#because people sometimes care more about the european stuff than they do about my beautiful Central America

[maraguanabana]

I. HAVE. A. FRIEND.

ISN’T IT WONDERFUL?!?!?!

Yes, I know I sound like a introvert child who is sadly excluded of everything (I am/was) but this friend of mine it's like, ehmmm, my pupil. She has no clue of F1, and I am the one to have the honor to teach her and guide her through this path.

first thing I did? DTS. MAX. AIN'T. REAL. MAX.

I am not going to create another Max Verstappen hater just because of DTS to then send her to the world. there's already way too many of those. I don't want another one.

[writingwithcolor]

What Does Our "Motivations” PSA Mean?

@luminalalumini said:

I've been on your blog a lot and it has a lot of really insightful information, but I notice a theme with some of your answers where you ask the writer reaching out what their 'motivation for making a character a certain [race/religion/ethnicity/nationality] is' and it's discouraging to see, because it seems like you're automatically assigning the writer some sort of ulterior motive that must be sniffed out and identified before the writer can get any tips or guidance for their question. Can't the 'motive' simply be having/wanting to have diversity in one's work? Must there be an 'ulterior motive'? I can understand that there's a lot of stigma and stereotypes and bad influence that might lead to someone trynna add marginalized groups into their stories for wrong reasons, but people that have those bad intentions certainly won't be asking for advice on how to write good representation in the first place. Idk its just been something that seemed really discouraging to me to reach out myself, knowing i'll automatically be assigned ulterior motives that i don't have and will probably have to justify why i want to add diversity to my story as if i'm comitting some sort of crime. I don't expect you guys to change your blog or respond to this or even care all that much, I'm probably just ranting into a void. I'm just curious if theres any reason to this that I haven't realized exists I suppose. I don't want y'all to take this the wrong way because I do actually love and enjoy your blog's advice in spite of my dumb griping. Cheers :))

We assume this is in reference to the following PSA:

PSA to all of our users - Motivation Matters: This lack of clarity w/r to intent has been a general issue with many recent questions. Please remember that if you don’t explain your motivations and what you intend to communicate to your audience with your plot choices, character attributes, world-building etc., we cannot effectively advise you beyond the information you provide. We Are Not Mind Readers. If, when drafting these questions, you realize you can’t explain your motivations, that is likely a hint that you need to think more on the rationales for your narrative decisions. My recommendation is to read our archives and articles on similar topics for inspiration while you think. I will be attaching this PSA to all asks with similar issues until the volume of such questions declines. 

We have answered this in three parts.

1. Of Paved Roads and Good Intentions

Allow me to give you a personal story, in solidarity towards your feelings:

When I began writing in South Asia as an outsider, specifically in the Kashmir and Lahore areas, I was doing it out of respect for the cultures I had grown up around. I did kathak dance, I grew up on immigrant-cooked North Indian food, my babysitters were Indian. I loved Mughal society, and every detail of learning about it just made me want more. The minute you told me fantasy could be outside of Europe, I hopped into the Mughal world with two feet. I was 13. I am now 28.

And had you asked me, as a teenager, what my motives were in giving my characters’ love interests blue or green eyes, one of them blond hair, my MC having red-tinted brown hair that was very emphasized, and a whole bunch of paler skinned people, I would have told you my motives were “to represent the diversity of the region.” 

I’m sure readers of the blog will spot the really, really toxic and colourist tropes present in my choices. If you’re new here, then the summary is: giving brown people “unique” coloured eyes and hair that lines up with Eurocentric beauty standards is an orientalist trope that needs to be interrogated in your writing. And favouring pale skinned people is colourist, full stop.

Did that make me a bad person with super sneaky ulterior motives who wanted to write bad representation? No.

It made me an ignorant kid from the mostly-white suburbs who grew up with media that said brown people had to “look unique” (read: look as European as possible) to be considered valuable.

And this is where it is important to remember that motives can be pure as you want, but you were still taught all of the terrible stuff that is present in society. Which means you’re going to perpetuate it unless you stop and actually question what is under your conscious motive, and work to unlearn it. Work that will never be complete.

I know it sounds scary and judgemental (and it’s one of the reasons we allow people to ask to be anonymous, for people who are afraid). Honestly, I would’ve reacted much the same as a younger writer, had you told me I was perpetuating bad things. I was trying to do good and my motives were pure, after all! But after a few years, I realized that I had fallen short, and I had a lot more to learn in order for my motives to match my impact. Part of our job at WWC is to attempt to close that gap.

We aren’t giving judgement, when we ask questions about why you want to do certain things. We are asking you to look at the structural underpinnings of your mind and question why those traits felt natural together, and, more specifically, why those traits felt natural to give to a protagonist or other major character.

I still have blond, blue-eyed characters with sandy coloured skin. I still have green-eyed characters. Because teenage me was right, that is part of the region. But by interrogating my motive, I was able to devalue those traits within the narrative, and I stopped making those traits shorthand for “this is the person you should root for.” 

It opened up room for me to be messier with my characters of colour, even the ones who my teenage self would have deemed “extra special.” Because the European-associated traits (pale hair, not-brown-eyes) stopped being special. After years of questioning, they started lining up with my motive of just being part of the diversity of the region.

Motive is important, both in the conscious and the subconscious. It’s not a judgement and it’s not assumed to be evil. It’s simply assumed to be unquestioned, so we ask that you question it and really examine your own biases.

~Mod Lesya

2. Motivations Aren't Always "Ulterior"

You can have a positive motivation or a neutral one or a negative one. Just wanting to have diversity only means your characters aren't all white and straight and cis and able-bodied -- it doesn't explain why you decided to make this specific character specifically bi and specifically Jewish (it me). Yes, sometimes it might be completely random! But it also might be "well, my crush is Costa Rican, so I gave the love interest the same background", or "I set it in X City where the predominant marginalized ethnicity is Y, so they are Y". Neither of these count as ulterior motives. But let's say for a second that you did accidentally catch yourself doing an "ulterior." Isn't that the point of the blog, to help you find those spots and clean them up?

Try thinking of it as “finding things that need adjusting” rather than “things that are bad” and it might get less scary to realize that we all do them, subconsciously. Representation that could use some work is often the product of subconscious bias, not deliberate misrepresentation, so there's every possibility that someone who wants to improve and do better didn't do it perfectly the first time. 

--Shira

3. Dress-Making as a Metaphor

I want to echo Lesya’s sentiments here but also provide a more logistical perspective. If you check the rubber stamp guide here and the “Motivation matters” PSA above, you’ll notice that concerns with respect to asker motivation are for the purposes of providing the most relevant answer possible.

It is a lot like if someone walks into a dressmaker’s shop and asks for a blue dress/ suit (Back when getting custom-made clothes was more of a thing) . The seamstress/ tailor is likely to ask a wide variety of questions:

What material do you want the outfit to be made of?

Where do you plan to wear it?

What do you want to highlight?

How do you want to feel when you wear it?

Let’s say our theoretical customer is in England during the 1920s. A tartan walking dress/ flannel suit for the winter is not the same as a periwinkle, beaded, organza ensemble/ navy pinstripe for formal dress in the summer. When we ask for motivations, we are often asking for exactly that: the specific reasons for your inquiry so we may pinpoint the most pertinent information.

The consistent problem for many of the askers who receive the PSA is they haven’t even done the level of research necessary to know what they want to ask of us. It would be like if our English customer in the 1920s responded, “IDK, some kind of blue thing.” Even worse,  WWC doesn’t have the luxury of the back-and-forth between a dressmaker and their clientele. If our asker doesn’t communicate all the information they need in mind at the time of submission, we can only say, “Well, I’m not sure if this is right, but here’s something. I hope it works, but if you had told us more, we could have done a more thorough job.”

Answering questions without context is hard, and asking for motivations, by which I mean the narratives, themes, character arcs and other literary devices that you are looking to incorporate, is the best way for us to help you, while also helping you to determine if your understanding of the problem will benefit from outside input. Because these asks are published with the goal of helping individuals with similar questions, the PSA also serves to prompt other users.

I note that asking questions is a skill, and we all start by asking the most basic questions (Not stupid questions, because to quote a dear professor, “There are no stupid questions.”). Unfortunately, WWC is not suited for the most basic questions. To this effect, we have a very helpful FAQ and archive as a starting point. Once you have used our website to answer the more basic questions, you are more ready to approach writing with diversity and decide when we can actually be of service. This is why we are so adamant that people read the FAQ. Yes, it helps us, but it also is there to save you time and spare you the ambiguity of not even knowing where to start.

The anxiety in your ask conveys to me a fear of being judged for asking questions. That fear is not something we can help you with, other than to wholeheartedly reassure you that we do not spend our unpaid, free time answering these questions in order to assume motives we can’t confirm or sit in judgment of our users who, as you say, are just trying to do better.

Yes, I am often frustrated when an asker’s question makes it clear they haven’t read the FAQ or archives. I’ve also been upset when uncivil commenters have indicated that my efforts and contributions are not worth their consideration. However, even the most tactless question has never made me think, “Ooh this person is such a naughty racist. Let me laugh at them for being a naughty racist. Let me shame them for being a naughty racist. Mwahaha.”

What kind of sad person has time for that?*

Racism is structural. It takes time to unlearn, especially if you’re in an environment that doesn’t facilitate that process to begin with. Our first priority is to help while also preserving our own boundaries and well-being. Though I am well aware of the levels of toxic gas-lighting and virtue signaling that can be found in various corners of online writing communities in the name of “progressivism*”, WWC is not that kind of space. This space is for discussions held in good faith: for us to understand each other better, rather than for one of us to “win” and another to “lose.”

Just as we have good faith that you are doing your best, we ask that you have faith that we are trying to do our best by you and the BIPOC communities we represent.

- Marika.

*If you are in any writing or social media circles that feed these anxieties or demonstrate these behaviors, I advise you to curtail your time with them and focus on your own growth. You will find, over time, that it is easier to think clearly when you are worrying less about trying to appease people who set the bar of approval so high just for the enjoyment of watching you jump. “Internet hygiene”, as I like to call it, begins with you and the boundaries you set with those you interact with online.

[the-slasher-files]

Alright allow me to overanalyze on Asa Emory’s character, if you don’t mind... 

THE COLLECTOR AND HIS DOGS

Basically this is just me nerding out over dogs and the life of having working dogs also the connection Asa might have to them, so don’t mind me. Now if you do not know I am a person who owns 3 dogs myself, is a big dog lover, have worked with many many different types and characters of dogs, and also follow different sports and clubs with dogs involved. So from experience and research this is where I get this info I'm gonna share ;) hope you enjoy my ted talk🔪💕

In the first movie The Collector Asa has a German Shepard chained up outside the home, using it as a first of many strings in protection. Later on in the movie you get a better look at the dog and what it can do; searching and wanting to lock onto a target, any target. Now this is different from protection work and leads more into a German dog sport called schutzhund. This sport is the ability to test just how good your working dog is at working, it is based from protection work, to tracking, to obedience, to bite. 

This training style is very severe in some cases, and this is what the police use for their training more often than not. It takes a very particular person to have dogs in this sport, even if it is just for fun. And we all know just how particular Asa is lol. 

Now who is the type of person to put their dogs into this? A very interesting one. First of all, anyone who is really into this work will hand pick the type of dog they want, from breed to working lines (meaning how well the dogs parents did in competition, as well as how the breeder is with other dogs). Now you can choose as well where you get these dogs from, could be from Europe to America doesn’t matter, it is up to the soon to be owners choice. Either way these dogs are expensive and need heavy hours set into them to achieve the level of training Asa has his dogs working on, and even more so in the second movie by working together. These people often have a huge thing with power and control, which we already know from Asa, but also they usually need/have extreme self-discipline wanting to be perfect in every aspect, could be a dogs position next to you if they aren’t as close that gets you fucked up because they could not defend you properly. Everything needs to be flawless. 

With all this work, self-discipline and control it can be extremely rewarding, especially for Asa in this case to see someone get their face ripped off, it is in his sadistic nature. Even having the dogs presence is often enough to intimidate anyone, in a lot of police work situations people will flee or hide somewhere if they know it is just a single officer, but once the dog gets brought in people more than likely surrender, fast and easy. If anyone of Asa’s collection pieces chooses to run or hide, the dogs can sniff out where they go, they can out run people and will bite, at least without the dogs people could have a chance. Another good thing about dogs is that they alert, if Asa is working and the dogs bark he will know exactly where that person is easily. 

So to overview what I just rambled about before getting into the next topic, Asa is a very control oriented person, needing to have power over something and be very strategic in doing so. Getting off on the intimidation and fear factor of his victims, and even more so when people get bit. These dogs are also for his own protection, caring about himself and his beautiful collection first, and maybe even caring for the double life he leads more. It also can make Asa’s life easier, not having to always make the kill himself, and this leads me to believe that it isn’t really the kill that gets him off, it is the chase, the skill he has taken and the victims skill of getting away that drives him. Almost uses the dogs in more annoyance just because people aren’t dying and getting in his way or messing with his stuff. I mentioned skill a sentence back and I want to bring it up again because I think it’s important; Asa can appreciate the skill of his victims, it makes it more thrilling but also I think he has a deep appreciation for his dogs skills, being extremely hard working and intelligent creatures, like himself and some victims. Now with the thing about Asa taking his favorites, he is trying to find the right one, the perfect one, making more sense for him to have dogs, Asa can mold his perfect dog, using only working dogs, dogs that love to please and want to be perfect for you.            

Now moving on to the next topic - Connections. So this could go two ways, a good way and a bad, no in between. The majority of people grow extreme bonds with their dogs, especially their working dogs, all the hours you put into the training and you have to trust your dog and they have to trust you. In the military specifically dogs build one of the strongest connections with the soldiers, they are their comfort because they see the same things and yet still have a wagging tail, they can save each others lives, protect one another and appreciate each other deeply for skill and for love. Now there are other people, most common in police work because the dogs can sometimes be too intense or have certain contracts but, these people don’t take their dogs home or when they are home they stay in one room or kennel mostly. Sometimes there are dogs that just can’t adapt to home life and just want to work, but sometimes they can make wonderful family and house dogs. At the same time it is up to the owner choosing what they want for the dog. 

Something strikes me with Asa that he genuinely loves his dogs but at the same time some of his actions make me think twice. In the first movie the dog is chained up away from the dangerous traps of the inside, he is protecting the dog at first, but moving along in the movie he releases the dog into the home going after Arkin. Now this is the dogs job mind you, so Asa trusts him, but also you can see a lot of traps or dangers have been removed so the dog can work safely and knows the dog is smart enough to avoid some of the obvious traps. He lets him work but also wants to help the dog, perhaps not wanting the dog to get seriously hurt or maybe just finally finishing Arkin off. Also the scene where Asa is outside and calls off the dog when he is biting a guy, again maybe for safety of the pet maybe just to watch the man struggle. Ultimately the dog dies in the first one, but Asa watches very carefully when the dog is going after Arkin, and there is almost a ‘sadness’ or maybe curiosity to Asa’s face, and I think he knows in that moment his dog is sadly dead. 

In The Collection you don’t see the dogs really work that much, you only see them barking at Abby then barging in the room with Asa, so it is hard to really see any connections. From both movies I would say Asa takes the dogs with him for the most part, takes them to ‘jobs’ and brings them to the hotel. Now at the hotel it is important to notice the dogs do not have free range or else we would see them probably a lot more. My best guess is that Asa cares for the dogs and doesn’t want them getting hurt by his traps until he knows who the people are, that’s when he loses it, literally going in all guns a blazing. When he does bring the dogs out they are only with him, aka his control and protection side coming out. Now in this scene Asa has an assault rifle that he uses in tandem with the dogs, but I noticed carefully watching the scene, Asa never shoots towards the dogs, he lets them work, again trusting them deeply, if he did shoot around not caring for them the bullets would have defiantly hit Arkin and wounded him or killed him. Of course after this scene we don’t really get to see Asa in any sort of grief, (which I really wanted lol) he is just busy trying to kill everyone else and not get caught by the cops. 

Then in the final scene of The Collection we see Asa’s home, this is like months after the events at the hotel from what I can tell, but we see no dogs, not a trace. Simply he maybe could not have gotten anymore dogs since his collection was destroyed and he doesn’t really need dogs to protect his stuff any longer, or maybe Asa did not find new dogs that he wanted yet, or just maybe they were locked in the house away in a room, keeping his house spotless. Who knows it is all up to the person watching, I don’t think they expected a dog crazy person to be diving this deep lol.

So my final thoughts. I personally think Asa really likes his dogs and they bring him good company and something to have power over in his regular life. Once you have a dog, especially dogs that take so much work and training time it is very hard for people to just stop having dogs. Also being a biologist I think he can deeply appreciate them for their intelligence and skill. If anyone says Asa would like cats you can fuck off because look what happened to the cat in the first movie, it was clumsy and got itself killed, plus look at his house, not a thing knocked over lol, a cat would never do for him. Anyway thank you for coming to my ted talk and letting me nerd out! Fill free to add your own thoughts.       

This is Aero from the first movie, a German Shepard that might be from some European lines, but looks mostly American to me.     

Now I sadly couldn’t find these dogs names, but these 2 are a little different. To me the one on the left looks like a European line longer fur german shep. While the one on the right looks like a belgian malinois maybe with some shepard in it. 

[seijorhi]

asks :))

what i have learned today is that y’all wanna get fucked by some monsters...

What does nostos mean? What language is it in? 🤔 also I of course loved it, mind blown as usual queen

it’s ancient greek! it means homecoming, the idea of a triumphant return home for the hero after a long journey. i found it through looking at the root of nostalgia. in this fic of course it’s kind of a grim tongue in cheek play on it. the reader’s coming back to the mountains, but she’s running away after a bad breakup, and the welcome she gets is... shall we say less than ideal haha

Just read nostos-

First of all as a person who reads monster shit- hell ya. Mhm. That’s some good shit right there. That was DELICIOUS horror. It actually had me a bit nervous and afraid to read what was gonna happen next 😳

Secondly- omg I wanna know what happened next (at the end) 👀 know what I mean??? 😼

ANYWAY AS ALWAYS you never disappoint and your writing is fantastic (if/when you write horror yandere stuff again I’ll be there- frothing at the mouth. A+++++ work ILY💖)

you want me to write the monster porn, just say it bby ghfjdkshgfjkd but ty

Omfg that fic was so good!

Did the readers mom know about monster kuroo?? Or was she just worried because of the previous murder? And did Kuroo somehow manipulate reader into coming back to the forest or was it just a big coincidence? (👁👄👁 there's no such thing as a coincidence)

Looking forward to your future work <3

ty nonnie!! i didn’t have the right space for it, but after kohsuke was ripped apart and eaten kuroo stayed by the reader’s side until late in the night, only disappearing when he heard the reader’s parents/search party approaching. they found her lying in pools of blood (and scattered half eaten body parts), shaking and unresponsive – they knew no animal could’ve done something like that. so they knew something lurked in those woods, but considering the reader had repressed the memories, her mom couldn’t just come out and say it <33

You are an AMAZING horror writer!!!

The uneasiness I got from the conversations with the mom is just *chefs kiss*

A+++++

ahh thank you!! horror is such a hard genre to write because i’m never sure if the suspense and everything’s gonna hit right haha

I read Nostos before going to sleep last night and at the time I was like “sure hope this doesn’t give me nightmares” and thankfully it didn’t lol. But I think I’m willing to take that chance again because it’s so GOOD and I think I’m just going to have to relive it – @ohno-otome

fhdjgbfhjkdfn i’m glad it didn’t give you nightmares bby!! but i also appreciate that haha, i’m an absolute wimp with scary movies and stuff but i just can’t stop watching them haha

I just wanna say that I was listening to "You're a psychotic villain playlist" on youtube while reading Kuroo's oneshot and I can't explain the emotions I felt, but I'd let Kuroo do things to me asdfghjkl – @itishebihime-samaforyou

ooh nice! sometimes the right playlist makes things doubly as fun haha

OH MY GOD!?!?! Nostos was soooo GOOD?!?!? Like it was so creepy (but in a good way), and scary and suspenseful!! And the ending!?!? Omggg honestly one my fav fics from you!! You did my mans Kuroo justice 🥺💖💕

TYYYYYYY i was genuinely concerned i was gonna scare everybody off haha

Ah! The new fic! Chiefs kiss! Magnificent! Bravo!🧚‍♀️✨🧞‍♀️🦖🦭🌹💫

tysm nonnie!!! <33

i’m pretty sure i’m in the same/similar timezone as you? and i do be staying up late to be one of the first to read your fics (i usually stay up late anyways). so imagine my surprise when i see you post in the afternoon. in conclusion, whether you post to align with your european and american readers’ timezone, my gmt+10 arse will still be one of the first to read your fics. also nostos sjdufigyyjf i have to admit, i recently just found out about monster fucking and nostos scratched the itch😫 i feel bad for kohsuke though

bby i always post at like 2-4 in the morning please get some sleep!! the fics will be there in the morning lmao. i kinda low key forget about my aussie/gmt+10 followers because i think there’s like... 3 of you haha

Honestly if i could give u a dollar everytime i got off to your fics, you'd probably be rich by now

lmao the idea that people find my fics hot enough to get off to still blows my mind lol

your newest kuroo fic was so SO good!! its totally okay if you dont want to answer this so you can keep things ambiguous but is monster kuroo planning on killing the reader after he's...done with them

thank you, bby!! but no, monster kuroo isn’t gonna eat her – he’s had plenty of chances to do that if that’s what he wanted, but he has other plans for the poor reader

RHI, I WANT TO STATE FOR THE RECORD THAT I AM OKAY WITH MORE MONSTER FUCKING IN THE FUTURE. i also want to say im not a monster fucker, but that just feels like a lie at this point. okay, now that that's off my chest, i love it. the mystery, the connections of kuroo to a cat. kuroo's probably gonna go and batter around his prey once they're under his grip like my cat does. hopefully the reader will come out somewhat unscathed, if they are ever allowed to leave 😌 love this, love how different it is, the way kuroo just tries to weasel in. very monster and yandere vibes, very you. have i said i love this yet?? id willingly let him get me drunk on his cock, maybe never leave the peace of the mountains again

‘i want to say that i’m not a monster fucker’ bby the denial will get you nowhere haha. just lean in and embrace it hgfjkdlkfgjnkdl ahh but thank you this is such a sweet ask ILY!!!

