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stonedregulus · 2 years

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September Reads

(Yes, I am very behind. My apologies.)

I read 12 books this month and 0 fics... Apparently I was in an Original Fiction mood. Oops! These are in the order I read them.

The Infinite Noise by Lauren Shippen

Summary:

Caleb Michaels is a sixteen-year-old champion running back. Other than that his life is pretty normal. But when Caleb starts experiencing mood swings that are out of the ordinary for even a teenager, his life moves beyond “typical.” Caleb is an Atypical, an individual with enhanced abilities. Which sounds pretty cool except Caleb's ability is extreme empathy—he feels the emotions of everyone around him. Being an empath in high school would be hard enough, but Caleb's life becomes even more complicated when he keeps getting pulled into the emotional orbit of one of his classmates, Adam. Adam's feelings are big and all-consuming, but they fit together with Caleb's feelings in a way that he can't quite understand. Caleb's therapist, Dr. Bright, encourages Caleb to explore this connection by befriending Adam. As he and Adam grow closer, Caleb learns more about his ability, himself, his therapist—who seems to know a lot more than she lets on—and just how dangerous being an Atypical can be.

Page Count: 352 Genre: YA My Rating: ★★★/5 My Review:

Okay, I had to work for this one. The plot was a bit slow—I feel like it didn’t start to pick up until around Chapter 20. I am also confused by and why the author decided to introduce new characters and start adding on a deeper plot with only a third of the book left. Those loose ends were not tied up at all so I’m hoping the author wraps it all up and answers questions in the 2nd and 3rd books. I think the story line was fine, and the it was written well. I related far too deeply to Adam. I love him and I just want to protect him from the world. LGBTQ+ rep, yay! TW: self-harm, depression, anxiety, homophobia, homophobic slur

Winter’s Orbit by Everina Maxwell

Summary:

While the Iskat Empire has long dominated the system through treaties and political alliances, several planets, including Thea, have begun to chafe under Iskat's rule. When tragedy befalls Imperial Prince Taam, his Thean widower, Jainan, is rushed into an arranged marriage with Taam's cousin, the disreputable Kiem, in a bid to keep the rising hostilities between the two worlds under control. But when it comes to light that Prince Taam's death may not have been an accident, and that Jainan himself may be a suspect, the unlikely pair must overcome their misgivings and learn to trust one another as they navigate the perils of the Iskat court, try to solve a murder, and prevent an interplanetary war... all while dealing with their growing feelings for each other.

Page Count: 432 Genre: Sci-Fi, Romance, Space Opera My Rating: ★★★★/5 My Review:

Court politics, galactic treaties, murder, & slow-burn romance. Its like RWRB meets Star Wars. I’ve actually never read a space opera before but I really enjoyed this! Also hello arranged marriage trope?! Yes gimme gimme.

The Gravity of Us by Phil Stamper

Summary:

As a successful social media journalist with half a million followers, seventeen-year-old Cal is used to sharing his life online. But when his pilot father is selected for a highly publicized NASA mission to Mars, Cal and his family relocate from Brooklyn to Houston and are thrust into a media circus. Amidst the chaos, Cal meets sensitive and mysterious Leon, another “Astrokid,” and finds himself falling head over heels—fast. As the frenzy around the mission grows, so does their connection. But when secrets about the program are uncovered, Cal must find a way to reveal the truth without hurting the people who have become most important to him.

Page Count: 336 Genre: YA My Rating: ★★★/5 My Review:

This was really cute. I felt like every character was relatable at some point which was nice but I had a hard time grabbing on to one specific character to make my blorbo. Idk if that makes sense but I normally like to kind of latch onto one character and instead I felt like I was just kind of floating between a few. The MC is a bit whiney but it’s a cute story! I just felt a bit disappointed with the ending. It kind of felt like ‘idk how to end this sooooo uhm, the end?’

The Darkness Outside Us by Eliot Schrefer

Summary:

Two boys, alone in space. After the first settler on Titan trips her distress signal, neither remaining country on Earth can afford to scramble a rescue of its own, and so two sworn enemies are installed in the same spaceship.

Ambrose wakes up on the Coordinated Endeavor, with no memory of a launch. There’s more that doesn’t add up: Evidence indicates strangers have been on board, the ship’s operating system is voiced by his mother, and his handsome, brooding shipmate has barricaded himself away. But nothing will stop Ambrose from making his mission succeed—not when he’s rescuing his own sister. In order to survive the ship’s secrets, Ambrose and Kodiak will need to work together and learn to trust one another… especially once they discover what they are truly up against. Love might be the only way to survive.

Page Count: 416 Genre: YA, Sci-Fi, Dystopian My Rating: ★★★★★/5 My Review:

This… This is going to be the book that I judge all books on for the rest of my life. Holy shit. No, really, holy shit. I don’t want to over-hype this but I cannot stress enough how good this was. You have got to read this. At first I was laughing because the humor was on point and then suddenly it turned into “Oh fucking shit, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?!” This book gave me an existential crisis. I just… wow. Okay? Just wow.

The Temperature of Me and You by Brian Zepka

Summary:

Sixteen-year-old Dylan Highmark thought his winter was going to be full of boring shifts at the Dairy Queen, until he finds himself in love with a boy who's literally too hot to handle. Dylan has always wanted a boyfriend, but the suburbs surrounding Philadelphia do not have a lot in the way of options. Then, in walks Jordan, a completely normal (and undeniably cute) boy who also happens to run at a cool 110 degrees Fahrenheit. When the boys start spending time together, Dylan begins feeling all kinds of ways, and when he spikes a fever for two weeks and is suddenly coughing flames, he thinks he might be suffering from something more than just a crush. Jordan forces Dylan to keep his symptoms a secret. But as the pressure mounts and Dylan becomes distant with his closest friends and family, he pushes Jordan for answers. Jordan's revelations of why he's like this, where he came from, and who's after him leaves Dylan realizing how much first love is truly out of this world. And if Earth supports life that breathes oxygen, then love can only keep Jordan and Dylan together for so long.

Page Count: 416 Genre: YA, Paranormal, Fantasy My Rating: ★★★/5 My Review:

This was good but… I dunno. It lacked a bit. Like the story line was fine but it just kind of felt like… Idk I felt like there could’ve been more. I wanted moreeeee.

Cemetery Boys by Aiden Thomas

Summary:

Yadriel has summoned a ghost, and now he can’t get rid of him. When his traditional Latinx family has problems accepting his gender, Yadriel becomes determined to prove himself a real brujo. With the help of his cousin and best friend Maritza, he performs the ritual himself, and then sets out to find the ghost of his murdered cousin and set it free. However, the ghost he summons is actually Julian Diaz, the school’s resident bad boy, and Julian is not about to go quietly into death. He’s determined to find out what happened and tie up some loose ends before he leaves. Left with no choice, Yadriel agrees to help Julian, so that they can both get what they want. But the longer Yadriel spends with Julian, the less he wants to let him leave.

Page Count: 352 Genre: YA, Paranormal, Fantasy My Rating: ★★★★★/5 My Review:

If you’re going to read only one book from this list, let it be this one. HOLY WOW. FANTASTIC TRANS REP!!! I felt so seen. I loved all of the characters and ughhhhh *feral cat noises clawing off own skin* It is SO GOOD. The story line is incredible. There’s just so much. I didn’t feel like there were any loose ends, everything made sense. I love Yadriel so much I would literally kill for him.

The Extraordinaries, Flash Fire, & Heat Wave by TJ Klune

Summary:

1) Nick Bell? Not extraordinary. But being the most popular fanfiction writer in the Extraordinaries fandom is a superpower, right? After a chance encounter with Shadow Star, Nova City’s mightiest hero (and Nick’s biggest crush), Nick sets out to make himself extraordinary. And he’ll do it with or without the reluctant help of Seth Gray, Nick's best friend (and maybe the love of his life). 2) Nick landed himself the superhero boyfriend of his dreams, but with new heroes arriving in Nova City it’s up to Nick and his friends to determine who is virtuous and who is villainous. Which is a lot to handle for a guy who just wants to finish his self-insert bakery AU fanfic. 3) Nick, Seth, Gibby, and Jazz are back in action bringing justice, protection, and disaster energy to the people of Nova City. An unexpected hero returns to Nova City and crash lands into Nick's home, upturning his life, his family, and his understanding of what it means to be a hero in the explosive finale of the thrilling and hilarious Extraordinaries trilogy by New York Times bestselling author TJ Klune.

Page Count: 400, 384, 384 Genre: YA, Fantasy My Rating: ★★★★/5 My Review:

The relationship between Nick and his dad is just *chef's kiss*. They're fucking hilarious. I laughed so hard through all three of these. Like constant laughter. I cannot even, so fucking FUNNNNNYYY. I love that the second two books really address the sort of weird cop hero worship of the first book and talked about the BLM movement in a great way. Overall a really cute superhero series with great LGBTQ rep.

What If It’s Us, & Here’s To Us by Becky Albertalli & Adam Silvera

Summary:

1) Arthur is only in New York for the summer, but if Broadway has taught him anything, it’s that the universe can deliver a showstopping romance when you least expect it. Ben thinks the universe needs to mind its business. If the universe had his back, he wouldn’t be on his way to the post office carrying a box of his ex-boyfriend’s things. But when Arthur and Ben meet-cute at the post office, what exactly does the universe have in store for them? Maybe nothing. After all, they get separated. Maybe everything. After all, they get reunited. But what if they can’t quite nail a first date . . . or a second first date . . . or a third? What if Arthur tries too hard to make it work . . . and Ben doesn’t try hard enough? What if life really isn’t like a Broadway play? But what if it is? 2) Ben has spent his first year of college working on his fantasy manuscript with his writing partner Mario, who is a great Spanish tutor, and an even better kisser. So why can’t he stop thinking about the fact that Arthur’s back in town two years after they called it quits? Arthur is in New York for a dream internship on Broadway, with a boyfriend back at home that he couldn't be happier with. But when he comes upon Ben cuddled up with a mystery boy, he starts to wonder if his feelings for Ben ever truly went away. Even as the boys try to focus on their futures, they can't seem to help running into each other in the present. Is the universe forcing them to question if they’re actually meant to be? Possibly not. After all, things didn’t work the first time around. Possibly yes. After all, the sparks are still flying. Sometimes you just have to take a leap of faith and raise a glass. Here’s to celebrating old friends! Here’s to embracing new beginnings! Here’s to believing in second chances!

Page Count: 480, 448 Genre: YA, Romantic Comedy My Rating: ★★★/5 My Review:

These are cute rom coms. The first one had A LOT of Harry Potter and JKR mentions but it was published right before she was outed as a TERF and the second one doesn’t mention HP at all so that’s good. Over all an easy read if you need something chill.

Ace of Spades by Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé

Summary:

An incendiary and utterly compelling thriller with a shocking twist that delves deep into the heart of institutionalized racism, from an exceptional new YA voice. Welcome to Niveus Private Academy, where money paves the hallways, and the students are never less than perfect. Until now. Because anonymous texter, Aces, is bringing two students' dark secrets to light. Talented musician Devon buries himself in rehearsals, but he can't escape the spotlight when his private photos go public. Head girl Chiamaka isn't afraid to get what she wants, but soon everyone will know the price she has paid for power. Someone is out to get them both. Someone who holds all the aces. And they're planning much more than a high-school game...

Page Count: 432 Genre: YA, Thriller, Mystery My Rating: ★★★★/5 My Review:

This is horrifying but depressingly plausible. I’ve seen so many reviews about how heavy handed this book is and how they didn’t like the “all white people are racist” theme. Guess what? All white people are racist. We have inherent racism, it’s been built into our minds for centuries and it’s our jobs to break down our internalized racism and work on being anti racist. Being anti racist is not a destination. It’s not enough to do a few anti racist things and mark off check boxes to say “I’m not racist.” It’s a journey that we will be on for as long as we live to continue breaking down all of the racist bullshit we’ve been fed throughout our lives. Two quotes from this book really stuck with me: “Growing up, I realized quite quickly that people hate being called racist more than they hate racism itself.” “I don’t trust white people like you do. I obviously don’t think they are all murderers, but I think they are all racist... racism is a spectrum and they all participate in it in some way. They don’t all have white hoods or call us mean things; I know that. But racism isn’t just about that—it’s not about being nice or mean. Or good versus bad. It’s bigger than that.” Most of the white people who are reviewing this book and giving it a bad rating will rant about how unfair and ridiculous it is to call all white people racist. Those reviewers are racist. Full stop. They’re so incredibly mad about being called racist instead of taking the time to evaluate themselves it’s insane, and sad, and they prove the book, which they’re so adamant about being wrong, right. Alright so now that I’m done ranting about stupid people: this book was excellent. So many twists, ones I saw coming and others I didn’t. It’s like Gossip Girl meets Get Out. Some moments are truly terrifying. It kept me on the edge of my seat the whole time. There were just a few things that didn’t get answered that I really wish the author would have addressed by the end of the book because I’m left questioning what happened. I let’s set up nicely for a sequel, I assume it’s getting one, but I doubt my questions will be answered by one.

DNF:

A Marvelous Light, Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe

#book recs #book recommendations #book review #monthly reads #monthly reading wrap up #september reads #the infinite noise #winter’s orbit #the gravity of us #the darkness outside us #the temperature of me and you #cemetery boys #the extraordinaries #flash fire #heat wave #what if its us #heres to us #ace of spades

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forensicated · 7 months

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This was a Live Episode to celebrate 50 years of ITV, airing on 22nd September 2005.

(Out of interest this is the first episode I've heard them refer to SO19 as CO19. It will be interesting to see if this continues in the episodes between 349 and the ones that would be filmed prior to this live episode in Sept 05. As a rough guess that would be the last few or so eps of this series and potentially the start of Series 22 so roughly Sun Hill Christmas onwards (373+)

(ETA: In Episode 359 they're 'armed support' by Jack and Smithy. Episode 360 Adam and Jo both refer to them as SO19 as do Amber and Dan in 361)

I know you don't need reminding but this is just for those at the back. Strap in, it's going to get complicated and LONG.

Smiffina Episodes - Episode 349

The Fake Gabriel (TFG) tries to talk Jeff down and Amanda keeps begging Jeff to tell her what it is he wants her to do. He tells her he wants to get outside with her. She asks what is outside but he doesn't reply as TFG fudges the situation which allows Amanda to get free during a struggle. Jeff shoots at TFG and misses him but gets the water dispenser. The Real Gabriel (TRG) checks on his brother and Amanda holds her hands up with the gun pointing at her.

Downstairs is full and loud with people arriving and milling around. Jack takes over in Reg's absence and welcomes the visitors. Gina feels all eyes on her. "Feel like I should have a paperbag over my head." She muses. "Ah you don't look that bad." Adam smiles. "Bit of make up..." Smithy watches Gina enter, obviously pleased to see her.

Upstairs Jeff tells Amanda to charge the driver who killed his son but she can't as there's no evidence. Zain and Jo return and interupt them as Jack sends Dan to look for Amanda. With too many hostages to keep contained in an open area, Jeff moves them all to the CID office where Dan enters to be taken hostage. In the chaos of Dan arriving, Amanda manages to radio in that there is an emergency - right as Jeff shoots at her, shattering a CID window.

Jack reassures the guests in the canteen downstairs that they'll checkout the noise and not to worry but to stay in the room. Smithy and Phil creep up the stairs to CID but can't get in as the door is baricaded. Jeff orders Terry onto his feet to tell them what's happening through the door. I shouldn't be amused by the shot of two disembodied heads peering through but I really am!

Phil and Smithy update Jack and Roger comes in from outside having overheard Jeff's name being mentioned. He tells them what happened the day before. Jack gives his orders whilst Jeff removes radios from all the officers (Zain, Terry, Jo, Prosser, TFG and Dan) He also has 3 civilian hostages including TRG who murmurs "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you organised this." to his brother. Dan whispers to the gathered officers that if they should try disarm Jeff. Zain and Jo both tell him no and to let the others do their job. Amanda says she doesn't know - then maybe.

Plans are afoot, the road is cordoned off, CO19 are on the way as are negotiators, the building opposite looks into CID and is being checked by June and Suzie, Sam is setting up a temporary CID and Sheelagh is trying to control the visitors. The natives are getting restless until Gina pushes her way to the front and orders them to remain calm and to do what they are told by officers who will get them safely out of the building.

Jeff has made contact and it's been put through to the incident room. He tells Jack he wants the driver of the car charged with murder. The gun is at his side and Amanda tells Dan to disarm him whilst Jo and Zain repeatedly tell him not to. Dan launches at him and tries to overpower him with Terry trying to help secure him once he realises what is happening. Zain and Jo shout for the other hostages to run and they all get outside other than Terry and Dan with TRG getting shot during the escape and falls over the balcony on to the floor below with his phone and wallet having fallen out. Dan gets shot in the arm during the struggle.

Amanda tells Jack he's in no position to pass judgement because he wasn't there. Terry is doing his best to patch Dan up. They can't get to TRG yet as Jeff hasn't moved from the landing. TFG challenges Jeff to shoot him, saying he can't just watch a man die. Jeff lets him pass and TFG hurries down to 'help', pocketing TRG's phone and wallet. Sam and Phil help him move him out of the line of immediate sight but Jeff won't let an ambulance approach so Terry suggests 2 paramedics and a stretcher and Jeff agrees.

Jo asks Adam who is in charge and he tells her Amanda. She scoffs and tells him it requires a cool head and not someone who would tell an unarmed PC to tackle a gunman. Sun Hill does not have faith in Amanda. Amanda also has no traction with Jeff either and there's no sign of the official negotiating team as they're coming from Richmond and it'll be at least another 45 minutes at the earliest. Amanda tries to refuse Gina being used as a trained negotiator!

Terry tries to take control of the situation whilst supporting Dan. He tries to get him onside and find out if he's ex military. He's looking for something and it doesn't appear to be the ambulance. Terry gets him to agree to getting a first aid kit out of his desk so he can patch Dan up. Terry gives Dan a nod and he screams out in pain, distracting Jeff so he can slip a listening device he had from the covert job he'd just finished under the desk whilst he gets the first aid kit out.

Sheelagh, Phil and Sam perform CPR on TRG, TFG tells them that he had no ID on him. Smithy gets the paramedics to the front office and tells them to just get him on the stretcher and not to hang around. Sheelagh follows them to the ambulance and TFG goes with them 'incase he comes round so they can find out who he is'. At the hospital TRG has had a cardiac arrest. Sheelagh has to drag him away, telling him that he's not even concious so he can't talk to him!

Dan and Terry continue talking to Jeff and find out that the mother knows but she's on holiday and trying to get back to the country. Jeff 'wants this sorting' before she returns. Sam report that Jeff is ex military and finished a tour of Iraq just after Christmas where it's likely he got the gun from. He was looking after his son at the time of his death and he feels the guilt immensely as well as the total injustice of Ashley Morgan, the driver, not 'being punished'. Jo tells them that his ex wife was due back via Heathrow at 6.30pm and Jack sends a car to her house to collect her if she is home. "Ma'am that was CAD-" Jo starts to say after another call, speaking to Gina rather than Amanda who is just staring into space. Gina has to point at Amanda to get Jo to tell her instead. She tells her CO19 have arrived but Amanda is clearly affected and not all there. ".... Ma'am?"

