#like obviously some of it is still objective terrible but oh my GOD some artists are so very talented

[dirt-str1der]

Changed my mind about yaoi i think its the greatest thing ever

[rostovs-lover]

dalí on tuesday

charlie dalton x reader | cursing, smoking, brief mentions of sexual things, charlie (probably) has daddy issues, cameron | she/her pronouns | fluff | wc.2562

i am in love with charlie, this is now a charlie dalton centric blog, also ignore how terrible the title is please

anon : Hi!! I love your blog! can I request a charlie Dalton x reader fluff where reader is an artist and he visits them while they're painting? (maybe they end up wiping paint on his face?) I don't know, something really sweet at cute <33333

Charlie Dalton had been resigned to relish in small pleasures to keep himself sane at school, never did he think the library would be one of those. More specifically, the painter tucked into the basement of the library. 

                            ───☮︎───

     Charlie Dalton was a connoisseur of many things. Pretty girls, expensive wine, shitty poetry, and hand rolled cigarettes - to name a few. His imprisonment at Wellington made only one of those things readily available. So he settled - boxes of cheap smokes bought through upperclassmen, bottles of grocery store wine someone would sneak in from a party, and the two girls that occasionally came with Knox. The shitty poetry was always on deck, he had that at least. It was a tragedy to be resigned to such a bland life, there was absolutely no carpe diem-ing happening in a school that held adolescent boys to uniforms.

      It was miserable, truly, but Charlie scrapped by on the thought that soon enough there would be no more stuffy Catholic school and he could finally have a taste of freedom. In the meantime, he would have what little fun he could. The meets in the cave were always the highlight of the week. A place where he could talk and people would listen, and not because they had to but because they enjoyed it. They enjoyed his words and thoughts and presence. No one else had ever really seemed to enjoy Charlie’s presence. They could tolerate it, handle it, but they always had more pressing matters. A business meeting to attend, a bill to pay, a dinner to go to. Always something just a little bit more important and never quite enough time for Charlie. But the other Dead Poets, they valued him. He wasn’t just a kid, a college tuition to pay and a life to layout. He was a person, with interests and hobbies.

      It had been there, in the safe haven of the cave, that the idea for the library first came up. Meeks had already talked Pitts into coming, Neil didn’t take much convincing at all, Todd was also easy to lure, Cameron groaned about leaving school grounds but refused to be left out, and Knox agreed to go but only if Nuwanda came too. Charlie had already started to cover what there was to do at a library, read?

      Meeks dove into the technical manuals and Pitts followed tentatively, cradling their science project in his arms. Todd had followed Neil to the S authors, Cameron was trying to chat up the woman at the register, and God only knew what Knox was doing. He had been stranded with few options. He could find the geniuses and be talked over for the next hour or third wheel Neil but that guaranteed intruding on something he probably shouldn’t. The polite thing to do would be to rescue Cameron from making a complete fool of himself, throwing bad pick up lines at a clearly uninterested college student, but it was amusing to watch.

      Charlie settled on trying to find Knox, at least then he could have some company. Said company was absolutely nowhere to be found. The rows of shelves wound in a confusing maze and Charlie was lost before he could even begin to look. Weaving around he did come face-to-face with a rather large picture of Charles Dickens that made him recoil. It was perched just at eye level above a short staircase and it seemed to judge his every movement. Charlie followed the carpeted stairs down to escape Mister Dickens’ strange little beard and beady black eyes.

      The further down the steps Charlie descended the brighter it appeared. The lower level was the children’s section. Considerably more fun than science books or Shakespeare. The big oak counter was abandoned but the lights were still on. He was alone, still.

      Charlie sighed, sitting down in one of the bright red wooden chairs. He was much too big for it but it held well under his weight. A sad stuffed bear stared dully into him from the green glossy table.

      “Well hello,” He mumbled, picking it up under the arms, “And you must be?” He cleared his throat to take on a gruff baritone, “Mister... Bearington,” Charlie sighed, that was bad. He dropped the bear into his lap, “This is so stupid,”

      “Bearington?”

      Charlie shot around in the chair, tipping himself off center and stumbling to his feet, bear still clutched in his arms, “Where the hell did you come from?”

      “A few blocks over, walked here actually.” You turned back to your work. A painting. Not just a painting, Charlie realized, a mural. It stretched the length of the wall, roughly sketched in pencil and waiting to be finished.

      He blinked, “That’s good. The wall I mean,”

      “Thank you,” Your face flustered and Charlie took notice, “It’s not much of anything yet, just an outline. It’ll look better painted.”

      He took a few steps closer, sidling up to you, “What’s it supposed to be?”

      “A forest,” You pointed to a rotund blob perched on a long line, “That’s an owl, and there’s going to be a fox somewhere down in the grass,”

      Charlie grinned, “That’s an owl?”

      “That-” you tapped the blob, “Is a shape, objectively. Subjectively, it’s an owl.”

      His brow creased, “Subjectively it’s an owl? That's like saying Mister Bearington is a rabbit, subjectively,”

      You stared at him, baffled. It was almost irritating that he could so casually come down to your domain and invade your creative bubble. And it was even worse that he talked to himself as a stuffed bear but now he was challenging your judgment on what was and was not subjectively an owl. But he had a wonderful smile and it lessened the intrusion. Plus, you had never seen a teenage boy develop an attachment to a stuffed bear as quickly as he had, “What’s your name?”

      “Nuwanda,” He grinned, setting his chin atop his bear’s plush head.

      “Nuwanda?” You blinked at him, “That’s… neat. I’ve never heard that before.”

      “What can I say? The only Nuwanda this side of Vermont. What’s your name?”

      As you opened your mouth to answer several sets of footsteps thundered down the stairs. Knox spun around the corner first, closely followed by Pitts and Meeks.

      “Charlie!” Knox called, “We gotta go before Cameron proposes to the clerk.”

      You looked at the boy in front of you, “Is Charlie short for Nuwanda, or just a nickname?”

      He shrugged, “I’m Nuwanda, subjectively. It was truly a pleasure meeting you. Can’t wait to see your thing DaVinci!” He set the stuffed bear back on the table as he made his way out of the room. With Charlie’s energy gone it became much quieter and you were plunged back into the impressionistic outline of your artwork.

      The next time a library trip was suggested Charlie didn’t completely dread it. Yes, it was still numbingly boring because it was a library and he didn’t have clerks to fall in love with, people to write love letters to, anyone to kiss in the aisles, or a spaceship to build, but he did have his own personal Van Gough to torment.

      The lower level was the first place he went, not even hanging his coat on the rack inside the big double doors. He made his way past Cameron’s preoccupied receptionist and under Dickens’ hard glower. Halfway down the steps, the smell hit Charlie. Wet paint.

      You had just picked out a brush when he pulled one of the wooden chairs next to your station. He sat in it backwards, holding Mister Bearington out in front of him, “Never got your name Monet,”

      “Well, it's not that. Or Da Vinci.” You stroked the brush up the grassy outline.

      “Do you want me to guess?”

      You had yet to look at him, “Nope,”

      “Are you gonna tell me?”

      “Should I?”

      “Obviously, I told you my name.”

      You set the brush down and turned to face him, “(Name).”

      “Pretty,”

      Charlie Dalton liked many things and the musty old library uptown had never been one of them. It had ancient red carpets and gaudy gold ceilings and it was trying too hard to look regal. So it was a sheer shock when he began to leap at the suggestion of going and even more so when he chose to go by himself one afternoon. Naturally, the other poets followed him, they had to.

      Charlie didn’t dally upstairs, waving hi to the clerk and rushing down to the children’s section. A sign was posted outside the entrance warning of wet paint but he stepped around it.

      “You’re making progress Picasso!” He set his hands on his hips and took in the wall.

      You turned back to look at him, “Did you not see the caution: wet paint, do not enter sign?”

      “Oh no I saw it,” He pushed his sunglasses up on top of his head, “It's bright orange, hard to miss, really,”

      “So you just chose to ignore it?”

      He nodded, making his way over to sit by you on the ground, “I choose to ignore lots of things, it really makes life easier,”

      You shook your head, “Are you just going to sit here and bother me?”

      “Yes, that's actually the whole reason I came today, believe it or not.”

      You blubbered in vague disbelief, “Please tell me you’re not serious,”

      “Dead serious,” Charlie grinned, leaning closer, “I had to see how your weird owl was going. And also make sure you hadn’t gone mad and cut your own ear off yet,”

      “You’ve already used the Van Gogh joke, Charles,”

      “Maybe I want your ear,”

      You paused, “You… what?”

      Charlie’s confidence cracked, “That was bad. Shit, that wasn’t supposed to sound that way. It was like, a bad pickup line? Because Van Gogh cut his ear off to send to his girlfriend,” He sighed, shaking his head, “Sorry,”

      “I mean if I had to pick someone to give my ear too I guess you would be my first choice?”

      Charlie looked at you, eyebrows pinched together, “Why?”

      You shrugged, “No one else has asked, first come first serve.” You dipped your brush back into the blue paint and went to work on a patch of flowers.

      “Huh, well I do appreciate it,” Charlie scooted closer, leaning over your shoulder. He was close, very close. When you took a breath you could smell his cologne and whatever it was he used in his hair and you could feel the edge of his sunglasses brush your ear. He brought an arm around to dip his finger into the soft sky colour on your palette. And then he wiped it on your nose.

      You gasped sharply at the foreign feeling, snapping your head to the side to glare at him, “Why?!”

      Charlie snickered, leaning back, “The opportunity presented itself, how could I just let that pass?”

      You reached back, squirting a touch of purple paint over the palm of your hand, “That was truly a horrible idea,”

      Charlie shot up just as you did, stumbling backwards, “I’m sorry-” He stuck his hands up in surrender, “I regret my actions and if I could take them back I would,”

      “Hmm, but you can’t” You took a step closer, “Surrender now and it doesn’t have to get any messier than this,”

      He pointed towards your paint coated hand, “Do not,”

      You grinned, “I might,”

      “I’m begging,”

      “Fine-” You offered him your other hand, “Truce?”

      Charlie mulled it over for a moment, “Fine, truce,” He grabbed your clean hand and you used it to pull him towards you.

          “Why on earth would you trust me?” You tugged him even closer as he shrieked and smeared your hand down his cheek, “There, now we’re even,”

      Getting distracted by your triumph gave Charlie the upper hand. He pulled you to him the same you had done to him and pressed his cheek flush to yours. The paint was cold against your skin and you jolted back, away from him.

      “Vile,” You hissed, “You are vile and evil. That's so cold. You will pay, I hope you know that.”

      Charlie snorted, “Oh please, what’re you gonna do?”

      “You underestimate me, you ass, I’ll figure something out,”

      “Will you?” Charlie grinned, “I will be waiting in anticipation,”

      “You better be,”

      Meeks elbowed back into Cameron’s ribs, “You’re going to knock me over,”

      Cameron craned his neck further to peek around the corner into the children’s section, “I just want to see, let me look,”

      “Nothing is happening-” Meeks snipped, “They’re just talking now and I might be able to hear if you could can it!”

      Cameron rolled his eyes, “Of course, whatever you say,”

      “Will you shut up?” Knox batted at Cameron’s shoulder, “They’ll see us, we’re not super well hidden,”

      “If you don’t stop talking they’ll realize we’re here,” Pitts mumbled, rolling his eyes. Cameron started to rebuttal, turning to look at Gerard but the motion knocked Meeks out of place and he gasped, stumbling forwards. This did indeed draw Charlie’s attention.

      “Meeks, what the hell?” Charlie snapped. He was in a state, sunglasses askew in his hair, paint smeared from his cheekbone down to the corner of his mouth, and his shirt was wrinkled away from his collarbone.

      Meeks stared, “Hi Charlie. Are there any textbooks down here, uh… the science ones?”

      Knox groaned, stepping out from behind the wall as well, “We wanted to see why you came here on a Tuesday afternoon by yourself,”

      Charlie blubbered, “Did you all come? Is Keating there too?”

      “He could be,” Meeks shrugged.

      Charlie rolled his eyes, “Will you leave, I’ll be upstairs in a second,” The other poets nodded, scampering up the steps to the first level.

      “Assholes, should have known they’d come,” Charlie sighed, adjusting the sunglasses atop his head, “I need to go before they decide to intrude again. I’ll see you soon though, anxiously anticipating payback,”

      He was almost out the door when you bucked up the courage to call out to him, “Charlie, wait.” You let him turn back to you before continuing, “Could I have your phone number?”

      He clicked his teeth, “Don’t have one, private school. But I’ll find the library number in the books and try to shoot you a call sometime,” He winked and started back up to his friends.

      Knox was waiting at the landing with a handful of tissues, which he shoved into Charlie’s hands, “So you’re gonna read your stupid poem about tits at a Dead Poets meet and then not tell us you’ve got a girlfriend?”

      Charlie grabbed the tissues, “Not my girlfriend, I meet her like two weeks ago,”

      “Didn’t stop Knox,” Neil elbowed him.

      Charlie wiped at his face, “Well I’m not Knox. I like her painting, she's good.”

      “It looks like she was painting you,” Cameron slapped at Charlie’s chest and he threw the tissues at him in retaliation.

      “Shut up, at least my library worker actually talks to me,”

      Cameron fumbled with the dirty material, batting it away from his chest, “You dick!”

      Charlie grinned, pulling his glasses down and starting towards the door. Something about it was thrilling, having this to himself. A little secret that he and you shared. His personal Salvador Dalí, something to look forwards to besides bad tobacco and Keating’s eccentric lectures. It was bright and exciting and he felt seen. He felt important. The blue paint he had stolen from your tray was still on the tip of his pointer finger and he wondered how long it would be until he could see you again.

 ( @interwebseriesfan24 )

[rhysismydaddy]

After Midnight Pt. 2 (Feysand)

This part is completely in Rhysand’s POV, which was kind of challenging because I don’t really like writing ~sexy stuff~ while attempting to think about what the hell men are thinking about. HA.

Part 1 

_________________________________________________________

~Rhysand~

All week long, Feyre--the client--keeps creeping in my head, making it damn near impossible for me to focus on anything at work.

Her full bottom lip, the taste of her skin, the soft little moan she doesn’t believe is sexy.

It’s not all depraved, male thoughts, though. I wouldn’t worry so much if it was, because that would just be lust, and lust is easy to fix.

But I also think about her smile, her bright blue eyes.

I think about the panic that came over her and what might have happened to her to cause such a deep-rooted reaction like that.

I know it’s none of my business, but I want to know what happened to her. I want to help her be more confident, help her with her intimacy problems.

Shoving what’s probably just my savior complex down, I tell myself her problems don’t concern me.

She’s a paycheck.

A beautiful, intriguing paycheck that I can’t stop thinking about.

Fuck.

I don’t have time to change after working at the bar, so I head to the hotel in dark slacks and a white t-shirt. You can see my tattoos, but it isn’t too trashy, so I don’t think she’ll mind.

Some clients are extremely particular about what I wear.

Sometimes so particular I end up getting a new suit out of the arrangement.

Feyre doesn’t seem like the type, but I doubt she’ll hesitate me to tell me if she wants me to look a little more professional. The thought makes me smile.

Do not tell me what to do. Ever.

I love how angry she got, how she didn’t hesitate to tell me off when I started acting like a prick. Little hellion.

Even if I was tempted to do exactly what she told me not to. Because gods above, the urge to tell her to do something with that beautiful mouth besides yell at me was fucking overwhelming.

I’m going straight to hell.

Clenching my jaw, I attempt to not think anything perverted as I walk into the hotel bar and spot Feyre sipping a drink.

But I could clench that shit hard enough to break my teeth, and it still wouldn’t keep me from noticing the way her hair catches the light, the way her black tank top dips in the front to show off the smooth skin of her chest.

I’m a fucking professional, I scold myself as I march over. And it’s just a collarbone, for gods sake.

“Hello, Feyre,” I murmur, sliding into the stool next to her.

Cloudy sky eyes look over at me, and I could swear they drift over my outfit appreciatively, lingering on my tattoos. “Rhysand.”

Something about hearing my full name makes this feel extremely impersonal, so I say, “You can just call me Rhys.”

“Oh, okay.” She shrugs and pushes her empty glass away.

“Do you want to get another drink, or are we going upstairs?”

It’s fucked up how happy I get when she says the latter.

I need to stop thinking about her as a woman and start thinking about her like a wealthy client I need to please.

Except that pleasing her sounds like too good of an idea as I follow behind her, my eyes watching her ass.

Client or not, she has a really great ass.

Once we’re standing across from each other in the elevator, I deny myself further thoughts of her backside and ask, “How was your week?”

We’ve agreed to only meet Fridays at the same hotel room, so it’s a casual enough question.

“It was alright. I work at the art museum on fifth street, and we have an event coming up soon, so I’m planning it.”

I nod, finding it easy to picture her in a museum, talking passionately about some old, overpriced piece of art. “I didn’t know being a curator was such a well-paying job.”

“Oh, it’s not.” There’s a brief flash of sadness in her beautiful eyes as she says, “I used to be an artist.”

“But you’re not anymore?”

Obviously, you idiot. She just said that.

Feyre shakes her head, looking relieved as the elevator door bings open. We walk down the hall in silence, and then we’re in the room.

“Anything specific you want to do tonight?” I ask, leaning against the wall and watching as she throws her bag on the bed.

It’s a pretty standard question, but it seems to make her nervous. She starts pacing, then looks down and frowns at herself and stops. “Oh, um... well...”

It suddenly dawns on me that she has no idea, because she doesn’t know her boundaries anymore. The realization makes me both sad and pissed at whoever hurt her.

“We could just make out,” I offer, shrugging to let her know it’s up to her. “See where it goes.”

She bites her lip and flushes, looking so adorably embarrassed I grin. Apparently not able to say the words, she just nods.

I don’t want to scare her, so I avoid the bed and head to one of the cushy, wide chairs near the window. Her eyebrows go up a little, but she follows me over, then sits gingerly on my knee.

She’s literally in my lap, yet I can’t even kiss her she’s so far away.

“Feyre.”

“Yes?”

“Is this not okay?”

She shakes her head. “This is good.”

I grab her hips and drag her toward my chest, muttering, “Then come here, woman.”

She laughs, the sound light and surprised. “Sorry. This is just... isn’t this weird for you? I feel like I’m a terrible person for making you do this.”

Is she serious? Making me kiss her?

“You’re not forcing me to do anything, and you’re not a bad person for wanting to enjoy yourself. We’re just... exchanging goods.”

Her mouth drops open, and I laugh.

“Bad way to phrase that,” I admit, still grinning. “But no, it isn’t weird. You’re a beautiful woman, and I was being serious when I told you I could kiss you all night.”

To keep her from arguing, I lean up and press my lips against hers. Her breath hitches, so I kiss her again, just a faint touch of my lips against hers.

Feyre’s sitting on me sideways, but when I wrap my arms around her, she leans into my chest. And then she starts kissing me back.

Her arms go around my shoulders, hands in my hair, and the position makes her breasts press against my chest. It’s a new, torturous distraction, made sweeter by the fact that I know she isn’t even doing it on purpose.

Everything about her is naturally sexy. She doesn’t have to try, and I can tell she’s just enjoying herself, not trying to put on a show.

One of my hands is on her back, the other is on her thigh, sliding up until the smooth curve of her hip fills my palm. I'm in the process of squeezing her closer when she pulls back abruptly.

I track her face for any sight of panic, but she’s completely calm as she shifts to straddle my waist, knees on the chair at either side of my hips.