Omg omg the monster thing kuroo was in ur latest fic is so familiar to me abdhdmfnjfjf. I remember being told abt a monster with VERY SIMILAR characteristics to it (aka the not being able to go inside a house unless invited and using fire to lure ppl out) AND JFC IT TERRIFIED ME. Esp how when i told ppl around me and they didnt recognize what it was, but it was somehow known to the kid that told me abt it.

(Some ppl thought it was familiar but still didnt know what it was)

Do u know what im talking abt? Hopefully u do

-🥚

GHFJDK so the monster in this is kind of based off the nekomata spirit in japanese folklore - they can appear like people, torment victims by reanimating the corpses of their loved ones, they’ve been blamed for forest fires, so it was just fun to use that as a basis and then go buck wild haha. anyway thanks for the ask bby!

Rest In Peace Kohsuke, you would’ve loved Haikyuu season 5😔✊– @joyvstheworld

poor kohsuke deserved better, i’m just mean to the oc’s i throw into fics haha

Monsterfucking ❤❤❤❤❤❤ a little annoyed you're making me simp for yan Kuroo though (a vibe tho tbh). You're so extremely talented!!!! &

This is probably a stupid question, but how did Kageyama react when he couldn't find y/n? How is life with yan Suga? I imagine probably awful BUT yknow maybe the stockholm syndrome set in fast lmao. Sorry, I'm going on a binge reading your stuff. - @oracleofdin

i will not apologise for making you simp for kuroo he deserves it the man’s a snacc. and as far as your second question, suga’s a very caring, very smothering kinda yandere, so i guess in some ways it’s better than what the reader had with kageyama but... pick your poison haha

That was so good. I’m so shook rn I can’t comprehend anything but how good that was and how good a writer you are

TYSM NONNIE!!! <33

Ok, so, I just read Final Girl and the lil' ticket addition to it and just---

Well, ok I've been playing Dead by Daylight a lot lately? And I'm just picturing Tetsu as the newest killer "The Trickster" and I'm positively RANDY.

Your writing is ALREADY thirst inducing and just as satisfying, but this has SENT ME- If you're not familiar, please...

https://youtu.be/iowkiPobYYQ

Understand my thirst. (I'd also like to clarify, I use a different skin for him that gives him black hair and he looks like Kuroo with an undercut.)

~ @the-casual-hedonist 🌸

i love how feral y’all got for final girl kuroo. like bo and akaashi had his fans, but i put a spiked bat in kuroo’s hands and y’all lost your goddamn minds and i love to see it. fghdjkvhfjdkls thanks for the ask bby

idk why but I love preggo reader as long as I don't pretend it's me 😢✋ I hate babies n pregnancy anywhere else other than horny haikyuu fics

i think that’s a valid thing for a lot of fans. the idea of breeding is sexy, the actual getting pregnant and having a kid thing... not so much. but especially with non-con scenario’s, it’s more about the aspect on control than the actual desire to have kids. but yeah, i feel you

Sorry to bother but uh was just wondering in fracture did Osamu kill his wife or was it actually an “unfortunate event” ? Love your work btw!!

he most certainly did :))

LMFAO RHI i totally get not liking cheating/infidelity fics (towards reader) bc IT HIRTS ME SO BAD I CANNOT HANDLE THOSE.

id be reading fics those fics like: tf you mean my yandere aimt gonna baby me and only want me??🤨🤨🤨⁉️‼️

EXACTLY! listen i get that it’s a fucked up fantasy, but in my fucked up fantasy you damn well better have the decency to be loyal smh

Finders keepers is the most beautiful thing I've read by you: I read it twice like I normally do and here's what I figured out the second time (that's when I analyze it and find the little tidbits of things that are much darker than they appear (: )

To start I LOVE THE DETAILS OF THEM NEVER TEACHING READER ANYTHING- at first I assumed "oh they might see her as a little sister or child or something" but realized thAT WAS THE ISSUE!! they infantilize her and isolate her from everyone but her group. the small details like that are what make the story amazing 😎💅

ahh thank you so much, nonnie!! pls this is making me soft 🥺

I just wanted to stop by and say that I love your writing and I hope you're doing well!!! Drink plenty of water and keep up the amazing work :) but seriously you're one of the best fanfic writers I've seen on tumblr! I read your "Imitation" piece about kuroo and i keep coming back to it, it's so good! I did want to ask if you think it'd be possible for the reader to ever escape with the baby (or at least attempt to). Or if Kenma would "help" at all just to put an end to kuroo's antics lmao

kenma would in no way help the reader, and tbh by that point if kuroo did get her pregnant, she’d be far too emotionally dependant on him to actually even want to leave, but thanks for the ask!

You know who I think would be a perfect Yandere in the JJK world? Choso.

🚨Spoilers Ahead🚨

After being locked in a glass jar for however long he was, and all that happened with his brothers, I feel like he would absolutely never let his darling out of his sight. He would be possessive. Obsessive. And Oh So delusional. Sure he’d be your anything - he truly is a softy - but to what end?🤤

choso would make an excellent yandere, ngl 😌

what au/troupe of your fav character(s) that you have written do you like the most?

(rlly hope this makes sense🙏)

i am always a slut for soulmate au’s :))

[puckinghell]

The Plus One Pact | William Nylander | Part 3

Summary: Your ex is getting married, and you don’t have a date, which means the unavoidable “why don’t you have a boyfriend” question is about to haunt you for the rest of eternity. But then there’s Will, who could be the answer to all your problems. A simple business pact, no feelings involved: that won’t be hard for you, because you really don’t like him anyways. Except pacts were made to be broken… or something. Right?

Note: This is part 3. Click here for part 1 | part 2

-- 

You’ve never seen Will nervous.

And, okay, you know he gets nervous. You asked Zach once, if his teammates still got nervous before big games the way Zach himself does, and Zach said yes, especially the younger guys; Mitchy, Willy, Matts.

“There’s more pressure on their shoulders than you or I could ever understand,” he’d said with a pointed look.

You think Zach carries a fair amount of pressure himself, but to be fair, he rarely seems to be bothered by it.

So, you know Will gets nervous before big games, but you don’t really ever see him, then, so you’ve never seen him nervous. That’s why it’s so weird now.

“Are you afraid of flying?”

Willy’s head snaps up as he looks at you with a puzzled expression.

“Of course not. I fly for work all the time.”

You’re sitting in the plane to Calgary, which Will, at the very least, paid for. It’s your second event together; Will’s cousin’s baby shower slash gender reveal party.

“Well, you’ve been fidgeting.”

At your words, Willy’s hand stills from where it’s been plucking at the thread of his hoodie for the past 20 minutes. He’s also been pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and digging his teeth into it, the way he does with his mouthguard sometimes during games.

“I’m a bit nervous,” Will admits. He’s refusing to look at you, now, staring out of the little plane window as if there’s anything to see there except white puffy clouds that reach as far as you can see into the distance.

“Why? You love your family.”

It’s a fair question, because if there’s one thing you know about Willy, and kinda like about Willy, it’s how vehemently and outwardly he loves and cares for his family. He’s always talking about his siblings accomplishments, and he never lets a call from his mom or dad go unanswered. Whenever Alex is around, he’s beaming with happiness, all bright smiles and laughter, and one year he was over at Zach’s Christmas party because he couldn’t make it home to Sweden that year for Christmas, and he was so miserable you couldn’t feel anything but really sorry for him.

However, the question gets Will’s hackles up. You see it immediately in the way his face hardens, emotion carefully tucked away beneath the mask.

You hate it, when he gets like this. You didn’t used to ever see it, but then the contract stuff happened and people started asking dumb questions and you saw it more and more.

To be honest, you always thought it was born out of arrogance, a how dare you question me – attitude, but it hits you now that it’s just a shield, designed to protect himself.

You don’t know what to think of the fact that apparently you know Willy enough to see that, now.

“Of course I love my family,” Will says, and his voice is sharp. “I just know I’m going to have to answer questions I don’t wanna answer.”

“About me?” you hazard a guess. The way Willy looks at you tells you you’re right.

He sighs. “About me bringing someone, yeah. They worry about me a lot, and after what happened with my last girlfriend, they don’t really trust me to make good decisions when it comes to relationships, anymore.”

Your frown must be questioning enough, because he continues.

“She broke up with me during the contract negotiations. Apparently, if I wasn’t Toronto’s favorite anymore, I couldn’t be hers, either.”

Despite everything, your heart breaks a little, for him.

“So I’m gonna have to convince them I’m not after fame and good fortune, huh?” you try to lighten the mood, keeping your voice cheery. You even go as far as to bump your shoulder into Will’s, because that guy thrives on physical contact – you didn’t make that up, Zach actively makes fun of Willy for it all the time – and he looks like he could use some support.

It works a little, because Will smiles, but the smile is tinged with sadness so it doesn’t work as well as you’d hoped.

“Don’t worry, they won’t believe you are. Dating me will get you the opposite of that in Toronto, nowadays.”

For the first time since you’ve known Will, you really want to tell him that’s not true.

The conversation in the plane kinda throws you, a little bit, to the point where the cab ride from the airport to Willy’s cousin’s house is so quiet that Will grabs your hand and squeezes when you get out of the car.

“They’re gonna like you,” he mumbles. “I promise you don’t have to worry about that. I’ll worry about the questions, you just go eat some cakes and look at baby clothes with my sisters, or something.”

It’s nice, that he’s trying to put you at ease like that, but to be honest that’s not what you’d been thinking about.

You’d been thinking about him.

Will can be loud and boisterous and there’s almost always a cheeky twinkle in his eyes that makes you feel like he’s not taking anything serious. He’s hot, and everyone thinks so, and he knows everyone thinks so, and you always kinda assumed he thought he was the best thing since sliced bread.

This side of him, the vulnerable side, is something you hadn’t expected to ever see from him, because you didn’t think he had it. Zach has told you, of course, over the years.

“Willy’s not like you think” and “he’s different when it’s just him and his close friends.”

“So he’s acting?” you’d challenged. “As if that’s better.”

“Not acting, really,” Zach had answered, unbothered by your bad mood at the time. “He really can be like that, fun and impulsive and he loves people and being around people. But he has a vulnerable, insecure side. He just keeps that side closer to his chest than most.”

You hadn’t really believed Zach. You thought you were a good judge of character, and William Nylander, to you, was nothing but another rich privileged handsome male who assumed life would simply work out in his favor because he’d never known anything else.

Now you’re doubting that. And it’s messing with your head.

Because if Will really cares about what people think of him so much… Well, let’s just say you’re suddenly feeling a little guilty about all those thoughts you’ve had behind his back.

You don’t say any of this, though, because it’s time to turn on the charm the way Will had for you, at the wedding.

“I’ll try not to flirt with your cousin’s husband,” you mumble, and Will’s laughs sounds a little more like himself, before knocking on the door.

“William!” The door gets opened by a beautiful blonde woman with a massive belly. Willy’s cousin, you assume. Her eyes immediately catch on you, and her smile is laced with surprise. “You brought someone.”

“Hey, Alice.” Will leans in, kisses both her cheeks the way Europeans do, sometimes. “This is Y/N, she’s my plus one for today.”

You notice he doesn’t call you his girlfriend, per se, but for some reason you expect that’s the conclusion his family is going to reach anyway.

“You didn’t even tell me you were bringing a plus one,” Alice scolds, but there’s nothing but fondness in her voice. “Luckily we have enough cakes.”

She ushers you into the house and suddenly you’re surrounded by beautiful blond people all yelling Will’s name.

“Calm down,” Willy giggles, as he starts kissing people’s cheeks and ruffling little kids’ hair.

You get introduced, but it all goes so quick and there’s so many people, you forget their names as soon as Will says them. The only ones you make sure to remember are the names of his siblings; Alex, of course, you’ve met before after games, and then there’s Jacquline, Michelle, Stephanie and Daniella. The girls especially are all over you right away, but not in a bad way; they’re asking you about your shoes and compliment your hair, and what do you do for a living and have you ever been to a Swedish baby shower before?

“They’re not any different from Canadian baby showers,” Will rolls his eyes at that, but there’s nothing but fondness in his eyes when he looks at his siblings. 

His hand lands on your lower back in protective fashion, as he starts guiding you out of the house. When some of his sisters follow, he shoots them a pointed look, then barks something in Swedish.

You kinda like how melodic his voice sounds in Swedish.

His sisters talk back, but then they all disappear.

“What did you say?”

“I told them that they couldn’t steal you away from me before I even get you a drink,” Will answers, something cheeky laced in his voice. “So, blue or pink lemonade? Depending on whether you think boy or girl.”

The garden is bigger than you expected based on the size of the house, and it’s beautiful, flowers blooming everywhere. There’s standing tables with people everywhere, and a buffet table where the drinks are.

“Have you looked around?” you giggle. Almost all of the kids are little girls. “Pink.”

“Nah, no way.” Will hands you a pink one, and takes a blue one himself. “With this many girls in the family, we have to get a boy now.”

“That’s what we said when we got Daniella.” The voice is tinted with accent, light and welcoming. Will’s face lights up when he hears it.

“Mom!” They hug, and you can see how Camilla squeezes her son tightly. It pulls a smile out of you; loving family dynamics have always been foreign to you, but it’s nice to see. “This is Y/N,” Will says, when they break apart, and Camilla shakes your hand with a smile.

“So nice of you to come,” she says. “Will didn’t tell us he was bringing someone.”

“Uh, that’s on me,” you lie through your teeth. “I wasn’t sure I could make it.”

“We’re all glad you did.” Camilla looks at Will, and you can see the question in her look, but she doesn’t ask it. “I’ll go tell your dad you’re here.”

As soon as she’s off, you turn to Will.

“You didn’t tell her I was coming? They’re all gonna think this is so weird!”

Will’s eyes glitter with mischief. “Yes, and that’s why the plan works.” You must look confused, cause he laughs. “If they’re all busy speculating about who you are and why I brought you, they’re not gonna ask me about my ex, my lack of a love life, or the fact that I haven’t given them any grandkids yet.”

He looks smugly proud of his idea, and you can’t stop the eye roll.  

“Right, no, perfect plan,” you snide. “I’ll just take all the hits and have everyone looking at me as if I’ve got two heads all day.”

“Don’t be dramatic.” Will waves in the general direction of the garden. “Soon they’re gonna announce the baby’s gender, and then nobody is gonna care about you anymore.”

“Gee, thanks.” But you’re teasing now, and it’s clear Will gets that because he leans a bit closer and winks.

“Except for me, of course.”

--

You shouldn’t have worried. The Nylanders turn out to be a friendly bunch and they immediately include you in every conversation you happen to stumble upon. To their credit, they don’t ask you even once what you’re doing there or what Will is to you.

You suppose he’s having less luck, because you look over and find Camilla talking to him intently in Swedish, and him staring at the floor like a scolded toddler.

You’ve been barely standing alone for two seconds when Alice appears next to you.

“You’ll have to excuse everyone’s curiosity,” she says. “Will didn’t tell us he was dating anyone.”

“Uhm.” What the hell are you supposed to say to that. Luckily, it doesn’t matter, because she keeps talking.

“We’re all glad that he is, though. We were all a bit worried about him. Anyway, can I ask you a massive favor?” she asks. “We’re about to let out the balloon to reveal the gender, but it’s in the garage and I kinda don’t wanna squeeze in there.” She laughs and motions to her massive belly. “Could you go get it for me?”

You immediately say yes, not only because she’s nice but because you’re glad for the opportunity to do something useful. You haven’t seen Will in a while, and you suppose that’s fair enough because you kinda left him to his own devices at the wedding last week, too, but Will is good at socializing and you aren’t, so you’ve been feeling a bit out of place.

Besides, if Alice starts asking more questions, you don’t think you’ll have the answers. Damn, this is harder than you thought it would be.

The garage is filled with boxes, bikes, and even a washing machine, so you have to squeeze through a pretty tight fit to get through the boxes that say balloons on them.

You hadn’t really expected there to be so many of them.

Everything happens way too fast and simultaneously in slow motions, then. You realize there’s no way of knowing in which box the massive balloon is, so you open one of the boxes. There’s nothing in it.

“Y/N, are you in here?” Willy’s voice calls.

You open the second box at that exact moment, and before you realize what’s happening, there’s a blue balloon floating out of the garage, up into the sky.

“No,” you breathe, and Will’s eyes widen almost comically as he realizes what just happened.

It’s a boy! the balloon reads, and then it floats too high to even read anything at all.

“It’s a helium balloon,” Will deadpans, as if you hadn’t noticed that by now.

“Oh God.” You just ruined their entire party. “Oh God oh God oh God.”

You’re starting to panic, and it’s not funny at all, but then Will starts laughing, uncontrollable giggles as he clutches his stomach, and you can’t not laugh with him.

Even if you’re on the brink of crying.

“I told you it would be a boy,” Willy giggles. “I can’t believe you messed up so much worse than me!”

“Will, stop.” You manage to quiet down your hysterical giggles only to clutch at Willy’s arm. “We have to fix this! Imagine what Alice is gonna say.”

That stops Will’s laughter, too, although he’s still smiling.

“I’ll stop laughing if you stop looking like you just murdered the baby. It’s just a balloon, Y/N.”

“Yeah, but…”

Will shushes you by wrapping an arm around your shoulder and carefully leading you out of the garage. He must feel that you’re on the edge of a mental breakdown, because he keeps his arm there, heavy and steadying, as he starts leading you back into the house and up the stairs.

It’s kinda nice.

“I’ll fix it,” he promises, and he sounds an awful lot like Zach, suddenly. “I’ve got an idea.”

You would hope his ideas are better than Zach’s, but unfortunately they seem pretty on par, because Will grabs a regular, non-text blue balloon from the study where they’re all stored, and a waterproof sharpie.

“This is so not gonna work!” you protest. “I should just come clean.”

Willy pulls a complicated face. “After I’ve just had to listen to twenty minutes of my mom telling me that you’re amazing, and she has such a good feeling about you, and if I let you go I’ll not only disappoint her but set myself up for disappointment for the rest of my life? No thanks.”

He turns the balloon so you can see it, and you decide to focus on it because you can’t unpack all of that right now. 

“I think the balloon company might get a pretty angry email, but that should be it.”

On the balloon, there’s written It’s a boy! Except in Willy’s scrawly handwriting it looks a lot less good than the balloon that’s currently floating somewhere in space. In fact, it looks a little like it says It’s a 6oy!

However, you also don’t fancy Camilla’s disappointed face, so you allow Willy to shove it in a box and bring it outside.

The entire family gathers around, and Alice and her husband Otto are standing with their arms around each other in front of the box, when Willy’s hand reaches out and grabs your, lacing your fingers together.

And you’re totally gonna ignore the dumb little skip your heart does at the contact, because that’s not how you and Willy work; surely he’s just trying to sell the story of you dating to his family.

Even though nobody is looking at you. 

Either way, you are grateful to him for saving your ass, there.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, soft enough for only him to hear. “About the balloon.”

“Don’t be.” Willy’s smile is genuine. “I’ve never laughed so hard at a baby shower before. And my entire family has come up to say that they love you, and nobody has asked me when I’m gonna get serious about my life. So I should be thanking you, if anything.”

