of the planet clicking their mouse like this, but if a million other people did it, those metrics created a validity of their own.

I think I remember the late 2000s as the time that I really began to feel different about these things. But by then, I was too bought in. It had already gone from a habit to a dependency.

Year by year, the internet had become less egalitarian. Monolithic sites and spaces were increasingly the center of the experience, whether hubs like MSN and Yahoo, social media sites like Facebook or Twitter, or popular news outlets. We found ourselves in the same places, over and over, and we relied on these for our new discoveries. While social media in particular pitched itself as something that put us all on the same level, behind the scenes levers were already being pulled to shape and to manipulate what was shown and shared.

(That’s okay, people told me. Turn on this feature, or adjust these options, and you get to pull your own levers. That’ll undo everything. You still get to share on your own terms.)

These sites had swelled to envelop us, going from making themselves exciting to making themselves essential. We no longer went online, we were online, always, and we left more and more of ourselves there even when we were away from our screens. Social media allowed you to collect everything together, becoming a place where you could simultaneously read updates from your friends, your parents, Leonardo Di Caprio, the Prime Minister, your favourite newspaper and your favourite sports team. All in a moment and all competing for your attention. Sites like Google and YouTube started to track and understand the preferences of their users, delivering to them more of what they wanted, working hard to grab and to keep their attention. You liked that dog, that topic, that politician? Here’s another.

Here’s another, again.

I was pulling levers all the time, frantically now, like someone operating locks and gates to try and dam an ever more overwhelming flow. My social media sites had changed from something that I used to something I had to manage. Not only were we all carefully curating who we broadcast to and when, lest we offend an employer or shock a relative, we also found ourselves trying to coordinate and customise them, because if we didn’t they would do this for us. They began to choose what to show us, based on what they believed we cared about, they began to offer us things, based on who they believed we were. They even began to mess with time, giving us information and updates out of chronological order. All of these were changes we often had to undo or at least be mindful of, if we even knew about them. If we wanted to. And if we knew how.

If we didn’t, our reality might shift.

---

I still remember the excitement of our first explorations online. My first favourite website was Snopes, which was then a collection of myths and urban legends, most of them debunked. In the late 90s, bullshit chainletter emails would bounce around the internet with stories about how some Russian scientists had drilled their way to hell, or how a new computer virus had come out, or how Coca Cola dissolved human teeth. Sometimes, the strangest of stories really were true, or at least partially so, but most of them were trash. Thanks to Snopes, you could check such things in a moment. I loved that about the internet.

On September 11th 2001, almost twenty years ago now, it was difficult to disagree about what we saw happening right in front of our eyes. Nevertheless, there were a few people afterward who insisted that a plane had not hit the Pentagon, that the towers had been deliberately demolished, that some more mysterious sequence of events had transpired. They lurked in the darkest corners of the internet, much as they had always existed on any other margins in any other mediums. The rest of us could get on with our lives.

I grew up playing games and then, later, I became someone who analysed, critiqued and even designed them. One of the most powerful and important things I learned through games is that so much in life is based around systems and the longer a system is around for, the better we become at manipulating it. When a game has been around for a long time, we find many different ways to play it and sometimes we have to adjust the rules of the game to account for this. The rules for chess that we have today have seen many adjustments and revisions. The same is true for football. It is also true for our laws and for our systems of government. We have to modify these things in part because times change, but also in part because they are being abused and exploited, subverted in ways their designers never imagined.

Or simply used as optimally as possible.

It’s 2021 and the internet monoliths that we have begun to take for granted, that have surged like the rising oceans to engulf our lives and to carry us along their currents, are constantly being used in ways their designers never imagined. Two years ago, we thought the biggest problem we had with social media and internet monoliths was their subversion to manipulate elections, with great armies of bots and fake profiles being created and directed faster than the people who owned social media sites being able to prevent this. This presence could bring amplification and validity to anyone or to anything. “Learn the algorithm,” was the key to success online. Use a site or social media platform in a particular way and it will elevate you further. Elevate your work. Or your truth. Or just you.

Now, more than a year and a half into a pandemic that defines our generation, the areas of the internet with which we’ve become most familiar and most comfortable, those which we began to pour our lives and identity into, are not only places where elections were subverted, they’re places where the difference between life and death are considered a matter of opinion, where science and fact can be openly ridiculed, where conspiracies about September 11th are tiny in comparison. For some time now they’ve already been well-worn battlefields, public arenas within which opinion and force of will often carry more weight than evidence and reason, but now the consequences of doubling down on a belief are undeniably the difference between living and dying.

More important, for some people, is the difference between right and wrong. Not so much being right, but being seen being right, can give you validity, clout, value. I think we’ve reached the point where dying while being seen as right can matter more than living and admitting a mistake.

The flow of the internet, all those locks and gates opened by algorithms or AI or other people’s decisions that may simply have been motivated by a desire to give us what we like, have made it more difficult than ever to find things that go against the current, or to grasp something we can be sure is objective or straightforward.

One part of me believes that we can no longer look things up in a moment any more, because we have to second-guess every other thing we find. As a journalist and researcher, I never feel secure with what I find on the internet now and I dig, I verify and I compare, still coming away unsure, often worried I will publish something glaringly incorrect. A different part of me, a more dramatic part, sometimes wonders which things are even real.

I suppose anything is real if you can get away with it. If nobody ever notices.

---

There’s another aspect to all this, the aspect that makes me the most uncomfortable. The aspect I least enjoy discussing, but which I have to if I can fully explain myself.

Living alongside the internet, I’ve watched as some of us pull all those levers simply to control the flow as best we can, to keep ourselves afloat, but others have viewed this experience differently. They’ve seen it as a challenge, as another system they can manipulate. It’s an opportunity for them to choose how they present themselves. The more levers they pull, the greater their ability to do so. The more time they invest, the greater the result.

If you take your flashlight, lamp or light source and point it toward an object, you can easily affect the size and the shape of the shadows it will cast. Under your control, those shadows can lengthen or deepen, they can sweep and distort. A light up close can cast a gigantic shadow across a far wall, perhaps a sharp one or perhaps one fuzzy and undefined. Try it. See what you can make. The more you do it, the more tricks you can learn.

All of us try to present our best selves and all of us have our different selves, too. Forty years before I ever went online, the sociologist Erving Goffman published The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life, a book about how we behave differently in different contexts. It’s natural for us to speak to our family in a different way to how we speak to our best friend, or to our colleagues, or to a crowd we might be addressing in a speech. It’s not necessarily disingenuous, it’s merely a part of the human experience. But impression management, as Goffman called it, is also a matter of degrees. Some people are more invested than others. If given the tools to perform more effective impression management, more levers they can pull, they will engage even further.

I have flexed a few cynical opinions in my life (at least as many as three, the stats suggest) but, at the same time, I think I have to admit that I have also been very naïve about people. I tend to take many of them on face value and assume they are genuine. Many of us are, perhaps even most of us. But I’ve come to know both that this isn’t always the case and that, given the opportunity, some people will use every tool at their disposal to shape a false version of themselves. We’ve found ourselves in an era where this is more possible than ever. It’s no longer simply within the purview of politicians and PR firms, it’s within reach of every one of us and all we need to do is put in the time and energy. The reward can be ever greater popularity, ever more validation

And I’m so tired of seeing this.

Over the past half decade or so, I have seen the internet and its many systems gamed more than ever. Gamed for political gain, gamed for personal gain and gamed to create images, personalities and that god-awful golem of hollow and lifeless artifice that is brand. Now a person can be a product, a new kind of commodity in this ever more opaque ecosystem.

The nausea and unhappiness I feel from all this is more than the simple declaration that I’m not a brand, I’m a person. It’s the discovery that other people, sometimes people I’ve known, really are a brand now. Their time, their energy, their life is now invested in shaping and maintaining that image, that brand, perhaps even at the expense of other pursuits. And with the right manipulations, the right tugging of the correct levers, they can perpetuate that, build that and further gain the affirmations and validations they need to prove to themselves that what they have created is as solid and as true and as real as anything else. And how would we know any different?

The ocean is not so far from my home. It’s not unusual to walk the beach or the seawall and see people engaged in impromptu photoshoots, dressed in their very best, expertly presented and shot with long lenses. A friend told me that most of these shoots are for the purpose of enriching dating profiles, that there’s an increasing feeling of expectation, a sense that everyone must present their very best selves, simply because everyone else now does so. To be on a dating site is to feel engaged in an ever-escalating competition for time and attention, to need to package oneself as the best possible product.

I don’t at all object to the idea of dating sites, but I could never get comfortable with them and I used to feel like I was browsing a human meat market, that it was all too easy for me to make judgements about people I didn’t know and then cast them aside. I felt, again, like people had become products and this was a system and a process I did not want to be part of. You can game it, people tried to tell me. There are ways to make it work better for you, it just takes a little time. I didn’t want to know.

The more time you spend trying to engage with things that aren’t genuine, the less you have for what is real.

When I use the internet these days it’s with an increasing sense of discomfort and disquiet. I find myself already on the lookout for the artificial. I second-guess people as much as I do information. I’m all too aware of the constructed persona and the deliberate framing, of that angling of a light to cast a particular shadow. In a few cases, this isn’t an abstract concern and social media in particular can be a place where I watch people I know are starkly different to the image they project be celebrated for the false façade they maintain, a façade that can be further reinforced by popularity and prominence. I see harmful and unhealthy people championed even in spite of their actions, because they have managed to engineer support and validation, or using the popularity and affirmation they have gained to push opinion over fact. The disingenuous and the distorted tie together like a greasy braid, each one reinforcing the other, and it���s no wonder falsehoods can spread so far, whether false representations or false information. I would say that sometimes I almost feel like I’m back at school, amongst the same gossip and garbage, but this is far worse than any of the toxic social dynamics and popularity contests that school ever created, and now it comes with measurable metrics in the form of likes, follows, retweets or subscriptions.

I’m sure, at this point, this is a common experience and common concern for most of us, and we are each finding our own ways to handle it.

Or not. For me, the experience is deeply unpleasant.

While drafting this I idly wondered if we could somehow develop a new version of Snopes for human beings. A demystifier of people, something that reveals each person’s private Picture of Dorian Gray, which grows ever more warped as they reinforce their persona ever more. But I’m sure even that would be gamed and subverted before too long.

I'm so, so tired of trying to work out who is real.

---

The internet monoliths I move between in my daily life all have one thing in common. Google, Twitch, Twitter, Instagram, YouTube, Tumblr, Facebook, Patreon and so many others are all based in the same place: the United States. They are towering. They overwhelm the rest of the internet. The levers that many of these pull, controlling currents and flow, are being operated in the United States. The politics, existential crises and cultural interests of that country are disproportionately represented and, while I care very much about the United States, I also want to hear about the rest of the world. I want to hear about where I live, and yet even that feels like it comes second. Yes, I am pulling all the levers that are supposed to make this happen. No, it isn’t entirely successful. I am using a paddle against a tsunami.

Once the bias is there, the snowball effect perpetuates. So often, whether I choose to or not, I am in that motel room watching a plethora of American news again, or its modern equivalent. It frustrates me so much. Most of us Westerners essentially live in America some of the time now, if we spend any period online. That’s where our presence and our attention are pointed.

Before publishing this essay, I changed every mention of “torch” to “flashlight” because I felt I had to cater to an internet that sees the first word only as a burning chunk of wood, not as a British battery-powered light source.

The internet doesn’t feel like the world any more. It hasn’t for a long time.

---

I can’t abandon the internet of today. I need it for work. I need it to promote the things I create. I need it to keep in touch with people. I’m not different or special, only someone too bought in as well, my use also going from a habit to a dependency. But it has almost entirely stopped being a place of delight and discovery. It has lost any sense of being egalitarian. So much less is new, so much less is unfamiliar. So much more has an agenda.

Algorithms, metrics and social media have quantified and gamified everything, encouraging competitiveness and narcissism. Public spaces have become arenas and arenas encourage performance. In an attention economy, the outrageous and the overblown mean a cat in a bin can have the same profile and presence as terrorists in a hotel. In spaces that now mix our friends, our parents, Leonardo Di Caprio, the Prime Minister, our favourite newspapers and our favourite sports teams, people we know and love are elevated or relegated according to how interesting an algorithm has decided they are, pushing them to the fore or pulling them from your view. “People on Twitter are the first to know,” says the social network that prides itself on immediacy more than integrity or fact-checking. Misinformation abounds. As the line between person and brand has smudged between all recognition, corporations insert themselves into and between everything else we try to examine. Surrounded by banner ads, the conflicts of polarised culture generate enormous revenue for monolithic American tech companies. As we fight, push our narratives, construct our personas or compete in the race to prove we are the most woke, we all make @Jack richer, or provide Zuck with more of our personal data.

I also find myself reminded of what Octavia Butler called “simple peck-order bullying,” the hierarchical behaviour where people want to, and now can, elevate themselves above others, according to identities they've built for themselves, to push their ideas, push their image, push their sense of superiority or push their opinions so hard that they can reshape them into facts. Anything is possible with enough pulling of enough levers. And now more people have more of those levers. And some of them love to pull and then push, pull and then push.

I don’t like what the internet has turned into, nor what it has turned people into.

So what now?

---

This was an essay inspired by an essay, inspired by an essay, which is always how it goes. Creativity is theft and anyone who says otherwise is only trying to distract you as they secretly shake you down. The eternal question that writers (or anyone creative) is supposed to dread is “Where do you get your ideas?” Because we aren’t supposed to know. But we do know. We get them from everyone else. We thieve them.

Ideas are pickpocketed from the people we pass in twisting evening alleyways, during the briefest moments of darkness and distraction. They’re caught with nets as they flutter with all the freedom of sweet springtime naivete. They’re spied upon from tremendous distances through the jealous lenses of sparkling telescopes. Nothing is truly ours and anyone wringing their words into a desperate defence of some unique capacity for originality ex nihilo is either deceptive or deluded.

(Avoid them. You’re likely their next target.)

This essay was heavily inspired by Lucy Bellwood reflecting on Nicole Brinkley. Both have written nuanced examinations of social media (focusing on Twitter) that I think you should make the time to read, but I’ll try and sum up the main thing I have taken from their writing in one line:

Social media is extremely bad, in a multitude of ways and for many complex reasons, and it is okay to leave it.

This is in so small part my interpretation, coloured by a particular belief I hold, that being that social media is extremely bad, in a multitude of ways and for many complex reasons, and it is okay to leave it. You can probably see why I approve.

There’s more to it than that. Brinkley talks about Twitter essentially breaking the way the Young Adult literature scene works, which to me is one facet of a dangerously seductive diamond that repeats many different stories of damage done by how we’ve used and gamed the internet. Her wonderful conclusion is that “These days it’s okay to not be sure what Twitter is for. We can stop going there until we figure it out.” And I so desperately wish I could stop going on the internet until I could figure out what it is for now, too. I wish it wasn’t essential. But it is, broken as it may be, breaking things as it may be.

While I don’t think leaving it is an option for me, I am using so much of it less. I have to. Social media, a place where I am shown arguments and controversy over the lives of people I care about, has become somewhere for me to hurriedly hurl out a quick update or two before I flee, escaping before I come across something, or even someone, that will make me sad. Any search box is a cause for scepticism, prompting me to analyse the results it gives and try a dozen different ways to find the same thing, just in case. Even Snopes is now a running commentary on the (American) news cycle. The best I can do whenever I think something fundamental to our society is unhealthy is to participate in that thing as little as possible. I know this limits my reach, limits my relevance and limits my success, but I also know that this makes me less unhappy and allows me to continue to feel genuine. Like I am still myself. Like I am still real. It may be apparent that my mental health has taken a few hits over the last couple of years. It doesn’t need to take any more.

I am not only unsure what Twitter is for, I am unsure what the whole internet is for.

---

There is no conclusion to this essay. It is supposed to be six thousand words of open-ended reflection. The past year or so has sometimes been a huge struggle for me and it really is true that some days I can barely make a pancake. Work has been difficult, writing has been difficult and maintaining regular Patreon updates has been difficult, with this piece being a huge challenge to finish. I think I’ve tried to make the best of things, as well as present an honest but still positive face to the world. I have piles of tasks to get through and I tackle what I can, with what feels like so much competing for my attention. At the same time, I can’t opt out of the systems I live and work inside of, much as I can’t stop paying rent or putting food in my mouth, because individuals can't kick a habit society has become dependent upon. I think the best thing I can do right now is be truthful about all that, try to remain as genuine as I can and continue to step away from what makes me uncomfortable, giving myself some distance from the things that make me unhappy.