Dan is suffering and needs medical attention. Jeff will only allow him to move to a chair whilst he goes out to check on the balcony. With that distraction, Terry manages to put in an earpiece. Gina manages to make contact but all Jeff will tell her is time is running out but won't clarrify what or why. Gina tells him the investigation is still ongoing and open - but he tells her that's not what Amanda told him. He orders her to deal with Ashley Morgan or he will. Sun Hill have no idea how or what he means and can't call back as he's disposed of all telephones. Adam's taking charge and suggesting lines of action. Amanda is completely silent and frazzled and has no idea what to do.

Terry asks what Jeff will do if his wife wants to talk to him now he's thrown all the phones out the window. He insists that she won't. He asks if Terry is married and if he has kids, he says he does and that he doesn't see them anymore because of the messy break up. Jeff tells him he should be ashamed of himself. Gina quietly asks Terry if he can hear her and he whispers 'yeah' before speaking to Jeff again, summing up the situation in a subtle way that tells Gina and those in the incident room what is happening/has happened.

Roger calls the station from Ashley's house - there's been a break in, the boy isn't there and his parents don't know where he is. They assume that Jeff has taken him but they don't know where he could be holding him. Adam actions a search of Jeff's house. He's not there.

Terry acknowledges they might all die in CID and wants to know why if it came to that. CO19 have a clear line of sight from the opposite building and can take the shot whilst Jeff is ranting on the balcony about time running out. Amanda says to those in the room that he should take the shot if he has it but then when it comes down to it she can't do it, she dithers and tells them she doesn't know. If they take the shot they might not find Ashley. If they don't then Terry and Dan might be killed. She dithers further and then replies no to CO19 and tells Adam that she has no authority and no experience and can't deal and asks him to take over officially. She says she's spoken to the Borough Commander and Ian agrees - it's Adam's station and he should be running it she tells him, handing over her radio.

Jeff scoffs at the lack of action, telling Terry that noone is listening still. Terry calmly tells him that's because he's been ranting and there's been no negotiation. He has to make a gesture and should let Dan go get help for his arm and keep Terry as a hostage.

TRG is hooked up to lots of machines but alive. Sheelagh goes to get TFG a drink and he takes the opportunity to stand menacingly over his brother and threaten him. "Are you alright?" She asks. "I am now."

There's no sign of Jeff's car at the house so he must have moved it somewhere else so Ashley couldn't be found, assuming he's being held in it. They circulate the registration and head to CID where Dan is being allowed out so he can get into an ambulance. Jeff gets Terry to lock the doors again and block the door. Terry asks Jeff why he's come to Sun Hill and not looking for Ashley. Jeff starts to get suspicious, especially as he keeps returning to the same seat. He tells him it's simply just because it's his desk. Jeff threatens him and tells him to remove whatever listening device he's got activated because he knows there must be one from the questions. He has no choice but to show it. Terry is now forced onto his knees with his arms behind his back, tied with a wire. In the yard Smithy has arrived with Jeff's ex wife. Sam and the rest of CID work out that the balcony of CID looks out over Shipley St so it's likely that's where the car is. And Suzi spots it.

Outside, the mother of the boy who was killed and the father of the missing driver share a very awkward but understanding sad smile. She tells Smithy she doesn't know why Jeff would do this because they're not together anymore. Sam, Zain and Phil are trying to work out how to get to the street without being seen... Sam suggests using armed officers but Phil and Zain take the keys to one of the cars outside and take that instead. They speed out of the yard with Jeff shooting after them, shooting the back window in. They crash into roadworks after losing control of the car (Amusingly the big cheer that went up after the car failed to do the stunt 100% (it started to roll but regained all four wheels) has been edited out of the credits running into the break in the DVD release). Zain and Phil fight their way out of the car and without Jeff at the balcony they have a look at the car.

Jeff thinks that CO19 are coming so loads up on more ammo, stalking the room like a soldier. Terry works on him, starting to play on Jeff's guilt for having taken his eyes off Jake which allowed him outside in the first place He'd shouted at Jake who hated being in trouble. He started crying and Jeff hit him in the heat of the moment, causing him to run out into the street which meant he got hit by the car. In the mean time Zain and Phil are trying to break into the boot to get to Ashley.

He admits that if Amanda had refused to do what he wanted, he was going to commit suicide in the car with Ashley - the car being wired up to explode. That is why the time is running out. Terry gets him to give himself up and he agrees to on his terms. He leads him out, shouting that he wants to talk to his wife. Adam tries to get him to put the gun down and Terry shouts to put the gun down and back away to let him do it because his car will explode if they waste time. Terry begs them to listen to him that he's not going to shoot him despite having him held hostage. Jeff wants to tell his wife that he's sorry and he loves her.

Suzie and June run to them to tell them the car might be wired at the same time they get the boot open. They grab Ashley and RUN as the car explodes behind them. They hear the explosion in the station but Phil radios in that everyone is ok.

Jeff walks Terry outside with Terry begging him to give himself up. Jeff doesn't want to survive with the guilt and without his son though and he whispers to Terry to go and he won't shoot him and that he should go see his kids. He lets go of Terry and pushes him away but aims his gun at him so a CO19 officer can shoot him - suicide by armed police officer.

Gina has to comfort Terry and literally haul him away with Smithy, before Smithy drops to put Jeff in the recovery position but it's too late - Jeff is dead.

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whitepolaris · 7 months

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The Pinewoods Scratcher

by Evan De Georgio

Pinewoods Cemetery is located in Brunswicks, New York, a small town east of Troy that's less than an hour's drive from my hometown of Clifton Park. Its real name is Forest Park Cemetery, but most people who live in the Albany/Troy/Schenectady area call it Pinewoods after a road that runs alongside it. I had heard all the stories about the cemetery long before I visited it, but nothing prepared me for what happened when I went there with a group of friends.

It was a Saturday night, and my friends and I were looking for a thrill-and thought Pinewoods might be the place to find it. So we drove to the cemetery and parked on the road outside the entrance. We were all a little apprehensive, but that didn't keep us from walking right in.

As soon as we entered, we heard strange sounds that could have been voices. But we kept walking. I held the flashlight as we ventered toward the remainsd of a large mausoluem in the middle of the cemetery.

When we stopped in front of the mausoleum, we we heard something moving near the spot where my friend Jay was standing. The flashlight showed it to be a tree, its branches creaking and cracking as if someone were climbing it. But no one was. Nor was there any wind that night to rustle the branches.

We just stood there, too scared to move on. Finally Jay said, "Okay, who here has guts?" He then began to walk toward the path that leads to some headless statues in a different part of the cemetery, and my younger brother Adam and his friend Troy started to follow him.

Just as they struck off, we heard a loud sound from the mausoleum. Jay, Adam, and Troy doubled back to join those of us who'd stayed behind. Even with the flashlight on high beam, I couldn't see what it was; but it sounded like it was coming towards us. Jay came up next to me and said, "Whatever it is, it's right there in those trees."

Unexplained Gashes

The flashlight must have been casting some light on my face, because Nicole pointed towards me and told my fiancée, Candi, to look.

Candi turned and said, "Oh my God."

Then the rest of the group looked at me and started shouting that my face was bleeding. In fact, it did burn a little, and I ran towards the road and our cars. Everyone else followed, still screaming.

When I got to the car, I felt like I was about to throw up. Someone shined the flashlight on my face again, and everyone got even more upset. We jumped into our cars and peeled out. As we drove away, I took a quick look at myself in the rearview mirror and was shocked to see two bloody gashes on my left cheek.

To calm down, we headed to a nearby bar. There we met two strangers, Dennis and Phil. They asked about the scratches on my face but were skeptical when we told them what happened. They said they were familiar enough with the cemetery to know that the route we'd taken had no low-lying trees or branches that could have gashed me. So, foolishly or not, we all went back to the cemetery to investigate further.

The eight of us walked close together as we entered. I didn't hold the flashlight this time, thinking maybe that was the reason I'd gotten scratched. I also put the hood sweatshirt up to protect my face.

We walked closer to the mausoleum than we had before and began to hear the same strange noises. Dennis, who was holding the flashlight, said he saw eyes up ahead. My brother Adam saw them too, once Dennis pointed them out.

Barely five minutes had passed when Troy looked at my face and very calmly said, "Evan, let's go back to the road now." Then, when everyone looked at me, they took off running.

Thinking Troy had to roped the others into playing a joke on me, I wanted to punch him, But as soon as we got to the road, a girl pulled a small mirror out of her purse and someone shined the flashlight on my face. What I saw were five new scratches-this time, on my right cheek. Two of the scratches were in the shape of an "X." I felt like crying as we started back towards the cars.

As we drove home to Clifton Park, Troy said that he had been watching my face as best he could for the whole time we'd been there. He saw blood forming on my face, he said, but not anything that could have scratched it. And just like the first time, I felt nothing when it happened.

But that's not all that happened that night. The whole way back home, the lights inside the car went on and off, over and over again. I said out loud to whatever I hoped was responsible, "I'm sorry we went to the cemetery and bothered you. Can you please leave us alone?" After I spoke, the lights stayed on, but we couldn't get them to turn off until miles later.

The scars from the scratches on my face are still visible today. Whenever anyone asks me what happened. I just say I got into a fight. And why not? No one would believe if I told them the truth.

#weird ghosts #type read

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no-idea-what-imdoing · 2 years

Text

Stories from the school I went to for 7-12th grade bc I can do this now bc I no longer go there also these are not in chronological order just the order I remembered them

Head custodian running people over on the gator (this has actually happened more than once. No, no one has died) (8th grade??? I think, the girl was leaving the library and got ran over)

No one ever able to give blood bc half the school is anemic

A paralyzed Canadian skater lecturing a room full of Florida teens about car safety

The entire cafeteria singing ‘big green tractor’ when they were doing a fundraiser that involved playing music this was a while ago I barely remember it

The entire gym singing party in the USA at a pep rally the day before the world changed (March 13 2020)

Dubbing our school resource officer ‘Deputy Donut’

(Story behind that: in a fundraiser for cheerleading they weren’t getting any donut sales so he said he’d sing and tell bad jokes until someone bought donuts while we were at lunch (someone bought donuts and we were freed)

All the farm animals getting loose and a cow winding up in the bus loop

A dude jumping the fence into the school, stealing drinks from the cafeteria and taking a shit on a storm drain (no one was at school at this time it was at night)

Teacher unbuttoning shirt to show chest scar from a fall to students

Same teacher always whispering in girls ears he can see their back if they’re shirt is a little short

Debate on if Thanos was in the right or wrong in class council (there was some Thanos defense also this was like 2018/19 so between infinity war and endgame)

Bullying kids that annoyed everyone into transferring (this happened three times)

A teacher claiming they’re moving to Hawaii because they hate America

Same teacher claiming they were bullied into quitting by other teachers bc they had tattoos

Same teacher making us write an essay on what we would do in a zombie apocalypse and one of the groups you could be in was cannibals

Different teacher not knowing who Phil Swift was when we mentioned him and putting on a flex tape ad

Assignment to make a cruise ship relating to Greek mythology or something(it’s been awhile ok), my group deciding to be edgy freshman are like let’s make it a murder cruise and make the number the suicide prevention hotline I look up the suicide prevention hotline on my school computer and get called to the office the next period

Spanish teacher goes on maternity leave, we stop doing work and start only playing uno, mafia, and other card games

Playing cards against humanity in math and the weird writing class we had

Someone dumps hand sanitizer into a coke can someone drinks it realizes it’s not coke continues to drink it thinking it’s vodka or somth (this kid is the only one in our class to go to the military which makes sense bc he’s an idiot)

Teaching a teacher how to catch the woah

Chemistry sub going on a rant on how android is better than Apple and Apple is evil bc bite out of Apple for logo = Adam and Eve story plus teacher having a Apple thing with a rainbow on it means Apple is the antichrist/devil

Another sub who’s dad was a teacher at the school telling us how to get into certain bars in the nearby college town while underage

Teacher (that subs father) trying to get a girl to call him on her cell phone to ‘test his new ringer’ (there was a wired phone in the room)

Same teacher getting his phone and laptop hidden by a student and us being banned from being in the classroom during his fifteen minute bathroom break between classes

Same teacher leaving random wet spots and having odd noises coming out his computer

Same teacher making us do a christoper Columbus play we never actually put on for THREE MONTHS (I was sailor 1)

-The costume for that play had the ‘indians’ (what they were referred to as in the play) in coconut shell bikinis

#random #high school #gen z #I found this in my drafts #it’s kinda old atp #I’m not even in high school anymore #but here’s this

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plentyoffandoms · 2 years

Text

Need You (Part 22) (18+)

Lee Bodecker x f/Reader

WARNINGS: This is smut. If you are under the age of 18, please do NOT read this. Swearing. Unprotected sex (always remember to use protection). Ddlg, step-father/step-daughter. Reader is legal age. Kidnapping, descriptive assault.

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Gifs & photos do not belong to me.

No smut in this chapter.

Main Masterlist ♡ The Devil All the Time Masterlist ♡ Lee Bodecker Masterlist ♡ Need You Masterlist

Summary: F/Reader is the step-daughter of Lee, who has taken care of her ever since her mother walked out on them. The two of them have always been able to keep the sexual tension at bay until one night.

Lee Bodecker's POV:

I kept my composer as best as I could as I watched Leroy smack YN across the face. YN fell to the ground and my heart was beating so fast I thought it would beat right out of my chest.

He must of got her good because YN wasn't moving and I was silently begging for her to move. To show that she is still here.

I heard my girl groan and move slightly and I knew I couldn't let this go on anymore.

"Nancy enough of this!" I told her.

"Adam blackmailed YN and I. He threatened her into dating him." I informed her.

Nancy was shaking her head at me but I continued.

"He was going to expose us to the town before we were ready."

"And he had to die?" She questioned.

"He was harassing YN and stalking her. I gave him plenty of warnings to back off." I told her. I badly wanted to reach for my gun and shoot her between her eyes.

But that won't be me doing it.

"Come now Nancy, we can be reasonable adults here. If you are looking for compensation, I have the money to give you."

"I don't want your money you dumbass! I want you to suffer like I have been for months." Nancy screeched at me.

"Waiting for the perfect moment to get to her. To get the photos to you. All I needed was one person on the inside and Leroy was perfect." I listened as Nancy talked.

I would say poor Leroy because you can clearly see how in love he is with her and would do anything for her.

And Nancy just used him. Oh well, not my problem. He was the dumbfuck who decided to trust her.

"Look Nancy I get maybe I shouldn't have shot him. Maybe I shouldn't have fucked YN in front of him. Maybe I should of let her play with his emotions just like you did to so many people."

It is now time to give my signal. I wasn't far from my car and I leaned against the hood.

"Maybe, just maybe I should of kept him alive and sent him on home to you so you two could have your incest babies together." I slammed my fist on the trunk at that point.

Nancy thinking it is me just being frustrated, but before the two fucks knew what the hell was happening, my men came out of the hiding spots.

Oliver sprung out of the trunk and Leroy and Nancy were tackled to the ground and tied up.

They were being taken to Phil's house. He doesn't live close to anyone and we are going to keep them in his basement until it is time to deal with them.

But as they were dealing with them, I gently picked up my wife and held her against my chest.

Oliver helped me get her into my car and my heart was breaking at the painful moans and groans coming from her.

YN was trying to stay awake as she knew it wasn't good for her to go to sleep but she was losing the battle.

"Almost there darlin'. Almost to the hospital and you will get help. Then you can see the boys. They are missin' their Momma." I said to her, driving even faster now.

"Ray....Don..."

"Yes baby, Ray and Don, our boys."

"Come on baby. Stay awake. Stay awake for us. We need you. I need you. I can't do this without you. I love you." I practically screamed at her.

"Love you." Was the last thing that came out of her mouth before she fully passed out.

YN's POV:

I woke up with a pounding headache, in a very bright room. My eyes could barely open and my throat was dry and sore.

I went to sit up but my ribs felt like they were hurting and I leaned back once more onto the bed, which I noticed right away that it wasn't my bed.

I heard the beeping and the smells were strong. I looked around the hospital room and it all came crashing down on to me.

Nancy and Leroy kidnapping me. The abuse that they did to me. Them threatening my family over and over again. The punches to the face and stomach.

The door suddenly opened up and a nurse came in. "Mrs. Bodecker, you are awake. Let me just check your vitals and I will call the Doctor in."

She did just that and then not a moment after she left the room, a Doctor came in.

They too checked me over and they explained to me what my injuries were. There was only three people I was thinking about.

"I had the receptionist call your husband and they will be here soon."

"They Doctor?" I asked.

"Your children." Oh thank goodness they are okay.

I didn't have to wait long as Lee came rushing in with our boys, who both squealed with happiness at seeing me.

I had tears streaming down my face as I saw my family safe.

Lee held the boys within reach of me and I kissed both of their cheeks and just cried at the fact that no harm seemed to have come to them.

Lee had tears in his eyes as he looked at the three of us. He put the boys back in their stroller and he leaned down and kissed me.

Muttering how scared he was. Muttering how much he loves me.

"I am okay baby." I said trying to soothe him.

"I know darlin', I know." He said as he wiped his eyes to get rid of the tears.

"When will I get to go home?"

"In a few days. The Doctor wants to keep you here to make sure you are okay."

"And what happened to them?"

"YN this isn't the time to discuss this."

"Lee I have the right to know."

"Phil's house." Makes sense. Perfect place to keep them.

"Are they...?" I trailed off, him knowing what I am meaning.

"Alive yes. Wanted you to do it." My husband knows me and how kind of him to actually let me be the one to put a bullet in her head.

Lee and our sons stayed until I was fighting to stay awake. I didn't want them to leave but when Lee told me he would be back tomorrow, that I can finally rest, I did.

But I didn't sleep well. Not with the nurses coming in and checking on me. I know they are just doing their job but it was irritating.

♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡

It is time for me to finally go home. Lee brought me a change of clothes and helped me dress as my ribs were still sore.

We said thank you to the hospital staff and I made a mental note to donate a huge sum of money during the holidays for everything they did for me.

"Where are the boys?" I asked Lee as we finally left the hospital parking lot.

"They are with Linda. She has been takin' care of them whenever they are not with me."

"We need to do something for her and her husband as a thank you."

"I agree darlin'."

Lee was taking us to pick up our sons but I have a better idea.

"I want to go to Phils."

"Why not wait a couple of days?" Lee asked.

"Why? They may escape. They have lived long enough. They threatened our family and with what they did to me, they deseve to die and since Linda has the boys, this is the perfect opportunity because once I am home, I am not living in fear anymore. I will not be looking over my shoulder wondering if they got out while you are all at work."

Lee was thinking on it. He was thinking about what I said.

He pulled into someone's driveway to turn around. I knew where we were going now.

On our way to Phil's place.

Leroy and Nancy have no idea what is coming.