You’ve barely talked to half the Nylander family, and you wonder how awful his previous girlfriend was that they’re all fawning over you, now, but you can’t think about it too much because then someone is counting down.

3, 2, 1…

The box opens. The balloon floats up. There’s silence for one beat, two beats, and you swear they’re gonna call you out, but then someone cheers and suddenly Alice is crying and Otto is being manhandled by some other guys and everyone is clapping, and Willy grins.

“It’s a boy,” Alice calls out.

“I’m so glad she could read that.” Willy’s voice is deadpan but the twinkle in his eyes is still there, and suddenly you’re laughing.

“I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so much at a baby shower, either,” you tell him truthfully, and it probably shouldn’t make you feel something that Will looks quietly pleased, at that.

[crazycoke-addict]

Shallon Lester needs to be held accountable

If you’re wondering who she is. Shallon Lester is a YouTuber who makes videos of celebrities whether it be relationships or other stuff in general. She’s also MTV personality and may have connection with some celebrities but not all. I discovered Shallon when a video was recommended for me and it was about the Khloe/Tristan/Jordyn that went down last year. She talks about how Khloe should’ve been aware whom she was dating and how the kardashians treated Jordyn wasn’t ok. I didn’t watch the whole video because she began degrading Jordyn Woods. I can’t remember the exact thing she said but it was basically Khloe is the beautiful one like Jordyn is not. I see this as being racist.

Khloe has done a lot of surgery on herself from her face to her butt even she denies it, it’s clear that she has done surgery. Jordyn however it doesn’t seem like she has ever done any surgery on herself just lost weight naturally. The kardashians and also the Jenners are known for profiting off of black culture and they are obsessed to look like a black woman. They deny this but there’s so many proof like how Kim uses a foundation that doesn’t match her skin tone. They are blackfishing and people like Shallon see them as ‘beautiful’ and even praise them but degrade and hate on a real black woman who has all these features that the kardashians and other white insta models are trying to steal. Because of white supremacy Black girls were taught not to love themselves and their mind were poisoned into believing that European beauty standards was better. Flash forward to today and you got white girls pretending to be a black Woman for clout and get likes and followers.

I didn’t watch any of her other videos because she didn’t really peak my interest and especially after that video she made that I mentioned. A video that she made was recommended to me again and it was about why Scott Disick shouldn’t be dating Sofia Richie. She basically goes into detail as many people have said about why this relationship isn’t going to work out. The age difference, Sofia is 21 while Scott is 36 so there’s a 15 year gap between them, Scott has three kids with another woman and she mentioned his past. To be honest I don’t care much about age difference as long as both parties are in legal age and it’s consent. I find the relationship between Scott and Sofia not problematic as many trying to make it out like. He doesn’t drink that much as he used to and it seems like he cleaned up his act because of her. I don’t think Sofia pushed to change him, but I do think she’s the reason along with his kids he decided to get his shit together. Although girls that are Sofia’s age are still trying to figure out everything and relationship with older man can go different ways until they look back and realise there were a lot of red flags. There are girls like Sofia are actually mature for her age and they know it too. One of the celebrity couples I’ll give an example is Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall. When they met each other, Humphrey was 45 and Lauren was 19. The way Lauren carries herself shows that she’s mature person for someone her age. Although the age difference is quite big, the two got married, had two kids and stayed married until bogart’s death in 1957. So it can work for some but not all.

Many would agree on Shallon when talking about the age difference but she comes off as hypocritical. She doesn’t agree with an older man dating a younger woman but is ok with an older woman dating a younger man. Her defense was younger women become sexually traumatised but apparently younger men aren’t going to share the same experience. This becomes more uncomfortable when funding out that she made tweets about Justin Bieber about having sex dreams with him in it. The tweet that was made in 2010, she was 25 and he was only 16. Why is a 25 year old woman tweeting on having sex dreams about a child. It’s creepy and disgusting.

When she talks about certain celebrities or even certain topics, majority of the time she acts like she knows what she’s talking about. It’s the way she says make you believe that everything she said 100% accurate to the point where it feels like she’s manipulating you. It seems like she considers herself as a physiology and has even try to diagnose celebrities based on what she has heard despite not being accurate. Her latest video is about Ellen DeGeneres and how to spot a psychopath. In video, she goes straight to Ellen and her marriage with Porsche by saying that Ellen was mean to her wife and refused to give her a baby. She says this is allegedly as what she has heard, but Portia on other hand said she doesn’t mind not having kids. The way she tries to self-diagnosis Ellen to see if she has psychopaths tendency and even try to compare Ellen to Adolf Hitler because they both love animals. I love animals does that mean I’m Hitler. It’s so weird and just ridiculous.

She tackles on another serious topic like Mental Health and suicide by making video about Pete Davidson. The video is titled “Ariana Grande & Pete Davidson: how beta males manipulate women”. There was certain time when Pete wasn’t in a good place. He deleted all of his social media accounts but before doing that he wrote a statement which appear to be a suicide note. Everyone was worried about his well-being. Pete has been about his mental health issues and how he suffers from Borderline Personallty Disorder and sometimes have suicidal thoughts. Shallon doesn’t like Pete because he’s not doing anything to fix his mental disorder. What Shallon is doing is victim-blaming and very insensitive as well. You can’t be fix in way as what she is implying there’s no cure for mental health. The only that Pete can do is seek treatment. People with BPD can get treatment but it’s not something that can be cured. She talked about where Pete did an interview with Charlemagne the god. It doesn’t seem like she even watched the video, because she sees Pete going to rehab or getting help in order to get more drugs. She also thinks that people suffering from BPD can’t seek treatment because it’s not something you can get treated because it’s part of your personality. This is so ignorant and incredibly harmful.

She mentions how in the interview Pete Davidson says he use to cut himself and how Charlemagne didn’t asked them in that when he actually did which shows that she didn’t watch the video at all. She also doesn’t think he goes to therapy when he actually does. Like she did with the Ellen DeGeneres video, she thinks him having bipolar disorder and even BPD is connected to his mother and sister. Like something bad happened in the family household. He lost his father due to 9/11 so he probably suffered from loss and trauma, But it’s not the way she’s implying at all. It’s like she’s saying he can’t have good and stable relationship with his mum and sister because he has a mental disorder. The way she talks about Pete shows how much she hates men who talk about their mental health issues. She is one of the reasons on why men have a hard time expressing their emotions and deciding to mental disorder they suffer from because it’s people like her whom are going shunned them and even said that they don’t deserve any love and happiness.

She also hates Selena Gomez and even calls Selena her “mortal enemy” even though Selena probably doesn’t know who she is. Her hatred towards Selena has to be an extend of her being attracted to Justin Bieber when he was 16. She says that she could help Selena and whatever issues that she’s battling but doesn’t want to because ‘Selena is annoying’. Imagine you going to therapy and telling your therapist how you been feeling and they says ‘I would love to help you but your annoying’. She says that if Selena dies from overdose than it’s our fault for not holding her accountable and says that Selena isn’t going to make it to 27. Her dying gets better. Which is completely disgusting and just insensitive. She says that Selena has bad tattoos and even though one of her tattoos is a semicolon that is located on her wrist. The semicolon actually means something very important which is a solidarity against suicide, depression and other mental health issues.

Overall Shallon Lester is a horrible white woman who doesn’t know what she’s talking about spreads false lies on people and does the harmful by trying to diagnose a person because you just don’t like them.

[the-busy-ghost]

If you don't mind answering, what are some things that you really, really wish you'd see more of in depictions of medieval Scotland/Early Modern Scotland?

I absolutely don’t mind answering, thank you for asking! 

I’m told there are some better quality novels than there are tv shows and films, so there are some aspects that have been done in good novels (though I’m not so familiar with them). There are so many things though that could be done on screen:

- Chiefly I spend a lot of my time wishing that there was more attention paid to the actual geographical make-up of Scotland and its regional variety, e.t.c beyond just splitting everything into Highland/Lowland, or just portraying everyone as being part of a Clan in the Highland sense, or just sticking everyone in Edinburgh as if that was the only place where anything happened. Orkney was very different to Galloway, and the Borders were very different to the Western Isles, and Ross was different to Aberdeenshire. 

Now if this was true for the sixteenth century, it is even MORE true for the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth centuries. Between the early Middle Ages and the end of the thirteenth century, Scotland was settled by a lot of different cultures- so in the twelfth century for example, much of the country (the traditional heartland of ‘Scotia’ north of the Forth) may have spoken Gaelic but Lothian had been settled by speakers of Old English some centuries ago and their language became Scots in time, and spread north of the Forth into Fife, Angus, Aberdeenshire and elsewhere so that by the sixteenth century it was much more widely spoken and the language of government. The south-west, especially the area around the Clyde and Glasgow was a British kingdom for a long time, speaking a language not dissimilar to Old Welsh- this kingdom had (sort of) disappeared by the mid-twelfth century but the language took a while to completely disappear. Up in Orkney, Shetland, and Caithness, rather like in Iceland and the Faroes, Norse settlers had taken over and Norse culture has still left traces there today. From the fourteenth century, Scots began to take over in the Northern Isles but there was still a very clear Norse background in the sixteenth century. Meanwhile in the Western Isles, the Norse newcomers did not manage to erase Gaelic so completely as they did in the Northern Isles, but they did leave their mark on the Hebrides, to the extent that the inhabitants in the Western Isles in the in the twelfth century were descendants of both cultures- they are sometimes called Gall-Ghàidheil in Gaelic, meaning ‘foreigner Gael’. Then over the course of the twelfth century more new immigrants moved in. The ranks of the nobility were swelled by Norman, Breton, and other French settlers- unlike England, there was no ‘Norman Conquest’, and the process was more gradual, but although the French language never had the same power in Scotland as it did in thirteenth century England, these settlers left their mark on the feudal system and other aspects of Scottish society, and in turn they too were affected by the cultures they encountered in Scotland. Other smaller pockets of immigration existed- immigrants from Flanders and the Netherlands, for example, were instrumental to developing Scottish towns and improving agriculture. In the east coast burghs of Fife and Lothian you can still see some architectural elements that may have been the result of trade with the Dutch- crow-stepped gables and red pantiles for example. 

Although most of these cultures have altered and changed by the sixteenth century, the fact remains that the cultural backdrop to fourteenth or fifteenth century Scotland was a real mix- Gaelic, English, French, Norse, Flemish, British- and, perhaps, whatever it was that the elusive Picts left behind beyond their wonderful stone monuments. I have perhaps oversimplified things here but the point is that mediaeval and early modern Scotland was not a cultural monolith- something which both Scottish and foreign film-makers would do well to remember. 

There are also changes to these regions across the years- Orkney going from being a Norwegian/Danish territory to becoming part of the Scottish kingdom, or the borders which had some of the best farmland and richest abbeys in the country in the thirteenth century becoming a very militarised and rather lawless zone after the Wars of Independence. I think it would be really interesting to see that portrayed on screen.  

- Ok so that was the fundamental thing, apologies for the rant. But to go with that, more understanding of the landscape and architecture. In all fairness most tv shows and films involving Scotland, no matter how bad they are, at least have some lovely panning shots of the Highlands but there’s more to the country than Glencoe- you could really work with views like the sun on the sea from the Carrick coast or the beautiful if ruinous religious architecture- like the abbeys of Melrose or Arbroath or somewhere like Elgin Cathedral or Rosslyn Chapel or Inchmahome Priory. 

- Costuming! Again this fits into the regional thing a bit, but it’s also more general. It’s a quibble I have with almost any medieval media but especially when it comes to Scotland people get really lazy with the costuming and just slap some shortbread tin stuff together rather than putting any thought into it. 

- More traditional music! A surprising number of ballads and songs that are still popular among folk singers today are thought to have their roots in early modern if not mediaeval Scotland. And again the musical heritage of Scotland is varied depending on the culture it comes from. 

- More properly developed female characters. Even though half the historical films made about Scotland are about Mary Queen of Scots, there are almost no good depictions of historical Scotswomen- and that’s NOT because there aren’t any interesting women in Scottish history before the modern period! There are lots of fascinating women’s stories from mediaeval and early modern Scotland, and although we are often frustrated by a lack of sources, we know they were there. More importantly, even if every woman was not a Certified Bad-Ass, as a whole women in Scottish history are not invisible and we can often see them in the records, whether operating in domestic, business, religious, or political contexts. Oddly, in their quest to show how Uniquely Misogynistic and Evil the Scottish nobility were to Mary Queen of Scots or Margaret Tudor or whoever, film-makers often end up ignoring women’s stories and therefore perpetuating the sexist view of history they claim to hate. (Though, yes mediaeval and early modern Scotland WAS misogynistic- but show me a country that wasn’t. Also it was misogynistic in a slightly different way to some other countries). I could list off dozens of interesting Scotswomen who lived before 1603- even though we sometimes can’t tell that much about their inner lives from the surviving sources, it’s obvious they were of some importance. And again it fits back into the cultural variety thing, because that was not limited to Lowland, Scots-speaking noblewomen. 

- More art and literature and architecture and education and music and EVERYTHING. Scotland lost a LOT during the Reformation and due to Anglo-Scottish warfare (that’s what happens when the main centre of your kingdom is near to a border). But we know that, though it was sometimes an out of the way place, Scotland could be just as heavily tied into European cultural trends as any other northern country. And there are some beautiful surviving cultural artefacts that hint at a more vibrant past- both produced in Scotland (in the Gaelic and Scots-speaking environments) and imported from abroad. 

- Equally on that note, more focus on its connections to countries other than England.  Scotland had three universities by 1500, and yet many Scottish students still went to study abroad, especially in France, but also in England, the Low Countries, Italy, and elsewhere. An Italian humanist taught at the Abbey of Kinloss away up in Moray in the sixteenth century, and Scottish thinkers were in touch with other great minds of the day. Scots also fought abroad (see mercenaries in Sweden, or James IV’s support given to his uncle the king of Denmark, or the Garde Écossaise), and traded heavily across the North Sea (there were multiple Scots merchant colonies on the continent, not least at Veere). Scotland’s relations with Norway, Denmark, the Low Countries, the Papacy, Ireland (both as part of the kingdom of England and with individual Irish families), and other countries could be almost as important as its relationships with France and England. The eternal triangle of Scotland, England, and France, was not actually always the story- there were occasions when England and France played very little role in Scotland’s foreign affairs, let alone its domestic history.

- In particular an acknowledgement of the high quality of Scots poetry in the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries wouldn’t go amiss. 

- This is one which applies to all mediaeval media- but a more varied and interesting depiction of mediaeval religion would be good. In Scotland, this was also linked to the way people saw their own history- any sixteenth century Scot would have known some of the native saints, and anyone half-educated might have heard the names of David I and St Margaret and Columba, and known where the great abbeys in the kingdom came from. 

- Actually a basic knowledge of Scottish history and legends beyond a few famous names. For example family was important in noble society- just because the stereotypical The Clans Are Gathering model is massively inaccurate, doesn’t mean that noble families in Scotland didn’t care about ancestry and kinship. But it would be great if tv shows and movies could actually think about how to portray that- and it really shows how little some of these scriptwriters know about their characters when they’re supposedly obsessed with the honour of the clan but the only piece of their country’s history they know is the name William Wallace. If you’re portraying the Douglases- even the earls of Angus who weren’t directly descended from him- the legacy of Sir James Douglas would have been a source of some pride. For actual ‘clans’, you could be dealing with some of the clans in the west of Scotland who, like some families in Ireland, claimed descent from Niall of the Nine Hostages. Some family histories got warped along the way- the Stewarts, for example, seem to have forgotten that they were descended from a Breton named Flaald by the fifteenth century and instead latched onto a story involving a character named Fleance (the one who later appears in Macbeth). As for legends- you could have a lot of fun with the different kinds of fairy belief that existed in Scotland, from the Borders (where it inspired ballads like Tam Lin) to the Highlands, or you could bring up legendary figures that are shared with other countries like King Arthur or Fionn Mac Cumhaill or Robin Hood or Hector of Troy. Sometimes the legends even cross over into real life- Thomas the Rhymer, hero of ballads and fairytales, seems to have been based on a real person who lived in the reign of Alexander III; while stories about William Wallace and Robert Bruce often became folk tales in the tradition of other greenwood outlaws like Robin Hood. 

I think it’s pretty evident that my main issues with depictions of mediaeval and early modern Scotland on tv and film are largely because it’s so utterly unlike anything I see in the historical record. I’d love to list specific details and characters I’d like to see portrayed on screen, but before we even get to that point, the whole Generic Portrait of Scotland needs to change, because it doesn’t currently feel very realistic or interesting. All I really want is for the same level of research to be done with regard to Scotland as is done for England or France or any other country- England is often portrayed inaccurately, but there’s still at least 200% more effort put in than for Scotland.

On that note though, James I’s career (or at least the early fifteenth century as a whole) has been ripe for a television adaptation for years. Also I’m personally fascinated by ordinary rural life, patterns of agriculture and landholding, e.t.c. so even just an ordinary story set in an early sixteenth century fermtoun would be cool. But I don’t really think these stories would make any sense to people if Scotland was just portrayed the way it usually is - a generic country with no culture beyond a few scraps of tartan and alcohol and Anglophobia.

Thank you for the opportunity to rant, and apologies for the screed! I couldn’t express my enthusiasm very concisely I’m afraid. I genuinely don’t mind if there’s some inaccuracies to portrayals of Scotland, but now all portrayals are exactly the same and almost wholly inaccurate so it gets frustrating.

[ardentmuse]

For your follower thing, can I get Merlin and number 6? Kill me. Kill me. Kill me?

A Better Beauty

Kingsman - Merlin x Reader

6. Kill me. Kill me. Kill me.

Wordcount: 1.4k 

Warnings: creeps being creeps, but generally just fluff

Masterlist

A/N: Thanks for the request love, so good to see you in my inbox :) I love my Kingsman husband and his rare moments of silliness. This quote is perfect for him.

The large framed glasses you are wearing upon your face slide down the brim of your nose as you hastily take downs in the small moleskin you carry with you around the museum. The docent assigned to your small group is rambling on about some method for achieving true black as seen through the collections of Madonna and Child. You tap along with his words, nodding as he makes what you assume is meant to be an insightful point about art, finance, and innovation, but you honestly are not listening. You are too busy taking in each security camera, each guard stand, each case lock and laser bar that might go missed if less trained eyes observed the room.

You move your pencil to your mouth as the group pauses before a breathtaking impressionist piece, something such a swirl of blues and oranges that you find yourself squinting to try and make out the image. The paint is so thick, lobbed strokes like petals upon the canvas, that you have to fight back the urge to reach out and touch it. And for the first time during this scouting mission, you pause to take in the beauty of the things you are seeing.

As your mouth falls open, you catch the eyes of the young docent mid-sentence. He’s tall and lean – not much unlike the man beside you – and his all black button up and slacks make him even leaner, like a statue held within the walls more than a person. He smiles at you, the kind of half-smile one gives when they catch the eye of someone mid-party, hoping another soul might be in on the joke that no one is telling. And you couldn’t help but smile back. Cute is cute, in a museum or a coffee shop or in a high street tailor.

“Kill me. Kill me. Kill me,” Merlin whispers beside you as the docent waxes on about the birth of cubism. His hands are deep in his pockets as his eyes roam the large hall of nineteenth century European art, looking anywhere but where he is supposed to.

You lightly yap your mission partner in the shoulder with your pencil, enough to draw his attention but not enough to hurt him.

“No one said you had to join me for this part, mister.”

“And miss this riveting soliloquy being played out before us? I wouldn’t dare,” Merlin says, his voice laced with the kind of mirth you love about having him with you in the field. Once he was behind a computer, Merlin was as rigid and professional as they come. But here, beside you among the fieldwork itself, Merlin’s lighter side shines through.

“He’s not that bad,” you muse, “Ever consider maybe you’re a bad audience?”

Merlin laughs as you move with the group towards the atrium of collected statues where you started the tour. Your guide begins his closing remarks as you continue to note the placement of donation boxes and archways, lights and wiring. Merlin meanwhile seems to not care one bit about the scenery, choosing instead to only look at you.

Dropping to a whisper once more, Merlin asks, “Do you like this stuff, anyway?”

“Scouting? I mean I like my job and this is part of it. It could be a lot—“

“No, not that,” he says with a dip on the chin to your notebook, “Art, history, culture… museums and docents.” He says the last word with a bit of grit as your eyes catch that the cute tall man is addressing the group still, though his eyes seem to keep roaming over towards you, that shy smile still finding home on his face.

You look up and consider Merlin for a moment. He isn’t smiling at you like the tour guide is, but you can recall times when he had, times when he kissed your brow in thankfulness of your safety or laughed at you over a game of cards to kill the time on the jet or the rare moments like this out in the field when you got to pretend just for a minute that you were just two people who met on the street and saw something beautiful in each other.