That doesn’t mean I’m disappearing (I’m still checking in on social media, streaming on Twitch and so on), nor does it mean this change or this philosophy is forever, nor does it mean that things can’t improve. But it does mean I’m changing a few things about myself, my habits and my preferences. And it does mean I have a working, temporary, if unsatisfactory answer to the question “So what now?”

It is: “We’ll see.”

---

A big thanks to my Patreon community for the links I’m adding here, post-publication.

The first is How sex censorship killed the internet we love, on Endgadget, about controlling the internet in all sorts of ways and about what might be considered explicit (apparently a condom might be explicit).

Then there’s The internet Is Rotting, from the Atlantic, about bits of the internet that are disappearing and the loss of information that comes with it, as well as information that is overwritten and altered. We are keeping less than you might think.

Finally, The web began dying in 2014, here’s how, by André Staltz, talks about the growing prominence of big corporations (all American), what their priorities are, and what online things (services) they may bring to you.

[avmisworld]

BTS when you prank them:

Kim Seokjin:

You pull the mask over your face, staring at your reflection with satisfaction. You were hideous. The rubber mask was pulled tightly over your skin, making it stuffy and hard to breathe, but the final look was worth it.

The mask was in the shape of something like a ghost goblin, an ugly brown face with green veins, sharp ears like an elf, and dark circles around the holes of the eyes. The nostrils were up like someone smeared the nose of the disgusting creature, and it had no mouth, just blood-covered lines from the bottom of the nose to the chin.

This was going to scare the hell out of your boyfriend, which was exactly what you were aiming to do. You don't know when your relationship with Kim Seokjin became waking up every day and looking under the bed to make sure there isn't a puddle of shaving cream waiting for you to step on it, but you couldn't say you didn't like it.

The prank war between the two of you escalated quickly, but you always made sure never to hurt each other in any way, the pranks never crossing the line too much, but what you were going to do today was maybe a bit more evil than usual. 

You walk out of the bathroom, taking care to not make too much noise, and peek at your boyfriend, who's sleeping soundly in your king-sized bed, one of his hands still spread over the space where you were a few minutes ago, cuddling into him. 

Seokjin is handsome even when he's asleep, with his dark hair falling over his eyes, bangs parted on his forehead, his full pink lips closed as he lets out silent puffs of air, his broad chest rising and falling steadily and his eyes closed, his eyelashes curling over his eyes. He's wearing checkered pyjamas, the top and bottom matching, and he's covered in your fluffy white blanket, the thick material reaching his chin.

Walking over to your boyfriend stealthily, you bite your lip to stop from laughing, already imagining his reaction, and reach out a hand to shake his shoulder hard, knowing that he's not a very light sleeper. 

Like you expected, Jin doesn't wake up, simply turning to his side and mumbling something under his breath before he falls into a deep slumber once again, and you roll your eyes, the lack of air in the mask starting to make you heat up, and reach your hand out again to shake the man harder, tugging off his blanket. "Jin!"

Your lover opens his eyes slowly, and you hover above him, waiting for his eyes to focus and his mind to clear up. It takes a few seconds as he yawns, stretching his arms over his head and rolling his shoulder, blinking blearily, before he finally looks at your face, his mind still working slowly until his eyes widen, almost falling out of their sockets.

Your boyfriend screams, leaping out of your bed and almost toppling over the blanket that was still tangled in his legs, his arms waving as he bolts out of the room, mouth wide open and sheer terror painted on his face.

You on the other hand, are folded on the ground, laughing uncontrollably since the moment Jin first saw you, tears springing into your eyes and you take off the rubber, still sitting on the ground, waiting for your boyfriend to come back as you gasp for air, holding your stomach.

"What the hell, Y/L/N Y/N?!"Jin screams as he enters the room, pure betrayal on his face as he looks at your hooting figure on the ground. It seemed like he made it a few steps out of the room before he understood the situation and came back, hair a mess and hands on his hips, his skin a few shades paler than usual.

"I'm sorry", you say, but you're so busy laughing it doesn't sound even slightly sincere, your face red from the lack of air and your muscles straining from being in the same position as Jin stares at you with disbelief, his own lips twitching as he tries not to laugh at the ridiculous situation.

"You're so dead for this, seriously", Jin waves his finger at you like an angry teacher, but the smile is still tugging at his lips and his face still has lines all over it from the pillow, so the glare isn't doing too much. 

You laugh, finally getting up from the fluffy white carpet, and walk over to your boyfriend, flicking his forehead lightly just to see him frown again, his pink lips jutting out in a pout. "I'd like to see you try."

Min Yoongi:

Min Yoongi was very hard to distract when he was working, you know that from a lot of personal experience. And now was one of his busiest days yet, the nearing comeback forcing him to stay locked in his workroom, writing lyrics and melodies for days in a row.

You swing your legs restlessly, scrolling through your phone and trying to pass the time, but Instagram was getting boring and so was watching Suga fancams, so when an idea pops into your head, you practically topple off the gray leather couch, a no-good smirk growing on your face.

You don't remember where you saw this prank, probably on some tik tok video, but it was a harmless, cute prank, so you didn't mind doing it to your boyfriend. The idea was passing next to Yoongi wearing different outfits each time, the weirder the better, and see if he notices. Honestly, he's so focused right now you're not even sure this will work, but you have nothing better to do anyway.

Running to Yoongi's workroom, which also happens to be your study room, you open the door quietly, slithering into the room and walking towards the bookcase, which has a bunch of your notebooks that you use to study for exams. You make sure not to say anything to your boyfriend, who's sitting with his back to the door and probably doesn't even notice you're in the room, and grab a random notebook before walking out of the room, a mischievous smile on your face.

You skip to your shared bedroom, opening the door to your walk-in closet and ruffling through the different outfits, hanging on racks or folded in piles in cabinets. You pick something rather simple for starters, a simple black overall with a cute white shirt underneath, and make your way back to Yoongi after fixing your long dark hair and putting on cute black spectacles.

You walk inside again, grabbing another thick book from the wooden shelves before swiveling around, biting your bottom lip so you won't giggle accidentally, the thrill of the prank making you unexpectedly jittery.

You do the same thing over and over again, changing to more and more absurd outfits every time, from a Hawaiian shirt you didn't even know you owned with grey sweatpants, to a unicorn onesie, and finally, your grand entrance: your prom dress from five years ago.

When you enter the workroom once again, Yoongi is still facing the computer, sketching down more lyrics, and you turn around, trying not to look disappointed that your beautiful dress was completely ignored as you return all your studying material to their places on the shelf, pouting as you do.

"Y/N", you freeze when you finally hear your boyfriend's gravely voice for the first time this day, and will yourself to look natural as you turn around, the sparkly grey material of your dress pooling around your feet. "Yeah, baby?"

"Are you doing some weird runaway or something? Because you could've just told me.", Yoongi says, eyeing your dress with nonchalance that impresses you, and you blink at him owlishly, the meaning behind his words slowly coming to view.

"You mean… you saw everything?", You ask dumbly, mouth slightly open as Yoongi continues looking at you, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he was trying really hard not to laugh, his brown eyes twinkling with something almost mischievous.

"You mean if I saw you come in different outfits like 50 times? Yeah.", your boyfriend says, rubbing the dark circles under his eyes before looking at you again, your mouth still open like a goldfish out of water.

You were sure Yoongi didn't see you the whole time, too busy with his work to notice you, but apparently he was looking at you the whole time, watching you like he takes care of you, humbly and quietly. The thought makes you giddy inside, and you look down, smiling with happiness even though your prank was technically a fail.

"I'm always looking at you, you know", Yoongi says gently, as if he reads your mind, and you raise your head to look at his soft eyes, his own small smile gracing his lips, and you blush, averting your eyes again before he adds teasingly. "But don't you think wearing your prom dress is a little too much?"

Jung Hoseok:

The idea came to your mind after suggesting your boyfriend that you buy a dog. Hoseok was actually into the idea, having his own puppy at his family's home and loving the furry animals, and you were looking for the right time to adopt, already discussing the breeds you'd like and the different names.

As if by some power from above, it just so happened that when you were scrolling through your Instagram earlier today, a video of a prank text between a random couple caught your eye, and you clicked on the post, your eyes widening and a gleeful giggle escaping your mouth the more you scroll to the right.

The prank was basically the girlfriend telling her boyfriend she adopted a "dog", and sending him a picture of some wild animal, like a baby coyote or something like that. The boyfriend obviously freaks out, thinking his girlfriend lost her mind, and you can definitely see you doing this to J-hope and getting a similar reaction.

So you wait for him to go to work, going as far as telling him in the morning that you're probably going to on a walk today, to avoid any suspicion, and wait till mid-afternoon, when you know he has his lunch break, to call him, making sure you let out all the laughter bubbling in your chest before you do.

"Hey, babe!", you grin when you hear Hoseok's cheerful voice, almost regretting your decision to prank this pure soul. Almost. "Hey, baby. I have good news!", you respond.

You hear a door closing, probably Hoseok exiting the practice room, and then it's a lot quieter, your boyfriend's voice clearer when he speaks once again, sounding curious. "What's up?"

"Well…", you start slowly, making sure to sound excited and happy, while being completely oblivious. "You know how we've been wanting to adopt a puppy?", you ask, hearing J-hope hum in agreement on the other side of the line. 

"Well, I was going for a walk and I saw a stray, and he was too pretty not to bring back home, so…", you trail off, biting your lip in anticipation when the line goes silent, J-hope obviously trying to process the information that you just brought a dog from the street to your home, something that was nothing like your usual behaviour.

"Umm… that's great, babe. But are you sure he doesn't have an owner? Or that he's not carrying any diseases?", your boyfriend says carefully, and you can imagine his face right now, his dark eyebrows furrowed over his brown eyes with worry, a small pout on those cute lips and his black hair sticking to his forehead from the sweat. It's cute how much he supports every decision you make, while taking care of you at the same time.

"Don't worry, he didn't have a leash, and I'm planning to take him to the vet today, he's not even in the apartment. He was just too pretty to ignore, Hobi, seriously. Here, I'll send you a picture.", you pump your fist, satisfied with your acting skills and your smooth transition to the final and most crucial part of your prank: the picture.

You cackle silently when you send the picture of the dog-looking animal, with the grayish-brown fur, small enough to fit in your arms, pointy ears and a small face. You actually could have mistaken it for a dog, if it wasn't for the yellow eyes, replacing the naturally brown eyes domestic dogs have.

There's silence for a moment after the picture is sent, and wait in anticipation for your boyfriend to see the picture, biting your fingernails nervously. This has to work. You even photoshopped the wild animal to look like he's standing outside your apartment.

"WHAT THE HELL, Y/N!!", Hoseok's alarmed voice makes you startle in place, slightly surprised by the screams despite expecting this sort of reaction. "THAT ISN'T A DOG, ARE YOU SERIOUS!"

"What do you mean? Of course it's a dog!", you play dumb, your heart hurting a bit when you hear the panic in your boyfriend's voice, despite you wanting to laugh so hard at the same time, and you clutch the phone to your ear tightly, taking deep breaths to calm you down.

"No it's not! It's a freaking coyote!", you can hear J-hope cursing under his breath, and then he's opening another door, saying something you can't hear to somebody. "I'm on my way. Don't get out of the apartment."

"Wait, stop!", you wince, regretting not taking your boyfriend's protective nature in consideration when you did this prank. Of course Hoseok will leave the company to make sure you're safe. "It was a prank."

You can literally hear the way your lover's rushed footsteps halt to a stop with a screech, and then it's silent again, before the line is filled with a deep sigh of relief. "Oh, thank God."

"Sorry, Hobi.", you say with a smile, despite your boyfriend not being able to see your face. "Don't worry, I'm not going to adopt a coyote without you.", you promise teasingly, and J-hope laughs breathlessly, clearly still caught in the prank, the information only now starting to sink in.

"You're unbelievable, seriously.", your boyfriend mutters, his tone now turning annoyed after the relief fades away. "Don't you know yet that you can't do these things to me? You're so mean."

Kim Namjoon:

"Good morning, babe", you say through a long yawn, stumbling into the kitchen where Namjoon is already sitting and reading the newspaper, waiting for you to wake up before he goes to the company.

"Good morning, love.", your boyfriend responds, lifting his head to smile up at you with those deep dimples you adore so much, his caramel hair carefully brushed away from his eyes and thick black spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose, his tanned skin shining under the sunlight streaming through the window.

He's wearing a clean white t-shirt and washed out jeans, and he looks way too good for this hour of the morning and for such a simple outfit, and you can't help but feel even uglier, stumbling into the kitchen wearing checkered pyjama pants and a lacy sleeveless white top, your dark hair tangled and unbrushed and your face is still puffy from sleep, with dark circles under your eyes from staying up all night to study for your upcoming exams.

The real reason you were up right now, was because it was April 1st, also known as your favorite day of the year, and you were positive your busy boyfriend didn't notice the date today, otherwise he wouldn't be looking so cheerful.

"You look good", you mumble as you lean down to peck your boyfriend's lips quickly, placing your hand on his shoulder and appreciating the muscle underneath your skin. "When are you coming back home today?"

"Probably after you'll fall asleep", Namjoon says sorrowfully, his eyes apologizing to you silently, and you pout even though you were expecting that type of answer. The comeback was getting closer and closer and Namjoon was working harder than ever, perfecting the choreography and cheering up the rest of the members.

"Should I make you coffee?", you ask, and your boyfriend nods gratefully, squeezing your hand gently as you turn around, heading towards the kitchen counter. 

You're still pouting when you pour the ground coffee into Namjoon's favorite mint mug, reaching your hand for the sugar when you freeze mid-way, a sudden thought coming to your mind. If Namjoon won't be here all day, it means you won't get to prank him. Not acceptable.

Peeking over your shoulder, you catch Namjoon looking down at the newspaper again, probably reading about politics or whatever, his dark eyebrows furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line like he always does when he's focused. 

Thinking quickly, you put the sugar back in place and grab the salt instead, opening the glass lid and pouring in the mug a nice teaspoon of the small white grains, mixing it up before adding a dose of hot water and a little milk, just like your boyfriend likes it.

"Here you go", you hand Namjoon the coffee and sit down beside him, taking a sip of your own blue mug slowly, a small smile curving around the lid of it as you try your best not to look suspicious. "Thanks, honey".

You're not surprised at all when your boyfriend takes a very big sip of coffee, his mouth immediately spitting out the brown liquid, eyes squinting and eyebrows furrowing in disgust, and he gags, pushing the prank coffee away while you laugh, putting down your own hot beverage on the round table so you won't spill it from how hard you're shaking.

"Oh my God, your face", you wheeze and Namjoon frowns, looking almost baby-like when he stares at you with a betrayed expression. "Why did you do that?", he whines, using a napkin to wipe his tongue and you take mercy on him, passing him a cup of water you organized beforehand.

"April fools!", you say with a grin, watching as Namjoon's face fills with understanding and he groans defeatedly, obviously cursing his own bad memory. "I should've known."

"Sorry, I couldn't let you go away for the whole day without pranking you", you say with a sweet smile, and Namjoon sighs, looking so done with you it was actually adorable, so you lean forward to leave another apologizing peck on his lips, the fondness in your boyfriend's eyes evident when you pull back with a bright smile. "I'll make you a new coffee."

Park Jimin:

You didn't get to spend much time with Jimin lately, and it was very hard for you, considering the fact that you were used to the older's undivided attention and affection.

BTS' comeback was nearing, which meant Jimin was getting farther away, coming back home only a few times a week at the late hours of the night, his eyes sporting dark circles and limbs heavy, collapsing on the bed with you in his arms and leaving a tired peck on your lips before he was fast asleep, not able to keep himself awake for another second.

Luckily, today was the day Jimin promised to come home early enough to eat dinner with you, working even harder the whole week just so he could take this short break, and you couldn't wait to finally see him, hug him tightly and kiss him properly for the first time in what feels like forever.

When the door to your apartment opens, your boyfriend walking through the door wearing a gray hoodie and black sweatpants, his blonde hair tied into a cute ponytail and a huge smile on his face, eye squinted from the force of it, you sprint towards him without hesitation, leaping into his arms, and he catches you effortlessly, swinging you around like the couple's do in the cheesy dramas.