Almost automatically, my hands fall to her backside and drag her forward until we’re flush together. Feyre gasps, and then her mouth is moving against mine in a more frantic pace.

I love knowing I’m getting to her like she is to me. I love the fact that she’s breathing heavily as I move to kiss my way down her throat. I love the little sound she makes when I suck on the place between her shoulder and neck.

I love that she can’t stay still, even if the little movements of her hips are slowly driving me insane.

Her hands tug on my hair, tilting my head back, and then she’s leaning away slightly. And blushing.

Which means she wants something else.

I raise an eyebrow.

“Would you mind taking your shirt off?”

My stupid lips won’t stop twitching at how polite she is. The urge to tease her about it rises, but I ignore it and drag my shirt over my head, then throw it on the floor behind her.

Watching her attempt to not look down is probably one of the best moments of my entire life.

Her eyes flit from mine to my chest, then to my abs, then back to my face.

I’ve grown used to women treating my like an object, and it’s adorable to watch her try to be so respectful.

“Pervert,” I tease when her eyes dip once again.

Feyre laughs softly, even as her fingertips start to glide over my skin, causing my muscles to go tight. She traces the lines of my tattoos across my chest, following them down my arms.

On a seduction scale of one to ten, it’s about a three.

And yet, my body reacts without question, heat flooding into my crotch like lightening.

Her gaze snaps up to mine and I offer an apologetic smile. Eyes wide, she practically jumps backward off my lap, standing in front of me and looking anywhere except my face.

And to be honest, I’m a little confused.

I was pretty sure my job description included having sex or some kind, and since she hired me, I’d figured that would come around sooner or later. So why is she so surprised I get an erection?

Especially when she puts that cute behind in my lap and kisses me stupid and puts her hands all over me?

Before I can ask, she says, “I’m going to take a shower.”

Out of everything I expected her to say, that didn’t make the list, but I still reply, “Okay.”

Only she doesn’t take a single step towards the bathroom. And after another long moment of silence, she murmurs, “I would like if you joined.”

Oh.

That I understand.

Smiling like a complete jackass, I nod and get up, following her to the posh bathroom. She reaches in and turns the shower on, then turns to me and shocks me yet again. “Turn around, please.”

“I thought I was joining you.”

“You are.”

I run a hand through my hair, trying not to laugh again. “Well unless we’re showing in our clothes, I’m going to see you naked at some point.”

“I’m aware of that,” she says sourly, hands on her hips. “But I can’t undress with you watching.”

Sighing, I turn around, not pointing out that the massive mirror next to us makes this entire request pointless. But I want to make her feel comfortable, so I close my eyes for safe measure. The sound of rustling fabric fills the silence, then the shower door opens and she says, “You can, um, turn around now.”

I do, then immediately regret it.

Because if Feyre in her clothes was alluring and sexy and beautiful, Feyre naked is downright sinful. I mutter a curse and she raises and eyebrow, but I’m too busy thinking about anything except what’s in front of me to care.

Which is pretty impossible, considering the sight of her tilting her head back and allowing water to run down her body is something no man could ever ignore.

I watch the water track all the way down to her toes, then slowly force my eyes back up.

Remembering I’m here for a job and am getting paid and that I should not be enjoying this, I quickly undress and step into the shower.

Standing close enough our breath mixes, we just stare at each other for another moment. And it’s just when I’m sure she’s about to tell me what she wants that she finally speaks.

“I don’t think I can have sex with you,” she whispers, shooting my happiness straight in the face.

She sure as shit seemed like she could a minute ago. Is seeing me naked changing that or something?

“Oh,” I say, looking down at myself in confusion. “That’s... embarrassing.”

“Oh gods! I didn’t mean it like that! This is so embarrassing. You’re.... I obviously find you attractive enough.” I look back up, and she has both hands over her face. “I mean that I can’t have sex with you tonight. I’m kind of freaking out a little, and I don’t particularly want to have another panic attack.”

Pride and manhood back in order, I reach out and gently pry her hands off her face. “It’s okay. I get it. You’re in charge, remember? Anything you want, nothing you don’t.”

She looks down at the part of my body that is most definitely ready for some action, then back up. “I’m sorry.”

Yeah, this’ll definitely suck, but it isn’t her fault. “So you just want to shower and stare at each other, then?”

Instead of answering, she kisses me. Apparently not.

Smiling against her, I pull her closer, causing our chests to collide in a slippery, intoxicating way.

Feyre eventually answers the question of what she wants when her hand takes mine and slides it down her stomach, then further.

“Will you-”

She cuts herself off as I make circles with my thumb slowly, sucking on her bottom lip at the same time. “Yes,” I murmur back.

And because I have the feeling this is all we’ll do tonight, I’m determined to make it enough. More than enough.

I nudge her feet further apart with mine and kiss her deeply as I slide a finger down her center, then push it inside, making sure to keep my thumb moving slowly.

She moans, and I have to close my mouth to keep myself from mimicking the sound because holy hell she’s...

If she feels this good against my hand, I almost don’t want to know how she’ll feel against other parts of me. The fact that sex with her is even a potential possibility tells me I’m the luckiest bastard in the world.

Her head falls forward against my chest, but I slide a hand in her damp hair and tilt it back far enough to allow access to her throat.

I don’t move lower, even though I’m dying to, because I want everything we do to be her idea.

“Rhys,” she groans, hips following the rhythm set by my hand.

She’s a client, she’s a client, she’s a client.

My name falls off her lips again, and it’s the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard, so I move back to her mouth and attempt to eat it.

Her hands once again explore my shoulders and chest and abs, and I’m not sure which of us she’s trying to get off because I’m fucking addicted to her touch.

I pull on her lower lip with my teeth as I add another finger, and she makes a helpless little sound that does my sanity absolutely no favors.

All I can think about is how I want to drive her crazy. I want her to fall apart in my arms. I want to make her feel so good she goes weak in the knees.

I slow my rhythm down until she whimpers, hips moving restlessly, then flick my thumb over where it’d been busy drawing circles and push it down roughly.

Knowing it’ll be enough, I open my eyes to watch as she comes. And it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, hands down.

Her cheeks flush, eyes press shut, and lips open to let out a low moan that goes straight to my dick. Her entire body is tight, then she goes loose in my arms, leaning heavily against me.

Bright blue eyes peer up at me and watch as I bring my hand up and pull a finger into my mouth. I can’t help it, really.

And I definitely don’t regret it, because the taste of her on my tongue is enough to make my blood thrum.

I release it with a pop, then smirk down at her flushed face.

“Um, thank you.”

Unable to keep my hands to myself, I sweep her hair back and smile. “It was my pleasure, really.”

She rolls her eyes, then catches sight of what’s between us. “Are you going to be okay?”

Unless you count the fact that my balls will hurt like hell for a few hours. “I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” She reaches out a hand. “I can-”

Pushing her hand away gently, I tell her, “I don’t want you to touch me. Unless you want to.”

The last fucking thing I want to do is make her feel pressured to do something she doesn’t want to. I have a feeling that’s the reason she has “problems with intimacy” like she said.

Feyre takes a step back, ignoring the shower spray directly in the back of her head. There’s a strange look on her face. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was... embarrassed. “You don’t want me to touch you?”

Ah, fuck.

“No. I mean, yes. I mean-” I take a deep breath and tell myself how much of an idiot I am. “I didn’t mean it like that. I definitely don’t mind you touching me. I just don’t want you to feel pressured into anything.”

She raises a brow, so I keep going. “I mean, you said you have problems with intimacy. I’m here to help, not make them worse by demanding you jerk me off in the shower.”

I have a way with words, honestly.

Slapping a hand on my forehead, I mutter, “None of this is coming out right.”

But Feyre ignores that and laughs. Really laughs, for the first time. It’s a full, loud laugh that makes me chuckle, too. Her laugh’s the best thing I’ve ever heard, even if it is at my expense.

“I believe you,” she finally says when she stops giggling. “Thank you. You’re a good person.”

I roll my eyes because that’s the last thing I am. “We should probably get out of the shower.”

She nods and cuts the water off, reaching to grab us towels. Once we’ve dried off, we both start pulling our clothes on.

Normally, I rush through this part. Clients are usually either awkward or much too affectionate towards the end, and it’s a miracle to get out the door.

But with Feyre, I find myself taking my time as I pull my jeans and shirt back on. And I find myself watching as she does the same.

“I want to talk to you about next week.”

Something about her voice makes me a little nervous, but I still say, “Shoot.”

“My therapist suggested that I try ‘normal things’ to ease back into intimacy. Hence the shower. Before tonight, I hadn’t seen a man naked in over a year.”

“Okay...”

I have no idea where she’s going with this.

“I would like to ask you to stay the night next week,” she says quickly, like the words themselves make her nervous.

“What do you mean?”

She honestly looks like she might pass out as she murmurs, “I’d like you to.... sleep here. It won’t be sexual, but I am willing to pay you more if you want.”

My mind starts running a bit wild with that. She wants me to stay the entire night--something I never, ever do--but doesn’t want sex out of it? Why would that be something that makes her this nervous?

“You just want to sleep in the same bed?”

There’s a pause where I swear she’s going to say no. “Yes.”

I think back to what she told me a week ago. I have problems trusting men.

It makes sense, I guess. She trusts me enough this’ll be a challenge, something that pushes her boundaries enough to get her to open up.

“Okay,” I agree eventually.

“Really?”

“I’ll bring my jammies,” I joke, relieved when she cracks a small smile.

I know why she’s nervous, but I have no clue as to why I suddenly feel like next Friday is the biggest night of my life.

Pushing those feelings away, I finish getting dressed, kiss her on the cheek, and head for the door.

Turning back, I smile and say, “I’ll see you Friday for our slumber party.”

I’m sure it’ll be a night to remember, one way or another.

___________________________________________________________

Part 3

@trinitybailey2003 @zukos-simp @cursebreaker29 @sjmships @starrynightsbooks @lovemollywho @januarystears @perseusannabeth @bamchickawowow @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

[dreamsister81]

 Jeff and MI:

By age, you fit in the G.I.T generation, but you obviously are not one of them...

These facilities are a mystery to me. There they tell you only one thing: hurry up! This leads you nowhere, afterwards your own children run away from you. Through these trainings you get to know women, you get to know men, music is inoculated into people who have no feeling for it; then they can only scare other people or insult them...

I was in this terrible place too, by the way-G.I.T That was a complete waste of time, apart from the theoretical lessons and the friends that I had there. Otherwise: an absolute wrong decision.

How long have you studied there?

One year, the normal program. They give you tons of material, you have to absorb everything, you practice, you are tested and you go to the next course. An intensive support with development is simply not possible. I did so many things: theory, single string technique, jazz class, rock class, all sorts of genres. My friend John was teaching bass there, and he once said that there is not a single teacher at the institute who says to the students, "OK, you're learning all this stuff here now, you're learning how to entertain people and you're learning to learn. But do you even know that there is no one in the universe other than yourself who plays the music you play? " John left the school then. For me it was all a joke that cost me $ 3,900. People interested in music should take private lessons somewhere, start a band, do something with people who like them and have what it takes. These schools are a scene in their own right, a very small, secluded world-the music, on the other hand, is gigantic and open. If you don't notice it, you miss a lot of magic, pain, development...(thinks) and rock! Apart from Paul Gilbert, there was no one there who really rocked. Session musicians are bred there; and at the end of the year you get a piece of paper that says, "Now you have the skills to become a professional musician." Well, congratulations! And then you look for jobs and play what other people want. But that's not all the music, there's something else isn't there? Where's the music coming from? From your own head or stomach, or the concepts of the people you work for?-Gitarre & Bass, October,  1995

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I had a friend named John Humphrey. I went to this really crappy guitar school for a year, and he used to teach there, he was a bass teacher. And then he left, and we ended up being roommates later on, after I graduated. This is the kind of school where you give them a shitload of money in order to spend a year learning their curriculum.

What was it, G.I.T. (Guitar Institute of Technology in Los Angeles)?

Yeah, it was G.I.T.. They give you their curriculum, and it's not too comprehensive, but it's just enough, and then you can [snaps his fingers] move on to the next thing. And pretty soon you have all this shit inside you and then they give you this paper that says you have what it takes to be a professional musician.

It's a rock-oriented thing, isn't it?

In the end, I think, the only true product of that kind of learning is to get you gigs on the studio circuit and to get you gigs on the session guy circuit.

So, Lee Ritenour went there or something?

G.I.T. was started by Howard Roberts, the guy who played the wah-wah guitar on the theme to Shaft. And this other guy named Pat Hayes. I don't know. It just seemed like a racket, really. John said a lot of things to me that stuck in my mind. He said that there was nobody who stopped you, sat you in a room and said, okay, we have all these artists that you're learning the licks from, you have your guitar heroes, your virtuoso lust objects. But there's nobody who can make the kind of music you can make now except for you. And you can make it now. You don't even have to know how to go fast. And that makes all the sense to me in the world. It's also kind of an unseen process, that concept, originality. It's like that in all the education systems; there's never any real...identity education, self-generative identity art sort of thing, to be yourself. If everybody in Melbourne had a Wurlitzer organ and had the passion to sing something or make something, you'd have hundreds of thousands of different styles, if they were coming exactly from only their DNA, only their makeup, and their emotional percepts, their idea about what art is. You could have way-removed genres from what is already accepted, avante-garde country-rock-punk-folk-whatever. It's unlimited. But for some reason, the conventions always take over and there's a very ready and powerful formula to step into...

Those are the type of [formula-derived] players who can say, "Well, I was listening to the radio in 1967 and I heard the guitar solo in Jimi Hendrix's 'All Along the Watchtower,' and that guitar sound, that tone, would work perfectly for this television commercial."

Yeah. See? "Stealing from the greats, that's okay." That's right. Once I stopped in [at G.I.T.] years later, when I was on tour going through L.A., just to see what it was like. They've got a completely high-tech, multi-million dollar facility...

More so than when you had been there?

Way more. When I was there, it was just a ragtag bunch of teachers, and they had all left by then. They had video facilities and a class for stage moves and all kinds of things. And I saw this guy who was working the desk, the guy who watches the door. He had a bass on, and he was practicing his Nirvana chops! He was playing "In Bloom" on his bass, way up on his chest, jazz-fusion style, to the Nirvana song. I thought, oh shit--he was practicing his grunge riffs! He was getting his grunge down! Best fucking thing you can do, if you have the interest, is go to a private teacher, go someplace, some college, and learn theory. That was something I really enjoyed, actually, something that wasn't totally pointless. Theory meaning the meaning of the musical nomenclature. I was attracted to really interesting harmonies, stuff that I would hear in Ravel, Ellington, Bartok.-Double Take, February 29, 1996

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Once the site of a seakeasy and a bra factory, the 30,000-square-foot quarters were now the home of Musicians Institute, a vocational school for anyone who considered himself or herself a serious musician. With its wooden desks and chipped-tile hallways, MI resembled any other urban school, but at those desks, student guitarists and drummers studied scales and power chords in hopes of becoming the next Eddie Van Halen or Neil Peart, the flashy drummer with Rush. On their way to class each morning, flaxen-haired guitar gods in training could be spotted holding their guitars and practicing licks as they walked down Hollywood Boulevard.

Jeff had heard about Musicians Institute (and its subdivision, the Guitar Institute of Technology) while in high school and told everyone it was his one and only destination. However, potential superstardom did not run cheap. The school charged $4,000 for its one year course, and by the time Jeff Graduated from Loara High School, Mary Guibert was beginning to fall on hard financial times as she went in and out of jobs. In need of money for herself and her two sons, she prematurely broke into a $20,000 fund earmarked for Jeff, but only after he tured nineteen. Once Mary proved to the courtsthat Jeff needed it for his education, he and Mary received it a year early. In a deep irony, the father Jeff had barely met and increasingly resented would be paying his son's way through music school.

On graduation night, September 15, 1985, at the Odyssey in Granada Hills in the San Fernando Valley, Jeff, Stoll, and Marryatt closed the ceremony by playing Weather Report's "Pearl On the Half Shell."-from Dream Brother

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With its 30-odd thousand feet of floor space and row upon row of "labs", where hopeful guitar heroes could jam with such shit-hot players as Scott Henderson, LA's Musician's Institute must have seemed like nirvana for someone like Jeff Buckley, trapped as he was behind the Orange Curtain. According to his buddy Chris Dowd, that's exactly why Buckley enrolled there, arriving just before autumn, 1984, bankrolled by $4,000 that Mary managed to squeeze from a Tim Buckley trust fund.

Originally known as the Guitar Institute, which in itself says plenty, the school was opened in 1977. Drawing on the educational philosophy of journeyman guitarist Howard Roberts, it was co-founded and managed by Los Angeles music businessman Pat Hicks, "a real shyster opportunist", in the words of Tom Chang, an expat Canadian who would become very tight with Jeff Buckley during their two years at the Institute. In 1978, thr Bass Institute was opened, followed by the Percussion Institute two years later. Desppite Hicks' questionable business ethics-amongst other things, he'd hire students as cheap labour to do essential maintenance work on the building, which led to Buckley being hired as an electrician's assistant soon after graduating-he did manage to persuade well regarded players and bands to lecture, and play alongside, the hopefuls who'd enrolled there.

What Buckley lacked up in "front" he clearly made up for in ambition. That was proved, in spades, by Buckley's graduation performance which was played out on September 15, 1985, at a venue called the Odyssey in Granada Hills. While the sonic crush and enviable chops of Rush and Led Zeppelin still rocked the world of this Orange County teen, Buckley had also developed a real taste for such "noodlers" as Weather Report.