Part 21 / Part 23

Tag List: if you would like to be added, please let me know. @kitty1960 @red-rose-21 @adaydreamaway08 @charmed-asylum @thegirlnextdoorssister @thehuntresswolf @rebeccapineapple @hernameisnoellex3 @avengershoney

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dr3amofagame · 3 years

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Dream tried to stop Wil from creating L'Manburg, Phil tried to stop him from blowing it up, BOTH value people over items and builds, Phil has said that they're replaceable but people aren't, Dream traded spirit for his best friends fishes (we kno he's not someone to talk abt feelings:[) BOTH were kind and selfless but used by almost if not everyone, BOTH were ready to be THE VILLAINS if it meant everyone else could live better after. ONE of them always had someone there, ONE didn't. Intentional?

aaaa sorry for the really inconsistent posts ,, im gonna try to post a little more in the next few days. i have a few things written up, so look out for them? maybe? for now, have this *gestures vaguely* thing ,, it’s kinda a mess but *shrug*

phil is such a fun character, anon, especially for all the reasons that you mentioned in the ask!! he’s a really fun character with a lot of complexities that go (sadly) overlooked by a large portion of the fandom, but he’s super cool even tho i havent analyzed him too much. hope you enjoy (and i hope my interpretation of c!phil isnt too ooc lmao)

tw: mentioned blood, injury, implied torture/abuse, starvation, trauma, mentioned death, prison arc/pandora’s vault

When Techno first brings Dream back from the prison, Phil doesn’t quite know what to think.

“I don’t trust him either,” Techno assures him, but there’s a flickering anger in the backs of his eyes, one that had emerged ever since he came back from the prison with the other man in his arms, and Phil knows his friend well enough to know that the words are empty in the face of the piglin hybrid’s particular brand of to-the-death loyalty. He shakes his head in reply, refusing to voice his thoughts for Techno’s sake, at least, but the look that the other slants at him suggests that he’s caught onto them all the same.

At first, the work is thankfully mindless; even if Phil has reservations on the man that Techno has more or less dumped into his house, he would hardly wish the clear suffering he’s been through on anyone. The first few days pass in a flurry of brewing potions, wrapping and rewrapping dressings, stitching up cuts and setting broken bones straight. The damage is extensive; Phil has to take more than a few breaks to just leave the house and breathe - he’s far from a stranger to blood and carnage, had received the title of ‘Angel of Death’ for a reason, but even he had never been particularly familiar with this form of cruelty. Torture was a level of violence that extended beyond what even he was willing to bestow - his hands may have caused many deaths, and the weight of each one would continue to haunt him for the rest of his life, but even those had the mercy of being a quick end. The wounds and scars that ripple over Dream’s skin, thin and stretched tightly over his bones with little muscle and fat left to cushion them, speak of horrors that were anything but merciful.

“I didn’t know they were capable of all of this,” Techno says, once, as they huddle of Dream, wringing towels in cold water to wipe his feverish skin. Techno’s hand reaches for the ribboning gold-filled scars that remain from the execution - carefully, Phil raises his hand to let his fingertips brush over them as well. “I mean, I knew he was dangerous and all, but-”

“I know, mate,” Phil looks back at Dream’s face, tight even in unconsciousness, at the darkened, hand-shaped bruises that remain around his throat, at the scar that runs over his left eye, clearly meant to mirror the same one that makes its way down the duck hybrid’s own face. “You said that Quackity and Sam were working together?”

“Yeah,” Techno’s expression darkens, eyes focused somewhere on the wall, seemingly very far away. He said that nothing happened to him in the prison, and he seemed relatively unharmed when Phil activated the stasis chamber, but ever since he came back, sometimes he’ll have moments, and Phil can’t help but - wonder. “Quackity does the dirty work, Sam gives him the way in and out, probably also the tools to do it. It’s-” he huffs a short, self-recriminating laugh. “It’s bad, Phil.”

“Mate-”

Techno shoots him a look, and Phil cringes, knowing already that he’d used the wrong tone. Even with the execution, Techno had been adamant to hide all traces of his own terror and fear away from him, masking it all with fury for Phil’s own sake. He knows, just from the way his old friend looks at the ribboning scars that remain sometimes, that he is far from as over the whole ordeal as he acts, but Techno never wants to talk and Phil never knows the right time to ask and they smooth it all behind plans and explosions and hope that the TNT can blow apart the trauma, too. He’s got a sneaking suspicion that the same thing is going to happen, here.

“As soon as we can,” Techno starts again, pointedly shifting his eyes away from Phil’s face, “we’re calling a Syndicate meeting to figure out what we’re going to do about the prison. Like- come on, man, you couldn’t make a more transparent abuse of institutional power if you tried, really-” he looks over, uncharacteristic uncertainty warring over his features. “If you think that’s good, I mean-“

“Of course, mate.” Phil’s voice softens. “Whenever you’re ready.”

��Whenever he’s ready,’ as it turns out, is easier said than done, becoming even more evident when their charge wakes up from his days long spell of unconsciousness. The worst of his injuries have, under their careful care and the benefit of many potions, healed enough to no longer directly threaten his life, but the vast majority have quite some time to go before being healed completely. Being as the goal was torture and not death, most of his injuries weren’t made to be life-threatening, but rather to cause as much pain as possible - from the grimace that twists Dream’s face when he struggles to force himself awake, they’re doing their jobs.

“Hey, mate, slow down,” Phil murmurs, pressing the man down by his shoulder when Dream weakly tries to push himself up and off the bed, and his struggling only lasts for a few more minutes before he gives up and slumps against his pillow, eyes cracking open and seeming surprisingly lucid.

“Where-“ his voice is wrecked, and Phil reaches for the glass of water at the bedside as Dream coughs. “Where am I?”

“You’re at Techno’s house,” Dream’s eyes widen and then slip closed as he processes the information, a wrinkle forming between his eyebrows as they knit together. “We broke you out, after Techno escaped with a stasis chamber with your book. Do you remember?”

Dream gnaws on his bottom lip. “Um- yeah. I think.” His head turns as his eyes crack open again- “Techno-“

“He’s out, right now. He’ll be back in a bit.”

“Oh.” Dream falls back into the bed, strength seemingly sapped from the short conversation. His breathing stutters, then steadies. “Okay.”

Recovery is slow. Phil doesn’t actually find himself seeing the man very often; now that he doesn’t need around-the-clock care anymore, he’s moved back into his own house, letting Techno do most of the work when it comes to rehabilitating the escaped convict crashing at his house. As he begins to spend more of his time awake and aware, he brings a whole slew of new problems; Phil catches him screaming one day, blurting harsh, angry words as Techno reads, unbothered from the other side of the room, and he stops in his tracks standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“Um-“ he winces when Dream curses, smashes something against the floor, and then curls into himself at the sound. Techno doesn’t even flinch. “Am I interrupting something?”

Dream stomps away, face flushed, arms wrapped around himself. Techno raises an eyebrow.

“You lookin’ for something, Phil?” he asks, and the unpleasant knot in Phil’s chest refuses to unwind.

The episodes, unfortunately, don’t seem to get much better. Though he’s rarely outright violent, Dream looks constantly murderous, usually muttering underneath his breath about something or another while he stalks the grounds of Techno’s house. It’s not too long before Techno sends him out to work around the house instead of just moping within the cottage, which also means that Phil sees him a lot more - tending to a small farm behind the house, feeding the dogs, hacking away at mobs, and usually complaining the entire time. It’s unnerving, even as injured and unarmored as the man is, to see him walking around like this; despite his rather pathetic appearance, swamped in sweaters that dwarf him thoroughly and thin enough to look like the slightest breeze will knock him over, his eyes are flinty and intelligent and bubble with promises of revenge.

“FUCK!” Phil turns to see him slamming a shovel into the snow, stomping away into the woods, and his hands tighten around his cup of tea. Next to him, Techno shrugs.

“Nerd’s got a few issues,” he drawls, and Phil laughs shortly.

“That seems like an understatement.”

“He’ll ease up in time,” Techno sounds surprisingly confident, completely content despite the muffled curses that come from the woods next to them. He’s probably used to it, with Chat and all, but Phil can’t quite seem to find the same calm.

“I just don’t know, mate,” Phil shakes his head. “You sure having him around is the best idea? He doesn’t seem...stable.”

Techno looks up at him over the rim of his cup of coffee. His head tilts, considering, but there’s a small smile on his face that tells Phil that Techno, inexplicably, doesn’t share the same sentiments. There was always a part of him that was, for the lack of a better word, softer than the rest of the server for his self-proclaimed rival, a sort of understanding that Phil could hardly hope (nor would really want to) understand.

“Don’t worry, Phil, if he tries anything I can always just tie him up in the attic or something,” Phil huffs a small laugh, amused, and nods to concede the point. “And- well, call it intuition. You could really try talkin’ to him, you know. He reminds me of you, sometimes.”

The words stick in his head despite his best efforts, rattling in his skull when he tries to sleep, lingering when he catches glimpses of the green-clothed man stalking around their properties. He can’t imagine what would’ve prompted his old friend to make the comparison, can’t think of a single thing (besides their affinity for the color green) that would mark him as similar to the - from what he’s heard - deranged menace with a particular penchant for destruction (not that his rants and fits of anger are doing anything to correct that impression). Even so, Techno had sounded so sure when he’d made the comparison, the words offhand like he’d thought them a million times before, like it was a simple observation that held no more weight than commenting on the color of the sky. Phil watches as Dream lugs a pile of logs behind him, huffing at one of Techno’s dogs that comes to chase and nip at his feet and grumbling loudly before faceplanting into the snow. He just...can’t see it.

Days later, Wilbur comes to visit, a grin on his lips as he dramatically recounts his newest exploit: a nation by Las Nevadas, a supposed safe haven away from the glitter and glory of Quackity’s city; it sounds brilliant, it sounds lovely, and more than anything it sounds stupid, and Phil tells him as such immediately.

“You’re being reckless,” he rants at his son, wings flaring outwards and only barely noticing Dream watching from the corner of his eye, “What are you doing- picking fights with Quackity? Starting another nation- didn’t you see what happened to the first two you made? You’re going to get yourself killed, Wil!”

“Well, I’ve already seen what’s on the other side of death, and it’s really not that bad-“

“You’re my son!” The words are angrier than Phil would’ve liked, and he knows that he looks ridiculous and overbearing, criticizing the actions of his fully grown son, but all he can see is Wilbur’s face, slack with pain and grief, stained with ash and soot as his eyes flutter to half-mast in the midst of the rubble of a country he loved and destroyed and destroyed him in turn. “I can’t lose you again, Wil!”

Wilbur doesn’t quite storm out, but it’s a near thing, leaving with a clipped goodbye and leaving Phil seething on his doorstep. He spends the rest of the night pacing around the house in a sort of mad frenzy, wings stretching and folding over and over. Not for the first time, he longs for the sky, to feel the air through his wings and let the world fall into pinpricks below him; it’s this that leads him to the roof of his house, staring stubbornly at the clouds as the sun sinks down to the horizon.

“Hey.”

Phil startles; there, down below him, is Dream. He rocks back on his heels, seeming awkward, before clambering up the wall (Phil rolls his eyes at the ease with which he scales it, the feeling in his chest almost fond) and settling himself on the shingles at Phil’s side.

“Hey, mate,” Phil shakes his head. The fondness leaves, and the irritation that had risen at Wilbur’s words, earlier, comes back full-force. “Sorry- Wil came to visit, we talked. I just needed some time to think.”

Dream hums in acknowledgement, and they fall into a comfortable silence, watching as the sun dipping down past the mountains in the distance.

“You know,” Dream starts, sudden, “I told him the same thing.” He looks up at Phil, eyes faraway with old memories. “Wilbur, I mean. When he made L’manburg- I told him he was being reckless.” He shrugs. “I guess he never listened.”

Phil pauses, Techno’s words ringing in his ears. He reminds me of you, sometimes.

Dream looks surprisingly normal up close - face no longer reddened with fever or pale from blood loss, even the scars fail to really take from the boyishness of his face. He bites his lips, eyes falling away at Phil’s scrutiny, golden blond hair flopping over his forehead, newly trimmed to be something a little closer to his old length, at least in the front, the back pulled into a small ponytail. He’s young, and shockingly awkward, teeth worrying his lip, hands fiddling with each other, shifting his weight from one foot to the other several times a minute. He looks like a kid.

“He never does,” Phil lets himself smile, watches as Dream smiles back, almost like they’re sharing a joke. He wonders how well he really knows the man behind the mask. “Want to come in for some tea?”

Dream smiles wider, and something old and worn in Phils chest, knocked loose ever since he felt his son fall limp in his arms with his own sword shoved between his ribs, falls back into place.

“That would be great,” Dream replies, the words almost hopeful, and they go inside.

#tw trauma #tw death #tw blood #tw injury #tw torture #tw abuse #tw starvation #prison arc #pandora's vault #-> my writing #my writing :D #my asks !!#-> my asks

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chillichats · 2 years

Text

Characterisations and themes I’ve noticed in GE!tommy:

a collection of obvious things that i nevertheless wanted to jot down to make myself feel better about my observational skills

Resistance to or fear of change: as things start to speed up, he states over and over again that things are changing so quickly and he doesn’t want things to change as much as they have. at the beginning he sees both the positives and negatives of the changes, for instance he acknowledges that with the creation of spiderman came his healing relationship with techno, who he’s always looked up to. however as things change more and more he starts to focus more on the negatives (understandably), and his feelings culminate in his outburst after wil announces his plans to move out.

Subnote: a lot of Tommy’s fear of change is from fear of himself changing, to the point where he wouldn’t recognise himself. it’s something he has outburst about multiple times, from within therapy to punching the mirror to becoming panicked at the thought that the spider-bite might change him to be more like automata. in the second fear toxin hallucination, tommy’s argument ends in him renouncing himself - or rather, renouncing the version of him his hallucination is painting him to be.

Fear of becoming violent: this is heavily tied to his fear of him changing. it’s been said by him a couple times that he hates the idea of being violent or being quick to anger, and that negatively impacts his mental health, ESPECIALLY since the amount of trauma he’s been through makes it harder for him to control his emotions and causes him to have outbursts, which makes him fear that he IS becoming such a person. those worries are further worsened by the idea that automata might have become as bad as he is because of the spider bite, though tubbo talks him down from that a bit

World on his shoulders: though he starts off just wanting to help people because it’s the right thing to do, things quickly spiral into more of a ‘this is my duty’ outlook, one that isn’t helped by people blaming him for things like letting a policeman die or not being there to stop the major from being assassinated. the responsibility that comes with people’s lives being in his hands would put pressure on anyone, and means that when he doesn’t accomplish what he’s internalised as being his responsibility, it feels like a moral failure on his part. he takes responsibility for things that were in no way his fault (Phil’s coma) and even if he comes to recognise logically that feeling guilty over it doesn’t make sense, he still feels as though he should have done more

Unreliable narrator: as the story progresses, there comes a point where suddenly tommy’s mental health seems far worse than it should be according to previous chapters. however other characters reference tommy’s habit of denying that things are wrong, and the reader realises that tommy’s word should be trusted the least when it comes to how he’s doing. points of view from other characters show a lot of insight into how badly tommy is doing, insight that we would be mostly unaware of if we were relying solely on tommy for information. thus, readers learn not to put too much stock in tommy’s insistence that he’s fine.

Inability to accept mistakes: GE tommy is a perfectionist by nature (which actively feeds into the ‘World on his shoulders’ point i had before). He has (according to quackity) some of the highest marks in his year, he’s ‘never gotten less than ten points off full marks in essays’, and though he disguises it with jokes as he does with most things, he’s very hard on himself. This (i think) is one of the reasons he was so adamant that he was okay. to be less than okay would mean to be (in his mind) imperfect. it also probably factors into tommy’s fear of becoming a violent person (which would be a failure of how he is as a person (and as a superhero))

Recognising when you need help: at the beginning of the story, tommy is adamant that nothing is wrong and that there are no drawbacks to being spiderman. he goes so far as to deny having panic attacks and downplaying his injuries to techno. it takes a fair bit of plot and intervention from other characters, but tommy does eventually learn to accept the fact that he might need help, and agrees to go to therapy. from there, tommy starts to open up a bit about the struggles he’s going through from being spiderman, and in the latest chapters he decides to go to a therapist as spiderman, so he can talk more openly about everything that comes with the title. he ends up with puffy as his therapist, and finally lets himself admit that he isn’t okay, which is both one of the biggest signs of growth and one of the biggest signs of how bad things are getting for him.

@fathermooshroom you said you wanted to be tagged so here is my littol.. thing..

#chillichats #guided evolution #damn i wish i had a physical copy of GE #it would be so much easier to keep record of evidence that im not just talking out of my ass #there would be so many coloured little markers sticking out of the pages to lines that prove my words #there are other things i would have talked about except im too lazy to find solid evidence for them and i dont want the chance of being #blatantly wrong #though of course i did make some inferences without solid proof #so

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f00pyf00p · 3 years

Text

Between The Pages

Rating: General Relationships: Romantic Analogical Warnings: Class Differences, Bullying, Long-Distance Relationship Word count: 11098 Summary: The day he was born, with the very first flicker of life, a notebook nearly fell on Logan’s head. It would have smacked him full in the face had their Doctor and neighbor not been waiting for it, one hand balancing the baby and the other situated right above the new human’s nose, waiting. Other Notes: Analogical Week Day 4: AU @analogicalweek

Read on AO3

The day he was born, with the very first flicker of life, a notebook nearly fell on Logan’s head. It would have smacked him full in the face had their Doctor and neighbor not been waiting for it, one hand balancing the baby and the other situated right above the new human’s nose, waiting.

The notebook was spiral, as all notebooks were. It was white and the two cardboard covers held not a single page between them.

“His soulmate isn't born yet, then,” said their neighbor/doctor, Ryan Becker. She placed the lifeless notebook off to the side and shifted the baby so she was holding him with both hands. “Now, I’m just going to go and clean him up a little. Phil, can you help your wife while I’m gone?”

Logan’s father, Phillip Berry, nodded immediately. He grabbed some of the towels they had set up beforehand and the last thing Ryan saw before heading out of the room was the beginnings of a smile on the new mother’s face.

It took a long time for the family to get fully situated, but once they had, Ryan left their home with an exhausted wave and made her way back across the street where her soulmate waited. The kitchen and living room lights were off when she entered; he was probably upstairs with that old computer he had found, attempting to make the damned thing turn on when they both knew that the thing had been dead long before he picked it up.

Whatever. He could play with it all he wanted- right now, all Ryan could think of was a long hot shower.

On her way to the bathroom, she passed the one shelf in her home, where two spiral notebooks sat. They had not been touched in a very long time but Ryan wouldn’t have gotten rid of them even if she could.

Slowly, she reached out and pulled the yellow one off the shelf.

When she had been born, her notebook had also fallen white and empty. It had remained that way until (according to her parents) a year later on August 14th when it had suddenly filled with pages and the cover had turned a stunning bright yellow.

According to Marcus’s parents, his notebook had fallen a deep dark red, pages already filled. After all, she had already existed.

Ryan examined her notebook for a second longer before putting it back and heading towards her bathroom.

The new Casey boy came out of his mother into the doctor’s hand squirming and already screaming like his life depended on it. Doctor James Miller had to struggle to keep the baby situated as he held his hand above its little head, waiting.