You giggle, burying your face in the warm skin of his neck, and he laughs as well, holding you tightly to his chest and lowering you to the ground slowly, until you're face to face, noses brushing with the biggest grins on your faces.

"I need to talk to you", you whisper, hands still buried in Jimin's soft hair, and you want to tell him so bad about how much you missed his comforting touch and his angel-like voice and his pretty face. Face timing just wasn't enough.

To your surprise, Jimin seems to become serious, his dark eyebrows furrowing and his eyes turning slightly panicked. "About what?", he asks carefully, and you open your mouth to ask why he seems so nervous, when an idea forms in your head, and you look down, unwrapping your arms from your boyfriend and avoiding his eyes, as if you were feeling uncomfortable, ignoring the voice in your head telling you to hug your goddamn boyfriend and never let him go again.

"We should probably sit down", you say softly, motioning to the purple sofa in your living room, and you turn around before Jimin can see the smile threatening to grow on your face, breathing out in relief when you hear his footsteps behind you.

You make sure to leave a noticeable distance between the two of you when you sit down, and Jimin seems really worried now, grabbing your hand gently in his, and even for the sake of the prank, you can't get yourself to pull away from the warm touch. "Is everything okay?"

"Actually…", you inhale through your nose sharply, secretly admiring your acting skills as you look down to your lap. "I've been thinking for a while now… And I just feel like I should be honest with you."

"Y/N, you're freaking me out.", Jimin says more desperately now, squeezing your hand in his as if he's afraid you'll run away, and you know you can't keep doing this, not when Jimin's looking at you with scared brown eyes, his whole body tense like a ruler. 

"I've missed you so much", you finish with a smile, and Jimin blinks at you, his brain slowly processing the sentence while you bite your lip to stop from laughing, waiting for your lover to understand the situation fully. 

"You pranked me?", Jimin says unsurely, and there's blatant relief in his eyes when you nod, his whole body sagging against the couch as he closes his eyes, leaning his head back on the soft cushions. "You freaked me out for a second."

You laugh, but there's something bugging you, so you climb onto your boyfriend's lap carefully, his eyes opening when you straddle him, looking up at you with a hesitant smile. He was clearly hiding something.

"Why were you so scared?", you ask curiously, inspecting Jimin carefully, and the other sighs, his hands coming to rub your waist gently, a soft blush painting his cheeks from the embarrassment.

"I was just worried… that maybe this relationship was too hard for you, with me not being home for a while now…", he starts quietly, avoiding your eyes, and panic and regret immediately fill your chest, and you lean down to kiss him, cutting off the horrible thoughts coming out of his mouth. 

"Never", you promise when you detach from him, your voice firm even though your hands are shaking and there are tears threatening to fall at the thought of ever leaving this amazing man, who's looking at you right now with so much love it makes you melt. "You're stuck with me forever, Park Jimin."

Kim Taehyung:

One of the many things you love about Kim Taehyung is the fact that he's never taken you for granted. He always took care of you, even though he's a worldwide idol with a shit ton of money and a face that could get any girl on her knees. 

Even when it came to the simplest things, if it was chores in the house like washing the dishes or folding the laundry, Taehyung always made sure to help you, making even the most annoying duties a fun experience.

Today was going to be even more enjoyable, because you're planning to make Taehyung regret splashing you with cold water in the shower yesterday. Your plan was simple, but perfect, the best way to get your boyfriend without putting in too much effort.

"I'll dry, you wash?", you suggest nonchalantly, getting up from Taehyung's lap with a peck to his cheek, the white plates the two of you were eating from now empty, the only sign that food was there was the smears of red sauce from the beef you made.

Your boyfriend hums in agreement, getting up from the chair as you pick up the silverware and the plates, heading towards your small kitchen with careful steps, making sure not to drop anything.

You smirk when Taehyung walks towards the kitchen sink, the memory of you tying a rubber band tightly around the spray nozzle entering your mind. When your oblivious boyfriend will turn on the faucet, he'll get a nice, cold spray straight in his handsome face.

Just like you expected, Taehyung starts the water, cursing in surprise when a fountain of water hits his face just right, and you cackle when your lover blindly reaches for the sink, desperately trying to shut off the consistent waterfall.

You lean against the gray marble counter, not even caring about the puddles covering the parquet floor of your kitchen, and wipe the tears from your eyes when Taehyung finally lifts his head to meet your mischief-filled eyes.

His black curls are sticking to his forehead wetly, drops of water dripping down his tanned skin, and his dark blue silk pyjama set is soaked from the top to the bottom, matching the darkness in his eyes.

You gulp, suddenly feeling a bit scared at the intimidating look in your boyfriend's eyes. "Why are you looking at me like that?", you ask, your grip on the counter tightening when Taehyung inches towards you slowly.

Taehyung smiles sweetly at you, but something still doesn't feel right, your eyes squinting suspiciously when he shrugs carelessly. "Nothing. I was just thinking about how much I want to hug my beautiful girlfriend."

Your eyes widen at the sound of Taehyung's sentence, and you shriek when he lunges at you, sprinting out of the kitchen like your life depends on it. "You'll never catch me alive! I just came out of the shower!"

Jeon Jungkook:

It was your thing to go on random dates together, and today was no exception. You cross your legs on the purple beach towel you are sitting on, sticking another watermelon cube in your mouth before turning to Jungkook, who's chewing on a grape, bunny pout on full display and eyes squinted to avoid the sun.

Jungkook is shirtless, which is a good enough reason to come to the beach on its own, his defined abs and pecs dripping with ocean water, wet black hair falling over his dark eyes in cute curls, thick tanned thighs covered in black swim-shorts, his naked legs brushing yours as you eat from the plastic container, occasionally feeding each other.

You've spent a good part of your time here in the water, splashing at each other, Jungkook lifting you up as you screech, clinging to him tightly, but he throws you off easily, your noodle arms no competition to your boyfriend's buff biceps.

Now, the two of you were taking some time to tan after you got tired from swimming and playing around, eating the snacks and fruits you brought with you and listening to music, Jungkook rubbing on you sunscreen carefully, maybe even a little too carefully, his large hands sliding over your back and shoulders, and you return the favor just as eagerly, shamelessly feeling up your boyfriend's strong body.

"I'm going to the bathroom, I'll be back in a sec.", Jungkook says, pecking your lips gently before standing up and throwing a black t-shirt over his now-dry chest, the covered skin making you pout slightly. "'Kay."

You watch as your boyfriend disappears into the small building, stretching your tanned legs and admiring the way the bikini Jungkook chose you when you went shopping, bright yellow and somewhat cute, with the strapless top and high waisted bottoms, fits the tone of your skin perfectly. Of course Jungkook was great at choosing bikinis, just another talent to add to the respectful list he already has.

You're slightly bored without Jungkook beside you, so you let your gaze wander to the older's white beach towel, lying beside your own, when a hilarious idea pops in your mind. This will be a nice revenge for Jungkook dunking you in the water multiple times today.

You get up quickly, not wasting any time as you start to dig a hole in the sand, ignoring the crazy looks you're probably getting from passer-bys, digging as fast as you can before Jungkook will return.

You're panting by the time there's a rather large hole in the sand, big enough for a grown man to sit inside, and you smile gleefully, covering your masterpiece with Jungkook's beach towel before lying back down on your own and putting on your gold sunglasses for an extra effect, waiting for your lover to return.

"I'm back", you flip to your stomach when you see your boyfriend coming over, a soft smile on his face when he sees you, going to his spot and sitting. Or trying to sit, anyway.

You laugh when Jungkook lets out a surprised yelp, falling straight into the hole you dug up, his hands grasping the golden grains of sand uselessly to stop himself from falling and legs flailing, the useless beach towel wrapping around him as he curses, struggling to get up.

"Oh my God, your face", you snort, pointing at your boyfriend who gives up on trying to get out of your apparently deep hole, sitting instead inside the trap you set up with his hands crossed, his dark eyes fixed on you with a glare that could kill.

You're still laughing when strong arms wrap around you and you're thrown on a broad shoulder, Jungkook's arms holding you from your thighs as the ground swings dangerously underneath you, the situation only making sense when you're greeted with turquoise water underneath you, and you thrash, trying desperately to get out of Jungkook's hold. "No, not again!"

[horansqueen]

You & Me : chapter 25

A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA

Sequel to AM CONVERSATIONS

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

NOTES:

-one chapter is her pov, the next is his. -4.1k -im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it. -there WILL be smut. but not only smut. -this is a romance, comedy, smut story. -for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.

- notes: honestly i know this is a boring chapter and im sorry about it.

if you want to be on the list of blogs i notify when this is updated, just message me :)

requests! : none for this chapter im sorry! i sorta needed her to come back first and... yea. keep sending them tho!

Chapter 25 : His chapter

NIALL

She didn't answer anything. I waited for hours and she didn't dare even answer anything about the video I sent her. I wish she would have at least acknowledged it. I would have been fine with a heart emoji even if I would have preferred a comment about how much she loved and missed me. But she sent nothing and it was worse than anything she could have answered.

I kept thinking about her and Dylan and it was driving me insane. In fact, I couldn't stop thinking about her on top of him, riding him and moaning his name. It was obsessing me to the point where I just wanted to take a plane to her and bring her back home with me.

I tried calling her in the afternoon but she didn't answer and although I was trying to convince myself that she was probably sleeping, I knew that it was not late enough for her to be asleep, even with the jetlag.

I waited almost 24 hours to hear from her and when my phone rang, I realized someone was trying to facetime me. I saw her face on the screen and my heart jumped so high in my chest I thought I was about to vomit it. I almost dropped my phone on my face and stopped moving before breathing in and out for a few seconds. I finally answered and my lips curled when I saw her face. Her hair was a mess, she had dark circles under her eyes and she looked exhausted.

"Hey darling, what time is it in Italy?"

She raised her nose up and groaned low. "Fuck, did I wake you up? I'm so sorry." she apologized with a grimace. "It's four in the morning here."

"No, it's okay, it's 7 pm here." I tried to reassure her and chuckled. "Actually, I didn't sleep much last night."

She frowned and tilted her head but I hesitated to tell her how I felt. I let my eyes roam on her face for a few seconds and finally sighed. I had been worried about her and clearly, I had the right to. Of course, there was more than that. I had also been scared of what she was doing, and perhaps a bit jealous, but I didn't have to mention that.

"You're already in bed?" she asked with a small smile.

"Yea, I tried to read a bit, and watch tv, but I ended up just writing a few song lyrics." I explained with a shrug.

"Are you alright?"

"Liv, you haven't given me any news since you left. I messaged you, and I tried calling, but you didn't answer." I pointed out a bit louder. "Look, I was worried, okay."

Her traits softened and she looked at me with a guilty expression.

"I'm so sorry, Niall, you're right. I've been super busy. The auditions ended late, and we have more tomorrow and an interview. After the auditions we had a meeting that lasted like 3 hours. I'm super tired. You're right though, I should have taken a few minutes to call or at least message you. Please, forgive me."

I licked my lips and sighed low. "You're okay, that's all that matters. Did you get my video?"

This time, her face completely changed and the smile she sent me was so loving, fond and soft that I couldn't help but smile too. She pressed her lips together and all I could think about was kissing her.

"I did. I had just landed and I was at the airport still." she admitted in a low voice. "I was crying and a guard came to check on me."

She let out a short embarrassed chuckle and I smiled more, raising my eyebrows. "You cried?"

Her face became more serious but her gaze was still soft. "Yes. I love you, Niall. I love you so much. I almost took a plane back to you after seeing that. I just..." she shook her head and glanced away before looking back at me. "I wish  I could have stayed with you. I wish I could be with you right now."

"Me too." I replied with a smile as she leaned against the headboard of the bed, making me frown. "Hey, where are you right now?"

She looked around herself for a few seconds and looked back in my eyes again.

"Hotel room." she shrugged, making me frown more.

"I thought you'd be at your boyfriend's apartment." I admitted blatantly, making her face change suddenly. "Is everything okay?"

"I'm good, don't worry. He's still filming and this hotel is closer to where I have to be tomorrow." she grimaced but I could feel something was wrong. "I have to be up in six hours. I'm even lucky they let me wake up so late."

I pushed away all the thoughts and questions in my head to focus on her and the time we had together instead. Of course, I was curious, but at the same time, I was not sure I wanted to know. Her marriage and her boyfriend were touchy subjects, for me but also for her, I could feel it every time one of us would mention something, and I was not in the mood to talk about that. If she wanted to discuss anything with me, though, I knew she would.

"I don't really want to hang up." I admitted with a small smile. "When are you coming back home?"

"I tried to get a flight for tomorrow night, but I got one in the middle of the night." she explained, surprising me but making her smile grow. "I just can't wait."

I remained silent for a few seconds, wondering why she was coming back so fast instead to spend time with Dylan, but I decided not to ask. It was stupid, but I didn't want to give her the idea to stay longer, and I also didn't want her to think I didn't care that she'd spend time with him. If I wanted to be honest, I also really wanted her to come back so I just smiled more.

"I think you should drop by my place, first."

She laughed this time, closing her eyes and leaning her head on the headboard as her nose raised up. It made me chuckle to see her laugh so honestly and when her eyes fluttered open, she was smirking.

"And why exactly?"

"I don't know." I shrugged. "You could get naked and join me in bed. What time are you supposed to land?"

"Five in the morning." she explained with a sigh.

"Do you want me to pick you up?" I proposed, moving on my bed to lean on my pillows better.

"Naa, you don't want an other article about us, do you?" she pointed out, raising her nose up again. "I'll take a cab and give your address."

I wanted to tell her that articles about us didn't bother me and somehow, at that exact moment, it wouldn't have been a lie, but in general, yea, I hated paps and how they'd always write bullshit just to sell and get clicks.

"And then?"

"And then get naked and join you in bed." she replied with a smirk, using my own words. "You know, just thinking about it makes me horny." she added in a low tone. "And you being almost naked right now doesn't help."

I boomed out with laughter and a smirk appeared on my lips. It felt so natural to have that kind of discussion with her even if we had been separated for so long. I watched as her eyes dropped to my chest and shook my head.

"You're literally eyeing me right now, and you're not even trying to hide it." I pointed out, trying to keep my laughter in. "And you're wearing too much clothes for me to do the same."

"Mm, well, it's not my fault you're not wearing a shirt." she pointed out, not even looking in my eyes. "If you could just... move your phone a bit."

"Such a horny girl."

It made me think of that time when we were dating and I was gone in Asia with my cousins. It was the first and only time we had facetime sex and just thinking about it made my heart jump in my chest. I wanted to do it again, tell her what to do and when to do it, watch her touch herself and cum while she moaned my name.. but I knew she was tired and I didn't want to insist too much.

"Do you remember when-"

"Oh yea, oh yea I remember." she cut me, making me raise my eyebrows. "When you ran out of that bar and got back to that tiny disgusting and dark room just so we could masturbate together on the phone. I fucking remember, Niall. You made me start touching myself in the car."

"If I was there right now, I'd touch you and do all the job. You'd have nothing to do. I'd just make you cum and then you could fall asleep."

"Mm, I wish you would be here right now, then." she admitted with a yawn, squirming to lay down in bed as I chuckled and rolled my eyes. "Especially that you promised me your tongue and lips between my legs. Do you know how many times I thought about it? Mm, no one tongue fucks me like you."

I laughed again. "Oh god, you've got such a filthy mouth."

"Me? More like you." she laughed too, closing her eyes. "You're gonna eat me out good next time we see each other, yea?"

"I fucking promise." I guaranteed, bringing my hand to my cock and brushing it over my boxers. "I'll make you scream."

I watched her almost fall asleep and smiled a bit but after a few seconds, I felt the words escape my lips.

"Before we hang up, petal, can you show me your tits?"

Her eyes fluttered open and she let out a short but silent laugh. "You just can't help yourself, can you?" she shook her head. "I sent you a picture of my boobs already, don't you have it anymore?"

"Of course I do! It's my phone's background!" I joked, watching her face change into terror and making me laugh. "Babe relax, I'm joking! It's just even better when it's live."

"I'm ready to give you five seconds of seeing my boobs but in exchange, I want you to stay on the phone with me until I fall asleep."

My traits softened and I sent her a small smile. I would have agreed with that against nothing at all, just because I loved the fact that she felt safe with me, and because I missed her.

"Mm, okay, five seconds of seeing them, and five more while you touch them."