The number chosen by Buckley for graduation was their "D Flat Waltz" (not "Pearl On The Half-Shell", as documented elsewhere, which they'd performed at a previous event), a typically complicated few minutes of Weather Report neo-fusion-a "really cool piece, very involved", according to Tom Chang-and a standout from their 1983 set Domino Theory. But Buckley, accompanied by Stoll on drums and Marryatt on bass, didn't just play the piece, he also wrote the individual parts out beforehand for the band.-from A Pure Drop

MI pics by me

[slime-smile]

i accidentally left my phone at life drawing on saturday afternoon. i set it down on a dresser next to the bathroom as i walked in and thought “ok i need to remember that i set that there, i always forget when i set things there” and then of course i forgot about it by the time i walked out of the bathroom.  probably in part because the timer that signifies the break has ended went off so i hurried back to my seat, for the final drawing of the day.  then after the last drawing was done, a guy i have talked to a little bit the last few times i’ve gone asked me if i wanted to go get tacos. i said “i forgot my wallet today so are you okay with buying me the tacos” and he said “yea.” i wasnt wearing shorts with pockets and i had been leaving my phone in my backpack during the drawing sessions so i had a vague impression it was in there.  we walked back to my car so i could set down my drawing pad and backpack, then we walked a few blocks to get The Best Fish Tacos in Ensenada. then we walked back together after we ate.  he rides a motorcycle and parked directly across the street from the figure drawing place.  we hung out on the steps of the house he’d parked in front of for a bit, then i walked two blocks back to my car.  it was soooo hot when i got in, i turned the A/C all the way up, picked up my backpack to get out my phone, and it wasnt in there.  i waited a minute to see if my car would tell me that it connected to my phone, in case the phone was lost somewhere in the car, and it didn’t, then i remembered what happened.  so i get out of the car and hurry back to where the liffe drawing was.  it’s hosted by these two artists in their personal studio, so i was like “ok they’re probably still there doing their own work now that the session has ended”  but i walk up and the driveway is empty (the guy always parks his car in it) so i’m like oh nooo but i walk all the way to the door anyways and it’s closed and locked and they’re gone.  the guy i got tacos with is still sitting across the street looking at his phone, so i walk back over to him and tell him what happened.  he seems concerned and is like “i can try to message the guy on instagram? or we can see if one of the neighbors will let you in?” and i’m like oh no no it’s fine, i’ll just come back monday night to get it. (they do drawing monday and thursday nights and saturday mornings) plus i’ve been wanting to try going on a weeknight anyways.  and earlier he had told me i should try coming on a weeknight some time and that he usually does, too. my main concern at that point was that i had a date planned for the night and i wasnt sure how not having my phone would affect it.  but then i remembered my date had emailed me so i could email him, and then i remembered (duh) that i had imessage on my laptop so i could still text anyways but just in a more restricted capacity.  the tacos guy really seems concerned for me and my phone though, like wonders how i will go two days without it.  but i resign myself to it and walk back to my car to drive home.  for some reason traffic is really bad, worse than usual -- dodgers game?? i dont know.  while i’m driving home i see a fire from the freeway, and i start to scare myself that it’s my house that’s on fire, even though i’m pretty sure my house isnt visible from that freeway and i’m still too far north for it to feasibly be my house.  i keep thinking “oh god all my art and my [most cherished personal item which holds no monetary value] and now i really wont be able to get in touch with [date] how would i let him know what happened and ugh i can’t even get my phone until Monday night, i wouldn’t be able to get in touch with anyone, what would i do if my house burned down??”  but i go home and my house was not on fire, obviously.  i send a message to my date to let him know what happened, and email the guy who runs life drawing about my lost phone.  my date replies “so you’re gonna be phoneless tonight??” and i’m like “yea but let’s just meet out front at 8, i’ll even be early.”  i go downtown to buy my date a bouquet in the flower district, it’s his birthday, but then i can’t conceive of a manageable way to have a bouquet at a bar, so after i bring the bouquet home i take out a single rose from it to give him.  we both like roses, as a symbol and as an object, i know this isn’t especially unique, but it’s nice.  he has a rose tattooed on his arm.  later, before the date, my friend sends me an email subject line “bruh” body text “you left your phone at whatever repair shop you were at this morning.”  which leads me to believe he called it and the life drawing guy answered it and told him he had it.  which was nice because i hadn’t gotten an email back from the life drawing guy yet and was worried that maybe someone else in the class had snatched it even though that seems unlikely.  and also kind of funny to imagine because obviously the life drawing guy’s perspective was that i was probably calling my phone from my friend’s phone trying to find it, when in reality my friend was just calling me not knowing that i didn’t have my phone and then some man answers it.  anyways then i go to my date and i text him when i’m leaving that i’m heading over and will see him there soon.  i look up the directions beforehand but then forget where exactly the bar is that we were supposed to meet and ask a guy on the street who i could tell was smiling at me even though he had a mask on where i needed to go and he told me the way.  i walk up and my date is already there standing outside, i walk up to him and he says “you’re early!” and i don’t say this but in my mind i’m like “you’re even earlier!”  and i hand him the rose and we go upstairs to the bar.  the bartender is really friendly and asks about the rose and makes the date a free drink for his birthday.  there’s a hottub and i’m like “why didn’t you tell me!” we find an uncomfortable bench and are eyeing a much cozier one where a woman is sitting, hoping it will open up.  we’re quickly absorbed in conversation and at some point i happen to look over and notice the cozy bench is free, and we dart over to it.  we’re able to sit there for an hour or so before a staff member comes up to us and informs us that we’re sitting where they plan to put the DJ booth, so we’ve got to move, but another couple is about to leave and they’re going to clear off their table for us.  so we go lurk by the table, where the man is sitting, and he reveals that he’s been noticing us all night, because he and his wife were the ones who had been sitting on the bench earlier, and they themselves had been told that they were sitting where the DJ was going to be, and so they moved.  i think it’s a funny coincidence that we’ve been following this couple around through the night, but i dont really know what else to say to the guy, so that’s sort of it for our conversation.  the table is less fun because now we’re sitting across from each other in chairs, instead of next to each other on a bench.  they set the DJ up as we’re finishing our drinks, and i propose that if the music is good, we dance.  the DJ starts playing but his song selection is terrible so we bounce.  date proposes we go back to his place, which i’m fine with, and i can sense that he wants to kiss, which we do, briefly, in the elevator.  in addition to the Saturday night drinks date, we’d already planned a Sunday afternoon date earlier in the week, so sleeping over made sense.  in the morning we walk to get coffee and i buy him a muffin for his birthday, and he says when we get back to his apartment he wants to teach me to play a Korean card game, one-card.  i say ok and that if we can find two other people who are into it, later (in the future, not in the day), i can teach him a popular Ohio card game.  i talk a lot of smack about how im going to beat him at one-card after we go over the rules, but then he wins 8 games and i only win 3.  at some point i notice that the rose i brought him has been left lying on a table -- hmm?  we go to brunch at a place i’d never been to before, near the movie theater (our pre-planned second date, seeing a movie), which is, i learn, known for their crispy french toast, but which i do not order, because i know it will make my stomach hurt.  at some point i say that i wonder what’s going on on my phone.  i feel kind of zoned out from the point in time after we stopped playing cards to go to brunch.  it’s probably because i didn’t sleep well the previous night, because i have a hard time sleeping in new places, or when i share a bed, or when there’s no white noise, or when it’s too hot.  he’s tired too, and dozes in the movie theater while we wait for the movie to start.  after the movie is over i drop him off and go home, Sunday is supposed to be my chores day, but by the time i get home it’s already 430.  i want to take a nap but i have to run an errand and water all my plants, which i kind of don’t end up doing.  my errand was to go to the video store to return the movies i’d rented the previous week, of which i only was able to watch 1 out of 2.  my favorite video store employee who i hadn’t seen in a long time (i was out of town, he was out of town) was there and we talked and caught up and i learned that he’s a triplet (but he said that the grammatically correct way to refer to both his other siblings was “twin,” he said “my twin” and i said “you’re a twin??’ and he said “well actually we’re triplets but blah blah blah” -- this seems wrong to me but what do i know) and then we were talking about a missing persons poster that someone had dropped off at the video store which was really sad but also that he, the employee, had googled the missing person, and that this missing guy had released music on bandcamp, and that the photo he used for the album cover was of the place that he, the employee, had lived previously and not only that but he, the employee, was actually in the photo that this missing person had used as an album cover on bandcamp.  and then the employee said “do you wanna see?” and i said “yeah” and he let me come behind the counter to look at the computer and i hung out back there for a second and told him about a movie that the bartender had been recommending to a guy next to me at the bar the previous night, but which i had thought sounded interesting so i butted into their conversation about it, and since i still dont have my phone to write the name of the movie down, i’ve been telling people about it so i don’t forget.  the bartender said it was a french movie called “hedgehog” about a little girl who has an existential crisis and decides she’s going to kill herself in two months.  the guy he was recommending it to said, “that sounds really dark, man,” but i said “that sounds incredible and like directly up my alley” and the bartender insisted that the movie was both good and funny.  and i was relaying this story to my video store friend and he looked it up and then said “we can probably see if we have it in the store” and he checks their system and they do, in the general “french” section, and i find it and pick it up.  he asks me if i’m gonna rent it this week and i say “i can’t cause i’m going out of town this weekend! but next weekend.”  and now it’s 11pm and i’m supposed to be finishing my zine but i spent an hour writing this, instead, but i’ve got to finish the zine and send to my friend for his final edits before i can go to bed

[jupitermelichios]

S3E2: Phoenix

Oh Jesus it’s been a whole 2 months since I last watched any Smallville and in that time I somehow managed to forget about Lex living on a desert island with his imaginary boyfriend, so that recap section hit me like a sack of angry ferrets to the face

I think this episode opened with Clark murdering Jonathan, which I am so here for

Oh no, apparently Jor-El gave Jonathan superpowers off screen. Because that’s the sort of thing you shouldn’t show on screen obviously

Time to dramatic shirt rip, under 2 minutes, excellent

“If I could raise a son who could kill, I’d rather be dead” boy do I have some news for you about S1E1 Jonathan my dude

“Oh honey we never blamed you for me loosing the baby!” Hey Martha maybe you should check with Jonathan before saying something like that, given he very much did exactly that, or was gaslighting your son your whole plan?

Say what you like about Buffy, at least there were consequences for her running away from home at the end of season 2. Clark can apparently dose himself up on PCP, become a professional bank robber, and then try and murder his own father, and just waltz back into his life without consequences

God I love tiny gay Lex Luthor. I do have to ask how the fuck he got back from Jamaica though, given he’s got no money, no ID, and HE’S LEGALLY DEAD! How the fuck did he pay for flights?!

I do admire Jonathan’s consistency when it comes to anything being morally okay as long as it’s Lionel who’s the victim. “You can’t steal, Clark, that’s wrong!” “But it was from Lionel.” “Oh, lmao that’s totally cool then”

If a suicide is a real cocktail no one tell me because Lionel and Rutger Hauer apparently used to drink them when they were young and based on how it looks, I’m guessing the main ingredients are advocat and tango

Also I’m pretty sure Lionel and Rutger used to fuck, I’m getting strong Giles and Ethan Rayne vibes from this conversation

How do we tell people this is a flashback? Oh I know, lets cover everything with so much bloom it looks like a 360 launch title and no one can see what’s going on, you know, like the past looks

Angry-cupboard-sex-doctor (who is getting abbreviated cos she’s in this episode a lot) is serving strong season 3 Morganna energy and I love it. She’s like the straight woman’s Katie McGrath, I really hope she sticks around as a season villain

Oh Chloe’s hair is so much worse now! Given who the actress turned out to be as a person she deserves it, but it’s still phenomenally terrible. Hands up who remembers Balamory?

“We all do things we regret” yes but being a massive bitch generally has less consequences than TAKING PCP AND BECOMING A BANK ROBBER. He’s not running from himself he’s running from the law

Literally the first thing Lex says to Clark after 3 months of being legally dead is a pick up line. I appreciate your dedication to your brand tiny gay Lex Luthor

Holy shit actual confirmation that Lana doesn’t got to school any more. Go to school Lana! You can’t keep running an ancient Egypt themed coffee shop for the rest of your life!

Okay, I know she’s an objectively terrible love interest given the whole murder thing, but Lex just implied he killed his dad and ACSD was definitely into that, and damnit I just want them to be happy! She’s so much better than Clark, why the fuck is he still into this dickhead when he’s got this homocidal queen as an option?

I love that Rutger Hauer just takes it on trust that the thing Lionel is hunting for is a mason jar full of this random farm boy’s blood, he’s just like ‘yeah, that seems like a thing Lionel would be into’

Lana arrives at the Kent farm, walks up to the most gangster looking gangster to ever be a ganster, who is literally holding a gun and leaning against a black SUV, and is just like ‘hey didn’t know the kent’s had visitors’ and fucking immediately gets taken hostage

But then immediately fucking murders a guy, holy shit, Lana actually did something that contributed to the plot and it’s really sad that the closest thing to agency Lana has is when she stabs a guy to death with a pitchfork, what the fuck

I’m pretty sure Lex is about to kill ACSD, but fuck if I’m not enjoying the two of them standing on a private plane drinking champage and sniping at each other like they’re in a tenessee williams play

Oh my god they shot the fucking pilot. Lex has literally been back from the dead a day, and he’s in another fucking crashing plane, what the actual fuck????

Aaaand there goes ACSD right out the crashing plane. Goodnight sweet bitch, you were the only good love interest lex has ever had, may a flight of angels sing thee to thy rest

You’ve heard of day for night shooting, now get ready for we can only use this set at night as we’re just going to adjust the brightness and hope you don’t notice! (Spoiler, we noticed)

Clark’s jeans and plaid shirt are fireproof. They’re literally fucking fireproof. Which I guess makes sense given he sets shit on fire every time he gets horny but even so. Does explain where all the Kent’s money goes not they’re not going to the feed store every epsiode.

Oh to be Lionel, sitting in the dark drinking scotch and listening to opera, waiting for my son to get back from murdering his wife, so I can congratulate him on becoming a true Luthor

Credit to the makeup artists for giving lex scars and sunburn, and then remembering that they did it. That’s not the kind of consistency I expect from this show but I appreciate it

LEX GETTING FATHER FIGURES LEX GETTING FATHER FIGURES the only thing I want more than that is for them to bring back Lex’s long lost brother and for chloe sullivan to get possessed or something so I don’t have to deal with her. Where’s Joey Wilson when you need him?

I love how they managed to turn superman of all the fucking characters into a YA supernatural love triangle story

Lana has a new horse. She’s never owned a paint horse before. WHAT IS SHE DOING TO HER HORSES?????????????????? I need to know!

Clark just conclusively told Lana he’s not interested. Who wants to bet the writers have forgotten that by the start of next episode?

[johannesviii]

Top 10 Personal Favorite Hit Songs from 1994

Back in the day, M6 (what used to be the French equivalent of MTV) would broadcast a lot of music videos and my favorite to watch were always the Dance ones.

What I’m trying to say is that you won’t like this list either.

Disclaimers:

Keep in mind I’m using both the year-end top 100 lists from the US and from France while making these top 10 things. There’s songs in English that charted in my country way higher than they did in their home countries, or even earlier or later, so that might get surprising at times.

Of course there will be stuff in French. We suck. I know. It’s my list. Deal with it.

My musical tastes have always been terrible and I’m not a critic, just a listener and an idiot.

I have sound to color synesthesia which justifies nothing but might explain why I have trouble describing some songs in other terms than visual ones

There’s so many honorable mentions this time I’m gonna list them all, with some short commentary in some cases:

Another Night - Real McCoy

Mangez-moi - Billy Ze Kick (this is a novelty song about eating shrooms. Obviously I didn’t get that as a kid.)

Nouveau Western - MC Solaar (this guy is going to end up on a list eventually, watch this space.)

Linger - the Cranberries

La Corrida - Francis Cabrel (this is a song about a corrida seen from the perspective of a bull and it’s horribly tragic.)

Think About the Way - Ice MC

Juste Après - Fredericks, Goldman & Jones (this is a song about a guy watching a documentary about a nurse who just saved a baby who was about to die at birth and he’s wondering what she was thinking about afterwards. Only in a Goldman hit song, I guess.)

Loser - Beck (the fact that this song didn’t make the list just because of two Eurodance acts should enrage every single person I ever met who tried to convince me Beck was the best artist of the 90s.)

10 - Saturday Night (Whigfield)

US: Not on the list / FR: #28

Yep. Goldman and Beck were kept off the list by Whigfield and Reel 2 Real.

I have nothing more to say about that.

9 - I Like To Move It (Reel 2 Real)

US: Not on the list / FR: #6

Nowadays I’m pretty sure everyone is thinking about Madagascar and bouncy lemurs first when they hear this song, but holy S H I T did it sound dangerous and menacing back when I was a kid. If Eurodance was full of wizards and magic and epic fights to little me back then, that singer right there was definitely the evil sorcerer of the land and all would recoil before his power.

Sometimes I wonder what it’s like to grow up in a country where you can understand 99% of the songs playing on the radio, and I can’t help but think it might be slightly less interesting.

8 - Streets of Philadelphia (Bruce Springsteen)

US: #54 / FR: #13

If my taste in music was less shitty this would be much higher. Alas, you’re reading the lists of someone who genuinely thinks Haddaway is amazing, so yeah.

Possibly one of the saddest songs ever written but the pleasant and soft music makes it incredibly beautiful, which in turn makes it sound even more tragic and ugh it always makes me want to cry. It’s so perfect. It’s so potent I knew it was a tragic and beautiful song long before I started to learn English and could understand a single word of it. And yet it’s only #8, because the fact it destroys me every time makes it hard to listen to it very often.

EDIT: I was browsing my old top 30s to take pictures for the next top 10s and I was shocked to discover I had actually put that song on one of my lists at the time, so take that as you will.

7 - Always (Erasure)

US: #73 / FR: Not on the list

The fact that this kind of weird new wave still existed AND charted in 1994 is nothing short of a miracle and makes absolutely no sense, but I’m not gonna complain. Not my favorite Erasure single by a mile though (that would be Oh l’Amour. Not surprising at all, I know).

Also I dare you not to laugh at the lyrics, especially the first line ("Open your eyes and see... your eyes are open"). Campy in all the best ways. Do I feel bad for putting it above Streets of Philadelphia? Oh yes. Will I change my mind? Probably not.

6 - 7 Seconds (Youssou N’Dour & Neneh Cherry)

US: Not on the list / FR: #1

#1 on the French year-end list, like, damn. Sometimes quality wins, I guess. But yeah, I remember this song being everywhere, to the point I’m surprised it never really charted in the US. It was overplayed to death by the radio here.

And yet... I never, ever grew tired of hearing it. Never. Not even at the time. It is that good. It’s one of the best hits of the decade if not the best.

Of course I’m gonna put some stupid shit above that song but I beg you to listen to it if, for some extraordinary reason, you’ve never heard it before.

5 - Here Comes The Hotstepper (Ini Kamoze)

US: #85 / FR: Not on the list (#10 the next year though!)

I don’t have anything to say about this song in particular. It’s a lot of fun, and it’s one of the best songs to listen to while walking because you always feel super cool, even if you objectively look like wet garbage. It just gives you an automatic +2 in charisma. That’s just the way it is.

4 - Return to Innocence (Enigma)

US: #33 / FR: Not on the list

I listened to this song on a loop for literal days when I was 15 or so.

It’s not one of the best Enigma tracks and this album isn’t even one of my faves, but listen, I’m a simple human, I see an Enigma song that charted, I put it on my list. That being said, it’s still beautiful and moving and weirdly powerful for such a soft song. And it’s not like I will have any more opportunities to put Enigma on my lists after that, so I’ll gladly take what I can get.

3 - Move On Baby (Cappella)

US: Not on the list / FR: #78

These guys had such strange music videos, full of weird props, costumes and masks, and as you can guess it was fascinating to me at the time. It still is, mostly. It’s great eurodance but with the added bonus of weird, peak new wave-like visuals. In another music video, the guy had a time machine and was wearing a top hat and was meeting Egyptian gods, a medieval princess and possibly himself!

But yeah, even without the visuals, this is a killer beat that stays in your head but never gets annoying. I love it, it’s been on my playlist for years now, and only a king of Eurodance can top this.

You already know who’s coming.

2 - Rock My Heart (Haddaway)

US: Not on the list / FR: #54

This is the song (and the video - may I remind you I was mostly hearing these songs on tv because of the French musical channel) that cemented Haddaway as “one of the coolest, most beautiful people alive and possibly a wizard” to me. Because he had a cane and it was CLEARLY a magic staff to me. Also, in my eyes, all his friends in the video looked like mysterious goddesses and spirits. Because I was six, mostly. But come on, look at them, you can’t blame me.

This is still on my mp3 playlist to this day, by the way, if you were wondering.

Why isn’t it #1 if I love it so much, you ask?

1 - The Rhythm of the Night (Corona)

US: Not on the list (...yet) / FR: #7

All hail the queen of eurodance, who is actually not credited on the single and isn’t even in the music video: Jenny B. These vocals are so. good. It’s repetitive and catchy in all the ways I love, it has an untouchable synth beat, I listened to it hundreds of times and it never gets old. N E V E R. The colors in this melody, holy SHIT

And that music video with the weird cabalistic circles is partly responsible for making me believe eurodance was the music of wizards and magic when I was a kid.

And that’s a wonderful thing.