A dark blue book full of pages landed right into his palm. Thomas Casey, the father of the boy, smiled at the sight of it.

“Just born and already has his soulmate! Look at that!”

Doctor Miller gave the man one of his practiced smiles and held the notebook out to him. Instantly, the dad began flipping through the pages, and James just managed to not roll his eyes before he turned away to properly clean the new baby.

There was no point in looking at the notebook. Even if there had been something in it, only two people could see what was in it: the baby he was holding and the baby’s soulmate.

Whatever. James was used to parents excitedly looking through their children’s notebooks. At this point, he shouldn’t have been surprised by it.

He came back with the baby nicely bundled in green blankets and gave another practiced smile as he passed the boy off to his mother. She smiled down at him and glanced back over at her husband.

“Have you chosen a name?” James asked kindly.

“Virgil,” Bella replied. She ran a hand over his little face. “Virgil Casey.”

James made a mental note for the birth certificate.

Miles and miles away, next to napping a month and half old baby boy, a dead white notebook with no pages in between began to fill. Plum purple bloomed across the cardboard cover and clean white pages shot into existence until it was full enough to use but not so heavy that a toddler couldn’t carry it. Logan Berry rolled over and one tiny hand landed flat on the now purple cover.

He carried on sleeping.

“HI! It iS me.”

Logan’s slightly shaking hand held his favorite pencil- a blue one covered in book titles. Logan had chosen it out of his love of books and even though couldn’t able to read very many yet, those he could get through he barely ever put down. Once he got good enough, Logan planned to read every book title on the pencil, even the ones his mom said were “really long.”

“HelO!” The reply came in red crayon and was nearly twice as large but much neater than Logan’s writing. Logan beamed at the very sight of it.

“WhaT is you dOing.” The red came again, slightly smaller this time. Logan traced the large “O” with his fingers before re-scooping up his pencil and pressing it to the page.

He paused.

“Re,” he sounded out, writing the letters as he did so. “Sss-” He scribbled an s after it. “Ess. Resess.” He smiled at himself for sounding out the words properly and waited for his notebook friend’s response.

“YOu hav resess in the morning?”

Logan blinked. “It iS not mor-” Logan paused and double-checked how his notebook partner had spelled it. “-ning. It iS going to be lanch tim.”

“NO. It is morning.”

Logan really wasn’t quite what to do. His partner was obviously wrong; at the moment, Logan sat outside in the grass outside next to a plastic play structure his schoolmates were screaming across. The sun beat down on them at a chilly 60°F, which he was currently combating with a sweatshirt and long pants. They had already gone over math (which Logan had enjoyed) and geography (which he had enjoyed less). After lunch, they would be able to do his favorite part of the day (reading!), they would do some writing, and then it would be time to go home.

“Mrs. Williams!” Logan pushed from the grass and took off for a run towards his kindergarten teacher. The notebook swung from his arms as he did so and Mrs. Williams turned to him with a sort of half-smile on her face.

“Yes, Logan?”

“Mrs. Williams, my notebook buddy is saying it's morning a lot, but it's not morning. Why is he saying that?”

Mrs. Williams licked her lips and glanced around the playground. “Follow me, sweetie, okay?”

Logan nodded eagerly. He opened his book to write, “1 min” and then trotted after Mrs. Williams. She had grabbed two random slightly deflated balls, one large rubber and supposedly bouncy, and the other a small green tennis ball.

“Okay, Logan. You like space, right?”

Logan nodded eagerly.

“The earth is round, okay.” At Logan’s nod, she held up the larger ball. “Can you pretend this is the earth for me?”

Logan stared at it for a second and then nodded again.

“Okay, that big ball is the earth. And this ball-” she held up the green one- “is the sun. When it's nighttime and you go to sleep, where is the sun?”

“It’s gone,” Logan informed her. “We don’t see it.”

“That's right! Good job! And when it's daytime where is the sun?”

Logan pointed at the sky. “There.”

Mrs. Williams nodded. “Can you hold the sun for me?” She passed him the green ball and positioned his hand up so it was next to the side of the earth. “Now I’m going to put my finger here.” She placed it on a random spot of the ball. “And you’re going to tell me if my finger is daytime or nighttime.”

Slowly, Mrs. Williams began to spin the ball. She stopped with her finger on the opposite side of the sun. “Day or night Logan?”

“I…”

“Can I see the sun?”

“No!” Logan grinned. “It’s nighttime!”

“Well done! You little genius! Now, if I keep spinning the earth…” Mrs. Williams spun it around so her finger faced the sun. “Daytime or nighttime?”

“Day!”

“Yes!” But what if I move my finger?” Mrs. Williams left the ball still and picked her finger up so it was on the back of the ball, away from the sun. “Am I nighttime or daytime?”

“Nighttime.”

“Good job, Logan. Now, what if…” Mrs. Williams shifted so that her thumb pressed into the area toward the sun and her other hand faced away. “What now?”

“Ummm… that one-” Logan reached out to touch her thumb- “is in the daytime and the other is in the nighttime.”

“Right. Now let’s give my fingers names. Let’s say my thumb’s name is Logan.”

“That’s my name.”

“You’re right it is. Let’s say my other finger’s name is notebook buddy.”

A lightbulb went off in Logan’s head. “He’s in a different sun area!”

Mrs. Williams looked very pleased. “That’s right Logan. So it's lunchtime for you, but morning for him.”

Logan grinned before taking off at a run back for his grassy spot to explain everything to his soulmate.

“I want to SAY my nam.”

Virgil glanced down at his blue notebook and shook his head at his soulmate. After a click glance to make sure his teacher wasn’t looking (he was supposed to be doing his math practice) he wrote back: “It WOnt wORK.”

“But I want it to.”

“It WOn’t.”

“I’m gonna try.”

Despite his adamant belief that it would fail, Virgil still bent over his paper excitedly. Maybe…

“--------”

Nope.

“See. Nams dON’T wORk.”

“Virgil!” Virgil jumped and shoved his notebook away. “How’s your math going, kiddo?”

Mr. Ravin stood in front of him. He glanced over at the open notebook and the blank math sheet and pursed his lips.

“You need to learn math right now, okay Virgil? You can write your soulmate during playtime.”

Virgil crossed his arms over his chest. “But I want to now! He’ll go away during playtime!”

“Why not?”

“He’s in a different sun area!”

Mr. Ravin blinked. He glanced over at the notebook, back at Virgil, and at the notebook again, trying to figure out exactly what Virgil was telling him.

Suddenly, his expression brightened.

“He’s in a different time zone?”

Virgil didn’t really know what a time zone was but he nodded anyway.

“Okay. I’ll give you five minutes with your soulmate.” Mr. Ravin held up his hand and Virgil mirrored the motion. “But then you have to do the math, okay?”

“Okay!”

Virgil grasped his note with two little hands and pulled it back to him. He re-grabbed the pencil he had been using and looked over what his soulmate had written while Mr. Ravin held his attention.

“I am --- yeers. I like bookS. I live in -------.”

“It is not showing,” Virgil wrote. “i like books two.”

His soulmate went quiet.

It was annoying, Virgil thought to himself. Sometimes, it got difficult to talk about his soulmate when he wasn’t able to give his soulmate a name. And his soulmate was his best friend! He needed to be able to talk to his best friend.

“We could do fak nams,” Virgil wrote. “That waay, we hav nams but not reel nams.”

“Like sooperheros!” The exclamation mark brought a smile onto Virgil’s face and he nearly clapped his hands excitedly but he didn’t want to bring attention to himself. “What is yor nam?”

Virgil paused before putting his pencil to the paper. His fake name had to be perfect. It was going to be what his best friend called him forever and forever meant a really really long time. It needed to be about him and it needed to make sense.

“Purple,” Virgil wrote. “I like purple. My nam is Purple.”

“OK.” His partners' smaller and nearly illegible handwriting appeared beneath his own. “My nam is Logic. A sooperhero I like in my book is Logic so I’m going to be Logic to.”

“Okay Lo-” Virgil doubled-check how it was spelled. “-gic. Want tO play tic-tac-tOE?”

Virgil had only just managed to write the sentences when Mr. Ravin walked back over and leaned over him. “Alright, Virgil,” he said kindly. “Time for math now.”

“Five more minutes?” Virgil glanced down at the paper, where his Logic had drawn a tic-tac-toe board and placed a circle in the middle of it. He held his notebook out for Mr. Ravin to see. “Look, we just want to finish the game!”

Mr. Ravin gently pushed the notebook back onto Virgil’s kindergartner-sized desk. “I can’t see what’s on the pages, kiddo,” he said gently. “Only you and your soulmate can.”

“Logic,” Virgil interrupted.

Mr. Ravin blinked. “What do you mean?”

“His name is Logic.”

“We’re learning about frogs in my school.” Virgil’s legs swung back and forth underneath him, moving the swing he sat on ever so slightly, as he read what Logic had just sent to him in handwriting that practically grew messier every day. “We’ve been put into a lot of groups and now we have to find facts about a kind of frog.”

“Cool.” Virgil paused before writing; “What’s your frog?”

“I got a really boring one. I already knew everything about it so I didn’t have to do any research at all.”

Virgil rolled his eyes and a smile splayed on his 8-year-old face. Only Logic would be upset by a lack of work in his class. And he added cheerfully to himself, only Logic would have already known enough about a frog to not have to do any homework.

“What was it?”

“It’s a glass frog. They’re green.”

“Aren’t all frogs green?” Stupid question.

“No, a lot of frogs are all different colors. Poison dart frogs, for example, are really colorful.”

The smile grew. Logic was the only person Virgil knew to not care how dumb or how often somebody asked a question. He was always there, always with an answer, always ready to help.

“What frog did you want to do?”

Logic handwriting was a lot faster than normal: still legible but it was loopier and the letters connected more.

“The Macaya Breast-spot Frog! They’re endangered, and orange and they’re so much cooler than the stupid glass frog.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know about them! Obviously!”

Virgil flipped off the swing, bored of the repeated motion, and sat criss-cross underneath it, letting his notebook fall onto his lap. His pencil hit it the moment he was situated.

“At my school,” he wrote in large gray letters, “we’re going over frogs too, but they’re giving everyone a tadpole to look after.”

“That’s so cool! What kind of frog!?”

Ummm…

“Black frog?”

“That’s not a kind of frog.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it is” Logic crossed out what he had written in one smooth motion. “No it is You know it's not a real frog.”

Virgil grinned. “Yeah.”

“You are the worst best friend I have.”

Virgil blinked. “But I’m your only best friend.” He didn’t add the “right?” that hastened his breath and made his hands tremble ever so slightly.

“Obviously.”

The trembling vanished, replaced with the smile for before. “You��re being meannnnnnn.”

“The extra “nnns” are dumb.”

“You’re dumb.”

“I am not!”

“Your mum.”

“You” Logic crossed out his word again. “You You’re the one being mean. Meanie.”

Virgil drew a smiley face underneath his sentence. His own grin grew when in response, Logic crossed it out and drew a sad face next to it.

He was about to say something- about what, Virgil wasn’t quite sure- when a loud female voice broke through the little spell he had with Logic.

“Recess is over,” he wrote glumly. “I’ll write you later.”

“Oh.” Even in writing, the word sounded sad. “I forgot you were still in school.”

“Yeah.”

“Bye Purple.”

“Bye L.”

Logan was supposed to be asleep. His parents had put him to bed at 8:00, and his alarm clock currently read 11:12, but it wasn’t his fault this book was so interesting! Stopping now would be a sin against… Logan paused. Were there any book gods? He’d have to look it up…

The yawn that came out of him practically shook his whole body and at the end of it, Logan sternly told himself that he had about 100 more pages to go, and he had to hold out that long. Last time, he had fallen asleep on the book.

That had been annoying.

A bang in the kitchen had Logan’s head flying up. Probably just his mom looking for water, or his dad getting a late-night snack. He went to turn back to his book when his eyes snagged on the open notebook on his bedroom floor.

And more importantly, at the letters appearing across it.

Suddenly very much awake, Logan carefully bookmarked his page, pushed from his covers, and scooped the book up to get a look at whatever Purple was sending him.

“My parents are making me go to sleep at 7:30 but I’m not tireddddd. I want to do something! So I decided to draw you a picture because you’re asleep so I can let you see in the morning when it’s good and not bad.”

What followed were several drawings, all of which had been scribbled out with such ferocity it was a wonder Logan’s page hadn’t been ripped as well. Either way, there was nothing left of what remained under the scribble.

There was a loss that came with that.

“They were all terrible, you wouldn’t have liked them,” Purple had written. “I’ve decided I’m not leaving a drawing for you. Goodnight.”

Then, underneath that.

“I can’t fall asleep.”

And under that-

“We’re never going to find each other.”

Logan’s breath hitched.

“We can’t tell each other anything! Look! My name is --------. I am ---- years old. I live in --------. I am he/him. Well, the last one worked but you know what I mean! We could pass each other and we’d never know it! I’ll never see you. I’ll never play games with you. I want to play Percy Jackson with you.”

A strong yearning entered Logan’s heart and he traced the letters on the page.

“I could be Percy. You can be like, a male version of Annabeth. And then we fight monsters!”

Logan’s fingers twitched.

“But no! Because you live super far away and I’ll never get to see you ever. I can’t even draw my face for you!”

What followed was a black square, different from the scribbles from earlier. It was too precise, too dark to have been done by Purple.

“How will I ever-” Logan had finally caught up to where Purple was now- “find you?”

He paused for a moment. There had to be a way, some kind of signal, or something they could wear-

Wait.

“What if-” In the middle of his writing a sentence, a much shorter one appeared underneath it.

“You’re here!?”

Logan paused in his sentence to write a tiny “yes” before jumping back up to finish his old one.

“What if you drew a sign for us to put on our clothes? That way we can see each other wearing it and know it's us?”

“What?”

“Just draw a pin for us to wear.”

There was a pause, probably as Purple thought it over, then, in big neat letters, “Why are you so much smarter than me?”

“You’re really smart,” Logan protested.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Yes and.”

“You can’t “and” me.”

That sparked a quiet shining in Logan’s eyes. “Yes, and I think you should draw the symbols.”

“You’re not clever.” There was a short pause. “I can’t draw them while you watch. It makes me nervous.”

Logan understood that. He didn’t like people reading over his shoulder. It was probably the same thing.

“Okay.” He wrote. “I’ll go back to my book.”

“What time is it there?”

The minute changed as Logan looked. “11:31.”

“GO.” The word filled a third of what was left on the page. “TO. SLEEP.”

“It’s only like 100 pages.”

“SLEEP!”

“Fine!” Logan frowned at the page. “You need to sleep too then.”

“It’s only 8:31 here.”

His frown deepened.

“Good night, Logic.”

A heavy heavy sigh came out of Logan. He glanced towards his bookmarked book and silently promised that it would be finished before lunch tomorrow.

“Good night, Purple.” His pencil hovered over the page. “I’ll see our symbols in the morning.”

The notebook cover shut and Logan slid back into his bed. He had only closed his eyes for 30 seconds before the eight-year-old was fully asleep.

The next morning, Logan awoke and dashed to his notebook. He opened it, heart fluttering in his throat, and smiled at the symbols Purple had chosen for them.

A purple stormcloud and a little white brain with black glasses. The stormcloud was marked “PURPLE” in shiny and the brain was marked “LOGIC.”

Logan immediately went to find a piece of paper, a window, and a safety pin so he could copy Purple’s work line for line and display it on his chest.

Logan had been wearing a piece of paper pinned to his shirt for four years. The paper had switched out; the first one he had dutifully copied back when he was only in 3rd grade had taken less than a month to fall apart. However, the design of it remained the same. Every time a new piece of paper tore, got wet, streaked, whatever, Logan flipped back to the page Purple had first drawn his symbol, pressed it up against a window, and copied it line for line again.

Despite the symbol, they still hadn’t found each other.

“My mom’s being a bitch.” Purple’s handwriting was still larger than Logan’s own, but smooth and precise. He was the kind of person you would have write everything down during group projects so it looked pretty when you presented. “I’m trying to go to see a movie with Puppy but noooooo, I have a C in fucking math so she grounded me.”

Logan smiled at the letters, even as his heart ached. Purple had written to him about Puppy countless times before; he had been described as a bubbly older brother figure, thus, why he had been given that nickname. Someone who loved gardening and still slept with a nightlight. The two of them were close, though Purple promised Logan was still his best friend.

Logan wished more than anything to be able to go see movies with Purple. Touching him, even seeing him would be a blessing.

He didn’t know it was possible to miss someone you had never truly met as much as he missed Purple.

“I could help you with math,” he wrote back. His handwriting was legible- and that was about the best thing he could say about it. “I study it in my free time so I’m sure I know something about what you’re going over.”

“You’re such a nerd,” came the fond reply. There was a beat of silence, which Logan used to check the clock sitting upon his desk.

3:32 pm. That meant it was around 12:32 where Purple was. They still had plenty of time before he would be back in class.

“I could use your help with math though.” Purple’s letters came fluidly after his last sentence. “Not right now. This is school break time.” Logan smiled wryly at that. “Are you busy at 4:00? Oh um, 7:00 for you.”

Technically no. His school had gotten a donation of recorders and he was supposed to be practicing it every night and Logan had already put it off four nights in a row.

But he could do that later.

“I’m free,” Logan replied. “We can do it then.”

“Great. I don’t understand these word problems we’re supposed to be doing and Puppy is really excited about this Rom-Com.” There was a pause. “I am not, but I’m not going to disappoint Puppy by not being allowed to go.”

“I don’t think I quite get Rom-Coms,” Logan wrote. He paused to shake his hand and then instantly put the pencil back to paper. “They’re incredibly unrealistic, remarkably cringy, and oftentimes the main pairing doesn’t even make sense together.”

“Lol.”

Logan wondered for a brief moment what exactly Purple’s laugh sounded like. At the moment, he imagined it was deep, with a sort of snarky edge to it, but he had imagined it all sorts of different ways throughout the years. None of them had ever sounded quite right.

“I don’t like them much either. Straight propaganda.”

He couldn’t help but snort at that. Both he and Purple had learned they were gay a little while back when he had brought up how often the pair of them discuss hot male celebrities.

“I’m sure that’s normal,” Purple had written. “Right?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

And then later.

“I asked my Dad. It’s not normal.”

“Oh.” Logan hadn’t been sure how to respond to that. His blood had just been thrumming with the very idea of trusting anyone about something like that. “So… does that mean we’re gay?”

“Do you like girls? Like, in that way”

“No.”

“Then yea, probably.”

Logan still hadn’t told anyone about his and Purple’s discovery. He couldn’t imagine anyone taking it well in his town. It still shocked him sometimes that in Purple’s neighborhood, you could be out without facing rather disastrous consequences.

“I’m sure Rom-Coms aren’t trying to turn you straight.”

“That’s what they want you to think. Don’t fall for it Logic. Their smiles are nothing but lies.”

Logan snorted quietly, a sound he only ever made when talking- well, writing technically- with his soulmate. “If they’re going to try and brainwash me like that, they might consider actually making a good movie.”

“Damn, L. Out here bringing the heat.”