She chuckled and shook her head before putting her phone away. All I could see was the ceiling for a few seconds but when she put her phone back, she had taken her shirt off and was now laying under the sheets. My eyes quickly found her breasts and my lips curled slightly.

"Is it cold there?" I asked, amused.

"It is, you little fucker."

I laughed again and she finally moved her phone up, making me groan. "You promised me five more of touching them."

"I'm touching them."

"But I can't see!" I argued, making her laugh.

"You didn't specify that."

I groaned and grimaced before using puppy eyes while staring at her. Her eyes were half-closed and I knew she was going to fall asleep soon.  She chuckled and rolled her eyes and I was glad I didn't even have to beg her. She moved her phone farther and I saw her fingers rub gently against her nipples. I was about to ask her to grab her tits harder but she just did it and I let out a short curse word as I gripped the sheets of my bed.

"Fuck you make me so hard." I whispered right before she started giggling like a school girl.

"I remember before we dated, you said you were too old to get hard just by the sight of boobs." she told me. "I guess that's not true anymore, if it ever was."

"Darling, it's not just boobs. It's you, touching and grabbing your boobs, and making all these sexy little sounds, I bet you don't even realize it. Fuck yea, you make me hard. I want to tap my cock on them until it's hard enough to wreck you."

She rubbed her eyes with her free hand and whimpered low before grabbing the blankets of the bed and pulling them over her shoulders. She turned around and leaned the phone on a pillow while grabbing the other one and cuddling it.

"Mm, well, maybe you can do that when I get back." she proposed in a mumble. "You can even do that while I'm sleeping if it turns you on."

“I’ll remember that.” I chuckled and watched her lips part slightly and her eyes close. She looked peaceful but I knew that in less than a minute, she was going to be snoring. "Hey, petal." I whispered.

"Mm?"

"I'm in love with you." I added, seeing the left corner of her lips move up slightly. "Goodnight, darling."

                                                 ---

I woke up horribly early just to be sure I wouldn't miss her interview. She had sent me a link and I just stayed in bed, still half-sleep, thinking that I'd just get a few more hours of sleep when it would be over but when I saw her appear on the screen with a big smile, I felt suddenly completely awake.

I had stayed about fifteen minutes just looking at her the night before while she was sleeping and just like I thought, she had been snoring, her face all pressed on the pillow and even if it had made me smile, it was crazy how endeared I had been. If I was not sure she was the only girl I would ever want to spend my life with already, after that it was impossible to have any doubt left. Of course, I didn't need anything to convince me that we were meant to be, but these simple reminders of how much I loved her and everything she did were good and comforting.

She started answering questions about why she was in Italy, and how the auditions were going, and I couldn't help but think it felt weird to watch my best friend being interviewed on a tv show. It made me realize that it was probably how she felt the first few times she saw me on tv and it felt weird to have the roles reversed for once.

"Did you have time to visit? Or do you plan on doing it later?"

She smiled and it made me smile too. "I didn't really have time and I have a flight back home tonight, so I probably won't have time but it's so beautiful here, at least from what I was able to see from my hotel room windows or from the short drives around." she chuckled. "I will definitely come back to visit. With someone, perhaps."

I grabbed my phone and quickly sent her a text message.

'I'll bring you to Italy to visit. I'll bring you anywhere you want to go.'

I put my phone away and looked as she reached for her pocket and it made me hold my breath. She was not supposed to bring her phone but she had and even worse, it seemed like it was on vibe. I let out a chuckle and shook my head. She was never really the type to follow the rules anyway.

"A few weeks ago there were pictures of Niall Horan and you coming out of a movie theater together and all the rumors about you two dating again appeared online." the man whom's name I forgot asked as Olivia nodded. "Neither of you denied or attested the rumors but you two are talking again which is a big deal. You hadn't been seen together since your break up back in november 2016."

"Uhm, yea well, we both moved to California and we met randomly and... you know, when someone has been your best friend for two decades, it's hard to just.. couper les ponts you know, cut the ties?" she let out, raising her eyebrows. "Niall was part of my every day life, I even went on the last One Direction tour with him, so to cut him from my life du jour au lendemain... it was not easy. It was sudden, and it was tough. For both of us. So yea, we talk again."

"I noticed that you add a lot of french words and expressions when you talk and I know you're from France but you've lived in Ireland most of your life so you know all of this in english."

"Mm, yea but french comes to me very easily. I talk to my parents a lot, especially recently, so I guess I'm just mixing both languages." she admitted with a laugh. "I'm sorry, I know it's bit annoying."

"Endearing." I corrected her in a whisper even if she couldn't hear me.

"No no, not at all." the interviewer argued. "How many seasons did you plan for this show?"

She answered the questions like a champ but I was surprised that there had been no question about her wedding or her boyfriend. They normally like to get into things like that and I thought that maybe she had specified that she didn't want questions about that. However, I would think if that was the case, she would have also told them not to ask her about me and yet, they did, and she didn't seem pissed.

I didn't mind that they asked about me much and her answer was great. I had never stopped myself from mentioning my friends in interviews when people asked, I just didn't like talking about who I was dating or who my songs were about specifically. After all, when people ask questions about that, they just want to know who you're shagging, and my sex life, along with my romantic one, was no one's business.

The tv show lasted about ten more minutes and a few minutes after it ended, I heard my phone and grabbed it, smiling again when I realized that the first thing she did was answer my text.

'The truth is, Niall, that I'll follow you anywhere you want to go. Whether it's Italy, space, or that big ass couch of yours. Lead me. I'm right behind.'

                                                          ---

We spend the afternoon texting each other back and forth and I knew she would be in deep shit if anyone realized she was distracted. It was still an audition afternoon and evening for her and she had mentioned that she wouldn't be able to sleep before getting on the plane, which would mean she would most likely be exhausted when she'd get back. Sleeping on a plane was never nice or reviving, and I knew what I was talking about.

As I was waiting for her answer, I started checking online to see if there were comments about her interview or if there were new pictures of her that had appeared online. The first article that popped, however, was about her boyfriend, and I almost skipped it until I read the title. I scrolled back up and clicked on it only to see a picture of Dylan appear. He was with some girl I didn't know and they were dangerously close to each other. Of course, it was just a picture, and it wouldn't be the first time paps would fool us into believing crap. Sometimes, just the angle of the picture could make you believe things and I was hoping this picture was no exception. I stared at it for a few seconds before reading parts of the articles and grimacing. I couldn't just send that to Olivia and ruin her trip and I just decided to ignore it. Perhaps I could tell her later, when she'd be back, but I still was not sure.

I jumped when I got her reply but smiled quickly when I realized it was a selfie. She had her tongue out, her nose up in a grimace, and was literally doing the 'rock and roll' sign with her fingers. The caption said 'I'm coming home babey!' and I started laughing. I put my phone away and took a selfie as I was laying on the couch and just wrote 'I'm waiting for you' before quickly sending her.

She arrived in the middle of the night. At first, I was not sure what had woken me up and I just groaned and squirmed in bed, grabbing a pillow and pulling it close to me, my arms tight around it, but I heard an other thud and forced myself to open my eyes. It only took half a minute to see a shadow walk in my room and I stared at her as I saw her take her shirt and pants off quickly. I moved in bed to give her space and let out a short groan.

"I missed you, pet."

She moved closer and pressed her cold body against mine, my lips curling more when I realized she was completely naked and I suddenly regretted keeping my boxers on.

"How was your flight?"

"Mm, long and loveless." she complained, making me chuckle low.

I brought my lips to hers and kissed her gently before brushing them down her neck as my arm wrapped around her and pulled her closer.

"I'll give you love, angel." I whispered, running my hand on her back, feeling her soft but cold skin.

"What kind?" she just asked with a chuckle.

"Cuddles and caresses for now." I replied in a murmur. "Sweet sex in the morning."

"You know exactly what I want, at all times, don't you?" she replied just as low, making me smile as I kept my eyes closed.

She smelled good despite spending 13 hours on a plane and I wondered how it was even possible. I wanted to ask her if she had stopped at her place first or if she at least had spent some time in the bathroom to clean but I was too tired and I just kissed her shoulder before laying my head on the pillow again.

"Don't leave again, okay?." I muttered randomly. "Losing you is not an option."

She wasn't answering and with all the strength I still had, I once again forced my eyes open only to meet hers. She was sending me a small smile, her eyes also half-opened, and I smiled back slightly at her with a soft gaze.

"I'm definitely adding that to a song." I pointed out before she could answer, making her laugh.

"I'm not leaving, Niall." she just let out after a few minutes of silence. "I missed you too."

I tried to squeeze her in my arms but failed miserably. I was too tired to be strong but she seemed to appreciate the gesture. She chuckled and kissed my chin, sliding one of her legs between mine. My mind was too numb to think but I breathed in only to smell her again. My whole body was exhausted but I tried to fight slumber just to appreciate having her in my arms again, as if she had been gone for months and not just for literally two days. A bunch of things we had talked about came back to my mind and I just couldn't wait to have an other talk with her.

"You're not right behind me, Olivia." I mumbled with difficulty.

"Mm?"

"Earlier, in a text message, you said you'd follow me anywhere, that you were right behind me." I explained until I felt her fingertips brush along my spine. "You're not behind, you're right next to me. I'm holding your hand. I'm not going to lead you. We'll walk together, make decisions together, we'll take every step together, Olivia. Neither of us is leading or following. We're together."

"The dream team." she whispered before biting her bottom lip.

"The dream team. The only team that matters. You and me. Against the world." I pointed out with a smile before she repeated my words like an echo.

"You and me."

[xxisxxisxxis]

Deleted Scenes: Gateway Drug

Hey, guys! I had to postpone the update due to working tax free weekend and not having time to post it but it will he up tomorrow night before midnight!

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"Sweet Child" -- [1986] 

"Here." I hand Steven his McDonald's fries as he plops down into the chair, clapping excitedly as Axl grabs at the other bag for his burger. 

"Izzy, come eat!" Duff calls, and Izzy's soon coming in through the apartment's window. 

"Hey, Slash, when we're done eating I need you and Izzy to play that thing you were playing yesterday." Axl tells him, taking a sip of his drink, and I can see Slash's face shift to confusion as he eats a fry. 

"What?" He replies, lost. 

"That song you guys were playing?" Axl raises his brows. "That riff?" He adds, and Slash still looks lost. "Yesterday when you and Izzy and Duff were hanging out and you and Izzy started playing that weird sounding--"

"--Oh, yeah, that's not anything, man, I was just messing around." Slash shrugs and Axl looks at him. 

"...Well, I hope you remember how you played it because I've got lyrics written, now,  and it's gonna be a song." Axl tells him. 

Slash doesn't answer, keeping quiet as Izzy comes in. 

"These fucking L.A. chicks are insane." He mumbles, sitting down aggressively, unwrapping his burger, taking the top bun off of it as he says, "can someone get me some fucking mustard?" 

"If you ask nicely." I tell him and he looks at me. 

"How the hell do you 'accidentally' have a threesome?" He snaps suddenly, shoving his burger aside to stab his straw into his drink. 

"I accidentally had a threesome?" I ask him, furrowing my brows. 

"No, no, this...ugh...fuck it, nevermind." He huffs out, shaking his head, pulling his food closer to him to eat. 

"What? No, no, no." I state, shaking my head a little. "I never hear your problems, tell me what's up." I say. 

"Why do girls like to hear when we're having problems in our personal lives? Do you guys just get off on it?" Axl asks me, and I glare at him. 

"Viv's just 'Fix It Franny'." Steven shrugs. 

"I am not 'Fix It Franny'." I argue. 

"Babe, you so are. And if you can't fix it you just lash out on whoever did the damage in the first place." Steven shoots back at me with a grin. 

"No, I do not." I insist, looking at Izzy.

"I been seeing this girl or whatever and she just told me she 'accidentally' hooked up with two hot-shot big names and didn't want me to hear about it from anyone else." 

"Was one of them at least another girl?" Steven asks him and we all look at him. 

"Stevie." Duff scolds him, nudging him with his elbow before his gaze goes back to Izzy. "...Was one of them a girl?" 

"No." Izzy tells us and Axl, Slash, Duff and Stevie all groan and wrinkle their noses. 

"Ew." Steven shakes like he's got the heebiejeebies. "If you're gonna cheat at least be hot about it." He adds. 

"Thank you!" Izzy motions to him. 

"Okay, wait, what, I'm confused." I say and they look at me. "So if she would've had a threesome with another girl involved, you wouldn't be as mad?" 

"No, because that's something I wouldn't mind picturing. It's hot." Izzy informs me and the rest kind of nod in agreement. 

"So if I were to sleep with another guy, I'd be a cheating slut, but if I slept with another woman, I'd be--" 

"--My hero. Can I watch?" Steven blurts, mouth full of food.

"You're sick." I tell him. 

"You didn't answer the question." Slash says next. 

"No, you can't." I answer Steven's question and he sighs. "But seriously you don't think a girl hooking up with another girl while she's in a relationship isn't cheating?" 

They think for a moment before simultaneously saying, "nah." 

"Why not?" 

"Girl on girl is hot, Viv, we can't be mad at girls going down on each other." Steven shrugs. 

"You're pigs." I cross my arms. 

"We're simple men. We like tits, ass, and pussy--the more the merrier." Axl tells me and I roll my eyes while Duff chuckles at my reaction.

After lunch Slash and Izzy grab their guitars and sit in the floor while they fumble for a minute to recall what they were playing yesterday afternoon, while Axl digs through his notepad to find the lyrics. 

When he finds them and sits down on the ratty chair arm, Duff picks up his bass and joins Izzy and Slash on the floor as Slash starts into a riff that's up-tempo but has a completely different feel to it than any of their other songs. 

It reminds me of a merry-go-round the way it loops back to it's initial start before going again, but it's not boring by any means, it's just peaceful, almost. 

I see the gears in Axl's mind turning as Duff gives a shot at backing Slash, a few chords being tested out.

I just sit on the couch, knees tucked under my chin, watching them work their magic without even trying.

There's not a single theory or formula to the art of making a Guns N' Roses song. They would just shoot off like firecrackers anytime one of them had an idea or a new suggestion for a song, and the others would just fall into it with ease. Slash wasn't trying to create anything, he was just screwing around on his guitar and Axl took it and ran with it.

"She'll like it." I say to the redheaded singer as he comes to grab a beer from the fridge while the guys continue to talk in the living room, throwing their ideas to each other. 

"What?" He asks me and I raise a brow and wave his notepad with the first half of lyrics written on it for the new song.

"Tansy. She'll like the song." I reply, rubbing my lips together. 

"Okay. So?" He asks next with a shrug and I scoff. 

"It's about Tansy, Axl, I know it is." 

"You don't know shit." He opens his beer. 

"You don't care about any other girl enough to write a song like this for her." I state. "Besides, Tansy's the only girl you know with sky-blue eyes." I add. 

He doesn't say anything, shaking me off, taking a sip of his drink, and I let out a breath. 

"You can't just tell her how you feel?" I suggest. 

"She's the pageant queen, cheerleading, model-type, Vivian, girls like her ran guys like me into the fucking ground in high school, okay? I'm not fucking getting in to all that." He tells me.

"I don't think you're giving her enough credit. She's been dangling by a thread ever since Sparkie came into the picture and it's because he's like a never ending drug supply." I explain. "She needs a good guy." 

"You think I'm a good guy?" He chuckles, humorlessly. 

"I think you love the hell out of her and you're doing everything to prove it except actually telling her...and you should tell her. She thinks the world of you." 

"The song could be about anybody." He retorts. 

"It could be--but it's not." 

[tommynikkivincemick]

three way call — part 9

Summary: Tommy Lee and Nikki Sixx find themselves in the frustrating predicament of being infatuated with the same woman. This calls for a competition.

Author’s note: What’s up fuckers, it’s been a minute! Sorry for the long hiatus, but shit’s been fucked! But now I’m back and will hopefully be writing more. This will probably be the last chapter of three way call, but I’ll totally write an epilogue if y’all would like one. Also sorry if I forgot anyone on the tag list, I haven’t been keeping up with requests very well. Sincerest apologies. Enjoy.

Warnings: Language, alcohol, mild violence, the usual.