Next up: A list with a top 3 in which every song is actually possible to defend? Sounds fake but okay

[unproduciblesmackdown]

so i saw your post about artists still drawing willc, and i understand the viewpoint (i am also disappointed by lack of willr content) but i felt i should maybe provide an artist's perspective! personally, while drawing characters i like, i fall into a groove with it. they obviously became fans (perhaps far) before willr was jerm and they cultivated willc in their style already. i've gotten to a point where i don't even reference characters anymore, how i draw them Is That Character for me

i don’t follow you and just peeped your blog realizing you make art and shit that sounds condescending now cause i didn’t know you were an artist! and also although i have my Main Base characters i draw, i like to branch out to explore newer actors in the roles, so it’s still kind of disappointing there’s almost a rift between jeremys. (also ps your art is very good and cute i hope you have a nice day)

i really accept no Good Faith arguments about why there’s a noticeable lack of Specifically Roland Jeremy depictions. like, this isn’t even about individual artists; i don’t need every single person who draws a conn-style jeremy to justify it or Prove that it’s not about rejecting roland jeremy. the issue is the emergent discrepancy between them + the fact that we Do see people make adjustments for visual changes and new castings seen in 2.0/3.0, even allowing for jeremy’s new costume (or voice…..) while still retaining Will Connolly’s Appearance. which in itself is not necessarily the work of the devil but we Do see that it is A Choice that people make 

there’s never any reason someone is Actually Incapable of learning how to draw anything differently. god knows we all wish that we really Could settle into a routine with the way that we draw and feel comfortable at home base but even if you do draw the exact same characters all of the time, your style evolves and your abilities improve and you really Can’t not adjust the way you draw. and inevitably we have something new we have to learn how to draw and yes it’s frustrating not feeling like you “know” how to draw it but like. if you try to learn you can. and artists will keep pulling out the “well i don’t have as much experience drawing _____ so i’m never going to draw that way” to justify some kind of nonsense about why they can’t possibly depict a fat person and it’s so totally reasonable to just imply they can’t even Make An Effort……like, not drawing some Unusual Perspective or not putting realistic folds in clothing b/c you don’t have much practice / don’t really feel like it isn’t the same as “i shouldn’t have to learn how to draw people with characteristics i’m not already used to drawing” b/c obviously a Lot of issues crop up with this that aren’t relevant with stuff like “i’m not used to drawing shoes so i’ll draw them the exact same way always”

in this case there is the way too pervasive issue that people have honest contempt for will roland because he does not look or sound a way they consider adequately Cute / attractive and that is the entire nuance of it. we’ve got people out here imagining justifications and making up objectively false arguments about why actually It’s Bad And They Dislike Him /(As Jeremy) Because ___ but then you really do have people flat-out owning it that they don’t like him b/c of how he looks. this is the Entire Issue. if this wasn’t a factor then we’d see a more balanced ratio in terms of The Way People Are Willing To Imagine This Character. there’s only two guys to have played this role (and only very recently several appearances by alternates) and while the fanbase exploded on the connolly look and sound, there’s been like. a whole Year of will roland jeremy and if the only issue was “it’s difficult to learn how to draw a new person” then, well, there’s been time to practice. 

again i accept no arguments that so many people are refusing to draw will roland jeremy In Good Faith. this isn’t about individual artists; the Trend or Pattern inherently requires looking at a whole group to be discernible

like, i don’t really search out bmc fanart, so what i come across is a pretty random selection of recent-er works, and i’ve very very rarely seen Only 1.0 Cast fanart, yet i’ve also very rarely seen Clearly Roland Jeremy fanart. people are willing to learn to draw characters in a new / multiple ways, but there is this unwillingness to imagine jeremy the way he looks as played by will roland because yknow. god forbid you compromise the mental image of a willowy conventionally prettier jeremy

honestly and it also feels like a rare occasion when i see a jared that looks all that much like will roland in particular. obviously there’s a lot more options re: people who’ve played the role and so like, okay. but at the same time it’s wild that like, the Collectively Imagined Usual Depiction Of Jared does not share that much in common with will roland besides being a white short-haired brunette in glasses. it’s like, wonder of wonders when someone’s fanart of jared is clearly based on Either of the two principle broadway actors for the role. stuck between a rock (non conventionally attractive white guy) and a hard place (he’s totally skinny! but he’s black, too!) on that one i guess

also i have one resounding complaint to make about people drawing Ostensibly-Will-Roland

the roles he’s played which receive the most fanart are obv jared kleinman and jeremy heere………….these are both canonically jewish characters……..would it absolutely kill people to ever ever ever draw a nose like how will roland’s nose actually looks Especially in these cases. sometimes we Do get examples of people drawing not-will-connolly jeremy but The Nose Looks Nothing Like Will Roland’s and it’s like oh. well that’s fantastic. we’re just defaulting to generic white brunette with “acceptably Cute small narrow upturned nose” some more then, okay, i cannot condone this

gods sake when i see a would-be 2.0 / 3.0 jeremy like

that honestly hurt me to make btw…..look noses are a challenge to draw and basically all of us simplify them but if your Shorthand Nose For Absolutely Everyone looks like the above please think about this. noses that are deemed Too Wide / Flat / Big / Hooked / Downturned are also deemed bad / ugly and like, get over that and don’t subscribe to it or propagate it. there’s no such real thing as ugliness or Objective Attractiveness and the concepts are Not at all apolitical liiiike

please everyone be conscious and analytical towards how you draw people and whether you think you have to “censor” certain physical traits and don’t use the justification of “it’s hard to learn how to depict ____” like yeah it’s hard drawing is always hard we’re all trapped in hell together, learning how to be better drawing something that we didn’t use to have any practice drawing is how anyone ever draws anything at all ever so like. it’s not an argument about why someone Can’t draw something. you only Won’t draw something and you can have good / neutral reasons behind this or terrible reasons and plenty of people won’t draw will roland looking like will roland because they think don’t think he looks cute and that’s it.

[poppytheorist]

Me Laughing

must’ve been one hell of a joke

Preamble

So, I was in the middle of writing a piece on [redacted] when Poppy released a 27-minute video of herself laughing. Naturally, that took priority. Sorry for my absence, this post took some time. And by “some time,” I mean “45 hours.”

This may be the best thing I’ve written, but it’s also the most insane thing I’ve written. In fact, I would label this post as ‘maddening.’ It’s possible you won’t be able to look at Poppy the same way again. I know I don’t. You can’t unread this, readers beware, [other dramatic warnings], etc., etc.

Descend when ready.

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…

…

I thought “Concrete” was pretty #wild, but “Me Laughing” takes the cake. This video is pure lunacy, and I mean that somewhat literally since Poppy does laugh at what appears to be nothing for almost half an hour.

Due to the sheer insanity of “Me Laughing,” I’ve put together a handy little collage to help readers follow along. Behold: my barely passable Paint skills!

the pic for Section 4 basically explains everything

Before we begin, I need to address a few things. There’s at least, like, nine people who read this stuff, and while I can’t say that I envy you, I can say that I appreciate you. Thanks for sticking around.

However, there’s a funny thing that happens when you know you’re writing for an audience. You feel pressured to adapt your style. I feel the need to be a little more careful about some of the things I say, but that’s probably for the best. Hopefully this extra care will result in more coherent posts, but I doubt it.

This post will be long. Partially because “Me Laughing” is long, partially because I’ve padded this out with shaky theory about how the world works. Guess that’s no different than my other posts, but still, feel free to tune that out if you’re just here for the Poppy stuff, though maybe you’ll find some of it interesting.

I tend to write authoritatively, which may be misleading because I’m not always confident about what I’m saying. I simply enjoy taking things to their natural conclusions. Typically, there’s something interesting at the end. Or, at least, a premise insane enough to make writing about it enjoyable. See, for example, my post on “Concrete.” This post won’t be much different, maybe just a little crazier.

Now, I’ve got a funny feeling that some people may think I am “reading too much into this” or that Poppy’s work “isn’t that deep.” Hey, I get it. Those objections are completely understandable. I was once there myself, but now I’ve moved away from thinking that way. I’ll do my best to explain why.

From what I’ve seen, aesthetics (roughly: the study of art) is a total battlefield. Nobody agrees on anything, everybody thinks that only they can ‘properly’ understand art and that everyone else is wrong. There’s people who think beauty is objective, there’s people who think “no, that’s stupid, beauty is obviously subjective,” and there’s even the people who outright deny that aesthetics exists. Recently, we also had the pleasure of witnessing the aesthetics debate become another facet of the everlasting culture war. Think a line from “Play Destroy” sums my thoughts about that up: “oh boy!”

Needless to say, it’s a massive shitshow.

Despite my rather war-torn depiction of modern aesthetics, it might be a good thing that we can never ‘understand’ art. I hear that’s, like, part of the point. If art was ever ‘solved,’ well, we’d be faced with the idea that there is nothing ‘special’ about being human, that we’re just sacks of meat bumbling around with no purpose. Then everybody would, like, die or something. Truth hurts, art heals, let’s stay alive.

Anywho, I mention all this because there’s no rigorous way to determine how ‘deep’ a song (or any piece of art) is. You can’t just take a stick, poke it into some art, and say: “yep, this Poppy song is 75 [metres/fathoms/hands/whatever nonsense unit] deep!” Besides, nobody even agrees what ‘artistic depth’ means, and most attempts to define it flounder. If you listen closely, you can just faintly hear Goodhart laughing.

This is also why people who think they can ‘objectively’ analyze art are dogmatic blowhards. Any amount of rigorous thinking reveals that our standards for what make art ‘good’ or ‘bad’ are entirely baseless. No, seriously, it’s a case of channeling your inner Socrates and repeatedly asking ‘why’ until the other person throws their up their arms, leaves, and stops answering your texts.

We don’t even know what art is, so thinking you can ‘understand’ art and judge its ‘depth’ is pure arrogance. At least, until someone finds a way to math that shit. “Sounds solipsism.” Well, ya gotta start somewhere.

Now, does this mean we should also throw up our arms, say: “screw it” and return to binging Netflix and eating foods that you know aren’t good for you but you eat them anyways because they make you feel good and that’s what you need right now? Well, no, actually.

Even if we aren’t 100% sure what art is, or what we should do with it, there are some theories on art that I would call: “pretty not-terrible.” Some people have spent their entire lives thinking about these things and their insights are fascinating. However, I’m not here to talk theory. If you want to learn more, go pick up a book or something, nerd.

Anyway, one time this German guy said: “without music, life would be a mistake.” He also said that looking at things from multiple perspectives is pretty neat, so that’s what we’re here to do. Turns out art is kinda fun and spending a bit more time thinking about it pays dividends.

See, art just wants to be understood and so does Poppy. I want to give her and Titanic the benefit of the doubt and take them seriously as artists. While I don’t think everything they produce is God’s gift to earth (see: [redacted]), I do enjoy the majority of their work. Plus, the abstract and absurd nature of their content means writing about it is a blast.

Whether I truly believe any of the interpretations I come up with is irrelevant. Hell, I’m not even sure half of what I say even remotely resembles what Poppy and Titanic envisioned. But, that’s not the point. Shallow readings are a dime-a-dozen, see: Genius; I’m here to provide something better. To show that Poppy’s work, or any art, really, can be a whole lot more fun if you spend even just a teensy bit of time analyzing it. Hopefully I can also provide some of the tools to do so.

Enough rambling, let’s get into it.

Intro

At first glance, “Me Laughing” seems like Poppy doing cute ASMR for 27(!!) minutes while simultaneously trolling anyone who expected a video titled “Me Laughing” to be about anything different. Sure, but that reading gets a ‘B’ for ‘Basic.’

Yes, Poppy and Titanic often troll their audience. See: “A live Interview with Poppy.” But the trolling is both part of the delivery of their message and part of the message itself. So while “Me Laughing” looks like a simple ASMR troll video, I’m going to argue that it’s not.

Previously, Poppy released videos like “Delete Your Facebook” and “I’m Poppy.” Fun vids, but they’re made of looped clips. Thirty seconds in and you’ve watched the whole thing. Consider: “Me Laughing” is 27 minutes, but no parts are looped, it’s all original. As always, I’m just here to ask: why?

Since “Me Laughing” is not made up of looped clips, but is instead all original content, there is an inherent progression to the events. Each segment is unique, and when considered sequentially, pieces from each section build on each other to produce an artistic whole.

Yes, that’s a fancy way of saying it has a ‘story.’

Also, if you’ve watched the video, you’ll know that something just feels ‘off.’ If “Me Laughing” was ‘just’ Poppy ASMR, why does she constantly focus on a single point in the distance? What’s with Poppy’s frequent stares into the camera? And why the fuck is she wearing latex?

Clearly, something else is going on.

Detailed Summary

Let’s recall what actually happens in “Me Laughing.” Hopefully this recap will convey a sense of what ‘else’ exactly is going on and make the insane claims later on in the analysis a tad easier to swallow.

“Me Laughing” starts off pretty normally. Sections 1 and 2 are mostly Poppy laughing, as promised. Even in these early sections, however, we can still pick out some peculiar things.

In Section 1, and throughout the video, we see Poppy looking upwards as she laughs, as if she was remembering something funny that happened. Or as if she was thinking about something for a while and suddenly found it hilarious. “Maybe Poppy just looks upward when she laughs.” Doubtful. Try doing it right now. Feels weird, right? Whatever, moving on…

Next oddity: there’s a strange transitioning shot at the start of the video and between Sections 1 and 2 where the camera sweeps over Poppy’s latex-ed body. “Well, maybe Titanic just thought it would be cool to do it like that.” Yes, but why did he think it would be cool? Why that transitioning shot, out of all the possible ones? What purpose does it serve?

Also: Section 1 was a very steady shot, probably filmed using a tripod, or whatever fancy word camera-people use. However, the shot for Section 2 is shaky. Like, weirdly shaky. Maybe even too shaky. And this isn’t the only section filmed this way, half of “Me Laughing” is too. “Well, maybe Titanic can’t hold a camera steady.” No, that doesn’t seem right. We know Titanic can, in fact, hold a camera steady, or, at the very least, he possesses the means to take a steady shot. See: literally all Poppy videos. No, the shaky-cam is intentional. Again, I’m just here to ask: why?

Now, I don’t mean to tip my hand too much here, but to me, the camera’s sway resembles the unsteady gaze of a curious observer. Perhaps one who is timidly stepping around the beheld, drinking in all the angles. Recall my post on “Touch Poppy.” With steady camera shots, it’s easy to forget someone is on the other side, but with unsteady shots, it’s downright impossible to ignore, e.g., “wow, that shaky-cam is really noticeable. What is this, a shitty sequel to the Blair Witch Project?” Perhaps these sections were filmed this way to emphasize the presence of an observer. As for why such a thing would be emphasized—well, we’ll get to that.

Around the 3:30 mark, Poppy shakes her head and clearly utters a, “m-mm,” as in, “nuh-uh, no way.” This gesture is repeated throughout the video. I’ll let you think about that one.

The video continues, and at 3:52 the camera lazily pans down, focusing on Poppy’s body and cutting her head out of the shot for several seconds, similar to the transition shot from Section 1 to 2. Thirty seconds later, the same thing happens. Guess this isn’t just Titanic diversifying the shot composition. It’s also about this point where attempts to pass “Me Laughing” off as anything resembling a ‘normal’ video start to fall apart.

Poppy’s sitting position in Section 3 is both clever and hilarious. It shows her whole get-up, highlighting how absurdly tall her platform shoes are. She also flip-flops her feet back and forth several times as if to further emphasize her mega-shoes. Why would she wear such crazy shoes for a simple video of herself laughing?

That’s not all that’s ‘off’ about Section 3—this is also the first section where Poppy stares at a spot in the distance for a prolonged period of time. In several instances, she quizzically tilts her head to the side, not unlike a faithful dog trying to decipher commands from her master. At 6:23 we also get a clear “huh,” a noise of acknowledgement, of understanding. Further, Section 3 has several stretches of silence where Poppy is no longer laughing. She just sits there while you watch. It’s… unsettling.

Section 4 is shot in a similarly shaky-style to Section 2, but this time with Poppy sitting down. Also, we see instances of Poppy focusing on something off in the distance both when she is laughing and when she is not, as was the case in the previous sections. However, there are some weird things about Section 4 that set it apart from the others and further develop the video.

Around the 8:38 mark, Poppy utters a “mm-mm-mm” sound while shaking her head and staring off into the distance. It’s fairly clear that she is communicating with something off-screen. Perhaps entities that are invisible to us. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say these off-screen entities are the things making her laugh.

We will see more evidence of Poppy supposedly communicating with invisible beings later, however, this is bordering on fetishizing Poppy’s lore as opposed to analyzing her artistic message. If you’re half-learned on Poppy lore (which, you better be, considering the fact that you’re reading this), this would be like focusing on the identity of ‘They’ instead of the significance of ‘They.’ Another example would be focusing on the ‘origin’ of Poppy, e.g., is she an android? Who is her creator? Etc., instead of asking why someone would create the artistic work of Poppy in the first place and/or considering the implications of said work.

If you’ve read anything else I’ve written, perhaps you’ve noticed that I try and stay away from acknowledging that Poppy even has lore. I want to take Poppy seriously, not literally. Or, in “pretentious asshole” terms, to consider her work artistically, not canonically. There are many reasons for this and I didn’t just get here randomly overnight, but that’s for another post.

Edgy ranting aside, there’s another part of Section 4 that I’d like to point out. Before this section, there was only a single instance of Poppy looking into the camera (happened in Section 2), but in Section 4, she frequently looks into the lens, acknowledging that an observer is present. She shoots this observer a flurry of dark and mischievous glances. Then she laughs.

Section 5 features more head shaking, distant staring, etc., but it is also a relatively sad section. Poppy laughs very little, and frequently looks down. Yes, a pun. Poppy has been laughing for most of the video, so why, all of a sudden, does she seem so sad?

Section 6 is shot shakily and close-up. I mean, really close-up. Like, right-in-her-face close-up. To the point where the camera is often out of focus. We’re also given a blatantly voyeuristic sweep over Poppy’s chest as the camera shifts position around her. Further, there are several instances where Poppy looks deep into the camera, with what I refer to as a “model pout,” where she slightly parts her lips and opens her eyes wide. Recall my post on “Computer Boy” where I talked about the fan-idol relationship. That lustful look? It’s for you, except everybody knows it’s not.

Quick note: I will elaborate on this when I talk about “You’re Too Close,” but it’s important to stay mindful and know that despite some uncomfortably voyeuristic shots in “Me Laughing,” it doesn’t necessarily mean that the video, or anyone who worked on it, is, y’know, perverted or something. Depicting the voyeuristic nature of idolism is how we talk about the voyeuristic nature of idolism, the same way that depicting racism is how we talk about racism.

The problem is that nowadays, we are trained to think quickly, not critically. Your initial response (also called your ‘knee-jerk’ response) to Poppy’s work shouldn’t be your final response to it. It’s important to consider context and think carefully. Ask yourself: why would Poppy choose to show you this? What does she want you to think about? What is she trying to tell you?

Section 7 is where things start to get really fucking weird.

Previously, I said that there was something darker lurking in “Me Laughing,” and Section 7 is where this darkness begins to manifest. The segment starts with Poppy having another one of her imaginary conversations with demons or whatever where she nods her head and gives some “mm-hmms” in agreement. Shortly after, she looks right at the camera and laughs in your face. Not only is her laugh absolutely maniacal, but it seems completely sincere too. This section really relates the feeling that you are not in on the ‘joke’—maybe the joke’s about you.