His eyebrows knit together. “I don’t think you can feel warmth through the notebook.”

“No… Logic, it’s not literal. It’s a saying.”

“Oh.” Heat burned in his cheeks. “Of course.” He licked his lips. “And, let’s just say, hypothetically, if someone still didn’t understand what you were trying to say-”

Purple’s answer appeared beneath him before he had fully finished. “You’re doing a good job insulting boring Rom-Coms.”

“Yes. Of course. Naturally.” Logan brushed a hand through his hair. “They aren’t interesting.”

Purple made a little checkmark next to his statement.

“Oh!” Purple’s writing came hastily under Logan’s last sentence. “I almost forgot to tell you! I read that book you like.”

“Really? Did you like it?”

“Why on earth didn’t you tell me how sad it was!?”

“Because you said you would kill me if I spoiled anything?”

“Not an excuse!”

Logan smiled at the declaration. Between Shades of Grey had been such a good historical fiction book that he had just had to share it with someone- and since all his at-home friends didn’t like historical fiction as much as he did, Purple had been an obvious choice.

“I didn’t know Stalin had camps!”

“Yeah.” Logan’s stomach twisted at the thought. “It’s horrible.”

“I wish humanity didn’t suck so much. Sometimes, I think a nuclear war would be good just to get rid of everyone here.”

Logan shook his head. “I wouldn’t want it to get rid of you.”

Purple didn’t reply for a good minute. When he finally did answer, the letters made Logan’s heart flutter rather pathetically.

“I suppose I wouldn’t want you to get hurt either.” __

Virgil couldn’t hide the smile off his face, the skipping in his heart, nor the glow coming off of him in unnatural and rare waves. All of his joy came from the Christmas present his parents had just given him; a necklace, a bracelet, a pin, and a ring, all bearing the exact same mark- namely a purple stormcloud that he had first drawn back in 3rd grade.

It was 9 am in California, which meant it would be noon wherever Logic was living, but Logic had told him that family obligations would keep him from being around his notebook for longer than a few minutes at a time today.

Right now though, that served in Virgil’s favor. He hated it when people watched him draw- even when it was someone he trusted as much as Logic.

“Hey, Logic.” Virgil started a new page, leaving about a third empty under the last one. For a moment, he wondered whether that was the right thing to do- but it's not like they would ever run out of pages. The notebook just kept growing, despite not increasing in weight. “I got big news!”

He glanced over at the last thing Logic had written- Make sure you sleep well too, Purple- and his reply- Yeah yeah yeah. Good night, Logic!”

He wondered how long it would be until he could say good night to his soulmate in person.

“I know you told me that you wouldn’t be able to get to the notebook today.” Virgil paused and bit his lip. “I hope I’m not bothering you by writing now but-” He crossed the word out in one elegant line, followed by repeated scribbling until not even the essence of the letter was visible. “Sorry if I am.”

Logic probably wouldn’t be upset. Probably.

Virgil pushed down the wave of panic that told him Logic would see that he had written and never open the notebook again. Maybe he shouldn’t-

No. Things would be fine. He was being stupid.

“My parents got me jewelry with my stormcloud on it!” Virgil's initial happiness came rushing back, though slightly dulled. “I’ve got a bracelet, a pin, a necklace, a ring- here, I’ll show you.”

Virgil brought his pencil to the page. He studied the bracelet given to him- the smooth shining silver metal and the small but noticeable purple cloud that hung from it, followed by a jagged white lightning bolt.

Beside it, he drew the necklace, the small rings that made up a delicate metal chain, and the large pendant that hung from the bottom, identical to the one on his bracelet.

Then the pin, and finally the ring, which for some reason took him a lot longer than the other ones. At the end of it all, Virgil smiled at his designs and went for the lines underneath them.

“Now it’ll be even easier to find me. We won’t have to worry about paper ripping and losing it for a day or whatever else.”

He wanted to write the words “We’ll find each other” but found no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t quite make his pencil hit the page. It was a wish and a promise Virgil repeated to himself, one he wanted more than anything in the world, one he would do almost anything for, but one he couldn’t quite convince himself was true.

They both lived in America. That much was true. But according to time zones, Logic lived on the other side of the whole country. Even if Virgil traveled over there, he wouldn’t know which state, let alone which city-

Breath came too fast. He placed the notebook off to the side and suddenly the gifts that had been a solidifier of their symbols and ability to find each other were nothing more than a taunt.

Logic was out of his reach. Forever.

Virgil snatched the notebook up- to do what he wasn’t sure- and found a tiny barely readable letter had appeared under his note. He blinked at it.

Wasn’t Logic supposed to be busy today?

“Those look great!” Logic’s words eased some of the darkness numbing Virgil’s mind. He reached out with a single shaking hand and traced the letters. “You’re an amazing artist, Purple.”

Virgil swallowed.

“Thanks.”

They had to flip the page to keep communicating.

“Those will make it much easier to find you,” Logic wrote. Each letter cleared more of his panic and Virgil managed a tiny smile. “I can’t do the same though.”

Virgil blinked and all of that cleared panic came back full force.

Before he could properly hold his pencil, Logic had continued.

“I would like to, but I don’t think we have enough money to spare on one of those. I’ll keep wearing the paper, of course.” Logic’s letters paused but before Virgil had managed to clear his head long enough to even manage a sentence, it continued. “Yours look beautiful.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid-

“I didn’t mean for you to think you had to get any.” It was the messiest Virgil’s handwriting had been in a very long time. “I’ll spot you with the paper, I just thought-” What had he been thinking? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t really remember anything but the fact that he had somehow managed to make Logic upset-

“Purple.” Logic’s letters were crisper than normal: firm. “I think the idea of wearing jewelry is amazing. If it makes one of us easier to spot then we’re closer to being together. I can’t afford them, but that’s okay. Okay?”

Virgil took a breath.

“Okay.”

Logic was right. Like normal. Logic would have an easier time looking for a guy wearing a bunch of stormclouds rather than one white one drawn on his chest.

And he…

“I promise to be on the lookout for a piece of paper,” Virgil wrote. “You don’t need all the jewelry.”

It was to make things easier. But it wasn’t truly necessary.

Right?

Right.

“I’ve got to go. Our neighbor ------- is-” The writing paused. “I forgot other people’s names don’t work. Anyway, I have to go.”

“Okay.” Virgil took a long breath. “I’ll write to you soon.”

“Bye Purple. Oh, and don’t worry about writing to me when I say I won’t be able to come. I enjoy reading everything you say after.”

Virgil's heart missed a beat and that warm smile from before returned.

Logan had spent the entirety of Valentine’s day avoiding people handing out presents, chocolates, teddy bears, and whatever other atrocity they wanted to give their beloved. Not because he thought the holiday was stupid- although, he did actively think that- but because of the slight churning in his gut whenever he spotted a happy couple.

Along with that question. That stupid, horrible question that he had been asking himself for almost a year now.

His hand tightened around his notebook.

Would it hurt more to confess and be rejected, or confess and still be unable to see him?

Until he figured that out, Logan really didn’t think there was any point in confessing.

He turned down the hallway his class was in, ducked a ball of paper thrown at his head, and strode into the room. After double-checking that his desk and chair hadn’t been messed with, Logan took his seat, pulled out a binder held together with scotch tape and a lot of luck, and placed it on the creaky cracked desk in front of him.

Right. He had five minutes.

Logan did what he always did with extra time; he cracked open his purple notebook and glanced over the pages they had written in last.

His lips curved upwards.

Purple had added a few drawings since they last talked. Random sketches of tree leaves, a new ring he had been excited to buy, Noam and Dara from the heartbreaking series Feverwake Logan had made him read, and Gerald Way, one of Purple’s favorite artists.

Logan made little compliments underneath each of them- “Great job shading the leaf, it looks so real, the ring is gorgeous, etc- and was about to add something about scheduling a time to talk during the afternoon/night, when the book was snatched out of his hands.

Logan grimaced. He didn’t have to look up to know it was Jason that stood in front of him, a cocky grin on his face and Logan’s purple notebook open in his palms.

“Give it back.”

Jason’s stupid grin widened. Logan just rolled his eyes.

“We both know I could have it in a second. Just hand it over.”

“What were you writing?” Jason’s voice was sing-songy, taunting. He flipped through the pages- pages he could see nothing but lines on- before snapping the notebook closed and holding it above his head.

With a loud sigh, Logan snapped his fingers twice. It was a bit odd, the way he did so. Most people used their index finger or middle. He used his pinky.

By the time his fingers had hit his palm a second time, the notebook had completely dislodged itself from Jason’s hand and landed squarely into Logan’s outstretched left one.

Without saying anything to the idiot in front of him, Logan turned back to his notebook, opened it up to the right page, and scribbled down a time they could meet. It was during his shift at the grocery store, but late enough that not many people would be in so he could easily write with Purple.

“I need to talk to you,” Jason interrupted.

“No, I’m not doing your homework for you.”

“But-”

“No.”

“Okay, what about-”

“I’m not writing an essay for you either.”

There was a short silence, which Logan used to turn back to his notebook and add that Purple should feel no obligation to hang out especially if he…

Logan swallowed.

… had other Valentine’s Day plans.

“If you do it, I could hook you up with my friend Erica. She’s good-looking. Breasts are a bit small, but-”

It took all of his efforts not to groan aloud.

“Go away, Jason. And don’t talk about your friends like that.”

“Ah, she’s a girl. She doesn’t mind.”

“Have you asked her?”

Logan glanced up to see Jason rolling his eyes. He glanced towards the door.

Where the hell was Mr. Myers?

“Look man, I’m just struggling with this one essay. I just need you to-”

“I told you no, Jason.”

Jason’s face twisted into a scowl. “Stop being such a damn teacher’s pet. It’s one damn essay.”

“No.”

Logan wondered if it were too early for Purple to be up. It was 9:11 here, meaning it would only be 6:11 there…

Yeah. It was much too early. Purple woke up at 7:20 to get to school at 7:30. He had at least an hour before he would see this.

“But-”

“Jason.” Mr. Myers' voice boomed through the classroom and Logan snapped his soulmate’s notebook shut and pushed himself up straight. “Take your seat.”

Purple got back to him at lunchtime. Logan sat out in the deteriorating and slightly musty hallway, bread, and cheese sandwich sitting on a cardboard platter beside him and his notebook resting on his knees. It just so happened that his lunchtime (12:10-12:30) was at the beginning of Purple’s study hall (9:00-9:40), so it had become normal for the pair of them to talk until Logan had to head back to class.

They basically confirmed they would have that conversation later, which made Logan feel better for more reasons than one, before Purple asked Logan about his day, giving Logan a very easy outlet to bitch about the whole fiasco with Jason.

“Again!?” Purple handwriting was larger and darker than normal. “I’m going to kill him!”

“It’s really no trouble.” Honestly, Logan didn’t mind it occurring, especially since it gave him moments like this when Purple would get all angry on his behalf. There weren’t many people who did that. “Gollum-” the name they had given Jason so they could talk about him without stupid lines appearing- “won’t push it any farther.”

“The last time you said that about someone, they shoved you into a wall, broke your glasses, and stole your homework for themselves.”

Almost subconsciously, a hand came up to touch the black scotch-taped frames. The glass hadn’t been cracked in any way that impaired him, but he had been forced to pull an all-nighter to rewrite that essay differently so he wouldn’t get an F for cheating.

It had been remarkably stressful, especially since his head hadn’t stopped pounding for weeks after.

“Yeah. Gollum won’t do that though.”

“He better not. I’ll fucking kill him.”

Despite the threat of violence, Logan couldn’t help but smile. “You don’t even know his real name.”

“Doesn’t matter. I will track this prick down. Nobody hurts you.”

Logan pretended his heart had skipped a beat because of the piece of sandwich he had eaten and not due to the crisp and clear words that appeared across his page. He swallowed once, to clear his throat. And then again, to calm the butterflies in his heart. Plus a third time for luck, before putting his pencil to the page.

“I feel you’re being slightly dramatic. Gollum hasn’t even done anything yet.”

Purple drew two quick little bubble people underneath his sentence one of which was actively punching another. Underneath one, he drew a storm cloud, one that Logan had completely memorized. Under the other, he wrote the word “loser.”

Logan snorted and took another bite of his cheese sandwich. He glanced at his phone.

“I’ve got a minute.”

“Oh.” There was a pause. “Well, I’ll see you at 4:30.” Another pause. “I have something I want to tell you. Puppy says that I should do it today.”

Logan blinked. “Okay. If you don’t mind me asking, why today?”

A third pause.

“It fits with the theme, I guess.”

The theme.

Logan could barely hold his pencil he was trembling so hard. “Okay. Yeah, I’m happy to hear what you have to tell me.”

Please…

“Cool,” Purple wrote. “I’ll write with you then.”

Virgil was going to throw up.

Patton had told him “It’s Valentine’s Day! It’s romantic to confess your feelings today!” but Patton had also told him that chicken was a vegetable so Virgil honestly didn’t know why he was taking his advice.

He glanced down at his phone.

4:25.

Which meant he would have five minutes until he would be telling Logic how he felt.

And that was fine.

Fine.

Absolutely fine.

The worst thing that could happen would be Logic laughing, shutting the notebook, ripping off his brain piece of paper, and never talking to him again.

But that wouldn’t happen.

Right?

Urgggggg.

4:27.

How had two minutes passed without him even noticing!?

Virgil got to his feet, holding his notebook closed in his left hand while his right clung to the black pen he had found in the school hallway. He paced up and down his bedroom floor.

4:28.

What was he going to say?

Virgil wasn’t sure. He had flirted and kissed before, but they had all meant nothing, all been distractions from the real yearning for a boy he couldn’t meet.

And they had all been in. Fucking. Person. Virgil was good at the in-person shit. He knew how to place friendly touches, how to grab someone by the hand.

He did not know words.

He glanced back down at his phone.

4:32.

Shit!

Virgil hastily ripped his notebook open, flipped to the last page they had written on, and found Logic’s adorably messy writing already sprawled across it.

Great. Just great. Now they were starting this off late and terribly and Virgil really was going to throw up.

“Hi.” Logic had written in that green pen he always used when he was at his job. “It’s a little busier tonight than normal, so I might randomly disappear a couple of times, but it’s still light enough to talk.”

Virgil had barely finished reading them before he scribbled out in probably the messiest he had ever written since middle school; “That’s cool. Sorry, I’m late. I was-” nervous. Virgil scribbled out the I was. “I was I lost track of time.”

“It’s not an issue.” Logic’s response came instantly. “How was your day?”

Terrible. Virgil had barely been able to eat with the thought of being rejected plaguing him and focusing on school after his study block had been a complete no-go. Even drawing hadn’t come easy and drawing was his go-to way of centering himself.

“I wasn’t able to concentrate very well,” Virgil wrote. “And I think Mrs. Sullivan hates me now. She asked me a question and I didn’t know the answer so we just sat in silence for like a minute before she picked someone else.”

“What was the question?”

“How to find the area of a cylinder.”

“Do you-” A thick green line struck through the words. “Do you That sounds awful.”

Virgil’s lips curved up. “Were you going to ask me if I wanted the answer?”

“Yeah.” Even through paper, the response sounded sheepish. “However, I assumed that wasn’t the point of the story.”

Virgil leaped up onto his desk and placed his notebook on his lap. “Don’t worry, nerd. We went over it far too many times in class. I have that sequence of pain down flat.”

“Well. Good, I think.” There was a pause. “You had art class today right? Is your painting going well?”

Virgil’s painting was of a dark faceless nobody staring up at the storming sky around him. His teacher told him it was some of the best work they had ever seen, and Virgil had to admit, he was very proud of the dark yet somehow calming aura the painting gave off.

“I’ve about finished it.” Virgil flipped from the desk and landed on the balls of his feet. “If there was a way to send it to you, I would but… you know. Phone numbers don’t work.”

Logic took a full six minutes to get back to him. Somebody must’ve come up to his register.

By the time Logic’s scrawl did appear, Virgil was back to pacing along the length of his carpet. He had done it enough recently that a path mirrored the bottoms of his feet and the muscles of his thighs ached ever so slightly.

“I’ll see it when I meet you.” Logic sounded far more sure in that fact that Virgil was even on a good day. There was a pause. “Did-” Another pause. “-you say you have something to tell me?”

Virgil swallowed.

“Yeah.”

He swallowed again.

Had he been in person, he would’ve started by reaching out and covered Logic’s hand with his own. That, or flowers. Something simple and blue.

But Virgil had none of these assets on his side, so he had to work through the dumb brain of his and figure out exactly how he was going to say “I’m in love with you.”

“We’ve been friends for a very long time.”

“Yes.”

Logic’s quick response normally made him feel better. Right now, he wanted his nerd to shove a sock in it.

“And you’re very important to me.”

This time, Logic didn’t respond and somehow that was worse than the “yes” from earlier.

“But I don’t want to be friends anymore.”

The moment he had written it, Virgil nearly stabbed himself with the pen. Why on earth had he phrased it like that?

And it certainly didn’t help that Logic was still. Fucking. Silent.

God, he really was going to throw up.

“I mean, I do want to be friends.” Virgil sat down on the floor right in the middle of pacing. “But I don’t want to be friends.”

He stood back up and paced in a different direction than the latest path he had created in his rug.

This wasn’t working. He just had to say it.

“I’m in love with you.”

Still no reply.

Virgil swallowed around the golf ball in his throat and stared down at the words he had written. Twice, he almost reached up to cross them off, and both times he just managed to put his pen down.

Why wasn’t he responding?

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Virgil muttered to himself. “I’m sure…”

He flung the stupid notebook across the room. It hit his bedroom wall with an echoing crinkle before thumping to the floor.

He took a breath.

Another one.

Then walked open and re-picked up the notebook.

Where a green response was filling the area underneath.

“I admit, I’ve been harboring romantic feelings for you myself.” Virgil stopped breathing. “I don’t know if I could have convinced myself to confess so, thank you for doing so.”

The world, which had seemed so dark and angry before, was suddenly so vibrant and so full of color that it was impossible not to smile in. That golf ball in his throat faded and replaced itself with a light that forced Virgil to spin in a circle, arms flapping excitedly by his sides.

He froze halfway through his dance.

He should probably give Logic an answer.

“Really?” The word came out hurried. Still neat compared to Logics but nothing when it came to his usual writing. For some reason though, the messiness of it just didn’t seem to bother him.

“I would never tell you a falsehood, Purple.”

Urgggg, he was so smooth. And charming. And smart. And just… He was just perfect.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Virgil smiled down at the paper.

“Happy Valentine’s Day indeed.”

Logan graduated on June 2nd. His parents had managed to get a black graduation gown and when he walked up onto the run-down stage to get his diploma, the only thing he could think about was how much he wished Purple was here to share this moment with him.

His father had cried, but his father had always been a crier. The surprise had been when his mother had started crying; Logan had always pictured her as more stoic and firm than emotional.

But perhaps that’s what change did. It made messes out of us all.

Logan had accepted whatever his parents wanted from him throughout the day without complaint and managed to get a couple of hours to himself while they thought he was off hanging with friends. Now, at 1:23 am, Logan stared blankly down at his notebook.