Over the following weeks, Tommy, Y/N, and Nikki became inseparable and the Terror Twins became the Terror Triplets. The trio would constantly be touching, kissing, cuddling, sitting on top of each other, or excusing themselves to go have sex. They knew how each other member of the throuple liked their coffee and what kind of cigarettes they smoked, how they tossed and turned in bed, their preferred brands of beer, and what toppings they liked on their pizza. Y/N knew that Nikki didn’t think Crown Royal was worth the money as far as whiskeys went and that Tommy preferred sativa over indica because it didn’t make him feel as hazy. Nikki knew that Tommy didn’t like cheap vodka when doing shots because he’d thrown it up so many times before and he knew that when Y/N made the coffee, it somehow tasted better despite being made the exact same way by everybody. Tommy knew that Y/N only used Sally Hansen nail polish and owned every shade of red ever made, or so it seemed, and that Nikki only burned dragon’s blood incense, only from this weird little hole in the wall shop downtown.

To Vince and Mick, the closeness was nauseating. Vince was tired of fourth wheeling in his own home and tired of being kept up all night and some of the morning by “Oh Tommy, oh Nikki, oh Y/N,” and the pounding of the headboard on the wall. The most blissful times were when Y/N was at work or the trio decided to spend the night at her apartment instead. However, when Y/N was away, the boys had begun to play, testing boundaries romantically and in the bedroom at all hours of the day. Even band practice has changed; Nikki with his perfectionist tendencies harped on Vince and Mick as usual but suddenly everything Tommy did was perfect. In Tommy’s eyes everything should be dialed back a bit, unless it was his drumming or Nikki’s bass.

“I’m so sick to death of those three,” Mick said one day while the Twins were visiting their third at work.

“Oh, shut up, you don’t even live with them! They’re so far up each other’s asses, you can’t even tell where one ends and the others begin at this point,” Vince bitched.

“Don’t get me wrong, Y/N is great, and I’m glad they’re all happy, but when it affects the band is when I draw the line.”

“I know! Nikki and Tommy have been skipping practices and they’re god damned lucky all of our gigs have gone smoothly. I mean, hell; Sixx is supposed to be the leader of this band and who was it that had to call back that Zutaut guy about scheduling a meeting with those record exec guys? Fucking me! I mean, we call Nikki the leader, we call Y/N our manager, and Tommy’s the second in command, so they need to start fucking acting like it if we’re gonna score this record deal.”

“Should we break them up?” Mick asked, a devious sparkle in his eye.

“Absolutely not. Good material has been flowing from Nikki like fucking water; have you read the lyrics for new piece? ‘Looks That Kill’, or whatever? It’s bitchin’, and I don’t even care that it’s about Y/N. He told me what he wants for the instrumentals and it’s gonna be awesome, the whole next album will be.” Vince gushed.

“They’ll tire themselves out eventually,” Mick sighed, “Until then, we suffer, and also tell them to get their shit together.”

Meanwhile at the record store, Y/N swore she was about to throw her lovers out of the store.

“When’s your lunch break?”

“When does your shift end?”

“We miss you!”

“Just close the store for a little while, we won’t tell...”

“Yeah, come on, baby, live a little!”

She loved Tommy and Nikki— really she did— but today they were making her want to tear her fucking hair out. The Twins were especially needy today and it seemed like their whining and pleading wouldn’t ever stop.

“Guys, you’re gonna get me fired, stop it!” She hissed, slapping Tommy’s hand off of her ass.

“Your boss is never even here! Nine times out of ten, you’re the only one working in here,” Nikki reminded, taking another cherry sucker from the bowl on the counter, and watching as Tommy slid behind her again.

“Yeah, but there’s customers here and sometimes the owner’s son comes by to check in and... and...” Her eyelids fluttered and her train of thought went off the tracks as Tommy began kissing her neck and nibbling her earlobe to distract her, “Tommy! I’m gonna slap you in the face if you don’t stop it!”

“But don’t you like it?” He whispered.

“I love it, that’s the problem. You two go home and I’ll see you in an hour for lunch, yeah? I’ll even call in sick for the rest of the day and have what’s-her-name cover for me.”

“Fine,” Nikki pouted, “You promise?”

“I promise, lover,” She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him gently, “But I promise nothing if you two don’t get out and let me get some work done.”

“C’mon, Sixx,” Tommy huffed and leaned down to give Y/N a kiss on the cheek, “See ya later, sweet thing.”

“Later, babes,” She smiled and waved goodbye as they left at last.

She sighed a sigh of deep relief and sank into her chair that sat behind the register. Finally she could take a breather and get some work done. Then the phone rang.

“Mötley residence, Mick speaking, can I please speak to Y/N?”

“Black Cat Records, Y/N speaking, what’s up, man?” She greeted.

“Are the boys still there?”

“Nope, just left. Why, did you need something?”

“No, no. They’ll be home soon enough, I’m sure. We’re having a band meeting later, though, and you need to be there, too.”

“Yeah, got it. Good news or bad news?”

“Little of both. Well, little bad, lot of good.”

“Okay, I’ll be off in a little under two hours and I told the boys I’d call in for the rest of the afternoon. See ya later, Mars man.”

“See ya later, Terror Triplet.”

She chuckled at the name and hung up. As she stuck price labels on a new shipment of records, she wondered what the news could be. The rest of the morning drug on slowly with few customers and boring music on the radio. No Mötley Crüe, that’s for sure. Finally, it was time for the lunch break. Y/N made a quick call before she left.

“Hey, Sylvia? Can you cover me this afternoon? Yeah, yeah, band stuff, you know. Yeah, I’ll tell the boys you said hello. Thanks, hun, I owe you one.”

She was lucky her coworker picked up and was even luckier she agreed to cover her. Even though her boys annoyed her, she still couldn’t wait to go home to them. Y/N was also anxious about Mick’s news. There was so much on her mind that she couldn’t even pay attention to the Blondie song that was on the radio as she drove to the Mötley residence. She climbed through the window of the apartment to find all of the boys laying around the living room in various states of undress.

“Why are you all half naked?” She snickered.

“It’s hot as balls, babe. Our AC broke, I think,” Tommy whined.

“Did you hit it?”

“A little,” Vince sighed, “It didn’t help.”

Y/N hummed to herself and went to the other window, kicking the air conditioning unit as hard as she could, to no avail.

“Damn, that usually works. Oh well, is there cold drinks in the fridge?”

“Yeah, Vinnie went grocery shopping today. We got beer, Diet Coke, bitchy wine cooler things, and some other shit,” Nikki replied, fanning himself with a random piece of sheet music.

She kicked off her shoes and shirt and grabbed a Coke from the fridge, sitting on the floor between Nikki’s legs and leaning her head on his thigh.

“Why are you wearing these leather pants, babe? Aren’t they hot?”

“Fashion before function, sweetheart,” The bassist shrugged.

“So Mick,” Tommy piped up, “What’s your big news?”

The guitarist sat up in his chair, and cleared his throat.

“Good news first. Do you guys remember that Zutaut kid?”

“Dorky rugby shirt?” Tommy asked.

“Yeah, that’s the one. He talked it over with Electra and called today saying they want to sign us as soon as possible.”

The boys and Y/N erupted in a chorus of whoops and hell-yeahs.

“So what’s the bad news? I don’t think anything can sting after that,” Nikki grinned.

Vince shifted uncomfortably before addressing the rhythm section and their lady love.

“Nikki, Tommy, Y/N, let me start by saying we love that you guys are happy together. But me and Mick feel that you’re letting this relationship consume you a little too much. Nikki, you’ve been letting Tommy get away with murder during practices. Tommy, you’re going soft with Sixx and Y/N, man. And Y/N, you’re our manager, but you’ve been devoting more of your time to the guys than the band as a whole. You should have been the one to talk to Electra and tell us we’re getting signed, you know? But we’ve been having to pick up the slack and that sucks.”

The trio nodded guiltily. They knew their priorities were a bit skewed as of late. Y/N had been meaning to call Electra for days, Tommy had been slacking and not taking his position as second in command seriously, and Nikki was too in love to whip Tommy into shape again. It wasn’t fair to Mick and Vince, and they knew that.

“Yeah, I mean us being together makes us happy, but maybe we should’ve considered if it would be good for the band,” Tommy sighed.

“Maybe taking a break would be the best thing for the band,” Y/N mused, words soaked in sorrow.

“Hey, no! You don’t have to take a break from each other, just even out your priorities a little more, you know?” Mick offered, “Tommy still acts like a ten year old but has more grown up moments since you guys started this. Nikki broods less and the creative juices really seem to be flowing. And you seem really content, and me and Vince don’t want to take that from you. You just needed to be straightened out. It’s cool, just focus on the band more, okay?”

The three nodded and sighed in relief. Y/N excused herself to go lie down because it had been a long day, and Nikki followed. Tommy would have, but insisted that Nikki’s bedroom was too stuffy for the Los Angeles heat with no air conditioner. The bassist opened the window in his bedroom to allow for some air flow as the manager removed her shirt and pants to lie down on the dark sheets.

“Were you serious when you talked about us taking a break?” Nikki asked, sitting on the floor beside the bed.

“Only half. If it would be better for the band, I think we could all agree on it. But it would kill me not to be with you and T-Bone anymore,” She whispered.

“Yeah, I get it. I don’t think I could go back to not being with you two dumbasses,” He cracked a smirk, “The bed’s too big without a couple extra warm bodies next to me.”

“I bet you’d write some killer breakup songs, though. Everybody loves a heartbreak,” She joked, fanning herself with a magazine from the table.

“I wouldn’t love this heartbreak,” Nikki sighed, leaning his head on the mattress, inches away from hers.

She took the memo and kissed him deeply before the sounds of chaos erupted from the living room.

“Damn it, Tommy! Don’t drink all the beer!” Vince whined, “Grab another one and I’ll... I’ll shoot you with a staple gun!”

“Did you leave your bag out there?” Nikki whispered.

“Mhm,” Y/N hummed.

“Is your staple gun from the store in it?”

“Mhm, wh—“

There was a metallic pop, followed by shouting.

“FUCK, BLONDIE! YOU MISSED MY EYE BY AN INCH!” Tommy shrieked.

“HALF AN INCH!” Vince yelled back.

“Oh, fuck,” The couple in the bedroom sighed in unison, before going out to join back in the chaos.

Tag list: @jayprettymuchomw @kayladurin @crazysaladchopshop @iamtiber-andtiberismusic @loveofmyloif @saints-of-the-universe @tommyfuckinlee @oh-well1 @cranberribread @princesadeltoro @prostidudes-for-justice @miriampraez @tarahell @n-osebleed @valentines-in-london @bohemian-war @cuntlord0606 @holding-on-to-my-youth @abbysdogcollar @deacontaylormercurymay @fuckyeah-motleycrue

[a-sweet-violent-urge]

Michael Jackson

Yeah, I know, I know what state the world is in right now but trust me, this post has been a long time coming. I just never got around to write it. And I’m sitting down to do it now because I’ve been locked at home for a week so I guess it’s now or never. 

One look at my blog will tell you that I very rarely post personal stuff on here. I just reblog things and sometimes express opinions about my fav shows but that’s it. But I’m gonna get personal now.

I guess now’s the time to point out that I’m also not the most eloquent person around so to anyone reading, this might seem a bit all over the place, you’ve been warned. 

The last few months have been really hard for me and my family. My father died last December. I still can’t wrap my head around it. I was used to not having him around at home, he was always working, you know, to bring money home, and now.. I ... I think of him as not home, not gone. Don’t know if that makes sense. You’re probably wondering what does this have to do with Michael Jackson? I’ll get to that, be patient with me. 

Anyone who really knows me, and to be honest this is not a lot of people, I’m introverted, knows that listening to music is how I deal with things. I remember being a senior in high school, we were doing a speaking exercise in my English class, and my teacher asked us what influenced us the most in life, like, what helped shape our view on life and the world.  When it was my turn to answer, I said that it was music and the artists I listened to. The rest of the group (I’m saying group not class for a reason, but I don’t want to go into that much detail) probably thought it was weird, they talked about their friends and family. But this was the truth for me. It still is. The music I listen to (along with the books I read) is what has influenced me the most in life, it’s what made me the person I am today. This is the reason why I’ve always hated talking about music, my favorite music has always been something very personal to me. I’ve always hated the question who’s your favorite artist. People would think it’s an easy one to answer but it’s not, not to me

This is where I start to talk about Michael. He was one of those artists (who influenced me) but I only realize that now, in retrospect. Actually, around the time I answered that question, the artists I meant were 30STM, or Linkin Park, MCR or whatever the hell I listened to back then. 

I think the first time I listened to MJ intentionally was sadly after he died. I was born in September 1994, so I was not 15 yet. Up until that point, MJ was just a name in my head. I knew he was a singer, I knew what he looked like (’cause who didn’t or doesn’t), I know what he was very famous (though I had no idea why), I had heard songs, of course, though I didn’t really realize they were MJ songs. And despite all of that, me not knowing basically anything about him, I remember how hard his death hit me. I don’t know why. I felt like my fav artist had died, I felt like I had lost someone. To this day I can’t explain to myself why. I remember in what room I was when I heard the news. I watched the memorial and cried my eyes out. 

After that, I decided to listen to his music. I listened to a lot of it and for a month or two, (or probably more, I don’t really remember) I listened mostly to him. I learnt more and more things about him. Like, about his philanthropic work, about the allegations (I’ll talk about that later), actually I remember being like 10 and watching the trial being covered on the news here. Songs like The way you make me feel, Dirty Diana, Give into me quickly became my favorites. But I remember the first times I heard Man in the Mirror, Earth song, Heal the Word, We are the World. And especially Man in the Mirror. The lyrics If you wanna make the world a better place, take a look at yourself and then make a change had become like my motto in life and I didn’t even realise it until the past few months. I realized that often when I had to make a choice about something, those lyrics would pop up in my head. When I saw or read something about the environmental problems that we’re facing, Earth song ended up popping in my head. Yeah, MJ had helped shape my view on certain things and I didn’t even know then.

After my 2009 MJ phase, I hardly ever listened to him. I would listen to some songs from time to time when the mood struck me, but that was it. 

Fast forward to October/November 2019. I was on YT and I ended up listening to some MJ songs., it was one of those times when the mood struck me, and I was going through the comment section (as I always do) while listening, and I noticed people commenting about .. a certain documentary. I don’t even want to say its name. So I was like what the fuck has happened and I looked it up. My initial reaction was seriously, this again?

Ok, I’ll go back to 2009 for a bit. When I got into MJ 11 years ago, as I mentioned earlier, I read about the allegations, I remembered even seeing it on the news as I said. But he was found not guilty. It was good enough for me. I didn’t think much about it. I didn’t care much about it. Plus he had just died. Nobody had one bad word to say about him. Ironic, huh? Also, I couldn’t do research even if I wanted to. I was young, I didn’t really speak English that well, and honestly, in the last few months I realized that when it comes to Michael Jackson, the truth is buried under so many false stories and dare I say, blatant lies, that you need an excavator to dig it out. I’m putting this in bold, in case a none MJ fan reads this, if you want to find the truth, know what you’re getting yourself into. Anyway, I couldn’t even fully appreciate some songs, because you need context to fully understand them, and I didn’t have that context then. 

Fast forward to 2019 again. So I found out about you-know-what and I started reading about it and watching videos, educating myself on the matter. In other words, I had gone down the rabbit hole. But it was not just that what sparked my interest in Michael. I noticed something. Something many people were writing in the comment section of different. Michael was an angel. Michael is/was love. What would have Michael done (about whatever) if he was alive? I was like what?! Look, I have spend my life fangirling over different celebrities and I had never seen people saying things like that. And this was the moment, I asked myself the question, why was this person so famous and so loved by so many people from all over the world? Why HIM? Yes, he was immensely talented but that applies to a lot of artists. So why Michael? Now I know why. If you’re a fan reading this, you know why, too. If you’re not, go figure it out on your own. 

It’s funny how a movie filled with not even clever lies, made so Michael’s name could one more time be run through the dirt, made me his fan (ugh, I hate that word, I almost feel like it has a negative connotation nowadays). Made me more than just a fan. If you remember, I started this post by saying that my father passed away in December. It all happened very fast, in less then 3 months, he wasn’t sick and then he was, and then, before we even knew it, he was gone. I was in the room when he died. So you see in what period of my life Michael’s music entered my life again. In a period when I needed a little light, something to keep the faith. In those months (and even now, more than 3 months later) Michael’s art was my lifeline. Keep the faith, Gone too soon, Had enough, Will you be there, Little Susie and so on. 