Section 7 also provides a sense of violent foreboding: a creeping feeling that something is going to happen to you, but you don’t know what that ‘something’ is, and you have absolutely no power to stop it. What really drives this sense of helplessness home is the way the scene is shot. At one point, the camera spends a few seconds just looking at Poppy’s hand. This emphasizes your lack of control. You are completely at the mercy of the camera’s whims. You only see what is shown to you. Then, as the scene closes, the camera is put down in front of Poppy, and, after a few tense seconds, she slowly reorients her body and starts crawling towards you. Luckily, the camera is picked up before she reaches it—you were saved, but what if you hadn’t been?

Oh, right, I forgot to mention: Poppy didn’t laugh much in this section.

Section 8 is a more amped-up version of Section 6. We get Poppy staring deep into the camera for almost the entire scene’s duration. Her lustful gaze relates a feeling of vulnerability, like you are spying on a defenseless little girl, but at the same time, it feels like she is giving you one last dose of what you want before she brutally murders you.

Section 9 is fairly straightforward. We have Poppy staring at a fixed point in the distance as if she is receiving orders from her alien overlord. We also get several rapid glances toward the camera, as if her orders somehow involve you, or as if she and someone else are sharing gossip about you right in front of your face.

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…And then Section 10 happens.

Poppy says: “goodbye.”

In Section 10 we have a bit of a climax. No, not that kind of climax. Well, unless this essay is really doing it for you.

The first interpretation of Section 10 is fairly basic, Poppy is waving goodbye because you’re about to die. Obviously, whatever scheme she and her invisible monster friends cooked up is going to be carried out, and it’s probably going to result in the destruction of everything, yourself included. This is sad, probably, but she seems to find it highly amusing. Again, I’m not a fan of obsessing over canon or lore, so I’ll tackle this one slightly differently in the analysis, but I do think this reading of “Me Laughing” is at least semi-faithful to Poppy and Titanic’s vision. This interpretation also serves as a very nice teaser for P3. I mean, if “Do you disagree?” has told us anything, P3 will have a lot of destroying.

The next reading of Section 10 involves the objectifying nature of idolism. Yes, the $5 words are starting to come out, brace yourself. Anyway, in this section, Poppy giggles as she waggles her hands around, back and forth then forth and back, as though she is using her hands for the first time. Almost like a shiny, new automaton discovering its motor functions. It’s cute, but silly. And by silly, I mean overly silly. You have to remember that Poppy is played by a woman in her mid-20s. Reminds me of some lines from “Hard Feelings”: “my arms and my legs are so stiff / Is that the way you wanted it?” Or, rather, is this how you want her to act?

At the end of the section, the camera moves right up to Poppy’s face and she looks at you and just… stares.

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And stares…

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And stares…

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She knows.

Finally, we get to Section 11, which would be my main argument against the totally boring ‘Poppy communicating with demons’ reading. Poppy is seated, again, with her arms wrapped around her thighs. Note again the sense of her smallness and vulnerability transmitted by her sitting position. Also note the way the shot is filmed, with the camera looking down on Poppy and frequently swooping in for close passes.

And then, in the last two seconds, something really bizarre happens. For a brief moment, some foreign object enters the shot, just in the very corner. Now, I’m about to make a weird argument, be wary of it. Other than the random piece of equipment entering the shot, “Me Laughing” does not end off on a noteworthy moment. Just Poppy sitting there, looking up at the camera. Plenty of instances of that. The video could have easily been trimmed by 2 seconds and nothing would have changed. We can also (probably) assume that somebody carefully reviewed this video before it was uploaded.

We’re left the possibility that those last two seconds were left in the video for a reason. And that reason is—

Hey, wait a minute, was that a mirror?

Analysis

“Me Laughing” is a really interesting video, and you can have a lot of fun if you spend some time looking into it, so that’s exactly what we’re going to do. We’ll tackle it from several different angles, watch for the switches.

Quick words of warning here: I’m about to use the words ‘parody,’ ‘satire,’ and ‘sarcasm’ interchangeably, a practice some would refer to as: “really fucking lazy.” Frankly, I don’t give a damn, I’m not a professional, I’m going to type my silly words anyway and you can’t stop me.

As content loses any sense of shame in attempting to draw your attention, nuance withers away and it becomes harder and harder to differentiate parody from parodied. For example, is “Old Town Road” criticizing the state of the music industry or embracing it? Now, I’m positive that Lil Nas X has the self-awareness of my pug when he’s lapping up his own boogers, yet I personally couldn’t write a song that so perfectly encapsulates everything wrong with modern music. So, is “Old Town Road” a parody or not?

This is where someone ripping off Westworld would say: “if you can’t tell, does it matter?” to which I would answer: “yes, yes it does.”

Context may be fleeting, unreliable, and arguably nonexistent, but I still believe it’s possible to differentiate parody from parodied, it just takes a little more effort. See, I think “Me Laughing” is satirical as hell, especially considering its context within Poppy’s body of work and how it compares to mainstream internet content.

First, consider that the frankly-titled video “Me Laughing” was hyped up for three days before it ‘premiered’ on YouTube. Hilarious, but also incisive. Who waits three days to see someone laugh? “Well, I did.” Ah.

The sarcastic nature of the video also shines through in the description, which reads: “A motion picture starring Poppy.” There’s a tired, yet necessary, statement here on the continuing degradation of internet content. What won’t people eat up?

We all know Poppy’s no stranger to sarcasm. See: “Bleach Blonde Baby” or “Poppy loves Politics.” She will often refer to her videos as “high quality internet content,” while uploading videos of herself eating cotton candy or ‘ooo-ing’ at things. With “Me Laughing,” a video where she laughs for 27 minutes, Poppy further questions where the line is regarding what content people will happily consume.

Fun story: I’ve seen people call “Me Laughing” ASMR. In fact, I think I did, at some point. Huh, I should probably change that. This isn’t totally wrong, but know that “Me Laughing” takes so many shots at ASMR you’d think the video shared a set with Sicario. And, if that’s the case, they could have saved some money and just filmed the video in my neighborhood haha… hah… ha… (seriously though I’m in danger)

Considering “Me Laughing” as a genuine ASMR video would obviously be antithetical to Poppy’s entire body of work. Recall lyrics like: “Poppy is an object.” No, “Me Laughing” is much more than simply Poppy recording cute ASMR.

Poppy has been questioning the nature of people’s ASMR obsession since her first YouTube video, “Poppy Eats Cotton Candy,” where she had the mic uncomfortably close to her throat so her little gulps and coos were clearly audible. What leads to people wanting to hear these things?

Zoom out: many of Poppy’s videos are about obsession. Forget that and the point will fly right over your head. Let’s now reframe the question: why would people want to hear such intimate sounds from Poppy? Answer that and “Me Laughing” will make a lot more sense.

What I’m about to say next will be very dense because it will outline the thesis of a large part of Poppy’s work. Sorry, hopefully it’s still readable. I’m still developing my interpretations of her work, and I promise to expand and explain them more in the future.

I’m also sure some fans will want to stab me in the neck with a rusty spoon for this post because it’ll appear like I am directly criticizing them. In reality, I am actually insinuating that Poppy is criticizing them, but nuance is dead, knee-jerk reactions reign supreme. Whatever. If you react that way, it means you’re so eyeballs deep in obsession that you fail to realize why Poppy courts your obsession in the first place. Poppy’s work entices fans to obsess over her, but it also berates those who do so.

Note that this is all as a means of criticizing the status-quo. And guess what: fans are part of the status-quo. It stings when you realize your idol’s criticisms are actually about you, but I’m not convinced Poppy is malicious. She wants you to be a better person.

This is my best estimate of her thesis: the nature of the objectification of celebrities is rooted in a sexual obsession—that is, a desire for their bodies. Pun intended. Objectification stems from fantasizing over what the celebrity shows you, which is almost always physical, or at least results in the fantasy manifesting itself as a physical representation.

In other words: “everybody wants to be Poppy.”

Poppy recognizes the inherently sexual obsession with figures in the ASMR community. She wears latex in “Me Laughing” to draw attention to this. It’s as if she was saying: “this is what you’re here for, right?”

Note that obsession is inherently progressive. It grows and grows, eventually leading to fans voyeuristically observing the objectified person’s intimate bodily functions. This culminates in “Me Laughing.” Poppy knows what you want, but as payment, she’s going to leave a nagging feeling in your brain that somehow you have done something wrong. That you shouldn’t really be watching this video, but she knows you are.

Recall Titanic’s comments about making people slightly uncomfortable. Consuming is harder with a lump in your throat. The key to understanding Poppy’s work is to ask why she wants you to feel uncomfortable. What about your behavior does she want you to realize?

Earlier in the post, I mentioned that I’m not a huge fan of the whole ‘Poppy talking to demons about destroying the world’ reading because it comes dangerously close to obsessing over her lore. Lore is like history without the usefulness, so I’m going to ignore it. Regardless, I said I would use that interpretation for something more interesting, so I’d like to ask:

What makes someone want to destroy the world?

Throughout “Me Laughing,” Poppy shoots dark glares at the camera. There’s something sinister in her eyes, something genuinely evil lurking in her gaze. We know she obviously has an immense disdain for the status-quo. What else would lead to lyrics like: “down, let it all burn down / burn it to the ground”?

Preceding any cries of “viva la revolución!” or “apocalypse, now!” is an implicit judgement that what is left of the world is either not able to be saved, or not worth saving. That tearing everything down and beginning anew is preferable to salvaging what remains. To reach such a mindset, one would need to see modern society with such disgust and be so disenchanted with our current world that it no longer appears worth preserving. One would also need to have given up hope on the ability for people to come together and solve their problems. To have lost hope in humanity’s ability to adapt and overcome. To think that perhaps our problems have become too big for us to solve, that perhaps we have finally dug too deep a hole to climb out of.

Again, people don’t reach a hopeless mindset overnight; it takes many steps to descend into the darkness. But, the numpties on r/GetMotivated tell me, “every journey begins with a single step,” so let’s take one together.

In a tweet, I mentioned that “Me Laughing” was also about absurdism. No, that wasn’t a typo for ‘absurdity.’ I may write ridiculously deep-dives into Poppy lyrics and lore, but I try not to waste words.

Anyway, let’s play a game. I call it the “imagine something real quick because I need to prove a point” game.

Imagine being stuck in a system. Yes, it’s cliché to use the word ‘system,’ and any time you do, it carries the connotation that you are some conspiracy nut, e.g., “you can’t trust the system man!” I understand all this, please just bear with me and let me use the word, it’s useful. Anyway, you don’t like the system because a lot of the system is bad and it’s slowly, but surely, getting worse. The cracks are starting to show and the whole thing is poised to come crumbling down. Okay, that’s not good, you want to tell people about this. To warn them. However, in order to obtain a sizable audience for your message, you need to first succeed within the system, and to do that, you need to play by the system’s rules.

Okay, no sweat, you release some pop songs. There’s a couple of them that people really dig. Unfortunately, the songs people like don’t contain much of your message. They have a watered-down version of it at best. That’s a little sad, but oh well, at least you’re getting some sort of message out there. Hey, maybe if you make the music video really weird, people will realize there’s something more going on! Hm, that didn’t seem to work either.

So you release some YouTube videos too. Some of them are pretty biting, especially that one on politics. Should get people thinking, right? Hah, no, wrong. People like them, yes, but not for the reasons you want. They like them because they’re “weird” and “addictive” e.g., “its 3 AM on a school night and I’m still watching Poppy videos why can’t I stop lolol.” Imagining that the videos contain some sort of Illuminati-esque hidden message to decode is preferable to examining the real-world implications of the work. Plus, like, there’s experts for that, right?

Anyway, a couple albums and hundreds of videos later, you have a sizable following, sweet, now you can transition to doing what you’ve always wanted to. Change the persona to something a little truer to yourself. Make your message a little clearer. Finally, you have the power to change the world like you always promised you would.

Uh-oh, Houston, we’ve got a problem. Your audience listened to you for X, but now you’re giving them Y. It’s not a total loss, though. You have a lot of loyal members in your audience, and they like your new stuff too. Doesn’t matter what you make, they’re loyal, they’ll watch/listen/whatever to it. Their dedication has become investment which has become even more dedication. In fact, they’ve been following you since the start, when you were first trying to get big. “Yes, but I was trying to get big because I wanted to spread a message and to do that I had to make compromises to grow an audience so people would liste—“

They also have their own ideas of what you’re saying, plus, like, they make neat art, here, check this out, please give this a listen, look at this, read this, please, please? “Hey, nice article. Wait, the next one is how many words?!” And you keep every piece of fan art because it really does mean a lot to you. “Wow, I appreciate it, that’s beautiful, thank you. Oh, what? There’s even more?” Hey, if you have spare minute, could you give a shout-out to my friend? It’s her birthday. “Sure, hold on…” It’s also my birthday tomorrow, could you give this post a like? “Um, okay, just give me a minut—“ Also, could you answer my DM on Instagram? It’s important. And after that there’s only 100 more to answer! kk thanks! “Wait… one second… whoa!”

Now you’re releasing Z, hopefully that will get your message across…

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Wait—what was your message again?

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Oh no.

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Somewhere along the way, probably between performing [this] and signing [that], the essence of your message was lost. Whatever remains has been drowned out by the noise of the system. If we’re talking decibels, notifications are loud, problems are whispers, and these days everyone’s got ear plugs.

Thinking about problems is hard, thinking about them for too long is sad, being sad is uncomfortable, hey, look, Taylor Swift just dropped a new album, that “Lover” song is dope, let’s look at memes.

So, you want to change the system. But to change the system you need power. To get power, you need an audience. But the only way to get an audience is to make content that gets rewarded by the system. And the content that gets rewarded by the system is that which is easily digestible for a large audience, i.e., devoid of substance. I mean, I don’t know about you, but I don’t think “Turn Down for What” resulted in much positive social change. “Well, maybe the system should reward content that is creative, challenging, and conscientious instead!” Ah, yes, I see what you mean. So, you want to change the system…

Pass the mic, Camus, I’ve got a real knee-slapper for ya. Oh, right, guess I’ll just grab it myself.

These days, we’re faced with a new kind of absurdism, one which involves recognizing that societal systems are getting worse and need changing, while simultaneously recognizing that you are chained by said systems, and thus, powerless to change them.

This new absurdism describes the maddening exercise in doublethink where people wrestle with the knowledge that they should be Making The World A Better Place but also the knowledge that they cannot possibly live in a way that satisfies such capitalized phrases. The end result is a mental tearing fueled by impossible societal expectations and the inevitable guilt of failing to live up to them.

After a while, people stop fighting. They give up. They give in. When enough people throw in the towel, all that’s left is to hold on tight and enjoy the ride, e.g., the trajectory is set, all aboard, no, there aren’t enough seat belts for everyone, must have been one of those damn cost-saving initiatives.

“Yeah, that definitely sounds absurd. So… what do we do about it?”

Well, sometimes all you can do is laugh.

[the-haloarchive]

they are really in love

OR: mutual, they’ve discussed it

People try to say that all the 1D boys treat each other this way, but…no. Harry and Louis treat each other differently.

There is an outrageous amount of evidence of their jealousy; here is a bit of it. (Personally, I think a lot of it isn’t necessarily jealousy as much as it’s an expression of their frustration at the situation and inability to treat each other the way other people do, but let’s say jealousy for simplicity’s sake.) This moment of Louis smacking Zayn’s hand away from Harry and this one of Harry reacting to Zayn feeding Louis are particularly hilarious.

There are lots of pictures from early days of Harry with tiny little “L"s on his hands/arms. Here are just a few. And here is one from August 2013.

Do they even know what it means to whisper? Do they know where ears are? What is happening behind that hand?

Sometimes they seem to sing to each other. Here are a few that I think are legit.

The very end of this one. Check out Harry’s expression and Louis’s little eyebrow lift.

"It’s gotta be you / only you.”

“I want, I want, I want to be loved by you.”

One of Harry’s lines in “Rock Me” is: “Oh my my they could never shut us down.” And sometimes he appears to sing it to Louis. Once he changed the line to “Oh my my they could never hurt us now” (and then looked at Louis). One time he cut half of the line entirely and just looked at Louis instead.

They seem to have a habit of singing Little Things to each other. This one is particularly significant. Watch Harry and Louis once Harry starts singing (especially from 2:37 on). (Same day, different song here.)

They performed their song “Night Changes” (“even when the night changes /it will never change me and you”) at the 2014 AMAs…and Harry sang the whole thing to Louis. And then he did it again.

The way they look at each other, man. And the way Harry can’t stop himself from looking at Louis. And the way Louis winks at Harry!

No one laughs harder at Louis than Harry does; only Louis gets that reaction from Harry.

Louis would pick Harry for Spin the Bottle. And notice that it doesn’t look like fan service – he mumbles it quietly, almost as an afterthought, and immediately goes back to fiddling with his phone. It’s like he didn't really intend for it to be heard. Not clearly, anyway.

There are a couple of great moments in this interview. Fake (???) makeout. Louis counting on Harry’s fingers, to Harry’s pleasure. Other touching throughout. Best of all: this bit of blatant possessiveness.

“[I want to g]et married…” *look at Louis* (For the record, I’m pretty sure they’re planning on it.)

Astonishing display of flirting. On VALENTINE’S DAY. In PARIS. Just totally, shamelessly, into each other. This is the first and last interview they ever did with just the two of them because WOW, OBVIOUSLY.

The 2012 Brits: tipsy boys take the flirting and innuendo to new levels. Things to note:

Whispering from the start

“So who gets the head [of the award]?” Niall wants the head. And Louis goes for it: “Harry’s getting head.” Harry: “HAHAAA! He said something rude!” *giggle giggle, look at Louis* Meanwhile, Louis is busy licking his lips (making it quite a bit harder to argue that Harry is getting head from someone else, I’d say) and making smug faces toward people off screen.

Louis moves a phallic object up and down. Harry gets distracted. And then Louis actually kisses the head.

“And if you could snog any artist in the room tonight, who would it be?” Harry: “Adele. Adele. Definitely Adele. I might try on the way out.” (Look at the way Louis’s body stiffens and he nods his head – you can tell that he’s trying to control his face.) *glance at Louis – realize something is wrong – look back at Louis with contrition* Harry: “Sorry.” Louis: *some unintelligible expression of resignation*

The enthusiasm is totally drained out of Louis.

“Where do you want to sit?” “Next to you.” (For the record, I think what people hear as “you can’t sit together” is just another person yelling at them to “get closer together.”)

Watch Harry and Louis very carefully here. Watch Harry’s fingers and Louis’s arm. This is small. This is subtle. This is not for the cameras or the fans. This is for them. This is the kind of shit they don’t do with the other boys. And for what it’s worth, this is THE MOMENT for me – in the few seconds it took for me to watch this moment for the first time, I very abruptly went from thinking “Harry and Louis are the best bromance of all time” to “Harry and Louis might actually be in love.”

Good GOD, Louis, just TRY to be more smug.

They (used to?) have a secret signal. Harry said in their first tour program that his goal for the tour was to learn sign language. And then people noticed…a lot. (They don’t really do it anymore – presumably because the fandom caught on – but here’s one example from 2013.) (AND WHAT IS THIS?)

“You.” So quiet. So subtle. So not meant for public consumption.

Just watch the bit of this interview that starts at 4:20. “If I met someone who I liked.” Dramatic cough from Louis. “I had to cough quietly and in the end I just did a terrible job of it.” YEAH OKAY LOUIS that wasn’t weird or suspicious AT ALL. (Analysis of the whole interview here.)