And beautiful he was.

“Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don’t. It can feel like work to take in so much beauty, but sometimes beauty is a blessing.”

“Beauty is always a blessing, my love,” Merlin hums as he watches you closely. His eyes are crinkling just a bit at the corners, drawing you into the soft swirl of brown and green that looked how an impressionist might want to capture the beauty of the Scottish hills. It seems fitting on his face, with the drawl of his voice and the soft curves of his jaw and collar bone and shoulders reminding you so much of the beautiful mountains and cliffs of the lands of his youth. And just like before, when taking in the works of the masters, you are awestruck by the tantalizing perfection of it.  

Merlin catches your pencil before you realize you had even dropped it.

“I think I might be willing to be a better audience if I had a better speaker. Perhaps you’d be willing to show me sometime? Maybe we can get dinner afterwards, my treat?”

Merlin’s cheeks are the slightest pink as he asks you the question, somehow shy despite all the bravery within him. You smile in turn, loving the idea of being closer to this man who’d be willing to try something he didn’t particularly enjoy if it meant spending time with you.

But you don’t get to respond before the crowd disperses and the young art historian is standing beside you, armed stretched in introduction.

“Thank you for your excellent attention,” he says with a nod to your notebook, which you close with a quick snap before he can see that your notes have little to do with brushstrokes and color theory. “I can certainly say I’ve never had such a studious student in attendance. And quite a striking one too, if I might be so bold.”

You are about to respond thanking him for his compliment and brushing off his advances, but he just barrels through, ignoring your open mouth.

“I’d be happy to offer a personal tour, much more detail for your notes, and many corridors unexplored in the public tour.”

The smile you thought cute turns creepy in an instant, just a little too much teeth and the corners rigid. You grimace.

Merlin lunges forward at the implication, ready to eat off the head of any man who dare prey on you in any way, but you stopped him with a firm hand to the chest.

“Husband,” you say as sweetly as you can, linking your hands with Merlin and instantly he picks up the cover, brushing his shoulder against your own. “This nice man has just offered us a private tour, isn’t that sweet? Too bad we’ll be leaving for our next city tomorrow. Such a shame our honeymoon is so structured, isn’t it, darling?” Your voice is laced with the kind of sweetness you reserve for missions, the kind that disarms everyone with its naivety, if only they knew the hardness underneath.

“Indeed it is, my love,” Merlin muses as he takes your notebook and slides it into his breast pocket. He offers the docent a curt nod before pulling you out the door with it.

Once outside, he tries to let your hand slip but you simply won’t let him. He turns to look at you.

“Yes, I’d like that,” you finally say with a smile.

It takes Merlin a moment to process what you mean, but when he remembers the lead up to your awkward interaction with the guide, he smiles big and true.

“But perhaps a different museum? One without creeps.”

“I doubt we’d ever find such a place,” you joke.

Merlin pauses at the bottom of the stone steps of the old building, taking a moment to assess that your hand still sits in his. “Maybe then just dinner? I’ll have enough beauty to study if you are sitting across from me.”

And somehow you don’t have it in you to argue with him because honestly his face was better than a thousand paintings anyway, especially when it was trained on you.

All tags: @fangirlandnerd, @aerdnandreaa, @thisisbullshytt,  @cancerousjojian, @whovianayesha, @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy, @luna-xxxxx, @sleepylunarwolf, @starryrevelations, @potter-thinking, @all-by-myself98, @bananafosters-and-books, @cutie-bug, @igotmadskills, @hazelandcoconuts, @yallgotkik

Kingsman tags: @allonsymexgirl, @eiensteiner, @thecaptainsgingersnap, @madamcadaver. @doct0rstrange, @ratwrites, @kaeleabres, @nellietara, @ediblemurderer, @allofthekingsmenMerlin tags: @consultingdoctorwholock, @sparrowharkness

[mysticalmusicwhispers]

APH Iceland Headcanons

Just some thoughts I have that I never published. Some are just really vague personality notes that I’m adding a lot of real life background to though, so you’re warned.

- “Plays it cool, but is actually a dork” kind of person

- Wants to be seen as mature by his fellows, but ends up kind of being babied by the others. Explanation: I see this as a factor of Iceland being a smaller country and not being very well known on the world stage/not exerting that much influence, he often gets sorta frustrated that he’s not being taken seriously, especially by his Nordic “brothers”

- However, I also think that in rare moments, or just deep down, he’s satisfied with his position and grateful that he doesn’t have to bear the weight of fame and success, to make the decisions for the world. He sees it as pressure that he sometimes can’t take, but on the other hand, he still wants to be heard by people, just not with that much responsibility on his shoulders. Much more of a follower than a leader.

- Trusts Norway a whole lot, even if he usually seems to dislike him. Probably one of the only people he’d seek advice from. Others include Sweden and the younger nations: HK, Seychelles, Liechtenstein, etc.

- Like a distant, weird, second cousin you only get to see twice a year or so, a bit weird by “normal” standards. I’ve heard (correct me if wrong) that real Icelanders are a bit “kooky”? They (supposedly) have a reputation for being a bit weird in terms of fashion and things (@ that lopapeysa strip in the manga), as well as in their food (it seems this isn’t widely eaten on a daily basis, but there’s dishes like fermented shark and hrútspungar/sour sheep testicles). Therefore, yeah, APH Iceland is a bit of a weirdo sometimes. Also, because real Iceland is geographically far from mainland Europe, APH Iceland is a bit distant to everybody else (it’s said he’s “a step behind when it comes to European fads” from the wiki), and this is another “second cousin” thing --> he’s a bit emotionally far from the rest of his family just because he’s away from them physically.

- I attribute his desire to appear normal to just normal teenage angst, since from what I’ve heard, Icelanders are pretty proud about their culture and their uniqueness?

- I think his childish side is also a thing fitting the “next cousin” personality? Like I agree with him being a Gen Z and a netizen who’s really internet-fluent and has all the memes and stuff

- Nature!!! Similar to Norway in this respect, because they’ve both got a lot of wild places that are really beautiful. Given that real Iceland has glaciers and hot springs and a giant hoard of pretty scenery, although APH Iceland tries to fit in and not be a nerd about nature, he loves the peace and quiet of the outdoors a lot. Seriously appreciates how beautiful real Iceland is, and is pretty proud of it inside.

- I don’t think he’s very rugged, probably wouldn’t be good at camping, although he’s outdoors a lot.

- Runs two social medias: one about his life, memes, #relatable things, younger nation hangouts, and another that’s much more aesthetic-y with hiking photos and mountain pictures. Some of his close friends know about both, but most people just know about his personal account, not the nature one.

- Finds his friends comforting and funny and nice to hang out with most of the time, but it’s a bit energy draining talking to people a lot. He’s the sassy and sort of cynical one in their group.

- But, they drag the fun side out of him a lot, usually because they do crazy things and force him to come along even though he pretends it’s really dumb (and sometimes it is) but ends up laughing a lot and thinking they should do it again someday.

- A seriously sweet smile, if you can get it out of him.

- I think he’d be that person who criticizes the things and people he likes, just because he doesn’t really have the heart to actually express his feelings.

- He likes dogs from afar - meaning that he’s kinda put off and a little annoyed if he gets close to one and they start barking a whole ton and getting really excited but he likes how cute they can be. He just wouldn’t want to be committed to caring for his own ig.

- Worries a lot, mostly about people liking him, but the second he has to interact with people who are talking bs he gets reminded why he kinda dislikes/hates social interaction sometimes. A sort of dilemma between being lonely and thinking that “all people are junk”, but he’s really grateful for the people he was forced to meet but whom he genuinely likes

- Second closest to Sweden out of all the Nordics, after Norway. Like, I don’t know if I just haven’t found Swe/Ice interactions, but their relationship is criminally ignored??? Iceland goes to Swe for advice!!! He knows Swe won’t usually judge and is pretty good at keeping secrets, he literally asks Swe what’s going on in that birthday party episode, bro he trusts Sweden to be there and answer his questions when Norway refuses to so he can annoy Iceland. I need someone to expound on their relationship please.

That’s it! I love this kid to death but somehow can’t write for him, and I don’t think I got his personality down correctly hhh. Anyway, feel free to refute my ideas! I love hearing new headcanons, especially unconventional ones!

*Also, the “next cousin” thing I included is based on this, a video about what Nordic people really think about each other. Real Iceland was described as: expensive, very beautiful in terms of nature and scenery, and like a next cousin.

[izzy-b-hands]

London By Night, Chapter One

The sequel to You Send Me! Freddie and our FtM trans reader finally home in London, with a bit of time to spend before the 1979 European tour begins!

And yes, another Sam Cooke song as the title. I’ve got a theme going now lol. 

NSFW right away in this one, just a moment of it. There’ll be more later, I promise lol.

A note that I did touch on a sore point in my own life, re: alcohol for comfort around family. It’s just a brief short paragraph, but I wanted to note it so it doesn’t come as a triggering surprise for anyone (even writing it made me want a drink, tbh, but I’m trying really hard not to lean on drinking rn for comfort of any kind.) 

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

“So?” 

Despite the long, turbulent flight, Freddie was smiling at you. 

“I like it.” 

He laughed, and motioned for you to follow him down the airport halls. “Just from here, you’re certain?” 

You nodded. “It’s...busy. Really busy. Busy enough no one seems to give a shit who we are or what we’re doing. I never got that back at home.” 

“No, certainly not,” Freddie tutted, and you knew he was thinking on how the trip back to your home town had been less than ideal. He’d been recognized more than once, and not always treated kindly as a result. It had made an already not fun trip even harder to deal with, and now it made you all the happier to finally be in London. 

“I am sorry about all that mess,” you sighed as you tried to keep up with Freddie, slipping around crowds of people, ignoring the heads that turned at hearing Freddie’s voice. “They could have at least made Christmas and Boxing Day decent...” 

“Don’t even think on Christmas again; we don’t need to remember that,” Freddie said, reaching back to tug you through a particularly rough thicket of people. “As far as I’m concerned, our memories were fortunately wiped of that day. We know they existed, and that we lived through them, and that’s all we need to know.” 

You nodded. “That’s probably for the best.” 

It had been a shit show, frankly. You grandparents had certainly not been sick to death, only struggling through some difficult colds, and couldn’t figure out why your mother had demanded you home. As fantastic as it had been to know they were fine, it meant the holiday had gone as “usual” for your family, which meant tears, tantrums, complaining, at least one person stomping off mid-way through present-opening, and you working to drink yourself into a stupor to get through it. 

If it hadn’t been for Freddie, you might have drank yourself blind, but thanks to his bright idea of getting away from it all under the guise of ‘showing him about town’, there was some escape. 

“I do want to remember the park,” you said as you followed him to a waiting car. “That was a good few hours, and at least the day we spent in New Orleans was lovely.” 

That had been your last day in the States, and where you had flown out from to London. It hadn’t been nearly long enough, but for a moment of refreshment and happiness, it had been good. 

He smiled. “Those parts we should remember. Everything else, forget it. And if my family asks-” 

“We had a perfectly fine holiday and my family are definitely not the weirdest near-psychopaths you’ve ever met,” you chirped as you tried to arrange yourself and your luggage in the backseat of the car. 

He rolled his eyes as he joined you. “I don’t know about psychopaths...manipulative and self-centered, for sure.” 

“Either way, your parents don’t need to know about that,” you said, and started to lean in for a kiss, then stopped. 

The driver watched you both via the rear view mirror, a scowl on his face. 

“Just a random driver hired,” Freddie whispered, shooting you a glance that read ‘be careful.’ “Not one of our usual employ.” 

You nodded, and sat back in your seat, watching the scenery of the city flash by as the driver sped down the streets. 

“Still like it?” 

“I do,” you replied. “I’ve always wanted to live in a bigger city. I can’t wait to go out and see it, any of it. Even just your garden!” 

“No garden yet, unfortunately,” he sighed. “But soon. I’ve got my eyes on a few nicer places, and now that I have the money-” 

He shrugged. “Why put off living somewhere decent, hm? Not that there’s anything wrong with a flat, I mean, only-” 

“Not everyone wants to live in a flat forever,” you interrupted. “I know I wouldn’t. And how long have you all been struggling to find and afford nicer housing? You deserve it, all of you, to be in something better. You’ve worked hard for it.” 

“You’ll still find the current flat impressive?” 

“As long as it’s yours, yes, I will,” you giggled. “Am I to assume mine is just as good?” 

“Of course,” he said. “With all the room a one bedroom can give you.” 

“In other words...” 

“Don’t have too much stuff, and don’t ever actually look at how ‘big’ it is,” Freddie sighed. “If you can manage that, you can pretend you don’t feel like an insect trapped in a jar.” 

The car pulled up in front of a frankly beautiful building, and you followed Freddie out of it and to one of the doors into it. 

“Now, I should let you know,” Freddie started. “We’re actually still waiting on the current tenants to finish moving out of your place, apparently. I don’t know all what happened, John has more details since wrangling this all went through our office, but in the meantime I thought you could...” 

He stopped, and for a minute you saw one of his other sides, the shy Freddie that hung back at times during parties, happy to stick to you and the rest of the guys and be open and fun with you, but less interested in immediately pulling any spotlight towards him. 

“If you want to, I should say. I mean, I don’t know where else you’d go, and I really should have told you this sooner, and I apologize for not doing that and-” 

“Love?” you interrupted him. “If what you’re trying to say is that I’m staying with you, then I’m thrilled.” 

He grinned. “Good. It’s a bit tight, of course, since it’s usually just me. But it’s a roof over your head, at least.” 

It was small, but it was beautiful. Decorated gorgeously, with various bits and pieces you were sure Freddie had picked up in the market. Despite how little time there would be to spend there before the next tour would start, it felt like a home. 

“Mary is just nearby us as well,” he said. “We’ll have to pay her a visit in the time we’ve got.” 

“It goes fast, doesn’t it?” 

He nodded grimly, taking your luggage from you, only to toss it by his in the bedroom. “We’ve got till...ah, I should check and make sure I’m remembering right. Seventeenth of January, I think?” 

“Think that’s it,” you mumbled, walking back to the bedroom to search your bags for your copy of the upcoming itinerary. 

“You’re the first one I’ve brought in here that hasn’t immediately started snooping around like you own the place,” Freddie was behind you suddenly, and you turned from your bag to look up his long legs. “And the first one I didn’t have to prompt to take off your shoes in the house. I appreciate that.” 

“You know my family some now,” you said. “They don’t let shoes on in the house either. I’m in no rush to pick up wearing them in as a habit either. And this is your room, I’m just crashing here. It would be wrong of me to start...god, just going through your things? What is wrong with people?”

He shrugged. “I’ve asked the ones that did rifle about my wardrobe and closet, but none have ever had a good answer for that.” 

“Well,” you said, and stood up, draping your arms around his shoulders. “I won’t be doing anything of the sort. If I should need to find something, I will be asking you, thank you very much.” 

“Your mother raised such a polite boy,” Freddie sighed. “Shame she isn’t more proud of that.” 

You winced, as the memory of your mother’s cold reception of you and Freddie during your time home came rushing back. “Let’s not think of her anymore. Not now. Not until the next American tour, maybe.” 

“As you wish, my prince,” he said, and grinned at your blush. “I think I’m going to keep calling you that. Look at you!” 

The nickname had come about after a long night in your hometown, trying to be quiet after you’d sneaked into the guest room your mother had insisted Freddie stay in. You had talked long about how the chance to move finally, and with him to London no less, made you feel like a prince in a fairy tale. Finally found by the rest of the kingdom, ready to take your proper place on the throne. Even if, in this case, the throne was merely being able to be with Freddie and continuing to work for Queen. 

“You can’t call me that in front of the guys,” you giggled. “They’ll have a field day with it.” 

“No, I won’t use it in front of them,” Freddie agreed. “But that’s because it’s just for us.” 

“I like that.” 

“As do I,” Freddie said softly. “Now, what if we show you around the place a bit?” 

You frowned slightly. “I mean...I don’t want to be rude, Freddie. But from stepping in, you can see-” 

“You’ve not had a tour of the bed yet,” Freddie interrupted with a cheeky smile. “Or should I make you wait for that? Shall I create more stops on the tour first? Maybe we ought to head out to a pub first, wander around and let you explore. Then, if we have time, we could tour the bed.” 

You pressed yourself against him, and kissed him hard. To make up for the interrupted kiss in the car, for the many kisses you had to hold back while in your home town. 

He kissed you back just as hard, but he let you down gentle onto the bed, and watched you yawn. “You should sleep.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“You say that now, but have you ever traveled out of the States?” 

You shook your head. 

“Your body needs to catch up to the time change,” Freddie said. “So tell you what. We’ll save the in-depth tour for sometime tomorrow. For now, let me give you the quick tour of the bed.” 

You watched as he stripped off his shirt, unbuttoned his trousers and tossed them in a corner of the room once they were off. His eyes followed your hands as you undressed yourself, and you wanted to yell at yourself for being as tired as you had tried to pretend you weren’t. 

“Here,” he murmured, and motioned for you to lay back on the bed. “Rest.” 

Your hands roamed his shoulders, taut and strong, as he moved over you, then against you, his lips at your neck.

And then a yawn. 

“Is my tour guide going to fall asleep on me, literally?” you giggled. 

He pressed his forehead against your shoulder. “Possibly.” 

You moved gently, until you were both laying side by side, hips close, legs intertwined. Your head rested against his shoulder, and you begged your eyes to stay open. 

But it was as if the chance to finally rest, to not be traveling, running, doing, constantly had flipped a switch. There was no fighting it, especially as you listened to the slowing of Freddie’s breath, his arms around you dead weight as he slept. 

You stared down the clock for a bit, just visible on the bedside table when you looked past Freddie, until your eyes shut again. 

[validatio-n]

Dying To Live

I first met death when I was very young. I didn’t know what it was, and it never really took a form until I was around 16. I quietened his voice like we all try do to at the start, by ignoring it, partying, or seeking validation from people who don’t deserve you to glance in their direction.

It appeared as though the demons in my head I feebly tried to still had noticed what I tried to do, and they were angry. The thoughts I had of worthlessness, insignificance, unlovability and self-loathing festered from a light, continual hum that I learnt to deal with, to something likened to when you plug your headphones in and the volume is turned up the whole way. You get such a fright and rip the headphones out of your ear. Except with me, I can’t rip them out of my ear. For a long time, I couldn’t even turn the volume down. For 24 hours a day, even in sleep, no matter who I was with or what I was doing, I constantly had this music in my ears telling me I was nothing, I was no one, I was ugly and I deserved everything that had happened to me. Sure, a lot of the time it wasn’t blaring loud and sometimes I barely noticed it, but after years of trying to fight off that voice, you begin to accept it. You begin to believe it, and it becomes a natural part of your everyday life.

Once that’s happened, you’ve successfully opened yourself up for Death to manifest him self in your body. He will creep in and start slow, so you don’t notice him planting seeds in your mind that he watches grow, spreading a thick black toxic throughout your body, turning your blood to poison and your skin to ice. You’re trapped, your body doesn’t feel like your own. You pinch at your skin in disgust and dream of hacking away your non-existent fat with a meat cleaver. Slicing your arms like you’re playing the violin and staring at the blood rushing out even if the mere thought of blood makes you queasy. You’ll wonder, although you’ve gone through some shit, why you are so fucking sad. You’ll wonder why people did what they did to you, how they did what they did to you. You’ll go to the doctors and you’ll get diagnosed and you’ll go through the therapy and you’ll use your support systems and you’ll swear you’re going to beat this sadistic fuck that is depression and anxiety and panic disorder and night terror (Death, in other words), and some days, you believe you will. But when its 3am and its you and Death lying in your tear-soaked bed, Death is the only one there for you.

He’s telling you how you’re going to hurt yourself to feel better. He’s saying it’s going to take the pain away; it’s going to make you have the best sleep ever with no nightmares and no panic attacks. Hurting yourself will make you in control again, he’s saying one scratch won’t do any damage, just try it, see how it feels to inflict physical pain to quash the mental pain. You know the mental pain is your brain playing tricks on you. You know it’s a chemical imbalance. You know the anxiety and the PTSD is from your past relationships. You know Death isn’t actually sitting next to you, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t feel it, because at this time you don’t even know that it’s Death you’re dealing with. Your rational side is gone. You’re sitting in a room where oxygen has turned into a venomous gas that you’re breathing in as you hyperventilate and choke as it constricts your airways.