Here are some lyrics that really hit me hard

The feeling of terror she felt as a youth Has turned from a fantasy into the truth (Scared of the moon)

I drowned my pain in his music. His love, his kindness and generosity reminded me of my purpose in life. I won’t go into details about what I experienced because this already got more personal than I’m comfortable with. Plus, my vocabulary is not good enough to do it justice. I’ll finish with this. I’m in complete awe of him and the things he did. Like, yesterday I found out he made a song about sign language. Seeing voices. 

So, that’s my MJ story. I hope it’s comprehensible, you don’t know how hard it was for me to put this into a somewhat coherent narrative. But I really needed to get it off my chest. I probably missed some things that I wanted to say, if I think of something more, I’ll add an edit.

By the way, as you can see, I’m new to the MJ community and I’d love to make some friends, so feel free to message me. 

[purplesurveys]

1005

Do you live with your parents?  Yup. Will probably continue to do so for a while, but that’s the norm here. We don’t really move out by the time we turn 18.

Are there any embarrassing school pictures of you anywhere in your house? Not necessarily here in the house, but I have embarrassing middle school photos floating around the internet for sure. And maybe from high school, too.

Can you do a backflip, or anything else of that sort? Not at all. I liked to try doing handstands as a child but nearly broke an arm at one point, so I wouldn’t fare well with a backflip.

What moment in your life have you been most scared? A few men have lunged at me while I was simply walking in public at night. I always have this grand vision of me slapping a guy or kicking his balls or spitting on his face if one decides to act stupid or harass-y around me, but... you’re never really prepared for when it actually happens. I’ve frozen up in terror every time, unable to defend myself. 

Do you have any exes you can't stand anymore? I can’t stand how she handled things, but I’m not capable of hating her.

What happened to cause you to feel that way about them? I don’t feel like getting into the details, sorry. Everything still sucks.

Do you ever make your own surveys, or just take them? I take them. The few questions I manage to come up with have usually already been thought of, so I just like subscribing to survey-makers who are able to come up with new and interesting questions.

What would your parents do if you told them you were pregnant right now? They’d be sorely disappointed and I’m expecting to be heavily interrogated as well. Suffice it to say I’d be unwelcome at home in an instant.

Have you ever actually thought you were pregnant? No.

Were you? I’ve never been pregnant.

Are you more of a phone or a computer person? I’m on my phone for entertainment purposes, and my laptop is for work. I’d say I’m able to strike a good balance with both.

Do you like to cook, or do you prefer when other people cook for you? Well I haven’t learned how to cook well yet, so I don’t really have a choice.

How old do you think you'll be when you move out on your own? Mid- to late 20s, I hope.

Do you have a job? If so, where do you work? If not, do you want one? Currently, I’m an intern at a public relations agency but yes, I’m actively looking for full-time gigs too. I love my work though.

Have you ever ripped your pants in public? I don’t think so.

Do movies such as 'Saw' and 'The Grudge' scare you easily? Sure, but not as much as other horror flicks. It’s the psychological, slow burn ones that really get to me, like Midsommar.

Who do you talk to the most on MSN? I don’t have that.

How many best friends do you have? What are their names? I know I have at least one best friend, Angela. I’m too scared to ask if Gab still considers me as one. How sad is that?

What's the craziest thing you've ever been dared to do? I don’t like dares.

Did you do it?

Do you know anybody who has a birthday today? Hmm November 1...I don’t think so. The only birthday coming to mind is my cousin’s, but that’s not until the 3rd.

When is your birthday? How old will you be? April 21. On my next one, I’ll be 23.

Do you change the radio stations repeatedly in the car? If all the stations seem to be have meh playlists going on, then yes I change it around a lot.

Can you drive? Sure.

Have you ever thought someone was talking to you, but it turned out they were on the phone? Did you play it off? I can’t remember any specific instance at the moment but I’m not ruling it out. What I’ve definitely done is to wave at someone who wasn’t even waving at me.

Do you feel bad for homeless people? Yes, unless they got in that position by being an asshole. But I generally don’t come across that type of situation; and for the overwhelming majority of the time I do feel bad and helpless seeing homeless people, especially homeless kids.

What do you consider to be a good grade? 95 and above (for grade/high school) or 1.00/1.25 (for college).

What do you consider to be a bad grade? 85 and below or 2.00 and above.

Have you ever had a teacher who hated you? So many from my old school did. They were grown adults being pissy with a 12 year old; I will never understand that. They got away with it before but times have changed now, and I’m glad it’s for the better.

Can you remember who your grade 5 teacher was? Did you like them? Yeah. She was just fine, but I remember her having a bit of a temper. She’s mostly forgettable though and doesn’t rank in my favorites.

What's your favourite TV show? Breaking Bad.

In your opinion, who is the best looking celebrity out there at the moment? I’m incredibly out of the loop these days, so I’ll just go with my own biases: Kristen Stewart and Kate Winslet.

Do you like peanut butter cookies? Sure do. I do think there are better snacks that peanut butter can be incorporated in, but I wouldn’t turn down peanut butter cookies.

Do you know anybody that has severe allergies? Yeah, Angela with alcohol and Kate with eggs, fried chicken, and seafood. We feel particularly bad for Kate; those three things are all awesome :’(

Do you have an iPod? How many songs are on it? At the peak of my usage I probably had around 200-300 songs in it.

Who was the last person you slow danced with? I didn’t really do it with Gab a lot but I know she was the last. Kaye’s debut in 2017 if I remember correctly. There was a segment in her debut where couples were given the chance to slow-dance, but Gab and I decided against it because we were for sure going to get some looks, and we didn’t want to steal Kaye’s thunder. But she was so sweet to encourage us herself to go to the dance floor and have our moment amid all the straight couples that were there.

What was the last song you listened to on repeat? It was probably Why We Ever, as always. The lyrics are my entire thought process, so it’s a source of comfort knowing a song that understands me and my current situation so well.

What's your favourite song at the moment? I don’t have one.

Do you prefer headphones or earbuds? Earbuds. Headphones’ quality is great, but wearing them for too long ends up hurting my ears.

Do you ever ride the city bus? How much does it cost you? I don’t ride our buses. Bus drivers here drive like madmen and don’t maintain their vehicles, meaning there’s no AC, it’s super cramped, and the seats are probably nasty as crap; and while I would be willing to ride the more premium bus services that we also have, I never really had a reason to considering I have a car and driving on my own has always been more convenient.

How do you get to school? I rode a school bus from grade school to high school. I drove myself in college.

Speaking of school, do you like it or hate it? Loved it for the most part.

Are you a social person? I mean I don’t think ‘social’ defines me as a person, but I definitely can be it. I like being around people.

Are you reliable? Yes. I don’t like being unable to meet tasks or deadlines or expectations so I always find a way to get a job done.

What person/people of the opposite sex do you trust the most? Not sure if there’s such a guy at the moment.

What person/people of the same sex do you trust the most? My best friend.

Do you say 'like' a lot? Haha yeah, especially verbally.

What is the last book you read? Did you enjoy it? Midnight Sun. It’s great so far but it’s literally just like reading Twilight (because it is literally Twilight except told in Edward’s POV), which I’ve reread a handful of times, so my progress has been painfully slow. 

Do you buy CDs anymore, or just download the songs? I stream on Spotify then watch the music video on YouTube, if it has one.

What is your favourite beverage to have in the morning? Coffee. Slowly turning into a morning coffee person, y’all.

Do you scream out the answers will watching game shows on TV? If I know the answer, yeah. I just blurt it out though, not scream.

Who in your life do you care about more than yourself? I can think of one such person but apparently that sentiment is no longer reciprocated, and I’m now also thinking if it ever even was reciprocated to begin with.

Would you ever consider adopting a child with a severe mental illness? At this point, no. That entails so much patience, a lot of commitment, a suitable living situation, and honestly in most cases a lot of money as well...it’s important to acknowledge that not everyone will be capable of having those things and it takes a certain kind of love and home for kids like them to be raised in the best way they could possibly be raised.

Do you have a brother or a sister? If so, are you close with them? Yeah. I’m close with my sister but not in a she’s-my-rock kind of way. We just get along super well.

If you are an only child, do you ever wish you had siblings?

When was the last time you were with all of your best friends? February.

Do you ever go into photobooths? Sure.

Do you waste money on unneccesary things? Hahahahahahaha please don’t remind me

Which wild animal would you most like to have as a pet? No thanks. They can stay in the wild, where they can thrive.

[fivegoldpieces]

Talks Machina at Gen-Con Q&A Highlights

Note: This only has the audience q&a portion. Cast answers are transcribed, side-comments and banter are only included if they are relevant to/answer the question posed. Apologies in advance to mobile-users if the read-more doesn't work - this is tagged as #long post if you want to blacklist it.

[[MORE]]

Q: For Matt; might we expect any possible homebrew releases coming out in the next year or so, like dunamancy?

Matt: I have plans. I can't say anything because I want things to be cool and surprising. But I have plans don't worry. It's not that I don't care, it's that I don't have time, but I'm working on it.

Q: For Taliesin; what would make Caduceus really angry?

Taliesin: I will say that he can get angry. It does happen. Juvenile disrespect does eventually get to him. Not a fan of pranking. I mean, you know, everybody's got some layer - there's some stuff. No one's that serene all the time. No one.

Q: For Taliesin; at the end of the Call of Cthulhu oneshot, you mentioned that you had a lot of mouse traps set up. I was just wondering, were the shadow people the most dangerous thing they could've released, or was there a more dangerous horror waiting that they managed to avoid?

Taliesin: I mean, if the cats had been released first, that would have definitely been an interesting thing. The cats would have been a problem. Also, if somebody had died really early, I was setting up a series of rules for dead players to continue to interact, which would have been really really unhappy and bad. And terrible rules for the things that were living behind the glass, and if you were stuck behind the glass, you were right there with them and they could really mess with you. Thankfully none of that happened.

Q: For Matt; you have the Tal'dorei Campaign Setting - I was wondering if you were going to do one for The Mighty Nein campaign?

Matt: I don't have a lot of time. Campaign settings are extensive. I'd like to eventually do something like that. I have materials, it's just assembling them in a way that can be legible by a non-crazy human being that I am. Hopefully! We'll see as time goes on. At the moment, we're consumed with this animated series that you guys helped make happen. Super excited about that. Keep an eye out as time goes on, because hopefully I'd like to get around to that. That'd be awesome.

Q: For Matt; what the hell was up with the undead vibe on Jamedi Cosko?

Matt: Yeah, that's crazy huh? That's a pretty weird thing. Yeah, there was something about him that gives off an undead vibe. Wonder what that means? I appreciate the question, but I don't know if that'll come back into play in some time. Let's see if it gets explored at some point, and if not at least I could tell you at the campaign wrap-up.

Q: For Travis; for the animated series, a lot of the characters have iconic catchphrases so I was wondering how you're going to translate "I would like to rage"?

Travis: Are we going to "translate" that? I think he's just going to say "I would like to rage". Yeah, we are definitely keeping iconic lines, moments, interactions, all those things will be there just as they were.

Taliesin: I'll also add to that - if you want to see somebody doing that and taking things that shouldn't actually work in-game and making them work in-game, Jody Houser is doing a great job in the comic book series of making you feel like somehow Matt is intertwined in everything that happens, it's kind of cool. Check it out!

Q: For Taliesin; a lot of comparisons have been thrown around between Fjord and Percy, and something that I noticed was Uk'otoa is being much more insistent than Orthax was - do you think if Orthax was as insistent and as keen on punishment, Percy might've gone a similar direction as Fjord?

Taliesin: Honest to God, and this is just from watching, I don't think Percy had nearly as strong a will as Fjord does. Watching Travis play Fjord was definitely like, "I did not have the balls to pull that off, oh my God." Percy was never about the hard choice, it was always about "what's the option C that I haven't figured out yet, there's a way to game my way out of this, if I just keep talking I can get everything to work" until the very end. Like chicken? Percy doesn't play chicken.

Laura (using Vex's voice): From firsthand knowledge, Percy does curtail very easily.

Matt: If you actually recall, Percy didn't even make the choice. Scanlan did for him.

Q: For Laura; when can we get a Caduceus tea set?

Laura: Oh, I heard a lot of "ooh's". Who would buy a Caduceus tea set? [audience applause] Well, shit, maybe I should look into it.

Sam: That's so many more people than who voted for me.

Brian: Not to be That Guy, lets just see how long his character lives, before we start making merchandise around him.

Q: For Sam; you are kind of the king of over-the-top and ostentatious whether it be with your character design, or your flasks, or things like that, and especially your outfits at the live events - how do you come up with these over-the-top creations and also how on earth do you plan on topping last night?

Sam: That last part will be hard. I think next year, I'll either come out totally naked or I'll just be so basic - pleated khakis, a polo shirt, I don't know. That outfit last night, it was pieced together from several different stores, I'm sure CritRoleCloset will figure it out at some point. But it was a challenge putting that together. And then, my fellow cast members, like two weeks after I bought all that weird stuff I wore, they were like, "hey let's go goth". So. Fuck you guys.

Q: For Travis; with Fjord's recent decision, do you see him changing outfits to fit his new or old persona?

Travis: I don't think so. Most of Fjord's armor was very piece-mail stuff that he got either from working on the docks, or stuff that he got from Vandren, or items that he was given just as he sort of accrued time and responsibility where he worked. I think that stuff's very dear to him, especially coming from an orphanage where he didn't have any possessions, so all those things that are actually his are very dear to him. He might add to those things, but I think underneath they'll stay there. He might augment them or change them a little bit, in the same way you would draw on your jeans in school or whatever, but that stuff's his so it means a lot to him.

Q: For Travis; after Fjord severed his pact with Uk'otoa, was there a larger fear in telling Beau and Jester what had happened, since he had been traveling with them the longest out of the Nein, or did his journeys with the Nein make that fear equal across all of the party?

Travis: I think actually he was worried about telling Beau and Jester the least, and maybe Caduceus in there as well. He knew he would hear about it from Nott, and Caleb had already sort of started to call him on his shit and saw through a lot of that stuff. He also regards the group as very powerful, so I think a lot of it is turning to his very powerful and talented friends and saying, "I don't have any of that anymore, I hope I can still play with you guys." Legit though, the response was amazing. It was absolutely incredible. Jester is so gregarious and loving and joyful and exuberant that I don't think he was worried about that, I think he was actually looking forward to telling her as one of the first people to know. And Beau is second-mate, so like ride-or-die or right?

Q: For Taliesin; I can totally be wrong for this, but just reading body language and facial features, there do seem to be moments where you're kind of just like, "I'm done with this" - I just kind of want advice, like how do you keep playing when your energy level might be low or you don't like where the story is going?

Taliesin: Oh, that is never "I'm done with this", what you're seeing is the "I'm trying to make sure no one notices that I'm reading my backstory notes". That's me reading, frantically. I'm a big believer in terror, terror is a great way to keep me up. "Oh God, I don't remember anybody's name, oh God how many siblings do I have oh God."

Marisha: Well, also you write your backstories like the Silmarillion, it's like, so intense. I'm like "my dad was mean to me" like that's my backstory.

Q: For Sam; based on the amazing reaction we've had to your DnDBeyond theme and the Critical Role theme, when can we expect a parody version of the 2010 hit "Like a G6" by Far East Movement as "Like a d6"?

Sam: Oh wow, that's good.

Marisha: Not to be that person, it already exists. The Library Bards did it. So, you should check it out. I mean, do a cover, Sam, I don't know.

Sam: There are more songs incoming, just so you know.

Q: For Matt; you say dunamancy can alter the reality and the fate of the person that wields it - is this an affront to the Raven Queen?

Matt: I would say, given the fact that elements of dunamancy deal with the manipulation of probability, destiny, things like that, the Raven Queen is probably not that cool with dunamancy. Just throwing that out there. One of the few things she's probably like, "Really, guys?" So yeah, I'd say you're on the right track.

Q: For Laura and Travis; do you talk to Ronin about your campaign?

Laura: So, Ronin, every Thursday night he stays with a babysitter at home, but he watches the opening of the show. Like, he loves the theme song so much. I sing it every time I change his diaper.

Travis: Same, like I know there's songs that parents sing to their kids - he's heard the damn theme song every day of his life.

Brian: But do you guys change the lyrics though, like "You shit your pants, I'm cleaning it up now", you know what I mean?