This interview happened right before Harry and Taylor Swift started “dating” and the interviewer actually asked about celebrity crushes before clarifying it as the “like to take out” question and it was obviously a setup for Harry to start talking about Taylor and he still looked at Louis instead WOW.

If you see people in this fandom talking about Barbara Walters: this is why. Look at the way Harry and Louis look at each other. Also in that interview (at 5:07): this.

Harry says “Wouldn’t It Be Nice” is the theme song to his life and Louis makes that face. God bless the camera people and producers and editors, really.

Okay, this video is incredible. The relevant moment happens SO fast but is SO important. Start at 2:07. Watch Louis’s face. He’s happy happy happy. They put their arms around each other. He realizes Harry is touching his shoulder and FREEZES. He looks at Harry with the most vulnerable little face and then reaches his arm up to Harry’s and grabs on. And refuses to let go (poor Niall).

Straight up holding hands at meet & greets? Come on. It’s a MIRACLE they haven’t been totally outed yet.

Even when they’re split up for interviews, they end up giving the same answers. Media training? Maybe. Or maybe they’re in each other’s brains by this point.

It’s a thing. If you don’t know Shania’s “You’re Still the One,” go listen to it now. IT IS A SONG FOR PEOPLE IN LONG-TERM RELATIONSHIPS, not Harry’s supposed six-week flings or 410 women/year womanizing.

WHITE PAINT IS VERY IMPORTANT. To be clear: in both 2012 and 2013, Louis went out for Halloween with white face paint. And both years, Harry’s hair was mysteriously white the next day. (I want to note that plenty of Harry/Louis shippers don’t believe in White Paint 2.0 – the evidence isn’t as clear as it is from 1.0. I do, though. Here are some pictures from that day. As you can see, most of them are LQ, so paint is less likely to be visible anyway, and in only one of them – the famous one – can you even see the portion of his head where it looks like paint is. So I totally get why people are hesitant to declare the existence of White Paint 2.0 based on basically one picture (and some pictures that suggest he might have a bit of paint on his left eyebrow/near his left temple), but I don’t think it’s crazy at all to say it’s real when, as far as I know, that one picture is literally the only one that COULD show us anything, if the paint is where it looks like it is.)

The boys are often asked about the most romantic thing they’ve ever done for someone. Louis always says the same thing: that he cooked a meal, and that it was the first and only meal he’s ever cooked. WELL. The last week of the X-Factor, Harry tweeted this. Now, Louis’s been talking about this meal for several years – he did it here and here in 2012, and then again in November 2013. (7:22 – watch how Harry looks down. Also, notice the emphasis Louis puts on the word “nice” and how Harry said a minute or two before that he’s just looking for “someone who’s nice” [though to be fair, Louis’s could have been a reference to Zayn’s use of the word “nice” as well].) And Liam brought it up in concert last year – and Harry did the hand motions again. Meanwhile, only print!Louis has ever claimed that this meal was for Eleanor. Basically I am saying that what Louis says is the most romantic thing he ever did might have been for Harry. It also could have been for Hannah, who he was dating during The X-Factor and who has said that Louis once cooked her a meal (which conflicts with Harry’s claim about Louis’s “first cooking experience”). So I don’t know if his meal was for Harry or Hannah, but it seems awfully unlikely that it was for Eleanor. And honestly, if you’ve been dating someone for 2.5 years and the story you ALWAYS tell as the most romantic thing you’ve ever done is something you did for someone else…well. PLUS the fact that he’s STILL telling the story…look, if they’re paying ANY attention at all to the Larry fandom, they know we think this story references Harry (or Hannah, at the least), not Eleanor. No way does Louis keep telling it if he and Harry aren’t actually together and/or they don’t want us to think they’re together. And no way does Harry keep doing those goddamn hand motions.

There was some hardcore flirting on the red carpet at the 2013 AMAs (also, they looked at each other like this when they won an award).

Here is a very helpful summary of the final months of 2013. Especially relevant for those who think Harry and Louis have broken up.

Ah, the 2014 Brits. Personal favorite moments include:

Highly suspicious pre-show Instagram captions that weren’t signed “1DHQ” like official 1D Insta pictures usually are

Harry’s creepy love stare

Louis’s face when Harry was missing and Louis’s face when Harry returned and Harry asking Louis, “What did we win?” (compare to the time Louis realized his girlfriend Eleanor was missing)

Harry’s face when Louis pretended the boys hadn’t seen each other in three months

Harry’s face when Louis arrived at the press room

Harry looking at Louis when talking about his birthday trip to Jamaica

Remember how “Harry’s getting head” happened at the 2012 Brits? WELL THIS HAPPENED IN 2014 #liamisjimhalpert

What’s the last thing they do before they walk out on stage? Smooch, apparently.

Louis’s mom, Jay, got married in July 2014. Most of the band, including Harry, attended, and it produced some sweet moments like Harry hugging Louis’s grandfather while Harry’s mom grinned at them, and Jay appearing to introduce Harry to some family members, for starters. (Oh, and Louis wore Harry’s shirt.) Which was all nice. But it seemed like the wedding was extra special to Harry, or something, because we discovered many days later that he was STILL wearing the wristband that all the wedding guests were apparently required to wear. And even after the fandom made a huge deal out of it, he STILL KEPT WEARING IT. In fact, he didn’t take it off until the middle of their next show, days later – literally ran off stage and removed it after the show had begun. But it doesn’t even end there! A month after that, there was a bit of fandom drama between some Larry shippers and some people who think Harry and Louis have broken up, regarding whether Harry enjoyed himself at the wedding and whether his presence there was solely fanservice. The very next day, Harry arrived in LAX to a mob scene (very publicly making clear that he was not attending a charity football match Louis was about to play in in England), and what was tied around the bag he carried through the airport? The wedding wristband. Goddamnit, Harry.

Oh, and the other thing he was wearing in that airport? A certain blue bandana.

Just a few fun little moments from the Where We Are tour.

[paradoxicalpatton]

Fanders Secret Santa!

@starswingsandthings @secretsanders

Hello there! I’m Patton, your Secret Santa! I read through your wishlist, and unfortunately I’m a terrible artist. I am however, a pretty decent fic writer! So I thought I’d write a cute Prinxiety fic as your present! I didn’t really have anything to go off, so I googled some Christmas prompts and found one that I thought was perfect. I hope you like your present, Happy Holidays!

Prompt: To impress them, they learn all of the words to their favorite Christmas carol. And they doesn’t even like carols. Or Christmas. Or singing.

Pairing: Prinxiety

Au: Human! Au - Virgil is waiting at home for his housemate Roman, who goes to visit his parents for Christmas. However this Christmas, Virgil realises his true feelings for his best friend.

Word Count: +1.5k

You can click here to listen to the song Virgil sings!

The sound of the crackling wood from the fireplace filled the apartment, the warm light touching every object in the small living room, shadows resembling Christmas stockings covered the walls. Sitting on the sofa was Virgil, his favourite constellation quilt that Roman had made over his lap. On the small side table he’d moved next to him was a cup of camomile tea, his phone, and Roman's gingerbread candle. In his hands was ‘The Murder of Roger Ackroyd’ by Agatha Christie, a book his brother Logan had recommended to him. Looking up at the wall, Virgil noticed that the clock read 9:00. “Roman should’ve finished dinner by now.” he thought to himself. Placing the bookmark in his book, Virgil closed what he’d been reading, and replaced the book in his hands with his phone, sending Roman a message.

Emo Nightmare: sup ro, how's dinner with the fam?

Prince of your dreams: Why hello my dark and stormy night! I believe to be having a wonderful time, but I wish you were here with me.

Emo Nightmare: so do i, i could video call if you want? maybe i could give you your christmas present bc you won't be here on the day

Prince of your dreams: Oh Virgil that sounds splendid! Let me grab my laptop!!

Emo Nightmare: cool, ill grab mine too i guess

Virgil put his phone down gently on the book, and bent over to pick up his laptop off the floor next to him. He quickly opened it and put his password in before opening the video chat app. Roman's account switched to 'online’ and Virgil hit the call button, Roman answering quickly.

“Virgil! How is my chemically imbalanced romance?” Roman waved excitedly, his hair bouncing lightly. Virgil laughed quietly, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Hey princey, I'm good. Pretty alone though.” Virgil looked up at the screen, lifting the hood of his jumper over his head. He let himself smile at the sound of Roman's laugh.

“I'll be home in a week Virge, did you open the present I left for you?” Roman adjusted himself so he was lying down on his stomach, reaching out of frame to grab his hot chocolate.

“Yeah, I did. Thanks Ro, it means a lot.” Virgil grabbed his own mug, taking another sip of his tea, Roman clapping excitedly in the background.

He'd had trouble figuring out a good present for Virgil, they may have known each other door a few years now but his purple haired friend was still a mystery. Eventually Roman bought him a new quilt set, most of it purple with black cats on it, the perfect thing to match the rest of his room. Virgil, on the other hand, had an even harder time than Roman. What could he have possibly gotten him that his creative friend didn't already have? After months (yes, months. Virgil spent months thinking of something) of planning, Virgil finally thought of it.

“Actually, I have something for you as well. It isn't the best gift ever, but I put a lot of effort into it.” Virgil rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at his lap sheepishly.

“I'm sure I'll love it no matter what! After all, a gift is a gift.” Virgil glanced up and smiled, Roman's deep emerald coloured eyes reassuring him. He slipped in some earphones and pressed play on a song in his phone.

“The fire is burning, the room's all aglow. Outside the December wind blows.”

He remembered when they first met, at Logan's Christmas party. The fireplace was lit, a warm light covering the room.

“Away in the distance, the carollers sing in the snow.”

The next Christmas they went out as a group to go ice skating. A group of people walked by singing carols, Roman joining in from afar.

“Everybody's laughing, the world is celebrating, and everyone's so happy, except for me tonight.”

They'd spent every Christmas together since they met. But this year Roman went to visit his family, leaving Virgil alone. On Christmas.

“Because I miss you, most at Christmas time. And I can't get you, get you off my mind.”

Virgil spent everyday of December leading up to Christmas wondering why he couldn't stop thinking off the royal pain in his ass that he called his housemate.

“Every other season comes along and I'm alright. But then I miss you, most at Christmas time.”

He asked Logan what it could be, but to no avail. His logical friend smiling sweetly as he told Virgil to ask Patton instead.

“I gaze out the window, this cold winter's night. At all of the twinkling lights.”

Soon enough Virgil asked Patton about his situation, his usually emotional friend smiling sadly. He knew exactly what it was, and he knew Virgil wouldn't like it.

“Alone in the darkness, remembering when you were mine.”

No. Virgil refused to believe it. This was just Patton playing a trick on him. He could never. Not in a million years.

“Everybody's smiling, the whole world is rejoicing. And everyone's embracing, except for you and I baby.”

Maybe he did. Virgil spent countless nights awake, pacing his room. Thinking about Roman's green eyes, his light honey coloured hair, the freckles that came in pairs, and his heavenly smile. Maybe Virgil did lov- um, maybe Virgil did like Roman.

“I miss you, most at Christmas time. And I can't get you, no no no no, get you off my mind.”

Virgil felt awful. He'd spent so long thinking about his own problems that he'd forgotten to get Roman something for Christmas. He stayed up all night that night, eventually deciding that he should listen to his heart. His heart named Patton. Who was yelling at him the next morning for staying up.

“Every other season comes along and I'm alright. But then I miss you, most at Christmas time.”

Virgil agreed with both Logan and Patton, and started searching for a song that would convey exactly how he felt about Roman. But even Virgil didn't know how he truly felt.

“In the springtime, those memories start to fade with the April rain. Through the summer days, till autumn's leave are gone.”

Roman only ever left Virgil around December. But he would always be home on Christmas day. Virgil could handle it any other time of the year. So why was it so bad now?

“I get by without you, till the snow begins to fall and then I miss you, most at Christmas time. And I can't get you, no no no no, get you off my mind.”

Virgil was in love with Roman. He was madly, deeply in love with his annoying, ignorant, somewhat handsome best friend. And he hated everything about it. The feeling of course, not the guy he fell for.

“Every other season comes along and I'm alright.”

Virgil loved Roman.

“But then I miss you, most at Christmas time.”

Virgil took out his earphones and looked up at the screen to a sight he thought he'd never see. Roman had moved and was sitting up again, he had tears running down his cheeks, his hands covering his mouth. Virgil was convinced he'd done something wrong. He probably had. He knew singing to him was a bad idea. As he went to apologise, Roman cut in, silencing the younger man.

“Virgil… I don't know where to begin,” Roman wiped his tears away and smiled at the camera. “That was beautiful. How have I never heard you sing? Although that isn't what's important, why did you sing that song?”

Virgil looked away and figited with the blanket in his lap, afraid to answer.

“Virgil? You can tell me, I won't judge you.” Virgil took a deep breath and closed his eyes tight.

“Because I love you Roman!” He let out a sigh and laughed, brushing a hand through his hair, thinking to himself ‘Well that wasn't that bad’. But when Roman didn't answer him he began to worry again. Virgil slowly looked up at a completely black screen.

His laptop went flat. His laptop, went flat.

Virgil slammed it shut, blew out the candle next to him, put out the fire in the fireplace and turned his phone off before running to his room and locking the door. He can't believe that actually happened. Although he's lucky he did, Roman would never feel the same.

A week passed and Virgil hadn't moved from his bed. He hadn't eaten or showered, and only left to use the bathroom. He'd been thinking about packing some of his things and leaving. Maybe he could find a small apartment in Antarctica, far, far, away from Roman. Unfortunately his plans were cut short with a loud banging on his door.

“Virgil! Virgil! Are you in there?” Patton, he hadn't heard Patton's voice in weeks.

“Virgil? If you're in there please let us know you're ok.” Logan, he sound panicked? Why?

Before he could answer his own question he heard the lock on the door rattling, the sound of a butter knife hitting it? That could only be one person.

“Virgil? Oh god Virgil, you're alright!” Roman opened the door and dropped the knife, rushing over toward him, pulling Virgil into a tight embrace.

Patton and Logan quietly closed the door to give Roman and Virgil some privacy. They obviously had a lot to talk about. Virgil explained to Roman that his laptop died and that if he heard anything he didn't really mean it. Which lead to Roman confessing his own romantic feelings to his edgy crush. The two sat there on Virgil's bed, laughing over the misunderstanding. Slowly the held hands and left the room, going out to find Logan and Patton.

“Hey Padre? Do you and Logan wanna come on a double date with myself and my emo prince?”

[novarasalas]

Second Look Review: The Feud

*This post is very graphics heavy. Use caution. Sorry*

Nnnnggggg…..

…..I hate game shows.

And you know what I hate more than game shows?

1970s game shows.

…..yay, this episode.

But I’m gonna power through it, because there’s a lot of throw backs and references here that you may not have noticed the first time around. There’s also some good plot happenings, too.

But really….

Pictured: my two moods watching this episode.

So the first reference people got almost immediately is in the Garfle Warfle Snick logo.

It’s a classic 70s design. While the asterisks and colors of the GWS logo aren't present in the original Dating game logo, they do feature in the set.

That’s Farah Fawcett, by the way.

The first game is called Pictation. It’s obviously a play on Pictionary, which had it’s own game show in 1997. The original drawing game show, however, was “Win, Lose or Draw”.

This is an episode from 1987, featuring Burt Reynolds, Annie Potts, Dom Deluise, and…

Betty White!

And now Keith is lucky enough to play.

The hair tie is to keep his emo bangs out of his face while the pacifier is to bite down on in frustration.

I know this from experience, as I was in art school starting in 2005, which was a prime year for emo kids, and they made us play Pictionary one afternoon.

Everyone’s pretty much already said it, but yes, I can confirm, Keith is a good artist.

None of us were that day, though.

Several instructors pulled all of their students into one room and broke the news that we’d be playing a game. As socially awkward and socially anxious weirdos, the news also broke us. Half the students didn’t even participate, the other half were doing what Lance is doing here: yelling random stuff that doesn’t even come close to making sense.

And we were terrible at this game. All of us.

After the 3rd round, a cry came from the back of the room:

“hOW Are wE SO BAD aT ThiS???!!!”

I wish I knew, random art kid.

What I do know is that Keith is doing far better than I did. I mean, he didn’t start crying, not even a little bit.

In the end, Team Voltron loses, giving Team Galra a chance to steal. That’s a game mechanic from The Family Feud, and it’s the only one, even though the episode is titled “The Feud”.

It’s more in the overall design of the set, really.

….

I’ve never liked “The Family Feud”. I claim legacy on that: back in the day before remote controls were standard, my sickly grandpa would drag himself out of his chair to turn the t.v. off because he hated Richard Dawkins so much.

Richard Dawkins was the original host of the show, and he was one in a line of 70s game hosts that always made me feel like I was about to be sexually assaulted.

...can’t imagine why I’d ever feel that way.

To be fair, he’s not kissing those women without consent. They asked them before the taping if they were ok with it. But still….ick. And Richard Dawkins wasn’t even close to being the worst in terms of smarmy game show hosts.

Back to the episode at hand though.

(This is a great loop, btw. I suck at gif making myself, so thanks op.)

Everything about Team Galra is delightful. I just wish there was more of it.

With a steal and a win, Zarkon chooses Lance to play.

Zarkon is so thrilled to call Lance dumb. It’s hilarious. Also, Lance fans, please enjoy this endless loop of that moment.

I kid, I kid. I like Lance. We’ll talk more later.

I don’t know what Faces from the Past is referencing, but that isolation shield seems awful lot like The Cone of Silence from “Get Smart”.

What is The Cone of Silence? It’s a class A security procedure, used to transfer top secret intel between two agents.

Demonstrated here:

The next game is more familiar.

It’s the Garflator, or otherwise known as...Password!

...wait….is that…?

Yes! It’s Betty White again. Also seen here in an episode from 1963.

Doing this research, I found out that Betty’s done a lot of game shows in her time. That’s news to me, because I still don’t like game shows.

After the dumb one is the smart one.

And everyone knows it.

Pidge plays miniature golf here.I don’t think it’s in reference to anything else, though maybe you could see a game from The Price is Right if you squint.

And then Pidge gets things done about, by calculating a shot that takes out the camera and the crazy, demi god like creature known as Bob, tackling him to the ground.

The ambition, drive and self assurance that Pidge has is amazing and no one talks about it nearly enough. I want to be her when I grow up.

So now it’s down to a vote: who ever gets voted for the most gets to leave while the rest stay for eternity. It’s kind of like a reverse “Survivor” situation, really.

And now everything gets very heartwarming as they vote for each other, but one stood out to me: Lance, voting for Keith.

Lance: He’s our leader, plus he’s half Galra, so I think he’s, like, the future.

That….was so sweet. I mean it. That face, those words. I didn’t expect Lance to say that. He’s come so far since those first episodes where he was just an unmitigated asshat to Keith. It’s growth. It’s good.

Keith, what say you?

Keith: I just don’t wanna be stuck here for eternity with Lance.

Oh no! Keith...hahah...Lance gives you something so heartfelt and that’s what you go with? Aw man…

Really, though, his ire’s not directed at Lance, not really. It’s more like he’s just done with everything that’s happening, he’s frustrated, and Lance is the only one he’d take anything like this out on.

But buck up, kiddos, your love and friendship won the day!

And lastly, one more reference, this time directly from The Price is Right:

At the end of each show, host Bob Barker would turn to the camera and say “Help control the pet population: have your pet spayed or neutered.”