He was exhausted. Admittedly, he had woken up aware he would be ending this day at the end of his rope, but there was always such a difference between knowing and feeling.

Purple’s neat script appeared on a blank page of his notebook like a hand reaching out to lift him from his drowning state.

“I know you’re asleep, but I just wanted to congratulate you. Already out of school. I still have five more days in this hellhole.”

It was so Purple check-in, insult school, and give Logan an out with a casual joke that actual tears bit behind Logan’s eyes. He blinked rapidly before placing the end of his pencil to paper and writing:

“You’ll be free of High School soon. Then we’ll be off to college.”

“Don’t remind me.”

A laugh choked its way out of Logan. “Are you still nervous?”

“I can’t imagine being anywhere but here. And there are so many things that could go wrong. Fucking taxes.” The writing paused. “Still, at least I’ll have you, right?”

“Always.”

“Anyway, shouldn’t you be sleeping? It’s-” a second paused, probably as Purple calculated whatever time it was there. “1:31?! Dude, go to sleep! You must be exhausted!”

“I am.” Logan reached up to run his hands over the blue pen Purple’s appeared to be writing in. “Today was very taxing.”

“You knew it would be. I don’t envy all that social interaction.”

“You’ll have to experience it in 8 days.”

“Bitch.”

That brought a bit of sparkle back to Logan’s eyes, but he still wasn’t smiling.

“How’d it go?”

How’d it go?

Logan had managed to stay polite the whole time. The plastered content look on his face had only ever dropped to pull a smile when his parents hugged him or pictures were necessary. He had shaken every hand that came his way, accepted every “congratulations” and every “well done.” He’d even managed to keep from grimacing at words like “if that the genius?”

“Everyone couldn’t seem to resist the urge to compliment me on getting in ------ on a free ride.” Shit. He had forgotten the stupid thing wouldn’t let them name colleges. “The college I got into.”

“I figured.” Purple’s words came quickly after. “It is very impressive.”

Purple’s compliment did what no other compliment had done all day; it brought a true smile onto Logan’s face and even managed to pull a bit of a blush.

“It must’ve been exhausting,” Purple wrote. “I probably would’ve had a breakdown.”

Honestly, yeah. You probably would’ve.

“I got a few hours to myself but it wasn’t enough to properly-” he pursed his lips and tried to figure out how to phrase everything- “-recuperate.”

“Then you should be sleeping.”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

Logan could practically hear the humor dripping from each word Purple wrote. “Fucking sap.”

“Yeah,” he wrote tiredly. “I guess so.” He stared silently down at the notebook. “I wish you were here.”

Purple didn’t respond and Logan shoved the book away. He was just so… tired. Of only having these strings connecting him to someone he loved. To his best friend. To his boyfriend.

“I wish I was there too.” Purple words were smaller than normal, and slower written. “We’ll be moving for colleges. Me with my art school, you with your big brain scholarship.”

Logan cracked a smile.

“Maybe we’ll find each other then.”

His hand reached up to trace each letter, starting from then and working its way up to “we’ll.” It came to a stuttering stop before it could reach the word “Maybe.”

“I certainly hope so.”

Top Art Schools. In America. Logan’s mind whirled as he stared at the library computer screen and the stupid blinking line asking him what he wanted to write.

The time zones hadn’t changed. Logan had moved from Florida to M.I.T. in Massachusetts, so he hadn’t shifted over. And Purple had moved from… well, whatever state he lived in to… perhaps the same state, perhaps a different one. He had remained in Pacific Time either way.

Which meant his Art School had to be in California, Nevada, Oregon, Washington, or the very tip of Idaho.

His fingers flew across the keyboard.

There were 454 art schools in California. Oregon didn’t give him a number for how many art schools, but there were over 100 colleges in all. 26 colleges in Nevada, 6 in Washington (although, more than 300 independent), and 15 in Idaho.

Which meant he had around 601 colleges to go through.

It was a lot. It was more than just a lot, but it gave him a place to start, it was doable, and Logan figured he could easily knock at least half of those out given Purple’s descriptions of them. Probably more, if things went well.

He scribbled all of this down in his notebook, along with his general plans on how to find him, before snapping it shut and making his way out of the library and towards his dorm room.

He checked his notebook on the way over.

“This seems like a lot of work,” Purple had written. “Do you really think we can do it?”

Logan paused in the middle of the walkway and pulled his pencil out from behind his ear.

“Yeah, we can do it,” he wrote firmly. “I’ve got resources and time. I’ll even build a program to sort through it all.”

“Lol. You fucking nerd.”

Logan smiled at the words.

“I’ll do it too. I won’t be as good as you because I’m not big brain-” Logan drew a large “X” over “I’m not big brain” while Purple wrote- “but I’ll be looking for you too.”

“That would be ideal.”

He left the notebook open, in case Purple decided to keep talking, but continued on his way up to his dorm room. Logan didn’t linger, though he did give his first in-person friend, Janus Drake, a wave before grabbing an energy drink and a bag of grapes and promptly turning right out the door.

Logan didn’t have enough money yet for a computer that would actually manage to support his work, though he was saving up for it. The library, however, was a familiar area and he was honestly much more comfortable there than he was in any of these ridiculously rich hangouts.

He situated himself at a very nice desk, opened his list of names, and looked through it. Everything had been organized by state and then by rank. Logan was planning on working through the top 10 of each state (or all six in Washington's case) and then continuing from there.

It couldn’t be that hard.

At 3 am, Logan got a text from Janus telling him that if he didn’t drag his ass back to the room and go to sleep, Janus would rip every single one of his books into pieces.

It was just as well. Logan had managed to search through the freshman class of all six Washington, ten Oregon, and had decided he might as well go through all of Idaho as well. He had been about to start Cali when the text had come through and frankly, Logan had done a lot for the day.

He scribbled all of his down in the notebook, told Janus he would be right up and shut down the computer.

Soon, he promised himself. Soon he would find Purple.

Soon turned out to be the very next day.

After his Genetics course, Logan made his way right back over to the library, sat back down on the computer, and opened the top art school in California: The University of California. Its Master of Fine Arts degree at UCLA was ranked No. 1 by U.S. News & World Report. Logan could easily see Purple making his way into that.

Slowly he flipped through the freshman class, looking for the symbol he and Purple promised they would always be wearing. The one still safety-pinned onto his chest and the one decorating practically all of the jewelry Logan knew Purple wore.

And…

There.

Logan’s heart leaped into his throat as he regarded the young man he saw on the computer screen.

He was easily the most beautiful person Logan had ever seen.

The man had black hair that ended in a tipped purple fringe. There was a single shaved line going through his right eyebrow that emphasized the glittering near-black eyes that gazed into the photograph. His skin was a warm dark brown. The man was not smiling, but he wasn’t frowning either. He wore a large black sweatshirt, covered in large purple patches. But what Logan’s eyes strayed to, and what had his eyes burning, was the patch sewn into the sweatshirt and the metal symbol hanging from around his neck.

Logan had every single line of that goddamn stormcloud memorized.

He looked down at the name and read it over several times, letting the words sound within his head and fully settle within him.

Virgil Casey.

“Vir-gil.” Logan sounded out. He ignored the glances from other students. “Virgil.”

He had a name. He had a location.

From that point on, it was ridiculously easy to find his phone number and the social media accounts Virgil had created. And see that every single one of them had a single picture on it.

The stormcloud.

An actual tear slid down Logan’s face. He wiped it away furiously and ripped open the notebook.

“You’re beautiful.” He wrote. Another stupid tear slid down his face, only to be sliced away by a quick hand. “You’re absolutely beautiful.”

Virgil got back to him faster than Logan expected. “You found me?”

He responded not on paper, but by a picture of the little brain with glasses Virgil had drawn for him years and years ago, sent over text.

The text noise startled Virgil, but he practically fell over himself in his desperation to reach it. He tried to open it, but the stupid face recognition wasn’t working and then he put in the wrong passcode three fucking times-

Please, please, please, please…

It was a picture of a piece of paper, cut into a neat circle and placed upon a light brown tabletop. A safety pin was open and still stuck through the top of it.

It was him.

It was Logic.

An actual sob ripped out of Virgil and his knees banged into the wooden floor of his dorm room. Roman, his roommate, glanced over at him in alarm but Virgil had eyes only for the screen, for his genius boyfriend who had somehow managed to find him through nothing but the words “Art School” and basic time zones in 2 days.

“Logic?” Virgil’s fingers could barely find the letters to type what he needed, barely even hold the phone up. Breath still in his lungs as those fucking dots appeared, letting him know Logic was typing, letting him know…

“My name is Logan Berry.”

Tears slid down Virgil’s face, ruining the makeup he had put on that day, but Virgil didn’t care, didn’t care about anything other than-

“Where are you?”

“MIT. I’m in MA.”

MIT.

Of course. Of course, his genius was able to get into a school like MIT. Virgil should’ve known to look at the school that had beaten fucking Harvard in the ranking, at least according to Newsweek.com.

“I can’t believe you found me.” Virgil swallowed noisily against the egg-sized ball in his throat. “I can’t believe I know your name. I didn’t think I would ever meet you.”

“I admit, I was beginning to lose hope as well.”

Another sob wrecked Virgil at the words. He wiped his eyes, ignoring the staring from Roman, and texted:

“Picture?”

“I’m a mess.”

“I don’t care.”

It took a second for the next image to download.

Logan was in a library because of course, he was. He appeared to have found a corner without many people, which Virgil was certain was a skill he had cultivated over the years.

Virgil couldn’t drink him in fast enough.

He was white, with ocean blue eyes that Virgil could’ve spent hours looking into, memorizing every single shine to it. They were red-rimmed at the moment, surrounded by glasses, and there were enough streaks down his pink face to let Virgil know that Logan was crying as well- though apparently not nearly as hard as Virgil.

That didn’t surprise him.

His hair was brown, short, and neat and fit the aesthetic of the blue tie he wore and black dress-shirt.

He was…

He was perfect.

Absolutely perfect.

Virgil pulled the phone to his chest and hugged the picture as if somehow that could transfer the warmth over and tell Logan, tell the boy he had been friends with since practically the moment he was born, that he was there. That he…

“I love you,” Virgil texted. “I love you so much.”

Logan’s response came immediately. “I love you too, Virgil.”

The mere thought of his name on Logan’s lips had Virgil crying all over again.

The airport was packed but Virgil did not mind shoving a few people out of his way as he headed towards the exit he and Logan had decided to meet at. One hand fell behind him, pulling the suitcase along as he headed over the other trembled at his side, mirroring the way he kept playing with his sweatshirt strings and pulling his hood up, only to shove it back down again.

The exit was in view. A few people stood around it: parents probably looking for their child to fly home, a random girl, and….

Virgil’s breath caught in his throat.

He was shorter than Virgil had expected. For some reason, Virgil had always pictured Logan towering over him, but Logan looked to be only about an inch taller than Virgil. He shifted from foot to foot, and now and then a hand would come up to shove his black-rimmed glasses up his nose.

“Logan?”

Logan turned to him. His mouth opened, closed, and then opened again. Virgil stepped forward unsure what to do with his body; arms hung like noodles at his sides and his legs remained stiff upon the floor.

“Virgil?”

Virgil swallowed. “Yeah.”

Logan took a step forward and suddenly, they were both moving. Virgil wasn’t quite sure exactly when he had dropped his suitcase, or how his body had known what he wanted but suddenly he was wrapping his arms around Logan’s back, and Logan’s arms were tight against his.

Virgil placed his head into the crick of Logan’s neck and let out a loud sob. He pulled Logan closer, trying to get every single part of them to touch, and knowing it would never be enough, never enough to satisfy those long long years of distance.

They swayed back and forth, neither one wanting to let go. When they did finally step back, Logan’s hand slid up to cup Virgil’s face- and Virgil’s own remained around Logan’s waist, holding him as close as he would without losing the ability to study him.

Virgil had thought he was hot from pictures.

It was absolutely nothing compared to the real thing.

Freckles patterned across his nose, light enough to not be noticeable through the lens. His eyes were even bluer than Virgil thought possible and there was a smile on his face that nearly brought Virgil to the floor.

Logan’s thumbs brushed away Virgil’s tears with one hand, but new ones simply surged to replace them. His own tears were sliding down his face, though much quieter and much less than Virgil’s.

“You’re even more beautiful in person.”

“That’s what I was going to say,” Virgil sobbed. “Asshole.” Logan’s smile was soft, delicate, and so utterly him that Virgil couldn’t help but reach up and trace over his lips with his right hand and enjoy the kiss Logan peppered to it.

“May I kiss you?” Logan asked.

Virgil answered by surging forward and pressing their lips together. Heat spread across his whole body, especially as Logan made a quiet noise and opened his mouth, arms settling into Virgil’s hair. His lips tingled and the feeling only spread as Virgil pressed as close as he could to his best friend, to his boyfriend, to his soulmate.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were smiling.

#analogical #analogicalweek #au #soulmate au #virgil-x-logan #bullying tw #misogyny

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howaminotinthestrokesyet · 3 years

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Behind The Album: OK Computer

The third studio album from Radiohead was released in May 1997 by Parlophone Records. This would mark the first album that Nigel Godrich worked on as their producer. The band would self produce the entire album themselves, which they have done on every record since. In 1995, Brian Eno asked the band to contribute a song to a charity compilation for War Child entitled Help. They were scheduled to do the recording in only a day, which led to the track, “Lucky.” Godrich would say of the recording. “Those things are the most inspiring, when you do stuff really fast and there's nothing to lose. We left feeling fairly euphoric. So after establishing a bit of a rapport work-wise, I was sort of hoping I would be involved with the next album." This track would form the foundation of what would become OK Computer. In early 1996, the group took a break from touring because they found it a bit too stressful. Thoughts now turned to a new record with the mindset of distancing themselves from anything similar to The Bends. Drummer Phillip Selway would say, “There was an awful lot of soul-searching [on The Bends]. To do that again on another album would be excruciatingly boring.” The label gave the band a rather good sized budget for recording equipment for the new release. A number of producers were considered for the album, but they kept coming back to Godrich as an advisor on equipment. Eventually, the band hired him as the producer. Ed O’Brien said of the album, “Everyone said, 'You'll sell six or seven million if you bring out The Bends Pt 2,' and we're like, 'We'll kick against that and do the opposite'."

In early 1996, Radiohead began proper recording of the LP at Canned Applause Studios in Oxfordshire, England. Issues immediately came up as the band had difficulty staying focused on one song all the way to completion. Selway would talk about this later, “We're jumping from song to song, and when we started to run out of ideas, we'd move on to a new song ... The stupid thing was that we were nearly finished when we'd move on, because so much work had gone into them." Although the members of the group were considered equals, the voice of Thom Yorke always represented the loudest one in terms of musical direction. Godrich would talk about his role within the group in an interview. They “need to have another person outside their unit, especially when they're all playing together, to say when the take goes well ... I take up slack when people aren't taking responsibility—the term producing a record means taking responsibility for the record ... It's my job to ensure that they get the ideas across." His permanent role on each Radiohead album would lead to the producer being called the sixth member of Radiohead. After only recording four songs, the band left the Canned Applause Studio for a variety of reasons Including the fact that the studio had no bathrooms or dining rooms. They decided to take a break from recording in order to support Alanis Morissette on tour, which gave them a chance to try some of their new tracks live. Around the same time, Director Baz Luhrmann asked the band to contribute a song to his film, Romeo and Juliet. “Exit Music for a Film” would be played as the credits rolled during the movie, but they did not give Luhrmann permission to place the track on the movie soundtrack. Yorke would later observe that this song became very important to the album. It “was the first performance we'd ever recorded where every note of it made my head spin—something I was proud of, something I could turn up really, really loud and not wince at any moment."

In September 1996, the band began recording again at a mansion in Bath, England owned by actress Jane Seymour. Jonny Greenwood would say the environment represented a much more pleasant change for the group. It “was less like a laboratory experiment, which is what being in a studio is usually like, and more about a group of people making their first record together." One quality that the band enjoyed during the sessions came in the fact that they took full advantage of the natural environment of the mansion. “Exit Music for a Film” utilized some natural reverb courtesy of a stone stairwell. They recorded Let Down” in an empty ballroom at 3 o’clock in the morning. The group worked at its own pace as Ed O’Brien observed later. “The biggest pressure was actually completing [the recording]. We weren't given any deadlines and we had complete freedom to do what we wanted. We were delaying it because we were a bit frightened of actually finishing stuff." A majority of the album would be recorded live with no overdubs because Yorke hated them. The band completed the rest of the album at the studio in Saint Catherine’s towards the end of 1996. In January 1997, the strings for the album were recorded, then they spent the next two months mastering and mixing the album. Actually, the mixing of the album only took a couple of days. Nigel Godrich would later comment, “I feel like I get too into it. I start fiddling with things and I fuck it up ... I generally take about half a day to do a mix. If it's any longer than that, you lose it. The hardest thing is trying to stay fresh, to stay objective."

Several artists would influence what would become the finished product of OK Computer. First and foremost came the 1970 album Bitches Brew by jazz great, Miles Davis. Thom Yorke would tell Q what he saw in that recording that made up his vision for this album. “It was building something up and watching it fall apart, that's the beauty of it. It was at the core of what we were trying to do with OK Computer." Other artists that helped to inspire the record included Elvis Costello, REM, PJ Harvey, the Beatles, Can, and composer Ennio Morricone. Jonny Greenwood would describe OK Computer as an attempt to recreate the sound on all these great records, but they missed the mark. The band would expand their instrumentation for this album to include electric piano, Mellotron, cello and other strings, glockenspiel and electronic effects. Spin would say this about the release, “A DIY electronica album made with guitars." The lyrics to the album focused on themes much more conceptual when contrasted with The Bends. Yorke would sing about a wide variety of topics including transportation, technology, insanity, death, globalism, capitalism, and more. The singer would say, “On this album, the outside world became all there was ... I'm just taking Polaroids of things around me moving too fast." He also took inspiration for some of the lyrics from a selection of books including Noam Chomsky, Eric Hobsbawm's The Age of Extremes, Will Hutton's The State We're In, Jonathan Coe's What a Carve Up! and Philip K. Dick's VALIS. Despite the abstract nature of the lyrics on the record, many critics have looked upon OK Computer as a concept album. They argue that there exists a singular theme running throughout the record, but the band has consistently denied any attempt at making such a release. Jonny Greenwood commented, “I think one album title and one computer voice do not make a concept album. That's a bit of a red herring." They did pay particularly close attention to the order of the tracklist taking almost two weeks to complete it.