Liam: My kids bust into that song constantly. We cannot play a board game or anything. Someone goes "it's your turn" "TO ROLL" every time.

Q: For Marisha; I'm a huge fan of Jocks Machina and hopefully we'll get to see them on the channel one day - will Beau ever join Jocks Machina?

Marisha: What are the requirements, are there prerequisites for joining Jocks Machina? You're kind of the authority on this.

Travis: Guns. Abs. Likes to lift heavy things. Likes to break a sweat. Likes to whoop that ass.

Marisha: Check. Check. ...Check? Check. Hell yeah.

Q: For Matt; this is a rather involved conspiracy theory question, so excuse me - last year when the party was in Shady Creek Run at the Landlocked Lady Inn, they first arrived and there was a doorman named Champ who Keg knew. The next morning, they went down and there was a new doorman who said he'd been working for the Marduns for a few months and had bright red curly hair and vibrant green eyes and acted rather enigmatic and shady and shifty and was saying they should listen more and that he hoped that whatever they were after, they were on the right path. Later, once they recover everyone, Jester is asking the Traveler where he was, and he says he was always there. So my question is this: was that character the Traveler in disguise?

Matt: [several moments of silence]

Matt: That'd be pretty interesting, huh? That's a unique observation. I will confirm nor deny.

Q: For Matt; now that Fjord has effectively broken up with Uk'otoa, what do you think would be a more compelling storyline, or what are you most interested to see: him continue to take levels in warlock, possibly with an Archfey patron, or paladin...?

Matt: Part of what I really enjoy about this game is how the players continuously surprise me. I'm down to see what journey Travis wants to take. I'm curious to see how he takes this next path in his journey and which elements he wants to maintain, what direction he wants to go - he seems to be really finding interest in the Wildmother and talking to Caduceus about that, and that's kind of been an element of breaking that pact at the time, so I'm curious if he's going to continue down that path or see this as a blank slate to continue to grow. I'm interested to see the different decisions that Fjord takes, and Travis does through Fjord, and kind of adjust and build the narrative for that character around that. I can't say I have a specific path that I'm hoping for, because I have no idea what Travis's direct interest is, beyond just the actions he's taken in the game. Yeah, I'm just excited to see where it goes. I really love the idea of not knowing that as the Dungeon Master. As much as it's me building and world-planning, many of you out there who run games as GM know the most exciting part of the game is after all that prep, coming to the table and the players completely surprise you, and you kind of have to think on your feet and go with it. That's the best part of the game for me.

Q: For Marisha; what inspired you to play Beau a bit more shaken about her near-death than some of the other characters?

Marisha: Well, I was at 2 hit points the whole time - Liam can attest to that. So you know, I was kind of role-playing that. Shit's crazy man.

Q: For Liam; so you play your characters, both Vax and Caleb, very emotionally without any hesitation, and you're an experienced actor. What I wanted to ask was, something that people who try to emulate Critical Role don't realize that can happen when you try to put yourself into the character and get emotionally invested is character bleed. I was wondering how you deal with that, if you do at all. Like, if something really emotionally devastating happens to Vax or to Caleb, how does it affect you and how do you deal with it?

Liam: These feel like synthetic memories, so any time the superimposed fantasy friend gets killed or has to leave or whatever happens - that shit we carry around and get upset about. Every time we leave on a cliffhanger and someone's gonna die, we think about it constantly. Vax helped me sort through things, but made me more loyal and determined and willing to take chances - which in life I generally try to avoid conflict. Caleb, I still kind of drive around and think about him and still go, like "why did you do that?" He's really messed up, if I just think like, fireballs and cats like it's fun, and we can make dick jokes and it's fun. But if I really take a minute, I just go "Oh". I feel bad for him, I feel really bad for him. I have fun playing the game, and I love these guys, and I feel bad for my character.

Follow-up Q: Do you have ways that you learned to process that, like if you're at home feeling bummed about something that happened on a Thursday night, and you're like "man I need to get out of this funk"?

Liam: Yeah, I pull my head out of the game. I'll play a game with my kid, or watch a movie with my wife, or go running. Running is great. Not for your knees, but everything else. Or spend time with these guys out of the game. There's lots of ways. We're really invested in their stories, so it sort of drags along like coattails wherever we go.

Matt: To give you examples too, when he says "hanging out with friends", the group that's there, your friends that are in this game that you trust enough? You should all also support each other when those dark moments happen outside of the game. Whenever we lose a character in the game, we have like a wake. We go to an Irish pub that we go to often in Burbank, and we all get drinks and we have a wake for that character. And it's part of that process too. Even though it's imaginary, there's a part of that experience and journey that's come to an end and that deserves its respect as well, and we're all there to support the player. As a playing group, be there for your friends who may be going through that experience, because even though it is make-believe and it's a game, that is still a loss. And that's not a bad thing either. Loss is an important thing to process, because life comes with loss. Part of the wonderful experiences of role-playing games is that it allows us a safe space to explore very positive and very negative emotions in a healthy way and make us better people for it. So just be there for them, be supportive, and be the best friends and co-players you can be.

Liam: Part of the reason, I think, that we get upset when these fictional characters are killed is because we're playing this game of imagination together, and we form a chemistry together where we're like "we get to do this together, and it's always like this, and you're always funny like that, and you're always intense like this" and we really love that chemistry. Then somebody gets killed and they're gone, and that chemistry, which is something that we're like addicted to and love, that chemistry is gone. Like, when Molly was gone. Beau and Molly had this great "fuck you" "fuck you" butting heads thing - that's gone. We're actors, but anyone who plays this game extensively, you love the sort-of second life that you create for yourself and then when the character is gone, you don't have that unique mix anymore.

Q: For Laura; I really love how you play Vex and Jester, even though as two characters, they're pretty different from each other. But sometimes, you have an instance where like, your Laura shows. So I actually just wanted to ask, what was the biggest disconnect you've ever experienced between player versus character? If you've ever felt like, you as a person, as a player, would never ever make a choice in a situation versus what your character would do in that same situation.

Laura: I feel like everything my characters do, I wouldn't do in real life. Like, especially Jester. Travis and I have had these conversations: the joy of playing a character like Jester or like Grog, where you don't have to filter yourself - everybody, I assume, has these random really stupid things that pop up in your brain and you don't say them because everyone would judge you, and they're weird - and as these characters, you just embrace it, and it is so much fun. Talk about character bleed - it is an issue that I deal with now, because Jester has had that effect on me, and so I tend to say stupider things in real life now. No, but I would never deface anything in public, I would never steal anything.

Travis: You're not gonna attach any dicks on the walls.

Laura: I would not attach a dick to a wall in public. Or anywhere. I do eat a lot of donuts though, that's on me.

Q: For Matt; we've explored several places in the multiverse in your games, like the City of Brass, the Feywild, places like that - are there any places in the multiverse like the Astral Sea or somewhere that you, either as a player or as a GM, would have liked to have gone but have never had the time or resources to do?

Matt: Interesting. I do have some places that I really would like to explore, whether in this campaign or campaigns down the road. Astral Sea is interesting, it's a really weird amorphous plane, and I just love the prospect of one day throwing an Astral Dreadnought at these poor guys. He's my second to the Tarrasque. Oh they're fun, they're a good time. I've always loved Planescape. The City of Sigil would be great for obvious reasons of course. So I can be like, "no guys, this is where I learned my wrong pronunciation". But the City of Doors is awesome. Lady of Pain is a great element. Those who watched the Search for Bob oneshot, there was a Lady of Pain reference dropped in there. If you missed it, you can go back and look. Maybe there's a few doors in Sigil that lead to Exandria, who knows. Think about that for your home campaigns, huh? I want to go into some deep Abyssal planes too. We've been to the City of Dis, we've seen a little bit of the Nine Hells of Baator, though maybe not the harsher places. There's so many to explore!

Q: For Sam; Matt has said on Twitter that one of the ways you guys handle the pressures of the Kickstarter and the intense dramatic moments in the campaign is by checking in with each other and checking in on each other's mental health. I know you take on a lot of responsibilities with doing the DnDBeyond ads and the songs that you write and also your characters are often joking around with other characters and giving them a hard time so I was wondering, from your perspective, if you could give some details, without giving away anything too personal, on how to properly mentally check-in with your fellow players and just help everybody and check that everybody is doing okay.

Sam: Well, I'm learning from these guys, as we go, how best to do that. I'm weird in that, as weird as I am on-screen, I don't really talk very much when we're off-screen, or I keep my stuff to myself, more than some of these guys do. But they have, in the last few years, helped me sort of connect more with my best friends here. You know, we do check in a lot with each other, thanks to Matt and thanks to all of us. For instance, yesterday morning we all had breakfast together. It was really nice - we just talked about stuff, and it was just great to just sort of reconnect with everybody. I'm not an expert at this in any way, and in fact, on this stage, I am the least good at it, but I have endeavoured to become better at it. Opening yourself up to your friends and feeling comfortable enough to share your past or your worries for the future with your friends and not getting any judgement back is like, the greatest gift. If you have that with one person, it's amazing. If you have that with all of these people? Holy moly, it's the greatest thing in the world. I've tried to be better at sharing my stuff with them and being there for them. That's all I can do.

Q: For Marisha; in campaign one with Vox Machina, there's a lot of powerful badass lady NPCs, so if by chance, it all worked out timewise, who do you think Beau would be most likely to have a crush on?

Marisha: Kima. Yeah. Keyleth very much emulated Allura, and really looked up to her and kind of looked at her as a powerful female figurehead and took notes for leadership through her. Beau would just wanna fuck.

Q: For Liam; what do characters do in the campaign that you find funny no matter how old it gets?

Liam: Everybody throw in on this one. I'll never get over Laura waggling her eyebrow every third word in the game.

Taliesin: Slow snicker every time there's even vaguely a possibility of a dick joke.

Travis: I'd say every time there's a pain reaction out of Nott. It is hysterical to me.

Liam: I like any time, just the concept of death comes up or Molly - anywhere, in the game, out of the game - one of these people would be like, "Like you, you're dead!"

Laura: Uk'otoa.

Q: For Laura; do you think the volcano would be a good spot for Traveler on?

Laura (using Jester's voice): Okay here's the thing. Like, I totally did at first and I need to talk to him, because I think that now it's probably not, because it wasn't very expansive really, as big as I thought it would be, and there wasn't like a lot of beds, and like, no real good food. So, I don't know how many people are coming, but like, even just getting to the nearest hotel was really difficult, you know?

Matt: I love the idea that half of your sketchbook is Jester's tiny Yelp reviews of locations in Wildemount.

Q: For Laura; with all of the throwback to Vox Machina and Whitestone in the week before, how are you feeling with all of it?

Laura: I'm feeling very nostalgic.

Laura (using Vex's voice): Also, I would love for everyone to come visit.

Marisha (using Keyleth's voice): Me as well.

Laura (using Jester's voice): And also, if we did, I think we would cause a lot of problems.

Marisha: New pitch - Travelercon at Whitestone. We know the food is good, lots of lodging and room and board, no dead people in trees anymore.

Laura: All of the residuum that you could ever hope for.

Brian: And endless booze.

[Panel end]

[sonatanotwo]

Hi there! I am also a fan the Thunderbirds franchise as well. So here's a quick question. Do you also like TOS? If is, what's your favorite Ep(s)?

The ask I just posted probably just answered your question. XDDD Yeah, I love TOS a lot! :D (I actually still have a TOS Crack RP Virgil account. lol Haven’t been on it in ages though.)

Here in Canada in the late 80s/early 90s it was on a bunch. We’d eat dinner and watch Thunderbirds every night for awhile. I suspect probably it was first turned on cause of my Dad... He grew up watching most of the shows... He still knows the lyrics of Fireball xl5. Lol He also watched most of the others... even Joe 90, which often seems kinda forgotten. SO yeah. It’s his fault, I suppose. ;) After that I kinda nosed on the internet a few times over the years about things... read some fic... downloaded some music. lolol I still vaguely recall Gerry having a website or something, posting a test of the animated Captain Scarlet, and sounding really excited about the possibilities of 3D animation. (...Why it’s REALLY ironic those who’re really big Gerry Anderson fans are so disgusted by CGI. GERRY WAS TOTES ON BOARD FOR IT. Yeeesh.)

Let me think... fave eps... WELL. Terror in New York with the TB2 crash is up there. The Man from MI5 I enjoy a lot because of that music. Gosh, I love it. Mmm... Perils of Penelope is fun. (”Let us out, I say! We’re British!” 😂) Got a soft spot for The Cham-Cham... 30 Minutes After Noon... City of Fire... Those are some of my faves I’d say. XD Few of S2 I enjoy too, but I have mixed feelings cause of the loss of David Holliday. (Virgil’s first voice.) Jeremy Wilkin (from the movies and S2) just wasn’t the same. ;A; David’s are the best Virgils, it seems. X3

SPEAKING OF DAVID HOLLIDAY. OMG there are SO many new people around. OKAY. ALL OF YOU. YOU HAVE TO HEAR THIS STUFF.

Have you all heard David Holliday SING? 

https://www.ticipedia.info/voice-actor-archive/david-holliday-s-1-virgil-tracy/david-holliday-sound-bites/ DO IT. LISTEN.

I especially recommend Let’s Go Home, Dommage Dommage and OMG THE Cinderella clips Those are the BEST. Those were done while he was still in the UK, I believe... He went back to the states for Broadway, ya see. XD He really hadn’t expected Thunderbirds to be what he’d be best remembered for, I think. XD But yeah... hearing him sing makes it hurt all the more he passed from throat cancer. ;A; It is CRIMINAL they never had him sing as Virgil. GOSH.

...Right. I went off on a tangent there.

...yes. Yes, I love TOS. :Db

[mikeywm3]

This is a music story. Give it time, it’ll get there.

WRITING TO REACH YOU:

It’s October 3, 2001 and I’m riding the PATH train to NYC for only the second time in the last 3 weeks. The train has just stopped between the stations of Christopher Street and 9th Street. As we patiently await the train to start moving again, a sudden jerk happens. And then it happens again. A look around the train finds very nervous faces, wondering what’s going to happen next. What happens next is the train eventually starts rolling again and gets to 9th Street without incident. I’ll be getting off a stop later, 14th Street. Still, I’m nervous to be on this train.

The first time I was on the PATH again was a little over a week earlier, September 22 to be exact, riding with my cousin Brian and his wife Dana into NYC. They had joined me prior to that at Mulligans Pub in Hoboken, where I was living at the time (Hoboken, not the pub), to watch a rugby match between Ireland and Scotland. The match started with the playing of each country’s national anthems and then, unbeknownst to me at the time, the American national anthem followed by a moment of silence. I’ve never heard such beautiful silence in a pub before. Ireland lost the match that day, but it didn’t matter. We were out of our apartments, and the Scots always make for a fun match and rivalry. We kinda love each other, as Braveheart had shown. My love for the Scots will come up again. 

WHY DOES IT ALWAYS RAIN ON ME?

We decided to go into the city afterwards and walk around a bit and get a bite to eat, settling at a Mexican place just off of Washington Square Park. Margaritas, chips and salsa and some quesadillas are quaffed, and soon we are hugging each other and going our opposite directions, thankful to have seen each other and to be able to hug some family. The hug will come just a little bit too soon.

As I’m walking back to the PATH station at 9th Street, I cross through Washington Square Park, a walk I’d been hoping to avoid, but decide it needs to be done. The area around the arch is now like many other areas in downtown NYC, a shrine to the missing. Walls of posters and leaflets of people whose loved ones found the best picture of them that they could find and affixed them to the arch with words like “MISSING” or “HAVE YOU SEEN…” or “LAST SEEN AT…” After about 10 minutes of looking through them all, I decide to begin my journey back to the PATH station, but then one last look captures the face I’d hope to not see: my roommate’s sister, her big smile and bright eyes staring right at me. I’d seen this picture of her before, but only on the leaflets in the apartment I’d been sharing with 3 others.

Our apartment had been ground zero for the family of my roommate, as they were doing the full rounds of hospital visits hoping to find their daughter, their sister, their niece, their cousin. Many of them lived in Pennsylvania and made treks back and forth many times over the ensuing days. I tried to do the best I could to make them comfortable by making sure our apartment was stocked with things they might need: towels, soft drinks, water, clean bed sheets and blankets, etc… Soon after, I didn’t need to do it anymore. They stopped showing up. Their search was over.