He watches you as you pull out a shitty pink razor, the crappy ones that you get angry at your mum for buying because you can’t get a good shave with them. Upon looking at it, you’re glad she bought the shit ones because the quality ones would be way too hard to pry open. He’s looking at you, salivating, telling you to pick apart the razor, its easy, just get a knife, wedge it in and flick up the top bit of plastic. Your hands don’t feel like your own. It feels like somebody is controlling your brain making your body move, yet you don’t stop it. Like a puppet on a string. Death doesn’t get angry when you look at yourself in the mirror, sobbing as you can’t even manage to take apart a fucking razor. He watches you throw it across your bedroom full of photos of you and your girlfriends, you and your mum, you and your boyfriends. Your little white cat gets a fright as the razor smashes against the wall and falls behind your dresser. He says in a voice so sweet yet condescending that it’s okay to be so pathetic. He watches you slide the knife under your bed. He holds you in his ice cold arms as you curl up in bed, shaking, crying, nauseous over the fact that you almost cut yourself. Death is with you as the immense loneliness washes over you, suffocating you between sobs. Death rocks you to sleep with a smile on his face, because those seeds he planted are growing, and it’s only a matter of time until they blossom.

You wake up.

You scared yourself.

You reach out to friends, therapists, family. You promise yourself you’re never going to get that close to doing something so stupid again. And you don’t. Death is gone, you’ve beaten him.

For a while.

You haven’t beaten death. You haven’t softened his voice. Sure, he wasn’t prominent in the whole ‘slice your arm into pieces’ front, but rest assured, death was still floating around your room. He’s looking through all your stuff, watching you sleep as he dips in and out of your brain, learning as much about you as he can, feeding toxic sludge to your mind as you’re unaware. Sleep paralysis. Death is smart. He knows he hasn’t worn you down enough to hurt yourself. He knows how to manifest himself in his prey and seep poison into their minds until they have been manipulated and tortured enough to snatch up and take with his mouth wide open, pupils wide, ready to swallow whole as he drags your lifeless body bloody and limp through the realms until he dumps you next to the millions of others who’ve succumbed to the disease. You haven’t gotten away that easily. It’s a waiting game now.

In the orchestral catastrophe that is depression, this was the intermission. The entertainment during this time can be called anorexia.

Death renders you weaker than you know. Anxiety grows so alarmingly fast that your appetite is reduced to practically nothing. You become intolerant to your own body. This is ok, because you’re not cutting yourself. It’s okay, because it isn’t deliberate. You repeat this to yourself over and over as you revel in the bruises that appear on the inside of your knees from trying to sleep on your side; the bones crushing in to each other. You repeat this to yourself as you watch in awe at your ribcage expand and deflate as you inhale and exhale. You can see where your rib was cracked by the hands of those who vowed to never hurt you, by those who vowed to fix you. Your skin stretched tight over protruding bones fascinate you for hours as you trace your fingers over your body in a trance like state of wonder.

You’re hungry, and it’s not for food.

Then, it becomes deliberate.

You’ve always been skinny regardless of what you ate. You’ve loved your body. Never hesitant to run around half naked no matter who was around or where you were. Not provocatively, not attention seeking, just comfortable. Your body was your safeguard. Compliments came naturally, envy was apparent. Then your mind wanders and you think to yourself I wonder what people would say if I lost just a little more weight. And then the floodgates open, and like a tidal wave crashing through an entire city Death whooshes in, appearing in the mirror behind you, his claws on your shoulders, smiling down at you like an old friend you hadn’t seen in years.

If you were just a little bit skinner, you wouldn’t be sad. You’d be beautiful.

Death knew it was time now. He didn’t tell you to say this. You thought this on your own.

30 degree summer nights lying on your side under a European cotton sheet, you feel your thighs touching. Your eyes well up with tears. You are sickened, disgusted. You want to scream, you want to vomit, you want to punch yourself. You sneak out the window of your family home and you run laps of the park you used to walk your golden retriever or smoke weed with your friends, doing cartwheels and rolling around the grass without a care in the world. You run laps until you nearly pass out and limp home at 3am in the fucking morning. The panic attacks return because all your eating is an apple a day with some almonds and a black coffee. You’re jacked up on caffeine that your already shaky hands shake even more. You can’t look people in the eye. You look sick. You want to stop but you can’t. You need your hip bones to poke holes in your lace underwear. You want to be able to hold water in the crevice that appears between your collarbones and shoulders when you shrug.

The results come fast and you love it, you’re an addict who is itching for a little bit more. You’ve never felt the way you feel when you step on the scales and its lower than it was before. The comments people made feed your addiction. The alarm you sense from them as they hug you elates you like getting another fix. You and Death are a team now, he cheers you on and tells you how strong you are for not eating the cake, or saying no to the chips, or making excuses to your friends at dinner as to why you’re not eating. Dinner at home. Already ate. Fasting for a blood test. You knew ‘too poor’ would never work as they’d just pay for you. You have an app on your phone that you log all your calories and exercise in to. 500 a day maximum and you must burn off at least 100 more calories than you consumed that day.

You’re in control of your body. For a short window of time, you were in control of most of your emotions and feelings, too. You felt powerful. You felt happy. You’re never hungry and when you are you know how to burn it off. But then you take it too far. You become so thin that people start to notice. You look like a bobble head with your head too big for your body, your jaw bone looking like it could cut ice. Doctors’ appointments start because your body isn’t working properly. They weigh you and they know the tricks you think you’re a genius for. They know you’d have loaded up on salty food. They’ll know you drank so much water you almost threw up before hand. They’ll check your pockets. Hair down because you can’t hide anything that can contribute to the scale reading. By the end of it you have to strip off completely. Scared parent, scared family, scared friends forcing you to eat, and you would, because they have to believe that this isn’t deliberate. You can’t get admitted. You’d eat to shut them up and you’d become such a good fucking liar. You would laugh and joke and talk about anything while you were eating. You would be having fun. Then you’d be alone again with your hatred for yourself. Hatred that you were too pathetic to be bulimic because of your fear of vomit. Hatred of food. Hatred of yourself.

You weren’t alone though, were you? You know who was sitting right next to you, holding your feet down as you did as many sit ups as you could until your spine was bruised. Then the star jumps until you thought you were going to have a heart attack. Then the push ups. Then the laxatives. Then you felt better.

You were skinny. You were beautiful. 

But were you? 

Your hair was falling out. Your lips were white. Your skin was yellowing. You’re constantly cold. Your body wasn’t functioning properly. You lost your period. You don’t care. You’re skinny.

Then you’re happy again. You’re hi fiving death. You’ve done it. You felt skinny enough.

But there lies the issue itself, it’s never enough. It’s never ‘done.’

‘You can’t stop now, you have to maintain this or else you’ll put on weight again and you won’t be beautiful,’ death would say, and you know he’s right. Then comes the fear.

Food scares you. Going out to eat scares you. You are so afraid of eating and losing your progress that you don’t realise that Death has crawled back to his original spot in your brain and he’s beginning to untie all his puppet strings, preparing your brain for his next act of torment as the intermission concludes and the music starts again, sinister and slow. His malevolent eyes so eager to consume your soul, fangs salivating with the blood you’re about to draw from your wrists. You’re exercising too much with no food which causes you both physical and mental exhaustion. Couple this with the partying on the weekends and you’ve lost the game. You’re as good as dead, and at this rate you will be soon.

The sadness comes creeping back in as you lie in your bed at night, hunched on your side clutching at your ribs letting out slow sobs as you beg the pain to ease. You cry and you cry and you don’t even know what the fuck you’re crying for. You cry for the father that never loved you and spat such venomous words at you that you didn’t want to exist anymore. You cry for the men that threw beer bottles at your head and bruised your oesophagus choke slamming you against a wall rendering you as good as speechless for a week. You cry for the people you loved most cheating on you with your best friend, cheating on you with everyone. You cry for the lies, the betrayal, the drink spiking, the hitting, the screaming, the drugs taken behind your back, for the fact you can’t trust anyone. Abortion. Abuse. Agony. You cry because you’re confused. You cry because no one knows that you’re feeling this way. You cry because you’ve never felt so alone. You cry because you realise that you just don’t want to be here anymore. You cry because you know you need to hurt yourself. You cry because you know that Death was right, it will make you feel better. It does.

You remembered where the shitty pink razor you threw across the room a year or so back landed and you float to your dresser, reaching behind it and grasp the razor, its handle dethatched from the smash against the wall. You feel for the knife under your bed – you remember the one it was, with a red handle, your mum’s been looking for it for a while. You usher your precious cat out of your room, she doesn’t need to see this, as you sit cross legged on your bed. The crying has stopped. You’re focused. Your fingers feel like they’re being controlled as you pry apart the three blades from the plastic. You slip and get a cut on your thumb but that’s okay, you wipe a tear that’s escaped, and you keep trying. It takes a little while.

Then, the softest, most delicate and angelic metal chime rings in your ears as the plastic flies off and the three blades clink together, falling lightly onto your thigh.

You’ve done it.

Ever so carefully you pick one up and examine it for about half a second before you’re holding it against your left wrist. This is the arm you started on. The world has stopped spinning, there is no sound except for your breathing that went from erratic and irregular to slow and steady. You press down lightly and slide it across your wrist.

It stings. Death is holding you, stroking your hair. He is so proud.

Small bubbles of bright red blood surface. It’s pretty. You feel light. Dizzy, but not sick dizzy. You feel tired, really, really tired. You don’t feel overwhelmed anymore, you feel numb. Disconnected from anything that isn’t the small sting and the red bubbles coming from your wrist. You want that feeling again, so you slice four more little cuts across the plethora of vital veins that run so dangerously close to the surface of your skin. You wrap your arm in a tea towel and put a hair scrunchie over the top of it. Light, superficial cuts that heal quickly. It’s not even bad. You sleep, wrapped up in Deaths’ arms as he rocks you back and forth into dreams that he is controlling. Vivid dreams of your childhood, when you were 6 years old wearing matching floral pyjamas in New Zealand with your entire family. Your mum and dad are together. Your grandma’s there. Your brother is there. Relatives you don’t even know now are there. You dream of the purple and yellow bubble machine you got. The entire dream is you running barefoot on the grass in those pyjamas, making bubbles for everyone. You smile in your sleep.

Flash forward a couple of months and you’re a veteran. No more little scratches. These are scary fucking cuts that will scar your body forever and you don’t give a fuck. Why should you, you deserve this pain. You are so twisted and sick that the only thing that will make you go the fuck to sleep and stop sobbing so goddamn much is playing fruit ninja on your wrists.

Long sleeves no matter the heat.

Broken promises to family, to friends.

Psychologists and Psychiatrists.

Medication upon medication.

You get better, honestly, you do. You go longer and longer between cuts, but every time you cut, its worse. You have your walk of shame to chemist warehouse where the staff look at you and know what you’ve done. You switch chemist warehouse locations from Chapel Street to Glenferrie Road in case they try and ask you if you’re okay. The aisle on the left when you walk in. Gauze. Bandages. Betadine. Friends who don’t yell at you, they help you, they drive you there, but they look down at your arm and cannot shield their disgust of such large and deep gashes that have completely split your skin in half. You can see the veins. When its bad, they get the gauze for you. They wash your arms as you scream from the burning pain. They carry you to the shower and wash your hair as you hold the victim arm in the air so it doesn’t get wet. They change your sheets and sit at a café for hours with you as they try to get you to finish a bowl of porridge. They see the lights gone out in your eyes. They cry. You cry. You don’t want to hurt them. You want to hurt you.

Cutting doesn’t make you sleepy anymore because you have to stay up to apply pressure to your arm to stop the bleeding. The tea towel sticks to your arm. There are bloodstains on your carpet, perfect little circles. There are razors everywhere. Inside your phone case. In your makeup bag. In your schoolbag. You’ve moved up from the shitty plastic ones. Sometimes you can’t even be bothered taking the razor apart  - its messier, but its quicker.

You want to stop. You want to stop so badly especially after the time that you went too far and called a friend who couldn’t get to you. You were at home, returned from a night of drinking with your friends. Something triggered you, someone may have just raised their voice and it all comes back to you. Him screaming in your face, smashed tv’s. Violence. Police stations. Restraining orders. Changed phone numbers. Running down the street in underwear and a t-shirt with a dead phone. You might’ve been at a friends’ place and seen their fathers care not only about their daughters and sons, but about you too, and that sets you off. You get home and you’re sad, you are so fucking sad. You know what you’re going to do even before you leave wherever the fuck you were. You know, even though all the razors have been hidden, you know where there MIGHT be one, gathering dust, wedged accidentally between one of the storage cabinets at the base of your inbuilt bookshelf that carried the hundreds of books you read to escape from the reality that is your life. If it’s not there, you’ll just use a knife. You get out of the car and the tears have already started. You hold them in until you open your front door and throw all your shit on the bed. You brush past Death who was ready to welcome you with open arms. You’re in a frenzy to get to where you think that last razor might be. Death is jumping up and down excitedly. He knows it’s there, waiting for you. You find it, grab it, and there is no relief though you expected there to be.

Come on Alian, you’ve got to push down deeper this time. That’s the only way you’ll feel better. Just this one last time, it will be fine. Death said. He was right about everything else, why shouldn’t you believe him about this? It’s your right arm now, the left has way too many scars on it. The right arm has half as many, but they’re big, raised and menacing scars. There’s still room for about 5 more.

You press hard. Too hard. No matter how much pressure you apply, the blood isn’t stopping.

Death is encouraging you to go further. You can’t, you can’t keep your head up and you can’t stop the blood. Death is angry at you now. He’s mean and nasty, he’s not the understanding and supportive demon who ruins your life kindly, he’s completely turned. He’s grabbing at your fat, he’s taunting you with it. He’s making you remember memories you’d rather die than re live. He is making his voice inside your head so fucking loud that you can’t shut it out and it hurts, it hurts, you need it to stop, you reach for your pill box and open your mouth and wash down whatever pills you just took with whatever is left in the Smirnoff Vodka bottle you drank that night.

Darkness.

You’re black out drunk and you don’t know why there’s another one of your friends at your window. You’re asleep on your bedroom floor with the Little Mermaid playing in the background. Valium on the floor. Seroquel on the floor. You are covered in blood you can barely stand up to let him in. You fall asleep again in his arms. He was on the phone. 

Darkness

He’s gone. 

You don’t know where Death is either. 

Red and blue flashing lights. 

Sirens. 

Banging on the door. 

Darkness.

Two ambulance paramedics shaking you.

Your mum in tears.

You’re protesting. You don’t want to go with them. You’re fine. It’s just a cut, it’s not bad. It’s just like the other ones.

They need stitches. You can’t stay awake.

Darkness.

You’re getting carried out of your room like a baby by the male paramedic.

Stop, please, you’re hurting my arm.

Mum 

Mum

Mum?

She doesn’t come. 

Darkness.

You have your soft toy with you. You got her when you first moved to Melbourne when you were 7.

You watch your Mum and Death standing in the doorway as you’re lifted into the ambulance. You hate Death now. You’re not on the same team. You never were. He only wants to kill you.

Darkness.

You’re angry because the paramedics won’t let you sleep. You remember being really angry and really scared. Your arm is so sore. They keep saying how skinny you are. Asking what you took, how much you drank. You don’t know. The male paramedic is holding your hand with one of his and your arm with his other. You say that you want to go home. He can’t take you home, because your friend called them and told them that you’re going to kill yourself. You’re not, you promise, just please take you home. Please let go of your arm. He can’t let go because you need a lot of stitches. You’re lucky that you didn’t move half a millimetre to the left or the right or press down any harder, because they couldn’t save you if you did. Your holding on to your toy cat and he asks what her name is. Her name is Pearls. He asks who got you her and you tell him your mummy got her for you. You cry. Your mum who gave you the world, who loved you more than 50 parents combined. Your mum who would do anything for you. Your mum who told you she’ll stop fighting you if you want to leave this earth so badly. You’re not angry anymore. 

You are sad. You are so fucking sad. You bury your head into the paramedics’ lap and you cry.  You ask him to please just let you die.

Darkness.

You’re with a nice female doctor and she is interrogating you. You’re used to this. She tells you that if you end up here one more time (it’s not your first), you will be admitted even if you don’t want to be. You know this. You’re done with Death. You want him gone. You want to try and eat. You want to hug your mum. You want your yellow and purple bubble blowing machine. She tells you that you need stitches on the cuts you did tonight. You beg her not to have them, the blood has stopped and they can just heal over like the others. She refuses. It’s either stitches or glue. You’re scared. You’re alone and scared and Pearls the cat isn’t being much comfort. You call your friend and they stay on the phone while you have your arm sewed back together like a broken toy. You want to vomit. You’re thankful for the Valium and the Seroquel and the alcohol because you could not handle this any other way.

You have to stay a little bit longer so they can monitor you. They wanted to pump your stomach.

You’re at home now. There’s a pool of dried blood on the carpet. Lucky its dark grey carpet. That one will be a hard one to clean. Your mum hasn’t spoken to you. Your brother is overseas. You miss him.

You crawl into bed and watch Gossip Girl until you fall asleep.

You see your psychologist after you get your stitches out, and you tell him everything. You tell your doctor everything. You’re ready to get better. You tell them about the eating thing. It’s going to be hard and its not going to be pretty, but you’re going to get better. You enrol in university and you get another job. You do yoga and you go for runs. You eat when you feel like it and you eat a lot of fruit. If you feel like a burger, you get a burger. It takes years for you to have this relationship with food, but you get there. You stop getting black out drunk and you stop doing party drugs. You promise to stop for at least a year. You achieve it. You face your pain head on. You process what happened to you with the ex boyfriends. You know it’s not your fault. You know that what your feeling is a normal reaction, and you move past it. You have bad moments just like everybody else, but yours are a little worse. Yours are dangerous.

You sit on the bathroom floor clutching your head as you hyperventilate. Razors are allowed in the house again and you’ve ripped one apart and you’re rotating it between your thumb and index finger. Your heart is beating out of your chest because fucking hell you want nothing more than to slide that piece of metal over your skin and feel that rush again. You hold it to your wrist and you are uncontrollably crying. You’ve been so good when you’ve had the urgers, you’ve gone to your mum, you’ve called your friends, you’ve gone for a walk, you’ve gone to sleep, but you’re here now and there’s nothing stopping you except for your own willpower. You scream silently as the tears fall down. You’re not filled with stardust, you’re not filled with snowflakes or sparkles, you are filled with blood that has spilled too many times onto the floor. Your insides are spilling onto the fucking floor, your veins splitting at the seams. Your first kiss, your bubble blowing machine, the times you laughed so hard you cry, the year you had Christmas twice is dripping down your arm and rolling out of you. You’re coughing up and sobbing out every memory of getting in trouble with your friends or holding hands with the boy you thought you loved more than anything in the world. All your memories of the beautiful life you’ve lived are melting into the carpet of your bedroom floor staining it, reminding you of how much you hate yourself when you should love yourself. These red bubbles aren’t pretty rubies rushing out of your skin, this isn’t glamorous nor poetic, its not mysterious or romantic, its mutualization, its sickening. It’s death and you are dying. It’s you, everything you have been, everything you are, and everything you are yet to be, if you just give yourself the fucking chance.

And just like that,

You put the razors on your mum’s dresser, wrists intact, and you walk down the stairs. You go to the kitchen and you peel open a banana and you eat it. You put your headphones in, you go outside and you go for a walk around the botanical gardens. You enter through Gate D and you lie in the sun for a while as you throw bread for the ducks. The white ones with the orange beaks are your favourite. You give them nicknames. You know that in all honesty, you’re going to have more shitty boyfriends who might break your heart. You’ll also have good ones that even though it didn’t work, you grew. You know that you and your dad aren’t ever going to have a relationship. You know that you’re going to have trust issues and post-traumatic stress for quite a long time. You’ll fight with girlfriends, you’ll get too drunk and do something stupid like kiss someone you shouldn’t or break your nose at a music festival. You’ll laugh at it. You’ll have days where you hate your body and days where you love it. Days where you want the world to end and days where you never believed you could ever be so happy. 

And for the first time in your 21 years of living, you’re okay with this. For the first time in 21 years, you’re at peace. You haven’t touched a razor since.

[thorongil82]

Going Round on a Ferris Wheel

Words: 2531

Fandom: MCU Spider-Man (Spideychelle)

Taglist: @petermjtexts (I did promise a while ago) @seek-rest (they say you write sad stuff, right?) @spideychelleforever (for the little bit you wrote for me before)

You can read on AO3 here

Summary: What few people knew was that Peter loves carnivals. Ever since he was a young boy, he's believed that they are a truly magical place. Sometimes they bring you joy. Sometimes they bring you sadness. Sometimes you can win a prize at every stall you can find. Sometimes you can lose every chunk of food you've eaten that day.

And sometimes you'll see something you'll never see again.

A/N: Ok, so I've been drinking this Valentine's night (not because I had no one to be with, but I did have no one to be with), and churned out most of this tonight. The other was based on something I was planning on anyway. I would apologise, especially considering the day, but if I really wanted to apologise I wouldn't post it. So, there's your warning. Read on!