Bob Barker has fought for animals rights for decades, and while I don’t necessarily agree with everything he’s done, good things have come from his work. I’d link some info on it here, but...I can’t. Channel you’re inner essay writer and go find those sources.

So, that episode was a trip. In all, it more reminded me of “Let’s Make a Deal”, where costumed contestants would be chosen from the audience to play games for cash and prizes.

Bob himself is most like Bob Eubanks, as played by Q from Star Trek. I believe the showrunners even mentioned Q while talking about Bob in this episode

That’s Bob Eubanks up there. He was the host of “The Newlywed Game” and “Hollywood Squares”.

Q, on the other hand, is:

“He is an extra-dimensional being of unknown origin who possesses immeasurable power over normal human notions of time, space, the laws of physics, and reality itself, being capable of violating or altering them in unpredictable ways with a casual thought or hand gesture. Despite his vast knowledge and experience spanning untold eons (and much to the exasperation of the object(s) of his obsession), he is not above practical jokes for his own personal amusement, for a Machiavellian and manipulative purpose, or to prove a point. He is said to be nigh-omnipotent, and he is continually evasive regarding his true motivations.”

This is him:

So...I still don’t like 70s game shows. But, I gotta say, not everything is terrible about them.

Gene Gene the Dancing Machine is fun. This is from “The Gong Show”.

Fun, if your definition includes “pure chaos”. 

The uh….energetic...host there is Chuck Barris. He’s the creator of “The Dating Game”, “The Newlywed Game” and “The Gong Show”. His shows seem to have pioneered the whole look and feel of most of these 70s game shows, and thus is my sworn enemy.

…

Don’t even think of talking to me about “The Match Game”.

In summary:

I actually had fun with this episode, as much as I don’t like the aesthetic.

And apparently Josh Keaton said that this episode foreshadows something and I DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS AND I’M SCARED SO VERY SCARED.

Next up: Wow! What a call back! -and- Kolivan’s been having a bad time.

[x--daughters-of-darkness--x]

KAT VON D SHARES THE UNEXPECTED INFLUENCES BEHIND HER LONG-AWAITED DEBUT ALBUM ‘LOVE MADE ME DO IT’

The glamorous gothic queen of art, tattoos, business and beauty now redirects her attention to her original passion – music.

Kat Von D has been a staple in alternative culture and pop culture as a whole ever since first exploding onto the scene in the reality television show ‘Miami Ink’ and then promptly securing her own series, ‘LA Ink’, at her home in Hollywood. Quick to prove herself as far more than just another bland reality TV star, Von D built an empire around her interests and established a unique brand of tattoo artistry, best-selling books, art galleries, clothing lines, and most notably, a massively successful and world-renowned beauty line.

But what most people don’t realize about Von D is that out of everything she’s sunken her teeth into and made business ventures out of, her first and most consistent passion has been music. She’s been a constant presence in the world of rock and metal for quite some time – and not just because she’s dated musicians like Nikki Sixx and Deadmau5 and is married to Rafael Reyes of Prayers. She’s been classically trained on the piano since she was a child, practicing every day and growing an appreciation for all different genres as she’s grown older.

Much like her dedication to veganism and animal rights, Von D has a significant place in her heart for music, adorning her body with tattoos of multiple acts like the Misfits, AC/DC, Slayer, Guns N’ Roses, ZZ Top, and appearing in numerous music videos for bands such as HIM, Alkaline Trio, and Gunship. In 2008, she founded the MusInk Tattoo Convention and Music Festival, which has featured artists like Suicidal Tendencies, Limp Bizkit, The Used, Hatebreed, NOFX, Bad Religion, Deftones and more. She’s even had an entire song written for her by Eagles of Death Metal. Needless to say, her street cred in the scene is well established.

She’s now set to release her debut album, entitled ‘Love Made Me Do It’, a project that has been nearly a decade in the making. Described as “a pastiche of shapeshifting analog synths, post-punk dreamscapes, gothic hues, and shy pop magnetism”, the record deals with heartbreak, disillusionment, and ultimately enlightenment. While some might be expecting a hard-hitting, in-your-face type of attitude, Von D opts for a moodier and more atmospheric feel to her music that rides on soaring synth waves and danceable beats. Joining her are bandmates Gregg Foreman, Sammi Doll, Dave Parley, and Brynn Route, as well as notable collaborators Dave Grohl, Linda Perry, Dave Sitek, Peter Murphy, Danny Lohner, Ladyhawke and Charo.

In a conversation with Knotfest, Kat Von D discusses the many inspirations behind her music and unique sound, the artistry that goes into crafting not only her songs but her music videos and live performances as well, and shares some personal stories like the time she and her husband hit up a Rage Room and a week-long horror movie marathon she undertook with a friend.

What made this the right time to finally release your debut album?

Kat Von D – Music has always been a big part of my life and although most people know me from tattooing, they actually don’t know that music has been kind of the most consistent thing in my life. I’ve been not only classically trained since the age of five, but I’ve been playing with my friends’ bands and singing on all my talented friends’ albums and stuff like that. So I’m not a stranger to it but I think that a lot of people are not familiar with me having some form of musicianship. They’re like, “What? She’s coming out with music?” So it could be a little confusing to some people but like everything else I’ve ever done, I’ve always said the proof is in the final product. I’m not here trying to be like a celebrity just slapping my name on something and you know, collecting a check and not really caring about it. I want music to be my main focus in life. I’m not sure if this is the right time, to be honest. I feel like I probably should have released this album ten years ago when I wrote it, but I think life just got in the way. I was filming the TV show and going on book tours and just allowing all these other other forms of expression to kind of get in the way of focusing on music. Basically like a year and a half ago I decided to sell my makeup line so that I could have the time to go on tour and really give the music the attention it needs. And then obviously last year everything kind of got turned upside down and everybody was put to a halt. So I’ve just been waiting within this last year for everything to open up again so that we can go on tour and finally release the album.

How do you go about mixing your unique brand of alternative style with the kind of synth pop sound you’ve got going on?

Kat Von D – I think a lot of my fans and followers were expecting me to come out with like, metal just because I’m a huge fan of metal and I think people kind of know me for liking that music. But I also love a lot of darkwave and I love analog synthesizers and I’m a huge fan of post-punk era music. I love Depeche Mode, Siouxsie and the Banshees, The Cure, that kind of stuff. I feel like when it comes to the music that I want to create it’s more along the lines of that. I love poetry, I love strong lyrics and soulful singing. I love Arch Enemy, but my voice does not lend itself to sing like Alissa [laughs] so I know where I belong.

It’s interesting also because like you were saying, you have your scene with metal and rock and all that stuff, but at the same time, you’ve also always been this kind of like, pop culture icon with LA Ink and everything.

Kat Von D – Yeah, I love pop structure. I’m not a big fan of pop music per se, but I do love the structure of songwriting and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. For us, I feel like we do have pop elements in our music but there’s definitely a darkness to it. Even in a lot of synthwave bands that I love, they tend to sound a lot happier than what we’re producing. I like to live in the more melancholy world. I don’t know how to write a happy love song.

There’s a consistent sound throughout the songs but each one still distinctly feels like it takes inspiration from different genres and eras. There’s definitely that predominantly 80s kind of sound.

Kat Von D – Yeah, especially the drum sounds and not just the synthesizers. I think we only have one song that actually has guitar in it. I really love that era but I also think that when my bandmates and I write songs, we don’t sit there with like, a reference. Like, “Oh, I really like this song, let me try to do a version of it.” We actually just start from scratch and we do a lot of sound design, finding specific synth sounds that are not presets in any way. It doesn’t feel dated to me. I feel like there’s a bit of a modern take on the 1980s I guess, and I think that’s important. We’re not trying to be Depeche Mode or any of those other bands that I mentioned, although you might feel the sentiment of that era.

That instrumental breakdown in ‘Fear You’ is so good, that’s very much in my lane. And that part of the music video looks dangerous as hell!

Kat Von D – Thank you, I love that too. I wanted to do a violent video because I feel like all of our other videos were beautiful. I was thinking, how do we create violence without hurting a person, or violence towards somebody versus like, inanimate objects, you know? So I had taken my husband to this thing called a Rage Room. You can rent these rooms and you buy different packages and you can just break break shit. We obviously got bored after like the first 15 minutes [laughs] but I can see how that could be therapeutic. That was a really cool experience so why not take that experience and make that into a music video?

Did you guys have any protection while you were smashing stuff?

Kat Von D – What’s funny is everybody didn’t want to wear protection, they were like, “we’ll wear some sunglasses”. Dave Parley, our drummer, was the only one that didn’t wear sunglasses and for a minute we thought he got a piece of glass in his eye. Thankfully it was just like, a dust particle but I was like “Oh my god don’t do this, Dave!” [laughs] I think aside from that we might have gotten a few little nicks and cuts but nothing crazy. We did use real glass, there was only a few prop glasses, like the sugar glass. I actually posted a video of Sammi, one of my synth players, breaking a bottle over my head and people were like, “Oh my god, that’s so crazy.” It literally felt like a kitty cat just whispered into my ear. [laughs] Those things break if you just like, squeeze them. I got those red glass skulls made and those were made out of the sugar glass, but other than that we do all our own stunts.

In the music video for Exorcism, you wrote that the song was partially inspired by a week long exorcism-themed movie binge.

Kat Von D – With my friend, Kevvy. We actually ended up writing another song together called Lost At Sea that’s on the album. He’s a huge horror fan and I am too, we’ve seen like, every single one. There’s so many terrible ones. It’s crazy. But there’s a lot of really great ones too and I was fascinated by the concept of demonic possession because it seems like there’s a pattern within every culture and every era in history that calls to some form of possession and exorcism. I just find it so weird that in an era like today, where we have cell phone cameras and all this stuff, you never actually see any footage on YouTube. It’s never like in the movies, you know? I think it’s like this romanticized idea of surrendering control to an outside force. I feel like people write a lot of love songs about the correlation between love and death or love and drugs or addiction. I just wanted to take it one step further and do a song about love that was in correlation with a demonic possession because I think that’s how I felt in the past a lot. It’s like you’re no longer in control or you don’t feel in control and you’ve given this power to somebody that may not be the greatest thing for you.

From that movie binge, which ones were your favorite and which ones were the absolute worst?

Kat Von D – I feel like I’ve subconsciously blocked out the worst ones. I think the worst ones were always like a Blair Witch-style filming, you know? One of my favorites through that marathon was one with Anthony Hopkins called The Rite. I love Anthony Hopkins obviously, who doesn’t? It was shot beautifully and it was the most realistic possession scenes. I don’t want to spoil it but there’s a giant twist at the end which I think was really different than every other exorcism movie out there. I think all of it was shot in Italy, so it’s a very beautiful background. Anthony Hopkins plays an exorcist. I loved The Exorcism of Emily Rose, but I would consider that more like a court case movie. It was so compelling, I think I cried at one point. I didn’t know that there was a part two and three to the original The Exorcist, and I had read the reviews prior to watching and everybody was talking shit about these movies. I thought they were so great. I love part two especially, I love the kind of origin story of Egypt and when you think about that era, they had pretty good CGI effects in that movie. So I gave those a thumbs up.

Were there any other kind of movie inspirations that helped guide the direction of the album?

Kat Von D – So Gregg Foreman AKA Mr. Pharmacist, he’s my other synth player and we’re both huge fans of John Carpenter, especially all the scores for most of his movies. I feel like there is inspiration behind some of those sounds that you find on the album, but as far as inspiration from movies, it was more for the music videos. For the Exorcism video, that one was really inspired by one of my favorite directors, Alejandro Jodorowsky. He did The Holy Mountain and El Topo and Santa Sangre. El Topo was my favorite just because the aesthetic way you would see these like, black silhouettes. The opening scene, for example, is this man in black on a black horse with a black umbrella just cruising through the desert. It was like putting together two things that didn’t belong together and I love that. For the music video for Enough there were definitely some Fellini inspirations with the props of the ocean where we’re kind of like, rowing through the storm and it’s a little bit campy, but in a good way. I don’t feel like the Fear You music video was inspired by any movie in particular, I just had a really clear idea of what I wanted the storyline to be. I love movies, or good movies at least. [laughs]

Do you feel like music videos kind of went away and then steadily came back with stuff like YouTube?

Kat Von D – I don’t know, I think that there are a lot of videos but the filming process for us has been pretty brutal because I don’t tend to do like, the lip syncing videos. I think that’s what the majority of people do, whether it’s hip hop or even metal. It’s like, okay, cool, you’re gonna do a fake performance and then we’re gonna lip sync and we’re gonna have some smoke and stroke. I don’t have any interest in doing that. For me, I’ve always loved music videos that have a narrative. Those just take a lot of time and energy and I can understand why bands don’t do them, but I like these little mini films. It kind of helps storytell the music more than just doing a performance piece. I think there’s creative ways of doing the performance pieces as well, I’m not gonna knock that, but to me, I’m not interested in just shooting a bunch of lip syncing all the time.

It helps show the artistry behind it. I like when artists go the extra mile.

Kat Von D – Me too. It’s funny because I really like our band, we get along so great and we love each other. We always laugh because we’re like The Munsters because we have a contortionist in our band and she looks like Marilyn Munster and then Gregg’s like Herman and so we’re this really weird little kooky family and stuff. I feel like everybody’s so extremely attractive in their own way. When I think of music videos, I always think about different parts that I want to create for each band member. Like, “Oh, this would be a really good scene for Sammi or for Dave.” In the music video for Exorcism, we actually got a stunt crew to come out and put us into those harnesses to make the bandmates fly into the air for those jumping scenes. Then we had to remove the little wires and stuff in post. My drummer always wears this leather fringe fanny pack and then he’s got this long beard and hair and I just want to see that flowing in the wind. It was my favorite jump scene out of all of them.

I just wanted to add that your work concerning animal rights is commendable. Dominion, in particular, that’s an incredibly affecting movie. If everyone was able to view that, you know, maybe things could change faster. I don’t know how you learn and see these things and not be changed by it.

Kat Von D – For sure, there’s definitely some trauma behind all that, I mean you could only imagine. But I always just commend Shaun Monson, because he’s dedicated his life to making those movies. He worked on Earthlings as well and those are just so, so brutal. But thank you, that’s very sweet.

And just so we don’t end on a bummer note, what kind of show can audiences expect to see on your upcoming concert dates?

Kat Von D – I’m a huge fan of going to see bands play and my biggest pet peeve is when you really love a band and you go and see them and it’s just like, a guy standing at a mic. So I definitely want to create an experience, especially with visuals. Like I said, I have a contortionist in my band who’s amazing and she’s part of our group. She is actually going to be playing some sounds but she’ll be moving her body in a crazy way that you won’t even be able to understand. We’ve been shooting all of our live visuals with Linda Strawberry, who does all the art directing for Smashing Pumpkins and a bunch of other bands. Her and I really see eye to eye on finding the beauty in the dark stuff. So we’ve actually been filming and prepping all of the light works and for the LED panels and everything else that we’re doing.I think people are gonna be in for a visual treat. I like that that’s just one other way of storytelling for music and I think that’s how you should be able to present your music to the world. To go back to my bandmates, it’s like they’re all superstars in their own way. I feel like they already have their own fans as well. I’m not interested in just shining a spotlight on myself, we’re all going to be doing some crazy things onstage. We’re like the goth Power Rangers.

[rockynottheboxer-blog]

Chapter 2

He awoke in a hospital room, his various body parts bandaged and in casts. His eyes burnt, his memory fuzzy, but still there. He remembered the horrifying vision that he saw when he was… unconscious? Or was he dead as he so thought? He had no real way of telling if at that point he was alive or dead, or rather, if the thing he saw was real. His vision finally sharpened the objects around the room. He looked to his left at the visitor’s chair. Currently it was empty, however it appeared that people had come and gone. A woman’s glasses on the small metal table, his bedside creased as though someone was recently sitting there. He shifted his vision to right in front of him, to the door. He remembered being young and having a family member that was in this part of the hospital. Then he saw a sign above another door, some distance behind the nurses’ desk, “Intensive Care Unit”. Huh. He didn’t feel too terribly bad, only occasional piercing feelings where his arm and legs had broken. He lifted his un-broken arm to his face. He felt more bandaged covering one half of his face. The weird thing is, when he applied pressure to feel how bad it was, it felt… normal. It was strange, because even if he was on pain medicine he would at least have felt some pain. He tried to speak but his throat was raspy. He swallowed in a raspy voice called out, “Nurse”. The woman at the desk lifted her head and looked around, not sure where the voice came from, so again he called out “Ma’am.” Her eyes drifted to his room and met his eyes. Her eyes widened and she stood and hurried over to him. She entered her room and asked, “Sir, are you okay?” He tried to speak again but his throat had a sharp pain, he managed to squeeze out “Water?” Before he could stop himself, the pain was immense, but the nurse went out of his line of sight, then returned with a small cup and raised it to his lips and dribbled it in. The water was heaven on his dry throat, he asked for a second cup, which he received, but when he asked for a third, the nurse simply said, “Don’t strain yourself, first questions, then more water, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah okay.”

“Can you remember your name?”

“My name is Jesse, but a lot of my friends call me Jess.”

The nurse appeared to be surprised at something. “And your last name?”

“Cotilla. Why do you ask? Is there something wrong?”

“Well no but considering that you just woke up from a coma, it’s a bit strange you could remember so fast.”

“Wait hold up…” He didn’t even thing about how long he would have been out, so he asked, “How long have I been out?”

“14 months, you’ve been unresponsive for pretty much all of that time, we’d tried so many things... we… well your family was ready to pull the plug.”

“Oh my god... Jaz! My fiancé? How is she?”

The nurse had a pained expression, “We... well it was a miracle you had survived. I’m sorry sir... we couldn’t save her.”

A pained sound came from his throat, he couldn’t form words. Everything that had happened, somehow, he knew, at the bottom his gut, the back of his soul. No. He was brought back, that meant that she could be brought back too. The nurse recognized his expression. “Sir I know it can be hard to lose someone you love, but I strongly advise you not do anything rash.”

The soft yet heavy feeling of sadness compressed into a hard-compacted ball of anger. He thought it best to hide that, he immediately changed his face. “I won’t ma’am. May I have more water?” As she turned to get the cup, he sat up and slid out of the bed and stood up and stretched, and, man did it feel good. She turned around with the cup and looked shocked. He saw the look on her face, “Uhh... you okay?”

“You... you shouldn’t be able to walk...”

He just looked at her. “Why not? Even with broken legs they’d have healed by now?”

“Your spine was damaged in the crash... You should be paralyzed. Waking up was one miracle, but I can’t see how you aren’t paralyzed.”

“Well since I’m not, can I take off all these bandages and go home?”

“Let me call your doctor first... something isn’t adding up”

He agreed and when she left, he walked to the mirror. He saw only himself, he didn’t know what he should expect. He huffed. It was probably a dream, the thing in the mirror. The silver candle, the room, and …it. He realized something as he recalled the moment when the beast placed its hand on him, the searing pain; A burn that bad wouldn’t have healed. He pulled the hospital gown away from his shoulder and saw a bandage. His heart raced as he pulled away it and a scar the shape of a hand. His breathing grew heavy as he brought up his own hand to the burn. the sizes matched as if he had seared himself. With his heart thudding against his ribcage, he breathed out, “Fuck.”

“Mr.…. Cotilla, is it? Yes, Jesse Cotilla.”

He whirled around and saw the doctor and the nurse standing at the door, “Uh yeah that’s me.”

“Sooo, I guess I should get right to the point here. In short: You should be dead or paralyzed.”