My walk back to the PATH station should’ve been no more than 5 minutes, but it will take 20, because this is the first time in 12 days that I’ve been able to have a private moment. I stopped on 9th Street on the steps of a brownstone and sat myself down and lost it. I cried for about 10 minutes. A kind soul walking by with some friends actually came up to me, didn’t say anything, and just put his hand on my shoulder. I touched his hand, looked up at him, took a deep breath and said “Thank you.” Eventually I would make my way back to the PATH and get the train back to Hoboken. Only two stops away, but like my second ride, filled with sudden stops and jerks between stations, terrifying me. This was a time of terror afterall. I worked at Exchange Place in Jersey City at the time and we unfortunately had a direct view of the WTC. I saw most of it, heard all of it. A lot of terror. My ride ends in Hoboken, and I randomly run into my friends Ann & Steve (in town from Massachusetts), Doug and Maria outside of the station. They’re about to go to the city and pay respects at the shrines and vigils set up in Union Square park. And for the second time in 25 minutes, I melt down and throw myself into their arms.

LAST TRAIN

I’m getting off at 14th Street in order to meet up with my friend Jo, where she is having dinner with some mutual friends. She and I will be attending the Travis concert at Radio City Music Hall that night. This will be the first concert/gig that I’ve been to in the last three weeks. If you knew me then, I was probably going to about 10 shows during that same time frame. We meet at a place called Chat and Chew, and this is the first time I’ve seen Jo or our friends in the last three weeks. Pleasantries are exchanged as are the questions of “How are you holding up?” to each other. It might have been the first time that I said I was alright but that, of course, was a lie. I wanted a return to normalcy that wasn’t going to happen, but dammit, this concert tonight is going to be a step towards that, right?

We get to our seats at Radio City, where the opening act is a band called Remy Zero. In all honesty, I don’t remember anything about their set that night, including if we were even there to see any of it. Remy Zero was a band that, during that time frame, seemed to be the opening act for almost every Britpop band that was on tour at that time. Supergrass? Remy Zero opened. Morrissey? Yup, them again. No disprespect to them, they just didn’t make too much of an indent in my musical psyche.

ALL I WANNA DO IS ROCK

Soon the lights are dimming and Travis is about to take the stage to what seemed like polite golf claps. It wasn’t that the audience were unappreciative of them. We just didn’t know how to react anymore. Am I allowed to dance? To sing? To show joy? Are we allowed to have fun anymore? What do I do? This was a dilemma that even New York institutions such as Saturday Night Live and David Letterman were struggling to deal with. All I wanna do is rock! Can I? The answer: Yes, you can, but it’ll take some time. Let it ease in.The first smile occurred as the band took the stage and walked to the front of it and did something I’ve never seen at the beginning of a show before: They gave US a standing ovation. The four of them, for a good 30 seconds, just happy to see our faces, knowing that for some of us this was our first attempt at something lighthearted in the last 21 days, applauding the audience.

“We’re so happy to see your faces. We know a lot of events were cancelled around here, but there was no way we were going to cancel this show. We’re here to try to put some smiles back on your faces tonight and are so glad to be here.”These words are paraphrased, but essentially was the message from Fran Healy, Travis’s lead singer, and for the moment, I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt that he COULD put a smile back on my face. And then the show started with ‘Sing’ the first single from their latest album “The Invisible Band,” and Fran and Travis had already done it. I smiled. Also, I sang.

SING

And sing more I did. For the uninitiated, Travis started as a very Britpoppy, guitar based band, before giving way to their emo side and melancholy to write some rather lush and fuller songs. They’ve often been referred to as Radiohead-lite, particularly given their association with producer Nigel Goodrich. An unfortunate tag, I think. They were Coldplay before there was a Coldplay, and I mean that as a positive, irregardless of your feelings about Coldplay.

The set continued with selections from their three album catalog, many tugging at my heartstrings, but even allowing me to sorta dance a bit. Example: their biggest hit, “Why Does It Always Rain On Me,” obviously has a title straight out of the Morrissey songbook, but also a song construct from the Smiths canon: lyrics that hit the emotional buttons of sadness, self doubt and worth (“Even when the sun is shining, I can’t avoid the lightning”), yet a rhythm and melody that allows for happiness, including a chorus that, every time I’ve seen Travis, has led to me, the rest of the audience and Fran to pogo dance. Yes, the show started with me singing and the main set ended with me dancing.

HAPPY

The encore started with a song that was the general feeling that I was hoping to attain from seeing this show, “All I Wanna Do Is Rock,” a foot-stomping, fist-pumping rocker from their first album. And those two things I did. A faithful cover of ‘All The Young Dudes’ followed before Fran and the boys decided to bring tears back to our face, but this time they were good tears. Fran stated that they’d spent part of the day at Ground Zero volunteering, and that every single penny from the show was being donated to one of the WTC funds. I love these Scots. Oh, did I happen to mention that Travis are from Scotland? I told you it would come up again.

And then as if they knew that the setlist that they’d put together was a musical therapy session for 5,500 people who needed it, they closed the show with a rocking song from their first album with the perfect title of “Happy.” And it was probably therapeutic for Travis as well, as the chorus over and over sings “I’m so happy, that you’re so happy.” And for the first time in a while, I was closer to that feeling. A few weeks later, U2 would play 5 fantastic shows (I was at three of them) at Madison Square Garden and receive rightful praise for bringing the right balance of levity and music to a sad city. You may have heard that a lot of cops and firemen are Irish.  Yeah, a lot of them needed those shows. And they got it.

But for me, it all started with this Travis show. The show ended and Jo and I walked out into the night, knowing we had just had a great therapy session. A kiss and a hug goodnight, and a train ride back to Hoboken for me followed. This time I would get on the PATH train at 33rd Street, the end of the PATH line. The station was emptier than I was used to, as this was still early in the return to normalcy process.

The train left the station and I couldn’t help but feeling a little happier than I’d been. But I was also feeling a tremendous sense of guilt, knowing I was returning to an apartment where my roommate’s return to normalcy would never actually be achieved. Nor would it be for me, but nowhere near what he was going through. My guilt was then jolted by the train suddenly stopping between 23rd street and 14th street. And then a sudden jerk. And then a brief return to a feeling of terror. But then a reminder of this being the PATH train. This happens all the time. It’s normal. A new normalcy.

For BS and CS

[angrylizardjacket]

people change {Vince Neil}

@champagneandspice asked: hey! I adore your writing!!! could u please do a one shot but in the form of an article ? you’d be writing it as if you worked for people magazine or something like that. could u pls write ab the “speculated rumors” ab vince and I dating are true?? u could insert pictures or whatever u like. thank u <3

A/N: 2065 words. I love!! This style!! Of Writing!! also probably not what you were asking for, but i had fun and i hope you do too. i really sort of like this world/reader persona i’ve built?? i even added a few pictures for effect lmao. hope it’s enjoyable. i don’t usually do tags for one-shots but @cosmicsskies and @crazylittlethingcalledobsession asked and im too giddy to refuse.

WHAT THE F*** DO YOU THINK? - Mötley Crüe singer Vince Neil and Joan Jett & The Blackhearts newest guitarist Y/N Y/L/N spotted getting cosy after Crüe’s Atlanta show last Saturday? Does this hint at a collaboration between two bands, or is this more personal than professional? [Read more on Page 10...]

“What the f*** do you think?”

If you’re a woman working in or around the rock and roll music scene in the past half a decade, you’ve probably heard these words, or some variation of them, if you’ve come within a ten foot radius of the glam metal juggernauts Mötley Crüe; Nikki Sixx, Tommy Lee, Mick Mars, and their blonde, boyish singer Vince Neil. They’re crass by reputation, however this is unsurprisingly true to life, though if you were interested in reading an expose regarding the number of gigs they’ve done while high, or how many hotel rooms they’ve set fire to, there’s innumerable gossip rags and magazines covering those particular scandals, including at least two Rolling Stone articles in the past two years, and we’re not here to retell old stories. 

When attending their concert in Atlanta last week, which I highly recommend; if given the opportunity, and you enjoy their music, see Mötley Crüe live, they give an almost unparalleled live performance, in my humble opinion as a music journalist of almost a decade, I was fortunately privy to the moment that sparked debate and controversy within the rock music gossip sphere. After the show, while I was made to wait at the stage door, their manager Doc Mcghee was kind enough to invite me to the afterparty. There, at the stage door, restless fans were held at bay, young men in black leather pants, emulating their idols, young women in barely anything at all, there to catch attention and garner the same invitation that I had received, and when the band themselves appear, it’s as if the gates of Hell had opened; the screaming I heard, ladies and gentleman.

First through the doors is Mars, already looking like he needs a shot or a nap, and he dodges more than one bra thrown his way, giving me a longsuffering look as he passes. To be that exhausted by fame is on a level I can’t even begin to comprehend. He’s on the tour bus which will take us to the hotel bar for drinks almost before anyone else is even out of the building.

Next comes what the fans have affectionately dubbed ‘The Terror Twins’, Sixx and Lee, both carrying a beer each, followed by several very pretty women who head to the bus whilst the musicians take the time to say high to their fans, signing various body parts and generally taking the time to interact with the more hardcore of their following who were waiting in the cold night air. They’re enough of a distraction that one might have missed the final band member, Vince Neil, laying uncharacteristically low, and who had actually been preceded by a surprising figure; Y/N Y/L/N, the most recent addition to Joan Jett & The Blackhearts as their rhythm guitarist. 

And this, dear readers, is the moment I decide to write the first gossip piece of my life.

As someone who regularly set fire to the copies of Hollywood Star my then-housemate had been getting delivered to our apartment back when I first began my journalistic career, the idea of writing an article based on speculation about the sexual conduct of celebrities was an idea I rejected out of hand. I’d told myself I had integrity. 

But then my proto-punk loving heart betrayed me, as I recalled Y/L/N’s lyrics from my favourite song of her’s, Sucker Punch, ‘speculate / scream my name / my heart, my love, baby it’s a game / they call me heartless, fancy-free / as if anyone’s meant something to a girl like me’. Y/L/N has been credited as the sole writer for the single, under her band at the time, Nuclear Patricide, who had garnered a cult following that has been credited as an idol for Joan Jett herself. After the Nuclear Patricide’s split in early ‘83, it’s been relative radio silence from the writer and lead guitarist until Joan Jett & The Blackhearts announce her as their newest addition, and she’s been with them for almost two years since.

[ID: Stills from Nuclear Patricide’s music video for Sucker Punch, 1980, known for the appearance of then-break out star Jamie Lee-Curtis. Editor’s Note: Y/L/N did not appear in the music video herself.]

So, upon seeing Y/L/N trying to keep a low profile whilst exiting a gig she clearly was not playing at, without any of her own bandmates to keep her company, I must confess I began to wonder, to speculate about the nature of her relationship with Mötley Crüe. She’s adamantly and publicly denounced romantic relationships in her work and in her public appearances up until her split from her original band, so has anything changed in the past few years?

Back at the hotel, I find myself weaving in amongst groupies and fanboys. My dark jeans and leather jacket act as a camouflage in this den of debauchery; I’ve worn professional clothing to this kind of thing before, and it usually doesn’t go over well; if the band sees a reporter there’s a sense of immediate hostility in what’s meant to be a safe space, relatively speaking, however, I’ve found that blending in, and making it clear I’m not on the offensive makes them drop their guard enough that they’ll give an honest interview. 

At least until a pretty girl walks past.

Neil and Y/L/N are nowhere to be spotted as I finally take a seat with a table that has neither cocaine nor a woman on it, and once I’ve ordered a drink and looked over my notes, someone actually joins me of their own accord. It’s Tommy Lee, who, to my surprise, recognises me from the last time Crüe had played in town. 

He talks about the tour, about how exciting it’s been and how he loves Atlanta, but he’s losing focus very quickly, not surprisingly since his name is being called by other tables every few moments, and there’s a faint dusting of telltale white powder around his nose. He promises ‘see you ‘round’ [sic] and then he’s off again. However, it’s as he leaves that I spot Y/N coming from a room by the back of the bar, and I make my move.

Mars has, as I’ve been told, already retired for the night, Lee is up to his eyes in cocaine, Sixx already has his dick out under his table judging by the look of him, and Neil is surprisingly MIA, so Y/L/N is easy to spot as the odd one out.

Not nearly as f***ed up or strung out as the rest of them, I watch her order a jack and coke, and down the drink mere moments after receiving it, before she turns to me. It takes her barely a second before she correctly identifies me as a reporter. I ask if she remembers meeting me, back in ‘82, she says no, but that she can pick a reporter from a mile away. 

People still fawn over her, pretty girls and pretty boys alike, her aloofness drawing them in, and I’d forgotten how overwhelming it was to be this close to her. She kicks a fanboy and a groupie who are messily groping each other out of a booth and we take their seats.

This is meant to be about Mötley Crüe, and I try to tell her as such, but she just gives me a thin smile.

“Then why did you come find me?”

And she gives me that stare, you know, the one from the cover of Nuclear Patricide’s final album, Treason Is A Girl’s Best Friend. It’s that piercing stare of hers that makes you feel like she knows everything you’ve ever done wrong in your life. 

I ask about her relationship with Mötley Crüe, and to my relief she looks away.

She’s candid about admitting she’s travelling with them, but not touring, right up until I ask her about her relationship with each member of the band specifically.

“Mick’s fun; he’s very talented and easily riled up. They’re all very talented of course, but Mick’s dynamic, [because] of his age and everything, is interesting within the group [sic] and I enjoy watching it all play out. He’s smacked Tommy a few times.” I’m assured that nine times out of ten he deserved it. 

She’s filled with glowing praise for both Sixx and Lee in turn, and even Doc Mcghee, but Neil she is oddly silent about. He’s the first of the band she’d met; he’d seen her play a few times with The Blackhearts and has admitted to enjoying her work in previous interviews when she’s been brought up, as the pair have been spotted together before. Well, she’s been spotted with the band before. Here is where she starts, to my surprise, to get antsy. So the rumours, which I had thought to be incredibly false given her history and general attitude, have more basis than she likes to let on.

And then she gets defensive.

He’s like cocaine; everyone’s doing him, it’s just the industry; no-one’s going to judge her for a fling. She does not appear to take comfort in the sentiment.

“People change.”

I ask her what she means. She refuses to clarify and leaves. Perhaps I pushed too far, but now I feel like a detective, and like I only have one more person I need to talk to. But perhaps I should have eased myself into talking about Y/L/N to Vince himself, but I’ll have to admit, between Y/L/N leaving and finding Neil, I may have done a bit of socialising with Sixx, which I recommend recreationally, and also if you have a high tolerance for most things.

“I don’t think we’re any of your f***ing business.” 

Neil does not mess around, and apparently she’d already spoken to him about our earlier meeting. I leave it be, spend the night enjoying the festivities with Sixx and Lee when I can, leaving just before the sun comes up. 

Some of you may be thinking this is dissatisfying, that you came into this article wanting me to confirm or dismiss the speculated relationship between Vince Neil and Y/N Y/L/N, but I can’t. Neither of them would speak to me, and I can only leave you with a list of things I saw that night, and you can make up your own mind.

- The room Y/L/N had exited from when I first spotted her is the same room Neil left less than five minutes later as we were talking. I went to investigate later; it’s a supply closet.

- After my encounter with Neil, and I’d stayed clear of them, whenever I would spot either of them, the other was almost always within arm’s reach. Make of that what you will.

- He definitely did a line of coke off her thigh at about three in the morning.

- I asked both Sixx and Lee about it. Lee’s response was ‘loud’ with something akin to a knowing smirk, and Sixx’s was ‘he’s a lucky bastard’ and when I ask him to clarify he just says ‘flexible’ and climbs to the next booth over where they’ve been asking him to do a line; I’m not even sure what to make of it, but personally I think it’s pretty damning.

- Readers, they were all over each other, I apologise for throwing my professionalism out the window for a moment, but if I’m being honest I couldn’t look to a secluded corner of the room without there being a 40% chance of seeing Vince and Y/N. It got worse as the night went on. Believe me.

So, while I don’t believe there is set to be a collaboration between Joan Jett and Mötley Crüe, I do come baring good news for those fans who had been speculating regarding Y/L/N’s relationship with the hair metal band’s lead singer. So are they together? Are they dating? Though neither party will publicly state anything, I’ll leave you with my thoughts, my observations, and the oft spoke words of the man himself;

What the f*** do you think?