*****

Anyone who knew Peter Parker; whether they be friends, Avengers, classmates, bodega owners, or villains who he had locked away as Spider-Man, knew that he was a very kind-hearted boy with a wonderful heart. Yes, he could get angry at times - usually if someone he cares about is threatened or hurt by another, or if a certain duo consisting of a bird-man with a shield and a metal armed man keep prodding into embarrassing moments. But, he's known for being smart, sweet and caring, willing to help a stranger in a moments notice. Hell, some people would believe that he could find something to love about anyone. However, there are a few things that Peter loves and cares for above all else.

One of those is his Aunt May, who had taken him in with his Uncle Ben. He owed so much to her as she and Ben raised him with love and care, doing everything they could, despite their dwindling financial situation – especially after Ben's death – to make his childhood life a happy one. And when she found out about his superhero life, instead of freaking out and stressing herself to death like he feared – though she did initially – she was willing to support and encourage him no matter the outcome. Sure, she still would worry for her nephew's safety, as would anyone. But, she was willing to back him up through thick and thin, so long as he believed what he was doing was right.

Another is his beautiful girlfriend, Michelle Jones. Former decathlon captain, protest organiser for several environmental and feminist issues, casual journalist, keen-eyed observer, and enthusiast of the morbid and macabre. He'd fallen for her shortly before Thanos' armies attacked Earth and had tried a few plans before the ill-fated trip to MoMA to try and tell her how he felt. However, after the utter calamity that was their S.H.I.E.L.D. Interrupted European trip, courtesy of the legendary Nick Fury and Maria Hill, they did finally get together as they confessed their knowledge of his identity and their lives where threatened by a charismatic fish-bowl wearing director of special effects.

What few people knew was that Peter loves carnivals. Ever since he was a young boy, he's believed that they are a truly magical place. Sometimes they bring you joy. Sometimes they bring you sadness. Sometimes you can win a prize at every stall you can find. Sometimes you lose every chunk of food you've eaten that day.

And sometimes you'll see something you'll never see again.

*****

As Peter wandered through the carnival, he couldn't help but feel lonely as he travelled through the stands all alone. Since he heard that a circus would be in the district roughly a month prior to their arrival, he had desperately wanted to bring MJ along to the festivities. However, he didn't know if it was possible, as MJ was oversees in Berlin for an exchange student program for her journalism course at NYU, and they weren't too sure when she would be coming back. Only a week ago did they know that she was meant to be coming back today, which sent Peter into a giddy fit trying to plan this wonderful surprise date out. As much as they would need to study for exams; Peter needing to nail the theory for his Advanced Nanotechnology unit and MJ needing to piece together her evaluations for her Journalism assignment based on the events going on in Berlin while she was there – a specialised exercise determined for those in the exchange program – he believed that a nice date night surrounded by the joyous energy, flashing lights and pulsing music would be a great way to relax and reconnect with one another. The fact that they had been video calling one another every single day meant nothing when it came to truly standing in each other's presence, holding onto each other.

When Michelle had first told Peter that she would be coming back today, the glorious information acquired as his Spider-Man persona about the circus and carnival was perfect. He was so excited to surprise her homecoming by bringing her out for a night of joyous adventure the likes of which only children could ever truly know. However, that plan went down the drain as they found out that her flight back had been cancelled, and the next flight was the following day. Seeing as there was nothing they could do, and that tonight was the last night of the carnival, Peter decided to go anyway. Who knows? Maybe he could find something to give to her there instead.

One by one Peter had made his way through the rides and prize stands; more the former than the latter. He had even won a reasonably (see oversized) rabbit that was cradling, beyond all luck, a bouquet of plastic black dahlias, from a hoop toss stand that had been rigged by the owner – though not expecting someone of his talents (see superpowers) to show him up – that he would bring to Michelle when she touched down. He had made his way though each of the rides, and finally all that remained was the Ferris Wheel.

While he stood at the end of the severely dwindling line, a slight chill tore through his body before he threw a hand out and caught a little stuffed Spider-Man toy that that been thrown at his head. Having caught the toy aimed at the back of his head, Peter turned around to see a somewhat solemn MJ smiling back at him with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, nowhere near the genuine grin that he had realised over the last few months she reserved just for him. His eyes glance slightly to the cane by her side, along with the slight reddish stain to her upper leg, before returning to her own eyes.

“MJ!” he cries out, running over to her – not completely registering her demeanour – and pulling her up into a tight hug, easily lifting her off the ground and spinning her round in his arms. “You said you weren't coming back today!”

“Well, I thought I'd surprise you,” she replies tersely, glancing around before he sets her back down. “Can't say I'm shocked to see you here.”

“I'm certainly surprised to see you!” he grins, turning towards the Ferris wheel. “Do you want to join me?”

When he turns back and holds out a hand to her, he observes as she glumly looks towards his hand before grabbing it with his. He does remember how she was never one for excessive PDA – no matter the situation – maybe she's still a little uncomfortable. However, as soon as her now unusually pale bronze skin touches his, a frosty chill crawls across his skin, sending him into a tense shudder.

“MJ, are you feeling well?” he asks, putting out the first thing that comes to mind. “Do you need to head home?”

Michelle replies with a simply shake of her head as her chilly grip tightens around his hand.

“I'm fine,” she answers, the grip growing more intimate as she wraps herself around his arm and rests her head against his shoulder. “I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be with you.”

Peter nods and they silently saunter to the front, MJ hobbling along with her cane as she leans more on her boyfriend, until finally they get to a carriage. When Peter hands the pimply teenage operator two tickets, he takes them with an odd glance back at the young adult, but lets the two on and they pile into a cart, the stuffed bunny sitting next to Peter and the Spider-Man plushie leaning against the back of the chair next to MJ.

“I used to love being on these things,” MJ confesses as the ride jerks to life, lurching round from its resting place as the wheel starts to spin. “My mother used to take me up all the time.”

She folds her arms on the edge of the open window and leans her chin on it, glancing down at the people below.

“We used to play a game,” she explained. “We'd pick out people in the crowd and pretend we were them, talking about anything stupid that we thought we could imagine happening in their lives.”

“Would you like to do that?” he asks, waiting tills she spins around to look at him. Unusually, he finds her looking back with a couple of tears trickling down her face.

“Are you okay?” he asks, getting a nod from her, even though it seems to manage to send a few more tears trickling down her cheeks. “MJ, you're crying.”

“A-Am I?” she stammers, her arms quickly reaching up and wiping away at her face. However, that fails to stop the tears from falling more and more.

“MJ?”

“I'm fine,” she whispers, a small sad smile gracing her face. “I just missed you … so much.”

“I missed you too,” he replies, grabbing her weirdly cold hands and cradling them in his own. While holding her hands, he tries to discreetly glance at the obviously wounded leg, the injury bleeding through her clothes. Nevertheless, MJ's ever keen eyes manage to pick up on his curious peek.

“I was shot.”

“What?!”

“Just before I flew out, a madman attacked the hotel I was staying at,” MJ explains, gripping onto the cane and shuffling over to Peter's side of the carriage. She winces as she steps down on her injured leg, managing to hold herself on the first before collapsing onto him on the second. With his help, she manages to make her way onto the seat next to him, slightly moving the rabbit across to make room.

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“There wasn't anything you could do.”

“But MJ-”

“Peter!” she shouts back, getting him to wince and back up a little. Michelle takes a short breath before dropping her voice.

“There wasn't anything you could do,” she softly repeats. “We were on a completely different continent. Even if you got there, it would've still been too late.”

“But I could've helped-”

“You can't save everyone, Peter!” she says, looking away as her voice starts to break into a whisper. “You can't save everyone ...”

“MJ …”

The carriage falls into a small moment of silence as they rotate round past the apex, rounding into a decent.

“... Why were you here?” she asks gently, her eyes fixating itself onto a certain point on the floor she's noted to be extremely important to look at.

“Well, I was wanting to bring you here on a date,” Peter explains, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. “But, someone said they weren't coming tonight.”

“Says the guy who would drop into my room unannounced and leave a pool of blood on my carpet.”

“I mean, I could have died,” Peter said lively, trying to turn it into a joke. However, the smile on his face quickly fell as he saw that it didn't spread onto her beautiful face.

“Yeah … you could've ...”

“MJ ...”

“So ..” she perks up, clearing her throat, “why did you still come here?”

“Well, I figured I'd get you something,” he replies, gesturing to the stuffed rabbit. Her eyes roam across it in the usual disinterest that he's used to seeing her act with, until they come to the bouquet of her favourite murderous flowers. The straight poker face gives way to a simpering smile as she wraps her hands around the stuffed animal, burying her head into the flowers.

“You didn't have to,” she whispers, her voice starting to break again.

“I know,” Peter replies as he turns away, closing his eyes. “But I wante-”

 The words die in his mouth as his lips are met by hers in a soft, gentle, yet desperate kiss, her lips wet and cold as he opens his eyes in surprise. The slight image of the tears once more trickling down her face, through her own closed eyes, sticks into his mind before he closes his eyes as well and leans into the kiss, pushing back into her for what feels like a life time before he feels her pull away.

“I love you, Peter,” he hears her whisper against his skin, sending it crawling from her tantalising breathe.

“Wait for me ...”

 With the final whispering of MJs voice haunting his ears, Peter's eyes jerk open as the carriage sways to a stop at the bottom. Glancing around, there is no sign of anyone else in the cart with him; no MJ, no cane, and no stuffed rabbit. All that remains of any sign that MJ was ever in there with him is the Spider-Man plushie that she had thrown at his head, along with the damp speckles where her tears had fallen. Grabbing the plushie, Peter dashes out of the carriage and looks around, but cannot see a single small sign of Michelle anywhere that he looks. Glancing back, he approaches the glum teenager operating the Ferris wheel.

“Hey, did you see where the girl I was with went?”

“Girl?” he drones, taking the tickets for another couple clutching lovingly onto each others arms. “What girl, man?”

 With a frustrated sigh, Peter turns away and takes off into the swarming crowd, trying to find his girlfriend. However, with the large bustling crowd, he cannot find even a single luscious hair from her head. When he tries to ring her phone, there's no response – the call going straight to voicemail. Leaving a message for her, he tries searching for her for several minutes before, tiredly, deciding to head home, still trying to ring her all the way back. 

*****

 Ned groggily wakes up to the sound of the TV running in the living room of his and Peter's shared apartment. Wrapping a fluffy dressing gown round his rotund body, he wearily staggers into the room to find the news sounding on the screen.

“Interpol have released details of the suspected terror attack in Berlin last night,” the news reporter relays. “The gunman, suspected to be linked with numerous terrorist organisations, attacked the Radisson Blu Hotel in the late hours of last night. Interpol have declared there were fifteen civilian casualties, along with seven individuals injured. Of those seven, three are in a critical condition.”

“Radisson Blu … Wasn't that where MJ was staying?” Ned mutters, before stopping as he hears a sobbing sound coming from the couch. Walking over, he finds Peter lying cross the couch, cradling a bloody Spider-Man plushie who's head has been shredded in a hole with something metallic shimmering deep within. Tears are flowing from his eyes as the superhero tightens his grip on the stuffed toy, holding it hard to his chest.

“Among the casualties is 21 year old Michelle Jones, a New York resident in Berlin as part of a transfer student program. Police explain she had been shot through the leg before being killed, and that they found her holding onto a large stuffed rabbit. For reasons they cannot explain, there was no blood on the rabbit. Her body will be flown back to be buried by her family.”

A/N: I did warn you … I'm sure some of you may hate me.

By all means, please let me know your thoughts. Doesn't matter if they're good, bad, constructive or what. I'd like to know what you think. And I promise that the next story I write will have a happier ending. Until then, adios!

[retrauxpunk]

Rain, I ask you: ALL the quarantine asks!

Animated character that was your gay awakening? not really an ‘awakening’ so much as a ‘hint’, but Azula from Avatar: the Last Airbender ... yep

Grilled cheese or PB&J? GRILLED CHEESE

What show/YouTube video(s) do you put on in the background when you when you don’t have anything to watch but you want something on? I don’t really experience this mood, but my go-to watch is the vlogbrothers YouTube channel

Your go-to bar order, if you drink? if it’s a low-key/work outing, lager or cider (esp the ones with non-apple fruits too); if it’s getting more serious (lol) or with closer friends or a more celebratory mood: vodka with sparkling apple juice

What’s your favorite pair of shoes that you own? these Doc Martens that are white with red hearts got ’em with my first ever full time design job paycheck. i did not take care of them well so they’re super scuffed/beat-up and very much not Perfectly White ... but they’re still comfy as heck, i still love the design, and they’ve lasted 3 years so far, let’s see how much longer we can make it ... also i think they’re a limited edition so i likely won’t get my hands on any replacements...

Top three cuisines? my cheap-ass answer would be, like: East Asian, South-East Asian, Western European ... but my non-shit answer is... Japanese, Chinese, Italian (ftr i’m not a seafood fan ... i just love the ramen and non-seafood stuff that japan makes hehe)

What was your first word as a child (that wasn’t a variation of “Mom” or “Dad”)? i have no clue

What’s a job that you’ve had that people might be surprised to find out you’ve had? cold-calling strangers to ask them to do market research phone surveys (y)

Look up. What’s directly across from you? the kitchen

Do you own any signed books/memorabilia in general? i have a messenger bag that i got signed by Jeph Jacques of the Questionable Content webcomic that i once adored ... and I think my boyfriend has gifted me a signed Matthew Reilly hardcover.

Preferred way to spend a rainy day? curled up indoors wearing something cosy, reading and eating something delicious. playing animal crossing lol. aaaaand listening to music, a good podcast, watching stand-up comedy, drawing, getting intoxicated...

What do you get on your bagels? What WOULD you get if you had access to anything you wanted? occasionally the standard smoked salmon and cream cheese, but i slightly prefer the meat to be, like, prosciutto

Brunch or midnight snacks? ehh fuck it, both???? both!!

Favorite mug you own easter limited edition waitrose mug, squat and round and yellow, painted/shaped like a very round chick. a Borb,,,,

What coffee drink would you describe yourself as? i actually thought about this and, uh, peppermint mocha. not for everyone, slightly weird, never fitting in with the regulars/being a default, but???? obviously awesome?? also: about 65% on the mainstream/hipster scale

Pick a song lyric to describe your current mood (and drop the name and artist!) The Wombats is the artist. lyrics are either “Let's dance to Joy Division / and celebrate the irony / Everything is going wrong, / but we're so happy” from Let’s Dance to Joy Division or “the edge of nowhere’s such a beautiful place” from Emoticons

Fruity or herbal teas? herbal but i agree with @queenofslime, black tea is the best

What’s that one TV show that you’re a little bit embarrassed to watch but you still like nonetheless? ...do i experience embarrassment about what i like to watch on TV? i don’t know if i do, because i watch relatively few shows ... and have relatively little shame? maybe???

That book you were forced to read for class but actually ended up enjoying? ftr i wasn’t bitter about this before reading, i had no preconceived biases against, and i was pretty open to liking it -- The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri

Do you match your socks? if they’re of a really nice design then yes always, if they’re of a more standard/generic design then ... not necessarily

Have you ever been horseback riding? yes a few times ... on the last time which was like five years ago ... the lady said i was a natural and asked if i’d ridden much before, which was. flattering. and yes this is a Brag.

What was your “phase” when you were younger? (i.e., Mythology Nerd, Horse Girl, Space Geek, etc) didn’t have much of a hardcore phase but i was pretty much always into fantasy ... oh wait yeah i did! i had a spy phase :)

Have you ever been to jail? to closed-down ones, yep

What’s your opinion on Lazy Susan’s (the spinning tray in the middle of tables)? pretty great idea unequivocably, right?

Puzzles? i tend to enjoy riddles/lateral thinking puzzles, i am impartial about jigsaw puzzles. i enjoy escape rooms.

You can only have one juice for the rest of your life, what is it? apple ... but elderflower if i’m feeling reckless (y)

What section do you immediately head for when you walk into a bookstore? young adult ... or stationery

What’s one thing you’re trying to learn/relearn in your downtime right now? Russian language :( it’s going не так хорошо

Who’s your go-to musical artist when you’re feeling upbeat? not sure if i have a go-to artist so much as go-to playlists i’ve made but some good ones are The Wombats and Bastille 

Where could someone find you in a museum? mammals/birds in natural history

What’s that one outfit in your closet you never get the chance to wear but want to? i swear i was talking about this recently but i clean the fuck forgot what it was ... oh yeah, i have this short-sleeved black minidress festooned with silver buckles/buttons and also featuring decorative suspenders ... which, yes, does make me look like a sexy military officer,,, anyway it’s pretty badass and somehow it hasn’t occurred to me till now that i can just wear that every day now if i want? ftw i do get the chance to wear it, it’s just a little bit Extra so i get self-conscious. i’ve worn it a few times though. including to work. because fuck it, right? i didn’t become a graphic designer to be shy about sometimes looking like a prototypical emo/scene kid-turned-adult??? (ftr i was never an actual emo/scene kid. i lacked the requisite guts, commitment of feeling, and permissive parents.)

Rainbows, stars, or sunset colored clouds? sunset-coloured clouds :)

If you could own any non-traditional pet (dogs, cats, fish, rodents, etc), what would it be? how about a shapeshifting feathered dragon that could range from, like, two thirds of a foot long (20cm) to sit on your shoulder, to ... the size of a massive draft horse? (but longer and thinner)

Do you have more art on your walls or more photographs? photos, though if i didn’t live with a partner, it might be art

You have to get one meme tattooed on your body, what meme is it and where does it go? i’ve already got a meme tattooed on my body ... a private meme i have with my boyfriend, one on each leg (left: outer side, just above knee; right: outside, a few inches above the ankle)

Pick a superhero sidekick to hang out with ?????? is this a sidekick to a known superhero, or a superhero to act as your sidekick? also i don’t know? who are the standard heroes? i’m not up to date on this.

Lakes, rivers, or oceans? rivers or oceans

Favorite mid-2000s song i can’t decide a favourite, it’s too stressful, but one that i like is Rob Thomas’s Little Wonders

How do you dress when you’re home alone? either a t-shirt and PJ pants, or a dress (usually short-sleeved/sleeveless minidress)

Where do you sit in the living room (we all have a preferred spot, and you know it)? on either side of the couch haha

Knives or swords? BOTH but ok swords.

A song you didn’t think you’d enjoy but ended up loving hmmmmm like all of Linkin Park’s first three albums with some exceptions? hahahah

Pick an old-school Disney Channel Original Movie i don’t think i.....know any????

Are you a “Quote that relates to the photos” caption-er, an “explanation of where I took the photos” caption-er, or a no caption kinda person when you post pictures online? explanation, though on instagram quite often the photo and caption are unrelated

Name a classic Vine there’s only one thing worse than a rapist...

What’s the freezer food that you stock up on when you go to the grocery store? dumplings! as in the gyoza type.

How do you top your ice cream? that ‘magic’ chocolate sauce that hardens into chocolate. that stuff. i watched those ads all childhood long but my parents were immigrants and therefore very thrifty so we NEVER bought it iirc and then in my adulthood i got it a bunch of times. but now i live in the uk and can’t find it. and forgot it existed. and have never seen it anywhere.

Do you like Jello? the kind that’s served on a plate as a dessert? meh. the kind that are found in asian grocery stores as individual fruit-flavoured serves in little plastic cups? YES 

What’s something that you don’t have a picture of that you wish you did? future stock prices? LOL ... or i’m gonna go with @queenofslime‘s answer again -- how others see me. it’s a great answer.

How are you at climbing trees? not............ good. i mean, i like climbing, but i have absolutely terrible upper body strength. i did bouldering for a couple months but only stuck to the first like... three out of nine difficulty levels.

[twilightofthe]

For the Star Wars questions- 16 & 19. :)

Thank you!!! (y’all this got ridiculously long for two damn questions lol)

Send me a number and i’ll tell u my fave/least fave:

16. Book/Comic (Aight, so I’m actually not a huge comic reader in general, most of my comic knowledge comes from other fans on here posting about them, so this is gonna be mainly book-focused)

FAVE:  Welllllll, since I’m literally incapable of narrowing down my favorite anythings, I’m gonna do faves for both canon and EU novels.  