He huffed, “Gee thanks Doc, big boat of confidence.”

“Sorry about that, I’m a fairly straightforward person- “

“I can tell”

“-but with that also comes from the fact that against all odds you escaped paralysis and as you seem to have noticed, your wounds have healed without any evidence of scarring.”

The doctor narrowed his eyes slightly, an almost hungry glare in his eyes. Ugh, if he for whatever reason did get super powers or that stuff, this doctor was acting unnecessarily antagonistic.

“Look... Doc, I don’t know how the hell this happened or why, but if I’m all well and good, can I get out of here? Like yeah if you gotta do quick checkup I’m down obviously, but I just learned my Fiancée is dead so if you don’t mind I would like to get the hell out of here.” His voice progressively rose until he was nearly shouting at the end of the sentence, both staff members looking startled. He took a deep breath and said, “So is there anything else you need to do?”

“Well we need to do some paper work and yes a final checkup before we can check you out,” The doctor said, his pompous nature having returned.

After being checked out and got home, apparently his family had paid off his car, which he would pay them a visit and let them know that he wasn’t dead or any of that fun stuff. He got into his old and now even more beat up sedan, and on the dash in a black envelope had a somehow even more black envelope, which in (thank goodness) white text said:

               It seems you faired well in the hospital, I am a human agent of the Umbra group which you so gracefully joined, if you think this shabby vehicle would do you well as one of our ‘agents’ you are poorly mistaken, go to the address posted at the bottom of this envelope and tell them your first and last name, and you are ready for your pickup

                                                                                                           -T

Huh. This was either about to be really cool or really weird. He was about to back out of his apartment parking space when in his rearview mirror he saw his reflection but dressed in different clothes and otherwise different style. He was about to look down at himself to be sure he wasn’t just forgetting things when his reflection spoke in the same bone-chilling voice as his first dream. “So, you dealt with your first challenge accordingly”

He shivered and replied, “What challenge?”

“The doctor of course, my followers and I needed to be sure you weren’t too timid to deal with a slight push in the wrong direction.”

“How was he pushing in the wrong direction?”

“All will be revealed; your training has already begun. First get used to the connections between the physical world and my realm, then you will learn how to travel between dimensions, where our training begins.”

“Can’t you just like zap the training into me or something?”

“That would defeat the reason I chose you, you’re unique, strange even- “

“Gee thanks.”

“-but above all, you have the free will of an artist, which is not common with people who have as many physical benefits as you do. But enough conversation, go to the address, I’m certain they’ve picked out something you’ll like”

[apathetic-revenant]

Consider this ask as a request to get that rant on Roadside Attraction STARTED!

Hoo boy. 

Okay, first of all, I sincerely apologize for leaving this unanswered so long. Things…happened. 

Disclaimer: I haven’t watched Roadside Attraction in a while so I might be slightly misremembering some of it. (It’d probably be a good idea to rewatch it first, but honestly just writing all this has got me riled up enough already. (look emotions are hard okay)

Disclaimer 2: I critique because I love, I swear. 

So when it comes down to it, I guess my problems with RA basically boil down to two big things:

1. The overall ‘message’ and how it treats the characters.

2. The weirdness of it existing at that point in the show in the first place.

First things first: look, don’t get me wrong, I’m all for media messages about not being a skeevy jerk and treating women as objects, but the way it was done in this episode was, honestly, just…weird. It basically introduces a character trait for Dipper (and, to a lesser extent, Stan; I mean I know Stan is…Stan, but did anyone really get ‘sleazy pickup artist’ as the vibe from any of his interactions with women that we saw before this episode?) that he was never shown to remotely have before or after (though admittedly there’s not a lot of ‘after’ to begin with), just so he could be taught a lesson about it that he never should have needed in the first place. 

Dipper’s problem has always been that’s he’s obsessed with one girl, and he certainly got plenty of embarrassment and woe out of that general experience, but ultimately that was good for him: he loosened up (somewhat), became more understanding and accepting of Wendy’s autonomy, and moved towards being able to deal with rejection while still being friends with her. That’s a satisfying arc and it makes no sense to me that they would suddenly partway reverse it and then use that as a reason to try and take Dipper down this weird incredibly short character arc that he didn’t need.

Is it realistic that you don’t just immediately get over someone even if intellectually accept that you’re not going to be together? Absolutely. But frankly, this is a weirdass time for Gravity Falls to be invoking realism. And regardless, realism does not automatically make for a better story, especially when that story has to be told in 22 minute intervals.

So it’s already weird that the show is portraying Dipper that way, but then what he does is really not all that heinous to begin with. The thing is, Stan is right. Dipper does need practice talking to-well, everyone, really, but especially girls. For God’s sake, the poor guy needed a massively oversized list, a bunch of clones, and a Rube Goldberg-esque plot just to ask Wendy to dance with him, a task he ultimately failed at anyway. (Which, honestly, even aside from intent, makes the whole idea of him successfully managing to actually lead any girls on to any degree pretty dang unbelievable.) And that’s really all he does with any of them, is talk. He doesn’t promise them anything except maybe to stay in touch, which we don’t really have any evidence he wasn’t planning on doing. Hell, even Stan, for all that we’re supposed to see his behavior as Not Good (which, to be fair, it usually is) doesn’t really do anything more than flirt with an apparently receptive woman and then take a walk with her, which is honestly way more honorable than most of Stan’s interactions with people. We’ve certainly seen him treat people way worse than that without getting condemned for it.

And then there’s the whole thing with Candy, which is…really frustrating. She puts Dipper in a situation he’s very, very obviously not comfortable with, demands something of him he never gave her an indication that he was interested in, and then when she doesn’t get what she wants…he has to apologize to her? By ‘admitting’ that he was being an idiot? What? 

Like, I know they were going for ‘don’t be a pickup artist’, basically, but what it came off as was more like ‘never interact with women because if you do they’ll immediately start acting like you’re in a relationship with them and expect you to act the same way and sometimes they might do that even if you don’t interact with them (also sometimes they might turn out to be spider women who will eat you)’. 

Basically, any time you set out to give the message ‘treat women with respect’ and instead wind up with ‘women are strange, irrational and sometimes horrifying’, I think you’ve really got to step back and reconsider things for a minute. 

But what’s especially weird to me is the contrast between this and the way the show treats Mabel’s behavior. Mabel’s been spending pretty much the whole show doing what this episode punishes Dipper for doing. We see her hitting on three boys in rapid succession within the first ten minutes of the show, her desire for a relationship and rather aggressive pursuit of that is the formation of a lot of plots during the show, and she’s only called on it when it gets to the point of hurting her friendships or literally imprisoning boys in her room.

I mean, I’m not trying to pick on Mabel here, or say that the show should have been calling her on that except when it got extreme (like, say, literally imprisoning boys in her room), at which point the show did call her on it. But it’s weird to me that the show then goes out of its way to condemn Dipper for doing basically the same thing except to a lesser degree. I guess you could argue that Mabel was looking for a relationship and Dipper was looking for ‘practice’, but that still doesn’t really work for me; in both instances they have a goal in mind for which the specific other person involved is basically a variable. Why is Mabel wanting an Epic Summer Romance with more or less any boy worse than Dipper wanting to just talk to more or less any girl? And at any rate, Dipper’s attitude in RA hardly seems any worse towards the girls than the attitude Mabel, Grenda and Candy went into the Northwest party with towards the boys, but we’re supposed to take one as being terrible and the other as being perfectly normal girl behavior. 

So yeah, there’s that. Now, part two. (Still with me?)

The pacing. This episode makes absolutely no sense to me where it is. You spend 3/4s of the show building up to this big reveal that completely alters the atmosphere, plot, and character dynamics, and now you have all of five episodes to explore all the ramifications of that while ramping up the tension towards the big finale…why would you make one of those a filler episode that has no impact on the plot at all and is so disconnected to anything that it could have been stuck pretty much anywhere else in the show without next to no changes? 

Like, okay, I’ll admit, part of why I don’t like this episode is because it doesn’t have Ford in it. And hey, that’s a personal thing. But it’s not just about me wanting MOAR FORD. The thing is, regardless of whether you like him or loathe him or whatever, Ford is, objectively, an incredibly important character. He’s the catalyst for the central plot and driving mystery of the show and the principle catalyst for the oncoming confrontation, his appearance changes pretty much everything that we took for granted about the show before, and just by existing he has a huge impact directly on Stan and Dipper and indirectly on Mabel (in that his interactions with Dipper in turn impact Mabel’s relationship with him). And, again, you have five episodes to explore all this. In one of them Ford’s barely there at all and then in this one he doesn’t even get mentioned. We don’t even get an explanation for why he’s suddenly absent. (I know we do in the Journal, but not in the show itself.) I just…that doesn’t make any sense to me. I mean, maybe I’m showing favoritism here, but-no offense to Candy-I really don’t get why she gets more character focus in this episode than, y’know. The long-lost close family member with massive unresolved issues and a huge amount of secrets. 

And it doesn’t make any sense to me to have a light-hearted filler episode with nothing to do with the plot so very close to the finale when the tension is so high and the last episode literally ended with a very ominous threat. It certainly doesn’t make sense in plot terms that they spent so much time last episode working to protect the Shack so they had a sanctuary from Bill, and then everyone runs away from the Shack. I just. What.

And, this is a lesser point, but it doesn’t really make sense to me for them to leave Gravity Falls itself at that point in the show. Just, sure, we know weird stuff exists in plenty of other places, but there’s a lot of focus on there being something especially weird and significant about Gravity Falls specifically. And that’s something that gets really dialed up in this last part of the show-Ford specifically seeking the town out to study, the significance of the Mystery Shack and all its secrets, the connection Bill has to the area, the crashed UFO, and of course it all builds up to a big plot point in the finale that Bill’s confined to Gravity Falls. But then right smack in the middle of all that we briefly detour to some pretty much unrelated location for…what reason? It’s like MYSTERY OF GRAVITY FALLS MYSTERY OF GRAVITY FALLS MYSTERY OF GRAVITY FALLS oh by the way there’s some spider people over here too MYSTERY OF GRAVITY FALLS. It’s not a huge deal but it feels weird to me, especially since the show had hardly been going on so long that that they had worn out the setting. 

I know I’m committing the great sin of claiming to know better than the writers, but since we’ve come this far anyway, you know what I think would have worked better than Roadside Attraction?

You’ve already got this idea of the other tourist trap owners annually pranking Stan, so why not just go with that? Have them come to him like they apparently usually do. That way:

-You can keep the focus on Gravity Falls and all the plot points therein.

-You don’t have the problem of everyone inexplicably leaving their sanctuary; in fact, that adds to the plot, because now they have even more motivation to protect the Mystery Shack.

-You’ve got a lot of opportunity for character interplay as the family has to deal with all this (imagine the opportunity for conflict between Ford and Stan over the house, and how much you could build up the oncoming tension of Stan having to leave the Shack by showing how much he had really made it his home over the years).

-You can still hint at the existence of weirdness outside Gravity Falls without taking the focus away from it.

-You could expand on Stan’s past a little-because God knows we all wanted it-by referencing what was going on with him and these other rivals for all these years, and show a bit more about how the Shack actually operates as a tourist trap, which I, at least, would have liked to see.

-You could continue the ongoing character arc of Dipper’s relationship with Ford and how that was impacting his relationship with Mabel, instead of dropping it for something completely out of the blue.

-You could still have a bit of a breather episode before the finale (since that was evidently the reason we got this one here in the first place) without having to completely drop the plot and derail all the building tension to do so. 

-Tell me you wouldn’t want to see a full-scale Pines family prank war unleashed, because I sure as hell would. 

But anyway, in conclusion:

I don’t like Roadside Attraction much. 

[artificialqueens]

Stolen Kisses and Arguments (Sashea) - Emily

So this is a continuation of Art Museums and Insecurities for that sweet anon and for fun. In this one, Sasha is preoccupied by her work, Shea does something she regrets, they argue, and both reflect on old times. the style is a little bit different than the first installment, so I hope you like it!

Sasha and Shea had been together ever since that fateful day at the art museum, and they both loved every inch, every pound, every quirk, every flaw, every part of their respective girlfriend. Things had been going well, with fairly smooth sailing the whole way. Until now. “How can you say that it didn’t mean anything, Shea? If kissing someone didn’t mean anything to you then you wouldn’t have done it!” Sasha yelled, tears slipping from her lined eyes, effectively ruining her makeup. Sasha had been busy lately, that was true. She had managed to snag an art showing at a local gallery, and she couldn’t have been happier about that. Shea couldn’t have been happier for her. But Sasha was an artist at heart, she was the most passionate person Shea had ever met. She had become preoccupied with her work. She had always been like that, but at the beginning, Shea admired her tenacity and her drive.

“Sasha, baby? I brought us some food,” Shea called. Sasha turned her head without shifting her gaze from the canvas before her. “Thanks darling. Could you bring it in here?” she requested. Shea happily obliged, picking the bag of food up off the counter and carrying it into her live-in girlfriend. It was still crazy for her to think that. A few short months ago, Shea never thought she would end up with a woman. She had always liked women, but she had never seen herself falling for one as desperately and deeply as she had fallen for Sasha. Shea laughed when she saw her girlfriend sitting in front of her canvas. She was barely dressed, just a camisole and lacy underwear. She looked as perfect as ever with her blonde hair pulled into a sloppy bun. Paint streaked her face and hands and she scrunched up her nose every time she was unhappy with the way a line came out, every time a color didn’t quite go. “You have paint on your face,” Shea told her with a giggle. Sasha looked at her that time. “Do I?” she asked. Shea nodded. “How would you like to also have paint on your face?” Sasha asked flirtatiously. Shea smiled and walked slowly over to her, swinging her hips with each step. Sasha pulled her onto her lap and kissed her. Shea was surprised at how suddenly Sasha had gone from dedicated artist to passionate lover, but it certainly wasn’t unpleasant. Shea ran her hands underneath Sasha’s camisole, feeling the curvature of her small body as she held it to her own. Sasha began trailing kisses down Shea’s neck, pushing her top back as she moved onto her shoulder. She looked at Shea darkly. “Shall we retire to the bedroom?” she suggested. Shea smiled back at her. “We shall.”.

“How could you do that to me?” she asked. Shea was crying now too. “I know, I’m sorry, but as soon as it started I knew that I had to end it. I didn’t mean for any of it to happen, I was just drunk and lonely and this girl I know was flirting with me and-” “What girl?” Sasha interrupted. Shea looked up at her. “What?” “Who was this girl that you kissed? You said it was someone you know. Tell me,” Sasha demanded. Shea sighed, knowing that Sasha deserved that piece of information at least, but also knowing that Sasha’s artist’s passion could channel itself into anger.  

“Hey angel, what’s going on?” Sasha asked sweetly. Shea hesitated. “I, um… I have to tell you something.” she began. Confusion and concern both played across Sasha’s face before she decided not to assume the worst and plastered her bright smile back onto her face. “Okay. What is it? Is something wrong?” Sasha asked, doing her best to keep her nerves out of her voice. Shea looked guiltily at her feet. “I, uh… I know that you’ve been working on this piece for a long time, and it was really good, but-” “Um, sorry, it was really good? What happened to it?” Sasha asked. Shea picked it up from where she had leaned it against the couch next to her. “I sort of… spilled some coffee on it. It was an accident, I didn’t realize it was there- What are you doing?” Shea asked. Sasha had begun tugging on her blonde hair. Her eyes were squeezed shut tight. She opened her eyes to look at the damage, and untangled her hands from her hair to cover her mouth. It was ruined. “Oh my god, Shea… oh my god. Holy fuck. Fuck.” tears sprung to her eyes. “How could yo- oh my god. It’s ruined. It’s ruined. Fuck.” she repeated. She was shaking. “I wasn’t looking where I was walking and I just…” Shea tried to explain, but Sasha wouldn’t have it. “You weren’t looking where you were walking? How could you be so inconsiderate Shea? You KNOW how hard I’ve been working on that piece and for months, just for you to destroy it?” she spun around. “Sasha, I know, I’m sorry, I just-” “Don’t talk to me right now Shea. Just don’t. I don’t want to say something I’ll regret.” she walked into the bedroom and slammed the door.

“It was Alexis. She’s had a crush on me for a while but she’s never acted on it because I told her not to, but I was just really wasted, and you hadn’t spoken to me, really spoken to me, in weeks. You certainly didn’t have enough energy to be physical with me. I missed having someone…” she said. “No Shea. You still had someone then. You will miss having someone tomorrow.” Sasha cried, grabbing her purse and storming out of their apartment.

Shea had woken up before Sasha, the sunlight stinging her eyes. Not wanting to wake Sasha though, she didn’t dare move. She barely breathed. She just looked at Sasha in the light, pale as it was from behind the blinds. As pale as they both were. Sasha looked nearly the same color as the sheet in that lighting, but Shea knew that that was just her. Her hair was splayed out across the pillow, her lips shining where the light hit them. Shea stroked her face gently, careful not to disturb her. She looked so peaceful. Sasha was a terrible insomniac, she hardly ever slept, so when she did no one bothered her. Not that Shea was objecting to this. No, she was content to just  look at Sasha. She was living art, and Shea could look at her for the rest of her life and never care to look at anything else. Shea took a deep breath, sighing happily, when Sasha slowly but surely fluttered her eyelids open. Distressed, Shea’s face contorted into one of disappointment. “Oh no, did I wake you? I’m sorry baby,” she said. Sasha smiled. “No you didn’t wake me. And even if you had, you are the best thing to wake up to.” she placed a kiss on Shea’s smiling lips She ran her dainty fingers through Shea’s hair, brushing the dark locks away from her face. She stared at the beautiful woman she shared a bed with and felt like the luckiest woman in the whole world. She continued grazing her hand along Shea’s toned body, stopping at her waist. She rested her hand there and sat up. “Come on, love,” she said, extending her other hand to Shea, “I’ll make us breakfast.”.

Shea just stood there dumbly for a second. Did she just break up with me? she wondered. But before she be consumed with sadness about that prospect, another thought crossed her mind. She’s going to kill Alexis. She raced after her. “Sasha! Sasha!” she yelled. But she soon realized that her shouting was pointless. Sasha was sitting on the floor with her knees hugged to her chest, crying. “Oh, baby…” Shea said. She kneeled next to Sasha and placed a hand gently on her trembling frame. “I just love you so damn much Shea,” Sasha said between sobs. “I don’t know why you wouldn’t just talk to me if you felt-” she couldn’t finish her sentence. “I’m sorry I was busy, I was so excited abo-” “Hey, hey. This is not your fault. I was stupid and drunk and feeling unnecessarily sorry for myself. I love you Sasha. More than you could possibly imagine. More than I could even begin to articulate. If I could change it-” “I don’t want you to change it. I just want you to hold me right now.” Sasha said. Shea knew that that wasn’t something Sasha admitted lightly. She didn’t like to express her emotions so openly, so obviously. She poured them into abstract works of art where anyone could interpret them any way they pleased. Shea’s face softened and she wrapped Sasha up in her arms. Sasha leaned into her girlfriend, still sobbing, but more softly now. “I don’t really want to break up with you, just so that’s clear.” she said, her words muffled by Shea’s body. Shea laughed and Sasha laughed a little bit with her. “Well good. I don’t want to be broken up with. I don’t ever want to be without you Sasha Velour.”. Sasha smiled and lifted her head. Shea wiped the tears from her face and looked at her lovingly. “I don’t want to be without you either Shea Coulee. I never want to be without you either.”.

Fin.