The album opens with “Airbag,” which highlights the drumming of Phillip Selway. The track had been inspired by the work of DJ Shadow. The band would later admit that they represented novices in this attempt to base a song on DJ Shadow due to their lack of time with programming. Yorke had actually read an article in a magazine entitled “An Airbag Saved My Life.” Another book that helped to create the basis for the song lyrics emerged in the Tibetan Book of the Dead. Yorke had always been obsessed with the idea that any time you get into a car you could possibly die at any second. The second track “Paranoid Android” stands out as one of the longest tracks in the band's entire catalog. Two songs inspired it from classic rock, “Happiness Is a Warm Gun” by the Beatles and “Bohemian Rhapsody” by Queen. The lyrics are meant to reference the alien from Douglas Adams’s A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Yorke got the idea after watching a woman lose her mind after a drink spilled on her at a bar in Los Angeles. “Subterranean Homesick Alien” referenced “Subterranean Homesick Blues” by Bob Dylan. The lyrics are meant to refer a person who is abducted by aliens, then returns home to realize his life is in no way any different. The beginnings of the theme for this track actually began for the singer in private school when he had an assignment to recreate a British literary movement called Martian poetry. Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare inspired the lyrics to “Exit Music for a Film.” This should come as no surprise as the band had specifically created the song for a remake film. Yorke would use it as a chance to simply recap the entire narrative in the song because Zeffirelli’s version of the film greatly affected him at the age of 13. “I cried my eyes out, because I couldn't understand why, the morning after they shagged, they didn't just run away. It's a song for two people who should run away before all the bad stuff starts.” The singer had tried to replicate Johnny Cash’s Live at Folsom Prison as he sang along to his acoustic guitar. “Let Down” represented an attempt by the band to recreate the sound made famous by Phil Spector and his wall of sound. Yorke would later comment that the lyrics are “about that feeling that you get when you're in transit but you're not in control of it—you just go past thousands of places and thousands of people and you're completely removed from it.” The singer would look upon such lyrics as perfect symbolism for Generation X, which had strongly influenced the direction of it. “Karma Police” contains two major sections that alternate between piano and guitar, which originally came from “Sexy Sadie” by the Beatles. The title of the song was an inside joke between the band during the previous tour. If something bad happened to someone, they would say that the karma police were going to get them. The short Interlude “Fitter, Happier” became something that the Radiohead frontman wrote in 10 minutes while on a break. The voice came from the Macintosh Simpletext software application. He would later describe the words as a “checklist for slogans from the 1990s.”

“Electioneering” turned out to be one of the band’s heaviest rock oriented songs probably ever with lyrics that were inspired by the Poll Tax Riots. Another source of inspiration came in the book Manufacturing Consent by Noah Chomsky. “Climbing Up the Walls” has been described by Melody Maker as “monumental chaos.” The track was arranged by Johnny Greenwood for 16 instruments based on composer Krzysztof Penderecki's “Threnody to the Victims of Hiroshima.” No Surprises” would be initially inspired by “Wouldn’t It Be Nice” by the Beach Boys, but they really wanted to replicate the mood of “What a Wonderful World” by Louis Armstrong or the soul music of Marvin Gaye. Yorke would say the song’s narrator is “someone who's trying hard to keep it together but can't.” The track that started it all “Lucky” was actually inspired by the Bosnian War. Yorke wanted to illustrate the actual terror of that conflict on the charity album, Help. Another theme that he drew upon emerged in his own anxiety about transportation. Critics have likened the guitar on the song to 1970’s Pink Floyd. The final track on the album “The Tourist” was specifically arranged by Jonny Greenwood to create a bit of space on the LP. The lyrics originated from Yorke witnessing tourists in France trying to see as many sites as possible. The title of the album came from the 1978 radio series based on The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy when character Zaphod Beeblebrox says, “Okay, computer, I want full manual control now." They had first heard the line while listening to the series on the bus for their tour in 1996. Yorke would say this about the title later. It “refers to embracing the future, it refers to being terrified of the future, of our future, of everyone else's. It's to do with standing in a room where all these appliances are going off and all these machines and computers and so on ... and the sound it makes." The artwork would be created by both Yorke and Stanley Donwood using a computer. The Radiohead singer would observe this about the art, “It's quite sad, and quite funny as well. All the artwork and so on ... It was all the things that I hadn't said in the songs."

Leading up to the release of the album, the band got very little support from Capitol Records because they did not have too much faith in the commercial potential of it. Much of the pessimism came in the fact that the record did not have any singles to put on the radio. Ed O’Brien would call it the “lack of a Van Halen factor.” The singles that were released from OK Computer included “Paranoid Android,” “Karma Police,” and “Lucky.” All of the singles charted in the top 10 in the UK, while they also did very well making the top 20 on the US charts. Their official website was created in order to promote the record, as well as some non-traditional promotional techniques by the record label. One such idea came in their decision to take out full-page ads in popular British newspapers and magazines with only the lyrics to “Fitter, Happier.” Another promotion sent out floppy disks to people in the press, which included many Radiohead screensavers. Upon its official release, OK Computer would debut at number one on the UK charts, while in the US the record made it to number 21. Please note that this was the highest American debut for the band. By September 2000, the release had sold 4.5 million copies worldwide.

Critics loved the album across the board. Writer Tim Footman would comment, “Not since 1967, with the release of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, had so many major critics agreed immediately, not only on an album's merits, but on its long-term significance, and its ability to encapsulate a particular point in history." Many critics saw it as a very important album. Mojo wrote in their review, “Others may end up selling more, but in 20 years' time I'm betting OK Computer will be seen as the key record of 1997, the one to take rock forward instead of artfully revamping images and song-structures from an earlier era.” The New Yorker would congratulate the band on taking many more risks artistically then their contemporaries like Oasis. “Throughout the album, contrasts of mood and style are extreme ... This band has pulled off one of the great art-pop balancing acts in the history of rock." Most of the reviews that were slightly mixed seemed to focus on the fact that when compared with The Bends, this record did not contain as many catchy songs. The release would go on to win the Grammy for Best Alternative Album, but did not win Album of the Year. The praise for the album seemed to inundate the band a little too much. Also, Radiohead did not agree with the universal assessment that they had made the greatest progressive or art rock record since Dark Side of the Moon. Thom Yorke would say, “We write pop songs ... there was no intention of it being 'art'. It's a reflection of all the disparate things we were listening to when we recorded it."

The legacy of the album came to be represented in a variety of ways. First, the release of OK Computer coincided with the election of Tony Blair. Some writers have pointed to the pessimism on the record as a sign of things to come. Stephen Hayden would write, “Radiohead appeared to be ahead of the curve, forecasting the paranoia, media-driven insanity, and omnipresent sense of impending doom that's subsequently come to characterise everyday life in the 21st century." Second, the arrival of this album directly coincided with the decline of Britpop. The Oasis album Be Here Now did not attain the commercial or critical success that What’s the Story Morning Glory had received in 1995. Third, OK Computer directly influenced a new generation of artists including bands like Bloc Party and TV on the Radio. The album has landed on many lists over the subsequent years as one of the best releases of the decade and all time. Yet, not all retrospective reviews have been kind to OK Computer as it has also landed on some lists as one of the most overrated records of all time. A New Musical Express column criticized the release as the exact point when Radiohead stopped being good, but instead started to become important.

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disneyat34 · 3 years

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The Aristocats at 34

A review by Adam D. Jaspering

The second Disney Dark Age was defined by a series of decisions resulting in decreased film quality. Some decisions were timesavers, prioritizing efficiency above craft. Some were financial decisions, scaling back ambition, favoring simplicity. Some of it was a general sense of disillusionment. The glory days of the Disney empire were gone. Animation as a medium was in a rut. The prestige of working in cartoons was akin to working on an assembly line.

The Aristocats was never a children’s book, fairy tale, or published story. It was an original concept by writers Tom Rowe and Tom McGowan for Disney’s Wonderful World of Color. In 1961, they were instructed to develop stories featuring animal protagonists.

One of the stories involved a family of cats forced from their home by an evil butler and maid. The cats would hide around Paris, staying safe, exploring the locales, having adventures. This was the first draft of The Aristocats.

For years, the writers worked and re-worked the story as a two-part, live-action, made-for-TV movie. From every angle, The Aristocats was infeasible. The writers were trapped in an endless cycle of revision, rejection, revision, rejection. By 1966, they gave up. With so much time, money, and effort sunk, they recouped their losses by selling the treatise to Disney Animation Studios.

The animated medium worked to the writers’ advantage. The cats could now talk, react, move, emote, and think like more than simple house pets. It made completing the script much simpler. However, that was the only advantage earned.

The greatest indicator of the troubled writing process is how heavily the movie borrows ideas from previous Disney films. Disney had made films about pets in trouble before, and they were successes. To copy their success, The Aristocats copied a number of plot elements and themes.

Consider what is lifted from 101 Dalmatians. Someone nefarious kidnaps a bunch of beloved pets. The pets evade their captor, and are forced on an arduous trek back home. They find respite only through the hospitality of other animals along the way.

Consider what is lifted from Lady and the Tramp. A spoiled pet, accustomed to love and indoor life, is forced from home. They find a streetwise transient with a heart of gold who agrees to help. Over time, love blooms despite the pair coming from two different worlds.

The Aristocats is a shameless blend of 101 Dalmatians and Lady and the Tramp, simply substituting the dogs with cats. It offers nothing unique. What it lifts, it doesn’t improve on.

The xerographic animation is the worst its ever been. Xerography has always resulted in scratches, inconsistent line widths, and rough details. In The Aristocats, it’s laughably bad. Lines are sketchy, frayed, and wiry. In wide shots, character outlines are too thick. On close-ups, outlines are too thin. Errant reference lines are left in place, never cleaned before going to print. Detail lines are too bold and garish. The animators were either getting sloppy or lazy.

The female lead of the movie is Duchess, a white angora cat. She is voiced by Hollywood actress Eva Gabor. Gabor is best known for the sitcom Green Acres, where she played a socialite unwillingly relocated to a country setting. She admirably plays Duchess, a cat socialite unwillingly relocated to a country setting.

Gabor lends an air of nobility and sophistication to the character. Unfortunately, she never fully hides her Hungarian accent. She slips between her natural voice and a French affectation, creating a definite European sound, but not of any particular area.

Duchess’s three kittens are Marie (white, voiced by Liz English), Berlioz (black, voiced by Dean Clark), and Toulouse (orange, voiced by Gary Dubin). All three are voiced by American children and speak in an American accent.

In most Disney movies, young characters are voiced by actual children. The same is true for The Aristocats. Unfortunately, the three actors here are among the worst the studio has ever seen. The children lack a sense of timing and awareness in their recitations. Everything they say is forced and toneless. They’re not acting, just reciting the script. It’s made all the worse they don’t project, delivering their lines quietly and without passion into the microphone. Every line sounds as though they have sore throats and stuffy noses.

The male lead is O’Malley, an orange piebald shorthair voiced by Phil Harris. Phil Harris voiced Baloo in The Jungle Book, and was acclaimed for bringing the bon vivant bear to life. It’s no surprise, in a film that has already recycled so much, it recycles an entire character. Phil Harris gives O’Malley Baloo’s relaxed nature, cocky arrogance, love of music, and budding paternal instincts. The only difference between O'Malley and Baloo are their species.

The plot of the film centers around Madame Bonfamille, an elder Frenchwoman of notable wealth. An aging woman, she meets with a lawyer to draft a will. With no spouse and no living family, she bequeaths her estate and all monetary goods to her beloved cats.

This enrages her longtime, long-suffering butler, Edgar. So much so, he conspires to kill the cats, leaving him the sole beneficiary. The evil maid from the original story spec was written out completely.

There is so much to unpack in such a confounding setup. The first among them, Madame Bonfamille won’t relinquish her estate until she dies. She appears to be in her 70s, but is still fully ambulatory, healthy, and mentally sound. She won’t be passing on anytime soon.

So why would Edgar attempt to kill the cats immediately? If he killed the cats now, Madame Bonfamille would adopt new cats and start the cycle anew. Why wouldn’t he kill the cats when Madame Bonfamille is closer to death? If she’s enfeebled or incapacitated, she’d be unable to amend her will.

Let’s give Edgar the benefit of the doubt and assume he panicked. He was blinded by greed. He was offended his boss would discount his years of loyal service. He’s seen as lesser than a quartet of creatures who use a litter box. He didn’t consider the ramifications of preemptive catslaughter. The insult caught him off-guard.

If Edgar behaved rationally, bided his time, and planned a perfect murder, killing the cats would still be stupid. Without researching French estate law of the early 20th century, we can reasonably assume a person cannot name pets as beneficiaries. In which case, the will’s stipulations would be voided and Edgar would inherit the estate.

Assuming it’s unconventional but acceptable, the cats would need a caretaker. What would cats do with such money? Cats can’t shop, can’t pay bills, can’t pay taxes. Edgar would almost certainly be given power of attorney over the cats. He’d live in the manor, be granted a trust fund, and all in exchange for occasionally feeding a few cats. The cats would legally own the wealth, but Edgar would be in charge of where it’s spent. Edgar would get everything anyways, and his hands would be clean.

Even for a kid’s movie, the plot is overly simple and collapses under scrutiny. After so many rewrites and changing of hands, standards dropped noticeably. Nine different writers worked on this movie. The filmmakers had no expectations of the script beyond “complete” and “printed on paper.” The Aristocats is no masterstroke. But maybe it was never intended to be.

It’s never been officially stated, but in an era of financial instability, it’s easy to see the appeal of The Aristocats. A paper-thin plot is an acceptable concession to showcase a bunch of dancing and singing cats.

Disney had never made a cat movie. Disney had made dog movies, and subsequently sold dog toys and dog merchandise. But some people like cats more than dogs. There was an untapped market for cat toys and cat merchandise. All they needed was a cat movie. The plot was irrelevant.

The stakes of the movie are incredibly low. In 101 Dalmatians, the dogs are forced to walk from the outskirts of town back into London. It’s an arduous journey. The weather is harsh and unforgivable. The puppies are tired and hungry. The villain is actively on their trail, ready to attack at any minute.

In The Aristocats, the cats are forced to walk from the outskirts of town back into Paris. It’s a leisurely walk through the countryside. The weather is pleasant and sunny. Edgar doesn’t pursue the cats, assuming them already dead.

The cats were carted off somehow, and now must return home. Their journey isn’t one of survival, just inconvenience. It’s all the tension of a motorist running out of fuel and walking to the nearest gas station.

The plot is so razor thin, characters and vignettes are introduced that do nothing except pad the runtime. After O'Malley falls in a river, he’s saved by a pair geese. It’s an Avis Ex Machina.

Their contribution to the story fulfilled, the geese do not waddle off. The cats follow them into town. There, we meet the geese’s drunken uncle. The drunken uncle does nothing of significance or importance. He stumbles, confused, dizzy, inebriated in a misguided attempt at humor. It’s funny because he abuses intoxicants. Enjoy, kids!

When Edgar attempts to dispose of the cats, his efforts are interrupted by two hound dogs. These dogs chase his motorcycle, causing Edgar to crash. In order to escape without being mauled, Edgar leaves the sidecar and several personal effects behind. He’s forced to return the next day to retrieve the incriminating evidence.

Why these two dogs are so territorial is inexplicable. They don’t just chase Edgar’s motorcycle, they declare a vendetta against him. They chase him off, they chase him back, they even steal the motorcycle and attempt to run him down. If Edgar wasn’t literally trying to drown kittens, the dogs would easily be the villains of the movie.

The dogs have Georgia accents. There’s no reason why. They live in France, just the same as any other character. Should we assume the dogs immigrated from the American south just to work on a farm in a new country? Were they adopted by French farmers from breeders across the Atlantic?

Simply put, they’re hound dogs. Hound dogs are stereotypically southern. It would be silly to have them speak French. It’s also silly to have two characters with Georgian accents in the French countryside. There were no good solutions here.

There’s also a Chinese cat who supplants his L’s with R’s when he speaks. He has buck teeth and squinty eyes. He carries chopsticks around with him. The Aristocats copied so much from Lady and the Tramp, why wouldn’t it also copy its racist stereotypes?

Madame Bonfamille and Duchess are the only characters in the film to have French accents. The rest of the characters speak with American, British, and Appalachian accents. For a film set in France, an array of English dialects is distracting and confusing.

Maurice Chevalier sings the film’s title song. Disney secured a French icon, but shied away from the French language. French accents were either too distracting or too indecipherable. At the least, the replacement accents should be consistent.

The French setting was entwined with The Aristocats since its Disney’s Wonderful World of Color days. Producer Harry Tytle is credited with setting the film in Paris. The intention was, what 101 Dalmatians did for London, The Aristocats would do for Paris. Yet another idea borrowed from 101 Dalmatians.

While The Aristocats is set in France, there’s nothing specifically French about its setting. Except for the establishing shots, the movie could just as easily be set in Montreal or Stockholm. Most of the movie is set in a faceless countryside or indistinct buildings.

The other puzzling aspect of the setting is when exactly this movie takes place. The movie insists the year is 1910; the vehicles, furniture, clothing, mannerisms, etc support the assertation. But Scat Cat and his crew are cats out of time.

Scat Cat is a jazz musician (voiced by Scatman Crothers, hence the name). Scat Cat and his band are close friends of O'Malley, later becoming friends with Duchess and her kittens. The band play anachronistic, 60s-era swing jazz.

While jazz music did exist in the 1910s, it was closer to its Dixieland and ragtime forbearers. It certainly wasn’t present in France. Jazz didn’t reach French ears until WWI, introduced by American soldiers. All that’s beside the point; Scat Cat and his crew come straight out of the Kennedy era.

Anachronistic music has never been a problem in Disney films, but early 60s music in a 70s movie set in the 1910s is a disastrous choice. 70s music would be acceptable. 1910s music would be acceptable. Even 40s music, splitting the difference, would be an acceptable choice.

Music can’t be used in a movie just because somebody on staff likes the song. It needs to fit the film, of course, but it also needs to be either modern and contemporary, or a nostalgic throwback. It’s the exact reason the Sherman Brothers shirked from using a rock and roll song in The Jungle Book.

60s jazz is dated, irrelevant, and distracting. It doesn’t belong in the movie. It doesn’t fit the setting. It’s not old enough to be classic, and not new enough to be relevant. It makes Disney seem like their finger is off the pulse. But there were big jazzy numbers in The Jungle Book, and The Jungle Book was a success. So The Aristocats also got a big jazzy number, even if it makes zero sense.

The Aristocats is a mess from the bottom up. The paper thin plot is a discarded treatise no one else wanted to make. It’s puffed up with unnecessary scenes and characters that contribute nothing. What little is offered is blatantly recycled from other Disney pictures. The animation is among the worst ever proffered from Disney Animation Studios. The characters are bland and undefined, the setting is underutilized, and the ending is so conveniently contrived, you can tell precisely when the screenwriters threw their hands up in frustration.

It may be unfair to place the failure of The Aristocats on Disney Studios alone. The 1970s was a dark age for animation in general. The decline of the studio system in the 1960s had a ripple effect into the animation industry. Theatrical shorts from MGM, Warner Bros, Universal, Paramount, and Disney themselves ceased in the mid-60s. Animation was becoming outdated and irrelevant.

The end of the era would be tragic, but animation wasn’t a dead medium. Ironically, the rise of Saturday morning cartoons on television meant animation had a larger audience than ever. But without studio financing and prestige, cartoons were churned out cheaper, quicker, and with smaller returns. There was a market demand without standards or incentive. It was a no-win situation.

Still suffering from Walt’s death years ago, Disney Animation Studios was under financial strains and a creative dry spell. Disney animation was coasting on nostalgia, constantly in danger of being shut down. The board of directors only needed one excuse.