Canon-wise, it’s a tie beween A New Dawn and Ahsoka.  I know I don’t post about them as much on here, but I truly have a super soft spot for Kanera and Kanan and Hera’s characters, they’re just so GOOD and I love themmmmm aaaaaaaaa.  You get super good insights to how Kanan was running wild and traumatized and trying to repress everything and how Hera was a little naïve but still tough as nails and she had a dream and she was going to make it happen or so help her, ugh I just love how the story showed how they’re strongest as a team working together and I just love character dynamics where the two are so obviously married and kinda snark at each other sometimes but they have each other’s backs through everything and know each other like the back of their hands and uggghhhh this is just such a healthy good ship and such a good book.  The Ahsoka novel is just fantastic all on its own because it shows Ahsoka as a young adult, kinda floundering and lost in this new world, full of guilt over what happened with Anakin and the Order, trying to do what she can to help people and just enduring because she’s a survivor, she was raised (by two argumentative, adoptive parents who love her very much SO SAYETH THE BOOK) to be a survivor and handle herself, but that doesn’t mean she’s not lonely as all hell.  And oof I just fucking adore Kaeden Larte and her relationship with Ahsoka (who absolutely comes back and marries her once the war is over oh yes) and her relationship with Miara and ugh just all of it is A+++++.  E.K. Johnston is just an amazing author in general and her other book, Queen’s Shadow is one of my two canon runner ups because I am in love with her Sabé and her Padmé.  Other canon runner up is A Certain Point Of View, if only for the “Time of Death” chapter.  Don’t get me wrong, the rest of it is also fantastic, but oh god it kills me DEAD OBI WAN DESERVED SO MUCH BETTER AND I CRY I REALLY CRY

EU-wise (oh god, I haven’t even gotten to least-faves yet), it has to be the Revenge of the Sith novelization.  Without a question.  Y’all it’s SO FUCKIN’ good, and in my personal opinion should be considerrred canonnnnnn (look I think the reason they gave for excluding it is that there’s no mention of Ahsoka or Rex or Mandalore or any of the stuff that happened literally the day before which is valid, but I counterpoint that Anakin is a mess with A Lot Going On At The Moment, he could have just forgot?  He forgets most of his morals, all of his common sense, and three of his limbs by the end of the story, Snips could have just slipped his mind! xD).  Anyway, besides the fact that it’s like 99% written in Obikin-colored glasses which really just makes me happy as a person because I love it being acknowledged just how important they are to each other, it really offers a deeper insight INSIDE the chaos going on in Anakin’s head, the mess, just why he falls so quickly and so awfully.  I love it gives the Padmé plot that got cut on screen some validity.  The beautiful beginning and the goddam introductions to Anakin Skywalker and Obi Wan Kenobi are just A++++++++++++++ and oof other people can more accurately describe just how good this book is, but I love it a Big Lot ok?

LEAST FAVE:  Okey doke, here we go....  So firstly for canon, I’m not the biggest fan of how Claudia Grey writes Leia’s character.  She’s a wonderful storyteller and I love her worldbuilding, but just the way she characterizes Leia herself never felt... right, ya know?  Idk, I can’t really explain it, but it makes it difficult for me to enjoy her Leia novelsWarning right now that this is a VERY unpopular opinion and my opinion alone, please do not yell at me!  So as skilled and admired an author Timothy Zahn is, I don’t like the Thrawn books.  I’m sorry, I don’t.  To me, Thrawn is just.... ok so he’s like BBC!Sherlock but in space.  The plot makes a big deal about how “oooh cool and intelligent and Literally Better Than Everyone Else” Thrawn is, but the only way they really show his “cleverness” is by either him solving problems by pulling together information that literally no one but the writer knows and then acting like it was oh so obvious and in front of everyone OR, the story dumbs down other characters to make him look smart.  And maybe it was because the one Thrawn book goes after Anakin/Vader in particular to do the latter is what kinda ticked me off on Thrawn books in general, but y’all, it really ticked me off, because Anakin is like the lowest hanging fruit for an author to pick to make their character look good in comparison, and therefore it is done All The Time (LOOKING AT YOU, CLONE WARS), which I think is lazy and an insult to Anakin’s character.  Look, I am fully aware Anakin Skywalker is a dolt to the highest degree sometimes, but he is ALSO A GENIUS.  He is SMART.  IT IS CANON THAT HE IS SMART.  So when the Thrawn book has Thrawn constantly one-upping Anakin The Useless Doofus (and Padmé a bit!!!) and then doing it again once he meets him as Vader, that just makes me hmmmm.

The canon comics are actually gonna be featured on the list here a bit because if y’all don’t already know my hatred for That One Particular Vader Comic (not the rest of the series run as I have not read it and from what I hear, it’s excellent and I’d probs like it a lot) doing the implication in a dream sequence where it says that Palpatine used the Dark Side to impregnate Shmi and create Anakin, well I HATE IT.  Look, I know the plot was literally about Sidious trying to mess with Vader’s head and that dream shouldn’t be trusted, but it fooled all the fans too and now like 60% of Star Wars fans actually believe Sidious fathered Anakin and I am so damn tired of hearing about that.  Yeah, now that Reylo is canon, that comic’s authors are trying to do damage control by saying that no, Sidious isn’t Anakin’s father and Rey and Ben are not second cousins, but they’re still being mysterious about it and “oh well it COULD be this--” so now there’s just more fans who are digging into that theory just because they don’t like Reylo and I don’t really care for the ship either but I really HATE the entire “Born of the Dark” concept for reasons I can explain more separately, so I’m pissy at that particular comic for spawning it.  I know it’s petty but I do.

EU-wise, well, this is gonna be unpopular too, cuz I haven’t read most of the EU stuff, and from what I’ve heard of it, there doesn’t seem to be much that I WOULD like.  The movie novelizations all seem good, but everything else???  “Obi Wan prequels but guess what, he had a shitty childhood too!” uh, no thanks, the rest of his life sucks enough, I want to see him happy.  “Mandalorian worldbuilding, but they’re all a bunch of stoic, overpowered badasses who are Good At Everything And Better Than Literally Everyone and the plot bashes the Jedi left right and center!” ehhhhhhhh pass.  “What happened after Return of the Jedi, except the Skywalkers still don’t get a happy ending because the galaxy goes to war again, Han and Leia’s son turns evil, Luke Suffers, and Palpatine comes back again!” nah, that sounds too depressing-- oh wAIT :) :) :)(at least the EU actually lets Han and Leia grow old and happy together okay okay that’s enough sequel salt for one day)

19. Outfit

FAVE:  Everything Padmé Amidala wears in the movies.  No I will not narrow it down.  I am in love with her whole wardrobe and I want it. 

 I also love the standard Jedi tunics and tabards and cloak (c’mon, the cloak completes the picture!)  It’s just such a signature and unique look that’s supposed to combine medieval European knight tunics and samurai warrior clothing and just the #aesthetic is oof, just wonderful.

Also Sabine Wren’s armor and its various paint jobs.  It’s just so uniquely her and bright and beautiful and badass in all its stages and yes good I like it.

Also Lando Calrissian’s cloaks!  Swooshy and colorful and good!  I love cloaks!  

LEAST FAVE:  Gonna go with my petty, silly ones first, and those are all of Padmé Amidala’s outfits that are only seen in the The Clone Wars TV show (so not the ones that were based off of movie costumes).  Eh, actually three of them were nice, her orange outfit she visits Mina in, her white casual housedress, and her black slinky Clovis dress.  All of her other series-only outfits made me highkey pissy because they were either A.) Wrong for the situation she was in, B.) Defied the laws of physics and should not have held the shape they did/stayed on her body, or C.) just plain UGLY (the highest crime of all), and for the animators to have the audACITY to put any of those things in the mere vicinity of the most stylish woman in the galaxy is an insult to Padmé, an insult to ME, and an insult to Star Wars as a whole (yes, I am mostly joking, but come on!).  No, I will not give the designers the excuse of clothing being difficult and expensive and time consuming to animate because I have SEEN the fancy, PRETTY outfits of the other ladies of Padmé’s status on the show.  Everything Satine Kryze wore was intricately beautiful as all hell and I loved it.  Riyo Chuchi’s two outfits were lovely and fashionable.  Heck, I’m pretty sure I liked Mina Bonteri’s outfit too.  There were tons of people on that show with stylish clothing!  How hard would it have been for the animators to remember Padmé doesn’t wear exposed midriffs on official government business?  That dresses with no sides or back cannot be sleeveless or they will not stay up?  Not give her hairstyles that looked like either a goddam tuning fork or like Jimmy Neutron’s mother?  That beige jumpsuits are BORING and adding a mauve vest is NOT enough to make it exciting!!!! xD xD xD 

Aight, now in more seriousness, I also hated both of Ahsoka’s outfits in the original TCW show.  Enough people have spoken on why sending a fourteen year old into an active warzone in a tube top and miniskirt is a BAD IDEA, but like it just makes me extra mad when you remember her older and more experienced at Not Getting Pulverized Masters were both in full concealing robes and chest and shoulder and shin armor, so you can’t even pass it off as Jedi not getting hurt as easily.  Her updated outfit was only slightly an improvement because her Masters STILL got at least fully covering robes and arm bracers, while Ahsoka still had her entire back exposed, leg holes exposing valuable arteries and stuff, and a goddam boob window that basically signals “shoot me here”.  Look, I know the animators goofed, and I know how they have learned from it because from Rebels on, they never show her as improperly covered for battle, in the new TCW season both outfits are cute and practical too, but seeing her running around in her red outfits actively impeded and took me out of my watching experience because I was cringing over her having a lack of protection, that it made her that much more vulnerable to injury.

Finally just gotta give a standard raised finger to the Slave Leia Bikini.  Carrie Fisher hated it so I do too.

[bthenoise]

Q&A: Silverstein’s Shane Told Talks ‘A Beautiful Place To Drown’ Plus Celebrating 20 Years Of An Amazing Career

Can you think of one thing you’ve consistently done for 20 straight years? And no, eating and sleeping don't count. 

Try and think of a hobby or profession you’ve been doing for two whole decades where seemingly every year you continue to get better and better and better. 

Anything? Well, guess we can’t all be Silverstein. 

Gearing up for their biggest year yet as they celebrate the big 2-0, the Canadian noisemakers will be hitting North America performing three sets (Discovering The Waterfront in full, an acoustic set and a greatest hits set) and preparing to release their ninth full-length album A Beautiful Place To Drown.

In order to get a feel for Silverstein’s busy yet exciting year ahead of them, we caught up with frontman Shane Told to talk about everything from their new record to his love of the Toronto Raptors.

To see what Told had to say about one of Silverstein’s most experimental releases as well as his story about how “My Heroine” almost never made it on Discovering The Waterfront, be sure to see below. Afterward, make sure to pre-order the band’s new album before it hits stores March 6th and grab tickets to see them out on tour with Four Year Strong and I The Mighty here.     

You have a lot of exciting things coming up with the 20-year tour and your new album A Beautiful Place To Drown. Which do you think you’re most excited for?

Shane Told: Oh, that's hard! That's a hard question, man.

Yeah, we're starting with the tough ones first [laughs].

It's not easy to pick a favorite there. To be completely honest, I think it's the tour I'm most excited about because there's this excitement to go do this thing and spend a lot of time in the live environment going to all these different cities and playing these epic sets. We're playing like almost two hours a night and just to have those songs sang back to us, that's a pretty amazing feeling. Obviously, the new album is super exciting too because everyone's gonna hear this thing. But you know, we recorded it six months ago. So it's like, for me, I've heard the songs a billion times already. It's always funny, by the time a record comes out -- not to say I'm sick of it -- but you know, you poured over it so much that it's like, “Okay, finally it's out.” It's more a sense of relief than it is excitement sometimes with new records.

Was there any part of you guys that wanted to release the record later in the year so you could focus more on the 20-year tour first?

No, not at all. In fact, it's always been something we've thought was important. You know, to have that great balance between our legacy and all the things we've done in the past that we're proud of and records we put out and the milestones we've achieved such as 20 years of the band and 15 years of Discovering The Waterfront. Those things are great. But at the same time, we’re a band that never broke up. We never went on hiatus, we never took a break. We've been doing this the whole time. And you know, our fans and critics tell us our last few records are our best records. So for us, it's always important to push forward and have new stuff come out at the same time we're celebrating the old stuff and the milestones we've achieved. I remember when we did the Discovering The Waterfront 10-year-anniversary tour -- I guess it was five years ago. We had our album I'm Alive In Everything I Touch coming out and it was really important for us to play “Midwestern State Of Emergency” and show people “Okay yeah, 10 years ago we put out this record but we're also making some of our best music now.” And since we made that record, we've put out maybe our two best albums. So it's really important for us to do those things, I think, together. Rather than say, “Okay, yeah, here's this 20-year-anniversary tour” and like, “Oh yeah, by the way, in a few months we're going to work on the new stuff.” I think it makes sense to do it together so our fans are aware of it.

With you guys playing your longest set ever, will you be able to fit new music into the setlist?

Yeah I mean, we can't play half the [new] record. But that's just the challenge that happens when you've been a band as long as we have and put out so much music, you know? This is our ninth record. So when we're playing Discovering The Waterfront in full, if we played it all the way through without talking, that's like 45 minutes right there. So it's interesting as you go on with a band and a career, your sets have to get longer or you have to inevitably start cutting songs out and it gets more and more difficult. So people coming out can expect us to play a couple new songs from the new record but then a lot of it's going to be the classics and a few deep cuts in there. You know, a few curveballs just for some people that have seen us a million times and haven't heard a specific old song. We try to do that, too. I think it's really just, we're trying to encompass the whole career. Not super heavy on the new record yet. We're really just celebrating how we've gotten to this point with two decades.  

For you personally, how do you prepare for such a long set?  

I won't lie to you. There definitely was some concern from -- I'm not gonna say me -- but from just everybody kind of on our team when we decided, “Okay well, 20 years is coming up, what are we gonna do?” Like, it was my idea to do the three sets. It was my idea to put together the longest show ever and I was excited about it. That's when our agent said, “Are you guys sure? Are you guys good to do this? Like, a two-hour show?” And our drummer, he's also our manager, he's like, “Are we okay to do this? Like, Shane can you do it?” And I'm like, “Yeah, I'll be fine man. I believe in myself, I can do it.” And then as we got closer and closer and the tour routing got put together, our agent put a few more days off in there. Our drummer/manager, he put in a couple extra days off in there. And I said to him, I'm like, “I'm okay. I'm going to get through this, I always do.” And he's like, “Well, you know, for the rest of us it's not easy either.” [laughs] So we have a few extra days off in there, just to I guess maintain a little bit of sanity and have a little bit of a breather. But you know, we already did the European leg of the tour. The North American run starts on Friday but we already did seven days in Europe. So we did two shows and then we had a day off and then we did five in a row and I got through it just fine. My voice held up great. In fact, some of the guys in the band thought I sang better than ever before. So that's pretty exciting. We haven't really done any touring in like six months [since] we were making the new record. It is a lot to bite off but I think I can chew it no problem.

We mean, you guys are celebrating 20 years as a band. You're a professional at this point, you can handle this no problem! [laughs]

Yeah, and you know, [the shows] have gotten longer and longer. Like I said, you kind of have to, otherwise, you're just going to be cutting out more and more songs. So, I think the last show we did was still like over an hour and a half, probably 90 to 100 minutes. And this one's going to be like 120 minutes. So it's not that much longer. You know, for me, once I'm up there and I'm in the zone and I'm feeling good, I feel like I could sing for hours. So hopefully, [everything] holds up. 

Going back to A Beautiful Place To Drown, it's certainly one of the best Silverstein records and it definitely feels like a Silverstein record in the year 2020 as you guys tried a few different things on this record. One of them being all the amazing features. Where did some of those ideas for the features come from?

Well first of all, thank you for saying that. We feel really good [about this] record. I'm glad you noticed we took a few different approaches and a few chances. When we were putting this record together, we weren't completely ignorant or aloof of the fact that some of the stuff was a little out there for us. There were definitely discussions about songs like “All On Me” and just some of the ideas we had like, “Okay, are we really doing this?” In our career, we've played it safe a lot and that's fine. But every time we have taken a chance, it's paid off. So I think with this record, we were still careful and we still worked hard but we definitely did go for it. You know, and we did say like, “Fuck it, let's go for it.” I think that at the end of the day, at the end of the record, we feel good about it and we think that the product is better too.

So how that ties into your question about features is interesting too because, in the past, we would always think about features and we would say, “Okay look, we have this song, whose voice would be cool here?” And it's worked out a few times. We've had some great features over the years whether it's Lights on “The End” or Brendan Murphy from Counterparts on “The Artist.” We've always had people come in and do great parts but there's been a lot of them that haven't worked out. The reason that happens is because usually, we're so far along in the recording process by the time we say “Hey man, this could be cool to have a feature” [and] we figure out who the perfect voice is, we contact them, time has gone by, then they're on tour then they can't do it and we're like, “Okay, fuck it, no feature.” That's happened so many times. But with this record, we had most of the songs put together earlier on so we had a lot more time to give people to do it. 

Oh, perfect. 

For example, with “Infinite” and Aaron from Underoath -- he's a great buddy of mine -- I called him and I was like, “Hey man, I think your voice would be perfect on this song. Are you into it?” And he's like, “Yeah, I can't do it for like three weeks or a month” and I'm like, “No problem! We can do that.” And three weeks or a month later, he sent it and it was perfect and it was great. Same with Pierre from Simple Plan, he had some time [to work on the feature] and that was great. He's a buddy of mine, I just texted those people because they’re friends. Princess Nokia was a little bit different. She's a huge fan of our band. We met her in New York City. She came out to our show and she was just so lovely and after she came, I became more familiar with her music and her style and everything that she does. So when we were putting together “Madness,” the track she's on, we just thought having a female voice would be so great. And with the style of the song and the tempo we were like, “She'd be perfect!” Luckily, she was into it so that was great. And we had never done a guest guitar solo before, so [“Bad Habits”] with Intervals was fun. He's a friend from Canada. Canada is small, we all know each other. And Caleb from Beartooth is obviously one of our best friends. So those features all came together great but another thing I want to stress: all those features are first choice features. We don't do second choice features. We don't say, “Oh shit, Aaron from Underoath is on tour and can't do it? Okay, who's the next best we can get?” Like, the feature is either going to happen or it's not and once we've set our minds on somebody, that's the perfect person for the song, for the art and that's it. We're not going to go down some list and list and list until we end up with someone that wasn't the vision. So it was really cool we ended up getting all this to actually happen because so much of the time with other records we ended up having no features or just maybe one or two because some of them didn't work out.

It's so awesome to hear your enthusiasm for this record because sometimes when bands experiment, they might be a little unsure of things. But with you, it sounds like you got literally everything you wanted onto this album.

Yeah, I think so. I mean, we don't go into things with this like “eh fuck it,” [attitude] you know? This is our band. This is our career. This is important to all of us. One thing that's happened more and more as we've gotten to this point in the band is everyone's words and everyone's voice holds a lot more weight than it used to. It used to be, “Okay, I wrote this song. Here it is. It's my fucking song and here's how it's going to go. It's called ‘My Heroine’ and there it is.” And everyone's like, “Okay, fine. I guess.” Obviously, that did great. When you go with that approach for a long time and it works, it's fine. But then at some point, you realize sometimes there needs to be more cooks in the kitchen. Sometimes, when it's just you and the producer or you and the songwriter and the producer -- like a songwriter in the band and the producer and the singer are there -- they're missing something. They're so into the nuts and bolts of it, they don't see the big picture of the song. Then somebody from the back of the room that's maybe only even half-listening jumps in and goes “hey, what about this?” and it just opens a whole new thing for the song. That’s something we never used to approach the same way. But we have so much respect for every member of the band and everyone in the band's opinion that I think it really helps the record be what it is. But it was never like a “eh fuck it, whatever, let's put a saxophone solo in here. Who cares?” It was never that. Everything is as calculated as you can imagine.

For all the fans reading this thinking “Oh my god Silverstein's going to put out this crazy experimental record” A Beautiful Place To Drown is still very Silverstein. “September 14th,” sounds like something you could have released 10 years ago. 

I think you're right, for sure. There's something about my voice that just screams Silverstein. It doesn't matter what I do, what I sing on, what we write. The second it's me singing over top of it, all of a sudden it just reverts to sounding like our band which is interesting. I think a lot of people when they listen to music, they don't really listen to much else other than the vocals and then everything else is just an accompaniment. So a lot of people don't hear it as much, some of the layers and layers of experimental things we've done. They just hear my voice and then they say it sounds like every Silverstein record. So there will be people like that and then there'll be other people who hear an 808 or some kind of clap sample or anything like that we haven't done before instrumentation-wise and it's really going to freak them the fuck out. So, you know, we'll see what happens. But I thought “Infinite,” the first single, I thought that was one of the freakier songs which is part of why we went with it for the first single. And like everybody loved it. So, it's great when you can read YouTube comments and not want to kill yourself.

One song we found ourselves listening to over and over again is “Say Yes.” It's not your typical Silverstein song by any means and almost feels like “The Afterglow.” It's a great example of you guys exploring and expanding your sound.

I think so. That's another reason we feel so good about this record. We put out “Infinite” as the first single, “Bad Habits” as the second single and “Madness” will be the third single. So you know, it's crazy that before this record's out we've left off, in my opinion, maybe two of the strongest songs that work as singles which to me are “Where Are You” and “Say Yes.” So it's really cool to be able to have the label pick the singles and then leave out two of the songs that you thought were a hit. That's a good sign you have a strong record. So yeah, “Say Yes” is a funny one. And again, that's a great example of what I was talking about with my voice. Paul Marc [Rousseau] wrote that song and he sent it to me and he was singing lead on the demo. I remember hearing it in the car and going “Oh god, I don't think this is Silverstein. Like, I don't think this is us. I think this is too poppy.” Then of course, Paul [Koehler] played drums on it, beats the shit out of the drums. We get real fuzz bass on there and then when I sing it's like, “Oh yeah, this is kind of just like ‘Afterglow’ part two” or it's in that realm and it totally works. That was another thing in the studio we definitely were hyper-focused on of how do we make songs the best it can be and something that our fans are going to be like, “Fuck yeah, I can't wait to get to track eight” or whatever.

Talking about “The Afterglow” and how it helped open doors for songs like “Say Yes,” was there any hesitation writing and releasing that song on Dead Reflection?

You know, I think I did a little bit. I remember that being a demo we had and it was just, to me, it didn't really sound like Silverstein either. It was still really driving and really fast like, the tempo of it. To me, it was still kind of a punk song, you know? So I was like, “Okay, this is cool” and I just thought it was a great song. So we weren't sure what was going to happen. Again, that song wasn't released before the record came out. It wasn’t a single. It wasn't until the album came out that people started freaking out about the song when we were like, “Oh shit, we should probably maybe play this live” because we weren't playing it live either! So I'll never forget the first time we played it live was in Germany. We were doing this kind of underplay tour -- usually in Germany, bands play like four or five shows -- we played twenty. So we were driving like 25 minutes and playing a show in like in 500 cap rooms and we played that song for the first time and the place just exploded. We were like, “Oh, we have to play this every show. Like, we have to.” So we did and every time we play it, it's insane. Everyone goes crazy for this song. So it's interesting how you never know really until a record comes out and maybe “Say Yes” is going to do that again. Maybe it's going to be “Where Are You” or maybe I'm wrong and maybe I don't know. But I mean, it was the same thing with “My Heroine.” “My Heroine” almost didn't make the record. Like, the producer didn't like it, the band wasn't sure about it and I thought it was like the best song I'd ever written. Then the record came out, there was no talk of making a video for that song, no talk of it being a single, and then about two weeks after the record came out everyone's like, “Okay well, we better learn it.” I'll never forget Josh practicing that intro/clean guitar part in the dressing room over and over again because it's a hard part. That's again, that's a song, where would we be without it?

Wow, that's interesting. It must be cool 20 years later, you still have songs you're excited to experiment with and see what the fan’s reactions are going to be. So many bands in your position could just play it safe and put out songs like ones people have liked in the past. So to have that opportunity to give your fans something new and fresh is awesome.

Completely, man. That's the thing, we could write another -- I don't know, pick a song, “Smashed Into Pieces” -- like we could write [another] song like that. I could definitely go into my little home studio and I can bang out a demo right now and I think people would really, really like that. We're still capable of that but we also have eight albums that have done that. Eight albums that we really like and we still play. That's the side of our band we enjoy. We don't retire songs. Like, we just played our entire first record from start to finish last year. We did the tour and then we extended the tour. We did more shows and we loved every second of it. Some people love our old stuff, we love that style and we could do that. Maybe we will do that again or something but right now we're having so much fun experimenting with things, trying new stuff, collaborating with people. It's cool to see some of the people come out of the woodwork just being like, “Who is this band? What? They've been a band for 20 years? I've never heard of this band. This is amazing. I love it.” So it's cool to have that and I know our real fans still hear, like when you talked about “September 14th” or a song on the record like “Stop” or “Bad Habits” or the bridge on “Coming Down” is the most Silverstein emo -- like that could definitely be on Discovering The Waterfront, that part. So there's always going to be those things for our fans and we're never going to turn our back on our fans. Like, we're never going to stop playing our old songs or anything.

Lyrically, since a lot of Silverstein’s records have concepts around them, was there anything conceptual about A Beautiful Place To Drown?

Not intentionally. It's interesting because we didn't write the record like that. A lot of our past records have been written [where] we get all the music together and then it's kind of my job to put together a story, a concept, a bunch of lyrics, you know, whether it's This Is How The Wind Shifts or Shipwreck In The Sand or I'm Alive In Everything I Touch. Those records are all concept albums and they lean heavily on an idea and a concept but this record wasn’t written like that. If Shipwreck In The Sand is one concept, this record is 12 concepts. I think once we started putting all these songs together -- Paul Marc did a lot of the writing lyrically on this one -- we started to see some commonalities between the subject matter of the songs and how much it was about the current state of the world we live in and how things like politics and mental health and relationships and the way your phone seemingly controls your life, all of these things are really, really tying together. And there's so much progression and there are so many beautiful things happening out there in the world, like there really are, things are getting better and easier. But then why are so many people struggling and feeling so [bad] mentally? You know, why are so many people struggling? So that's kind of where I think the title came from, you know, with A Beautiful Place To Drown. There's a lot of water references in the band. I mean, we've always been a kind of water band so that just works for us and our whole M.O.

That's definitely a really interesting concept to think about. A lot of fans are really going to be able to, no pun intended, but dive into the record and kind of explore those themes.

Well, you know, I hope they cannonball into the record. Like Ron Burgundy style.

[Laughs] that's a good one. You know, we wouldn't have been surprised if you were to say, conceptually, the record is somehow about the Toronto Raptors winning the NBA Finals.

Well, what's the drowning? That Kawhi [Leonard] left?

Oh, possibly. That's a good point.

Well hey, [the Raptors] got what the second-best record in the NBA right now? They've won like 19 out of 20 games or something crazy. They're hot, man. Don't rule them out for a repeat. Everyone's rolling their eyes when I say that, but hey, the only team with a better record than them is the Bucks. Maybe the Lakers. It was exciting up here when the Raptors pulled it off. It was like nothing the city had ever seen before. I'm a huge Raptors fan. I'm wearing a Raptors hat right now.

Did any part of you want to put references to the Raptors or the championship in any of your songs?

You know, it's funny because Paul Marc, he's a hockey fan. He's a Montreal Canadiens fan. And with basketball, he's more of a newer basketball fan than I am. You know, I was rocking the Raptors in '95 even when they played in the huge baseball stadium. I've been a huge fan since the first season. So you know, once the Raptors started getting good, we started watching it together on the bus and talking more about the game. Then [Paul Marc] writes “Say Yes” and he writes the line about “I'm a half-court shot after the buzzers gone,” and I'm like, “Dude! You’re writing lyrics that I should be writing. Like, I'm the basketball guy here.” But now he's such a diehard Raptors and NBA fan, so it was cool that he came up with that line.

WATCH MORE:

[winnipegpatty]

like what you’re doing to me | s.m series | three

a/n: this series is really so much fun to write. let me know what you think, and as always, consider supporting me over on ko-fi if you enjoy it :) <3

Tour was going amazing. Shawn was having a complete, total blast. Singing his third album was by far his favorite live experience he’d had so far. The fans were eating up the special falsettos he had in each song. They went hard every night to Lost in Japan, and the energy on his team was just unparalleled.

They were getting ready to round out the first month of tour, and Shawn honestly couldn’t believe that the European leg of tour had almost come to an end.

The team was traveling to England for their first Manchester concert tomorrow, and after England there was only Ireland left before Shawn and the team headed back to North America. Which Shawn was excited about because North American meant an entire week in LA was coming soon. The team was going to put the absolute perfecting touches on the single that was set to release in May. LA also meant he’d most likely see Karli, and despite there never having been anything romantic between the two of them, Shawn was fairly certain there were mutual feelings developing, despite distance.

Karli and Shawn had continued texting and even facetiming on a semi regular basis, as much as time zones and tour schedules had allowed. But Shawn would be a complete liar if he said he didn’t miss her at all.

Which was stupid because he’d only ever been with her a handful of times at this point.

Shawn actually hadn’t heard from her today, or for a couple of days now that he thinks about it. Which was odd, but Shawn didn’t have a whole lot of time to overthink this, as his plane was landing soon, and Andrew was already beginning to give instructions for arrival.

“Airport security says there’s about forty or so fans outside which,” Andrew scrunched his face, “Is honestly more than normal. Shawn,” he paused. “Rehearsals start in two hours. So, you have some time for selfies if you want, but just know it’s going to cut into anything else you wanted to do before rehearsals. Your decision as always.”

Shawn nodded.

“There’s three cars waiting. Band members in the middle car, team members in the third car, me and shawn in the first car.”

“Just us?” Shawn asked. That’s kind of off. There were usually at least four people in a single car.

“Yeah, and you want all of us in the same car?” Zubin asked, “That’s like...seven people plus the driver, dude.” With the extra three instrumentalists that were on tour with them, it did make for a decent sized  band.

“You’re just going to have to make do, guys. That’s how it is.” Andrew said sternly, leaving room for no questions.

Zubin grumbled a bit, leaning back in his chair.

“Listen, it’s like a twenty five minute drive.” Andrew answered, “You’ll survive.”

“Okay, anything else?” Shawn asked, trying to move the conversation forward.

“Yes. Band members are on the third floor of the hotel, team members and Shawn are all on the fourth floor. There weren’t enough rooms available for us to all be on the same floor.”

“That drags,” Eddie muttered.

“Hey, it’s fine guys,” Shawn said, addressing everyone. “It’s not about the rooms or the cars anyway. It’s about the concert and the music, and that’s going to be good, eh?”

“Yeah, but man it’s gonna be so much more inconvenient if we wanna meet up at the end,” Zubin said.

Andrew snapped his fingers, “Zubin, enough complaining. I’m over it. We haven’t even landed yet for heaven’s sake. Stop being a child. Shawn’s probably not going to have a whole lot of extra time in Manchester anyways.”

“Oh,” Shawn pursed his lips, looking around at his friends and eyeing Andrew. “I’m not? That’s news to me. We got some stuff planned or something?”

Andrew scratched at his neck, “Nah. Just, everyone please...wait like fifteen minutes and it will all make so much more sense.”

“Andrew, you’re just being really sketchy right now, is all.” Shawn said.

The band members all chorused a ‘yeah’ to back Shawn up.

Andrew grumbled, “God aren’t men supposed to be less dramatic?” He turned around in his seat, completely ignoring the band and Shawn’s concerns.

Shawn decided to ignore it, and instead pulled open his Twitter app, using his last few chaos free moments to tweet out a pre-concert message.

Outside of the airport, the air was brisk and freezing. There was a freezing slush on the ground that was absolutely disgusting, and something Shawn really didn’t miss about Canada. It was April, why was it still snowing and sleeting? Wasn’t it supposed to be getting warm again? LA was sounding better and better by the day. He was ready to see the sun again.

The fans outside were extremely polite and patient with him, which always made following his “Always take selfies” rule so much easier to follow. Frantic fans sometimes made him feel like he was being trapped in an increasingly small space. But here, even with the cold temperatures, he was able to really smile and offer sincere replies to all of the fans comments. These were the encounters he loved the most, more than the set up meet and greets or the staged question and answer sessions. He just loved meeting the people who supported him.

“I love you guys so much,” Shawn said as he finally came up for air, stepping away from the crowd. “Thank you so much,” he blew kisses at them for a few seconds before turning to duck into the specified car Andrew had set for him.

“That never gets old, Andrew,” Shawn said into the car as he slid into the seat, going for his favorite seat in the back driver’s side. But as Shawn finally raised his head to address the car fully, mostly looking for Andrew, he found that the two of them weren’t alone in the car as he’d made it seem they’d be.

“Oh,” Shawn said lightly as his eyes quickly caught sight of a redhead he didn’t recognize, before finally, at last, his eyes turned to his left where, sitting in the seat he’d been originally aiming for, a familiar bubbly blonde with a smile to kill.

“Hi,” Karli breathed lightly.

“What the hell, Andrew?” Shawn looked around finally finding Andrew sitting in the front passenger seat of the car, turning around to look at Shawn.

“Surprise.”

“You fucking dick,” Shawn laughed, but then turning to Karli, he smiled. “Hi, what are you doing here? And who is this?” He asked, gesturing to the red head.

“That’s my best friend Sophie, and we were in Manchester on a little vacation. And, when you started telling me last week how you were coming to England next, we thought we’d be in town for your show. And we were right,” She giggled a little, still seemingly breathless at the sight of Shawn. “And Andrew helped us set up the little surprise.”

“Oh my god,” Shawn breathed, leaning in for a somewhat awkward car hug with Karli. But he didn’t care, and by the way she nuzzled into his neck perfectly, she didn’t seem to care much either.

They pulled away before Shawn laughed at himself a bit, and turned towards Sophie. “I’m Shawn, by the way.”

___

“Rehearsals start in an hour,” Andrew reminded as Shawn, Karli and Sophie all headed towards Shawn’s room on the fourth floor.

Shawn hollered a response over his shoulder before he unlocked the door and welcomed the girls in, dragging his suitcase behind.

“So we won’t have a bunch of time today,” Shawn stated, as he threw his suitcase on the bed that he didn’t plan on sleeping on. “But tomorrow is a free day, and then the next day we have another Manchester show before we head to the O2 in London.”

Karli smiled, toeing up to Shawn until their feet were only inches apart. “We’re invited to the show tonight, right?” She swayed slightly.

“Oh my god, of course.” Shawn swore he’d never smiled this much in his life, but he was fucking giddy. Sue him.

They stared at each other for a second, and Shawn could feel his cheeks becoming that signature rosy red that he hated so much. It always gave him away, but there was nothing he could do about it. He giggled a little, push just a touch closer to her, “I’m still trying to comprehend that you’re even here.”

“I’m here.” She whispered, lightly touching his hand before she pulled away completely and turned to Sophie.

“Soph, we should probably get going if we’re going to make it the museum you were wanting to see today.”

Shawn’s smile dropped for a minute before he pulled himself back together.

“Yeah, I should be getting ready for rehearsals anyways.”

Karli nodded, smiling, “Text me the concert details?”

“Absolutely. Thanks for thinking of me while you were here,” He hugged her lightly, this time a fully proper hug. “I’ve missed you,” He whispered as he breathed in her scented perfume.

“Missed you too.”

___

__

“Manchester! How we feeling tonight!?” Shawn quickly pulled out his earpiece for a moment to hear the roar of the crowd.

He smiled wide, “Scream this one out at the top of your lungs!”

He began playing Lost in Japan, and waiting to see if the crowd would absolutely erupt for it.

Throughout the festival tour and now this tour, it was always apparent that every crowd went hard to different songs. Everyone related differently, but as a whole most cities were an In My Blood kind of a city or a Lost In Japan kind of city. Tonight, with Karli in the crowd, Shawn was definitely feeling more Lost In Japan. He was excited, happy, giddy, all the good emotions. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a crush like this, but he was reveling in the feeling of light butterflies roaming around his stomach, making him nervous for an entirely different reason than usual.

Manchester felt like the floor was shaking during Lost In Japan, and Shawn was exceedingly happy that they were feeling the same way he was. By the looks of things over in Karli and Sophie’s section of the floor, they were getting pretty drunk and had begun singing at the top of their lungs.

“Manchester,” Shawn breathed heavily as Lost in Japan came to an end, “You are sound so beautiful tonight.” He breathed a couple of times as he took a swig of water. “Today is a special night for me,” He pulled his electric guitar off his shoulder, handing it to a stagehand. His acoustic was handed to him, and he slung it over his shoulder. Beginning to strum out a soft riff. “One of my greatest, new friends is in the crowd,” Shawn looked towards Karli smiling, “I’m pretty happy about that. And if you’ve seen me in concert before, how many have seen me before?” He asked. The crowd responded with a low pulse of screams. “Beautiful, I’ve loved seeing you before Manchester. You guys are always amazing. I love you so much. But if you’ve seen me before then you know what I usually say before singing Don’t Be a Fool. But this is a new era, this is Shawn Mendes The Tour.” The crowd screamed, “Yeah,” Shawn moaned lightly, lightly laughing. “Yeah, so I’m really sorry, but we aren’t going to be singing Don’t Be a Fool, but, guys, and girls, in the crowd. If you brought a lovely person here on a date, or maybe it’s not even a date maybe you just got a sweet little crush. I relate, yeah” Shawn laughed again, “Yeah I relate to that. Well this song, is a really good time to make a move if you’ve been wondering when the time would come. This just might be it. This,” Shawn picked up his guitar riff, gaining some weight and speed, “Is When You’re Ready.”

A chorus of oh’s filled the arena and Shawn looked around, seeing a series of people pull in their significant others for soft kisses. Shawn felt his heart lifting to the heavens, he fucking loved this. All of performing, but this moment in particular was his favorite. Seeing people come together because of him. Seeing people fall in love, even if he’d never know their individual stories. It made his heart fucking soar.

“Maybe I had too many drinks, but that’s just what I needed. I hope that you don’t think what I’m saying sounds conceded.” Shawn sang the words from the back of his throat. There were a few people towards the front of the arena that were swaying, holding onto their friends shoulders. One couple on the fourth row was still kissing, which was a bit excessive if the girl standing next to them was anything to go off of.

“Baby tell me when you’re ready, I’m waiting.” Shawn’s gaze wandered over to Karli who was drunkenly swaying with Sophie, leaning heavily on each other for support. “Even ten years from now, if you haven’t found someone, I promise I’ll be around.”

Nearing the end of the song, Shawn transitioned into the bridge of Ruin, singing “Do I ever cross your mind,” over and over again like the mantra to his life. He’d always loved this bridge, he felt it’s message on a cellular DNA level. With him constantly hopping in and out of people’s lives he’d always wondered if people ever thought of him when he was gone.

In the crowd Karli was screaming with him “Do I ever cross your mind,” as her arms, one hand holding a cup of beer, swayed in sync with her hips.

“Manchester, I have a surprise for you. Is that okay?”

Shawn ran to the side stage, pulling out his blue electric guitar, and then running by each band member giving them the key change and telling them to follow his lead.

Shawn began playing an intro chord before he pulled out a few vocal runs singing the word ‘why’ a couple times before entering the verse, “Switching into airplane mode again. We're not alright but I'll pretend.”

It was about then that Karli realized what was happening. Shawn was singing her song from their first Youtube video. Karli was jumping up and down screaming at Sophie excited, and Shawn just smiled.

“Can you tell me why, my love? Can you tell me why I hold on to you and you hold on to me?”

___

__

Shawn: breakfast?

Karli: it’s almost noon, Shawn

Shawn: so….brunch? ;)

Karli: ofc <3

__

They met up at a cute cafe and took a table in the far back corner. It was quite, and Shawn was grateful. Karli ordered an omelette and a mocha while Shawn ordered a berry kombucha and two muffins.

Karli, to Shawn’s amusement, immediately took a picture of her coffee and posted it on her instagram story.

“Sorry,” she smiled shyly. “Being a Youtuber is weird because people like expect you to be an influencer on social media, even if all you do is sing songs.” She shrugged.

Shawn smiled, “I get it. People definitely want me using my social media more than I do, but I just get too pulled into that world if I let myself. So I tend to stay away for the most part. I find I live my life better if I do.”

Karli smiled, “So what’s it like to perform a concert like yesterday.”

Shawn leaned back in chair, “God, it’s the best.”

They talked about the concert for a few minutes before their food was brought to the table.

“So I’ll be back in LA for an entire week at the end of the month,” Shawn said casually as he took a bite of his pumpkin muffin.

Karli smiled, “Sweet, we’ll have to plan something.”

“Karli,” Shawn said softly, putting down his muffin and looking at her across the table. “I’ll be pretty busy early in the week finishing the new single.” His hand tapped on his leg nervously, convincing himself to say what he’d been telling himself to say. “But, I would really like to take you out to dinner before I leave again. If you’d let me,” he stammered towards the end.

Karli’s smile softened at the edges, “Shawn Mendes, are you asking me on a date?”

“Uh, yeah, I am.” Shawn’s cheeks were red and he ran a hand through his curls, tugging at the end. “If you, uh, want?” It came out as a question rather than a statement of confidence.

“I’d like that,” Karli nodded.

Shawn nodded, “Okay.”

“So, can I come to the show in LA too?” Karli smiled, returning to normal conversation, completely unbothered by Shawn’s embarrassment.

“Of course. You can come to every concert, Karli.”

tagging: @rosecth @fourtristattoos @peacedolantwins2 @unhealthyobsessionwithmarvel @justanotherfangurl272 @my-sweet-escape-from-the-worl @yourwonderbelle @loveydoveyshawn @outlandishnerd @amandash113 @lostinroses @ilsolee