The filmmakers cut every corner and made every concession. In doing so, The Aristocats came in underbudget, and turned a profit. In financial terms, the movie was a success. And while the film has its share of fans and defenders, from a cinematic standpoint, in every other sense, it is a disaster. Disney Studios proved cats don’t always land on their feet.

Fantasia Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs Cinderella Alice in Wonderland Sleeping Beauty Pinocchio The Jungle Book The Sword in the Stone Bambi 101 Dalmatians The Three Caballeros Lady and the Tramp Peter Pan Dumbo Melody Time Saludos Amigos The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad The Aristocats Fun and Fancy Free Make Mine Music

#The Aristocats #Disney #walt disney #Walt Disney Animation Studios #disney studios #movie review #Film Criticism #film analysis #Disney canon

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doof-doofblog · 3 years

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"IAN!"

Friday 22nd January 2021

Hello again everyone! I hope you're all doing okay. I'm really looking forward to writing about this blog, I think this is the moment everyone has been waiting for! The build up to this point has been massive! I'm sure the majority of you know what's happened already, but I truly can't wait to jump right in.

Wow! What an absolutely fantastic episode! Everything has finally come out! Before I even mention the main event, let's focus on Frankie and Katy to start off with. After finally reconnecting with her Dad, in the previous episode Frankie called up her Mum informing her that she wants nothing more to do with her. Tonight, Katy desperately approaches her daughter, claiming that everything she's been told is a lie, however as soon as Frankie mentions she's going to get a DNA test done to prove who her Father is, Katy knows she can no longer hide the truth from her, she admits that Mick is in fact her Dad. Frankie is absolutely disgusted with her Mother, as she's claiming that they were in love. Regardless if that is true or not, the fact she had sexual intercourse with a child, plain and simply makes her a paedophile. Frankie turns and walks away, leaving her Mother crying in the middle of the Square. As she settles back into the Carter household, both Mick and Linda are talking about the excitement to introduce her to the rest of their family, including all her brothers and sister. Even though Frankie questions if they would be happy with that, it looks as if her Mum is still on her mind. Was she really naïve and confused?! Both Linda and Mick fully understand that Katy, at the end of the day, is her Mum and it'll be hard for her to move on knowing what she knows. Frankie pleads for them not to report her to the police, even though she doesn't condone her Mother's actions, she fears it will absolutely destroy her.

This episode also seems to show that it's Phil's birthday, and he's celebrating his 60th! Even though his family have organised a special birthday at home, it's fair to say that Phil has his mind focused on other things.

Which brings us to the main event of the episode! Firstly I just want to say that the performances from both Adam Woodyatt and Letitia Dean were absolutely incredible! They absolutely carried this episode! After realising that Sharon lied to him about Dennis's phone being broken, it seems that Ian is starting to believe that Sharon could be the one behind him being unwell. As Sharon calls him that his dinner is ready, Ian's phone pings notifying him that he's got a voice message, as he hears it - it appears to be the Doctor he visited with Max, he mentions that in regard to his tests there appears to be some cause for concern. It looks as if this brings it all full circle for Ian and he knows that Sharon has been the one behind it all. As his wife calls him to get settled, he sees the lovely meal she's prepared - a beautiful candlelit dinner with a bottle of wine on the table.

As they get comfortable and Sharon plates up his food, you can see he is watching her every move, wiping her hands on her napkin etc. He attempts to make small talk with his wife, talking about the people they've lost in their lives and how its just those two together now. As he really tries to make conversation, its easy to notice that he's not touched a single piece of food on his plate, not even drunk any wine! He questions her why she had used separate pans to prepare their food, to which she simply explains that she doesn't want to put on any weight, and with Ian being so unwell recently, he needs all the energy he can get. Ian attempts a smile at his wife response, but you can see deep down that he knows something isn't right, he still reluctant to touch his food. Instead of causing a fuss, he suggests to Sharon that they have something else instead and they could reheat this food for another day. Sharon, at this point is visibly getting frustrated, she pleads for her husband to a least take a bite, as she's worked so hard to make it for him. She informs him that she wants to make this night special for him.

It looks as if Ian can't hide his suspicion any longer, out of blue and getting straight to the point he asks his wife "Where's the poison, Sharon? Is it in the wine or the sauce?" - Instantly, Sharon denies any wrong doing, informing her husband that he's gone mad due to his paranoia since his attack. But Ian doesn't believe a word she says as he scoops a fork full of food and directs it in Sharon's direction, informing her to eat it instead. In an attempt to prove a point to her husband, she takes the fork from Ian, knowing full well the poison is in the food, she slowly raises the fork to her lips, but before it can get any closer into her mouth, she takes it away, leaving Ian knowing everything he needs to know. In absolute devastation, he questions his new wife "Why?" - Sharon leaves the table, knowing her plan has been sussed, all you can hear is Ian's pleads of an explanation as to why she tried to poison him. Deep down, part of me thinks "How dare he asks her "Why?"" - but Sharon turns sharply informing him that he knows EXACTLY why she tried to poison him. In response, Ian simply says the name "Dennis!"

It's at this moment that everything comes flooding out, Sharon forces Ian to listen to the voice message her son had left her on the night of the boat crash, instantly they both start crying, floods of tears falling down their faces. (Once again, I have to say fantastic performances from both Adam and Letitia). It's then that Ian attempts to inform his wife that he never killed Dennis, but Sharon doesn't want o hear it and gives him a huge smack across the face, calling him a "Liar!". To be fair, he probably did deserve that slap, but he begs once again to explain everything to Sharon, the full details of what happened that night. All this time, Sharon has believed that Ian locked her son in the room and left him to die, but Ian pleads to her to let him explain. He reveals that he never knew the boat was going to sink, if he had he would never have locked him in in the first place. He explains how Dennis was acting that night and wanted to teach him a lesson for bullying Bobby, however when things started to get more dangerous he realised he had to go back and try and save Dennis. He continues to explain to Sharon that he actually attempted to save her son, recalling that he got him out of the locked room, they went down the corridor with the water rising up to their necks, she recalls there being a loud noise and huge wave came out of nowhere, unfortunately this caused Ian to lose hold of Dennis, even though it was dark he tried to find him but he simply couldn't - very sadly, Dennis got swept under and drowned. Both of them are in floods of tears at this point as everything revolving around how Dennis died comes to light.

Regardless of this Sharon informs her husband that everyone around him hates him, the fact that he had so many suspects out to kill him. She mentions that his children hate him also, how is it fair that Dennis is dead and that Ian gets to live? All her anger and grief once again comes flooding out, attacking Ian with harsh words of truth. Suddenly, Ian seems to agree on everything she's saying. He looks back on his life, how many wives he's had, have any of them really loved him? He's sadly lost two children and his remaining children hate him - to him, it all kind of makes sense, why should he carry on living? This is where things, I thought took an interesting turn - he started actually eating the food placed in front of him, much to Sharon's shock. At first, she questions what he's doing, but when he carries on eating and eating, she shouts that he should eat every bite and die alone. She scurries out of the room, leaving Ian alone eating. However, it looks as if everything gets too much for Sharon, would she really let Ian die, knowing full well his food was poisoned? It looks as if the guilt gets to her, she hurries back upstairs and pushes the plate of food away from him, although he attempts to carry on eating it, she forces him to be sick and bring it all back up. Interestingly, instead of attempting to kill her life-long friend, she does a complete 180 and tries to save him.

After everything that has come to light and Ian bringing up all the poison food, he still desperately tries to apologise to his wife. To be fair, Sharon has never been a killer, if she's wanted someone dead she's always asked someone else to do it for her, or even backed out at the last minute. Something tells me that she thought "Enough is enough!" - both she and Ian have suffered enough due to the circumstances of Dennis's death. Sharon then decides to take off her wedding ring, it's true she never loved Ian. He begs her to put it back on, but she simply says "I've just tried to kill you!" but Ian pleads for her to reconsider and they can work things out. But in all honestly, it's not going to really is it?! After everything they've been through the past few months, how could they ever come back from this? Plus the valid fact that Sharon never loved him and was only doing it to get her revenge. She simply says goodbye and leaves him alone in the Vic.

While all this has been happening at the Vic, Phil has been waiting urgently to hear news that Sharon has gone ahead and killed Ian. During his birthday celebrations, the doorbell goes and Phil rushes to the door to see Sharon. He asks her straight out whether the job was done, she bows her head and simply states that if he really wants Ian dead, he's going to have to do it himself. Phil looks completely disappointed that she's backed out of their plan, he takes it upon himself to walk directly to the Vic. Without anyone seeing, he sneaks up the stairs, searching every single room for Ian. But he's nowhere to be seen, he's simply disappeared, scarpered, in pure frustration and anger Phil screams Ian's name, as if it could be heard from all over the Square!

The final clip we see is Ian, slowly making his way to the train station. Has Sharon's words really hit home for him? Is he really not wanted by his family? Do his children really hate him to the core? As his phone rings, he doesn't even take a look at it a flings it into the bin. He turns and takes one last look at the Square and heads off to places unknown.

I have to say, this has been one of my favourite episodes! The script writing, the performances from everyone involved was absolutely incredible! EastEnders at it's absolute best! Where has Ian gone? the one thing that comes to my mind now is that people will instantly be asking questions to where Ian has fled? Max? Kathy? Peter and Bobby? Even Phil? People are going to be curious to his disappearance? Will Kathy blame Sharon? What is going to happen between Phil and Sharon now? Honestly, I really can't wait to see the aftermath of this episode, it's going to be really interesting that's for sure. I do have mention though that we have not seen the last of Ian. Adam Woodyatt has simply taken a well deserved break and will be back later in the year! From what I believe, I think there's going to be a massive twist which will see him return, but who knows what that's going to be?!

Overall a brilliant episode! Thank you all for reading, it really means the world! I really enjoyed reviewing this one. Thank you all for your on-going support. I hope you enjoy the rest of your weekend. I'll back very soon! Love you all xXx

#eastenders #ianbeale #sharonbeale #philmitchell #mickcarter #frankielewis #katylewis #lindacarter #dennisrickmanjr #kathybeale #maxbranning #peterbeale #bobbybeale

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path-of-my-childhood · 5 years

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Taylor Swift: ‘I was literally about to break’

By: Laura Snapes for The Guardian Date: August 24th 2019

Taylor Swift’s Nashville apartment is an Etsy fever dream, a 365-days-a-year Christmas shop, pure teenage girl id. You enter through a vestibule clad in blue velvet and covered in gilt frames bursting with fake flowers. The ceiling is painted like the night sky. Above a koi pond in the living area, a narrow staircase spirals six feet up towards a giant, pillow-lagged birdcage that probably has the best view in the city. Later, Swift will tell me she needs metaphors “to understand anything that happens to me”, and the birdcage defies you not to interpret it as a pointed comment on the contradictions of stardom.

Swift, wearing pale jeans and dip-dyed shirt, her sandy hair tied in a blue scrunchie, leads the way up the staircase to show me the view. The decor hasn’t changed since she bought this place in 2009, when she was 19. “All of these high rises are new since then,” she says, gesturing at the squat glass structures and cranes. Meanwhile her oven is still covered in stickers, more teenage diary than adult appliance.

Now 29, she has spent much of the past three years living quietly in London with her boyfriend, actor Joe Alwyn, making the penthouse a kind of time capsule, a monument to youthful naivety given an unlimited budget – the years when she sang about Romeo and Juliet and wore ballgowns to awards shows; before she moved to New York and honed her slick, self-mythologising pop.

It is mid-August. This is Swift’s first UK interview in more than three years, and she seems nervous: neither presidential nor goofy (her usual defaults), but quick with a tongue-out “ugh” of regret or frustration as she picks at her glittery purple nails. We climb down from the birdcage to sit by the pond, and when the conversation turns to 2016, the year the wheels came off for her, Swift stiffens as if driving over a mile of speed bumps. After a series of bruising public spats (with Katy Perry, Nicki Minaj) in 2015, there was a high-profile standoff with Kanye West. The news that she was in a relationship with actor Tom Hiddleston, which leaked soon after, was widely dismissed as a diversionary tactic. Meanwhile, Swift went to court to prosecute a sexual assault claim, and faced a furious backlash when she failed to endorse a candidate in the 2016 presidential election, allowing the alt-right to adopt her as their “Aryan princess”.

Her critics assumed she cared only about the bottom line. The reality, Swift says, is that she was totally broken. “Every domino fell,” she says bitterly. “It became really terrifying for anyone to even know where I was. And I felt completely incapable of doing or saying anything publicly, at all. Even about my music. I always said I wouldn’t talk about what was happening personally, because that was a personal time.” She won’t get into specifics. “I just need some things that are mine,” she despairs. “Just some things.”

A year later, in 2017, Swift released her album Reputation, half high-camp heel turn, drawing on hip-hop and vaudeville (the brilliantly hammy Look What You Made Me Do), half stunned appreciation that her nascent relationship with Alwyn had weathered the storm (the soft, sensual pop of songs Delicate and Dress).

Her new album, Lover, her seventh, was released yesterday. It’s much lighter than Reputation: Swift likens writing it to feeling like “I could take a full deep breath again”. Much of it is about Alwyn: the Galway Girl-ish track London Boy lists their favourite city haunts and her newfound appreciation of watching rugby in the pub with his uni mates; on the ruminative Afterglow, she asks him to forgive her anxious tendency to assume the worst.

While she has always written about relationships, they were either teenage fantasy or a postmortem on a high-profile breakup, with exes such as Jake Gyllenhaal and Harry Styles. But she and Alwyn have seldom been pictured together, and their relationship is the only other thing she won’t talk about. “I’ve learned that if I do, people think it’s up for discussion, and our relationship isn’t up for discussion,” she says, laughing after I attempt a stealthy angle. “If you and I were having a glass of wine right now, we’d be talking about it – but it’s just that it goes out into the world. That’s where the boundary is, and that’s where my life has become manageable. I really want to keep it feeling manageable.”

Instead, she has swapped personal disclosure for activism. Last August, Swift broke her political silence to endorse Democratic Tennessee candidate Phil Bredesen in the November 2018 senate race. Vote.org reported an unprecedented spike in voting registration after Swift’s Instagram post, while Donald Trump responded that he liked her music “about 25% less now”.

Meanwhile, her recent single You Need To Calm Down admonished homophobes and namechecked US LGBTQ rights organisation Glaad (which then saw increased donations). Swift filled her video with cameos from queer stars such as Ellen DeGeneres and Queen singer Adam Lambert, and capped it with a call to sign her petition in support of the Equality Act, which if passed would prohibit gender- and sexuality-based discrimination in the US. A video of Polish LGBTQ fans miming the track in defiance of their government’s homophobic agenda went viral. But Swift was accused of “queerbaiting” and bandwagon-jumping. You can see how she might find it hard to work out what, exactly, people want from her.

***

It was girlhood that made Swift a multimillionaire. When country music’s gatekeepers swore that housewives were the only women interested in the genre, she proved them wrong. Her self-titled debut marked the longest stay on the Billboard 200 by any album released in the decade. A potentially cloying image – corkscrew curls, lyrics thick on “daddy” and down-home values – were undercut by the fact she was evidently, endearingly, a bit of a freak, an unusual combination of intensity and artlessness. Also, she was really, really good at what she did, and not just for a teenager: her entirely self-written third album, 2010’s Speak Now, is unmatched in its devastatingly withering dismissals of awful men.

As a teenager, Swift was obsessed with VH1’s Behind The Music, the series devoted to the rise and fall of great musicians. She would forensically rewatch episodes, trying to pinpoint the moment a career went wrong. I ask her to imagine she’s watching the episode about herself and do the same thing: where was her misstep? “Oh my God,” she says, drawing a deep breath and letting her lips vibrate as she exhales. “I mean, that’s so depressing!” She thinks back and tries to deflect. “What I remember is that [the show] was always like, ‘Then we started fighting in the tour bus and then the drummer quit and the guitarist was like, “You’re not paying me enough.”’’’

But that’s not what she used to say. In interviews into her early 20s, Swift often observed that an artist fails when they lose their self-awareness, as if repeating the fact would work like an insurance against succumbing to the same fate. But did she make that mistake herself? She squeezes her nose and blows to clear a ringing in her ears before answering. “I definitely think that sometimes you don’t realise how you’re being perceived,” she says. “Pop music can feel like it’s The Hunger Games, and like we’re gladiators. And you can really lose focus of the fact that that’s how it feels because that’s how a lot of stan [fan] Twitter and tabloids and blogs make it seem – the overanalysing of everything makes it feel really intense.”

She describes the way she burned bridges in 2016 as a kind of obliviousness. “I didn’t realise it was like a classic overthrow of someone in power – where you didn’t realise the whispers behind your back, you didn’t realise the chain reaction of events that was going to make everything fall apart at the exact, perfect time for it to fall apart.”

Here’s that chain reaction in full. With her 2014 album 1989 (the year she was born), Swift transcended country stardom, becoming as ubiquitous as Beyoncé. For the first time she vocally embraced feminism, something she had rejected in her teens; but, after a while, it seemed to amount to not much more than a lot of pictures of her hanging out with her “squad”, a bevy of supermodels, musicians and Lena Dunham. The squad very much did not include her former friend Katy Perry, whom Swift targeted in her song Bad Blood, as part of what seemed like a painfully overblown dispute about some backing dancers. Then, when Nicki Minaj tweeted that MTV’s 2015 Video Music awards had rewarded white women at the expense of women of colour, multiple-nominee Swift took it personally, responding: “Maybe one of the men took your slot.” For someone prone to talking about the haters, she quickly became her own worst enemy.

Her old adversary Kanye West resurfaced in February 2016. In 2009, West had invaded Swift’s stage at the MTV VMAs to protest against her victory over Beyoncé in the female video of the year category. It remains the peak of interest in Swift on Google Trends, and the conflict between them has become such a cornerstone of celebrity journalism that it’s hard to remember it lay dormant for nearly seven years – until West released his song Famous. “I feel like me and Taylor might still have sex,” he rapped. “Why? I made that bitch famous.” The video depicted a Swift mannequin naked in bed with men including Trump.

Swift loudly condemned both; although she had discussed the track with West, she said she had never agreed to the “bitch” lyric or the video. West’s wife, Kim Kardashian, released a heavily edited clip that showed Swift at least agreeing to the “sex” line on the phone with West, if not the “bitch” part. Swift pleaded the technicality, but it made no difference: when Kardashian went on Twitter to describe her as a snake, the comparison stuck and the singer found herself very publicly “cancelled” – the incident taken as “proof” of Swift’s insincerity. So she went away.

Swift says she stopped trying to explain herself, even though she “definitely” could have. As she worked on Reputation, she was also writing “a think-piece a day that I knew I would never publish: the stuff I would say, and the different facets of the situation that nobody knew”. If she could exonerate herself, why didn’t she? She leans forward. “Here’s why,” she says conspiratorially. “Because when people are in a hate frenzy and they find something to mutually hate together, it bonds them. And anything you say is in an echo chamber of mockery.”

She compares that year to being hit by a tidal wave. “You can either stand there and let the wave crash into you, and you can try as hard as you can to fight something that’s more powerful and bigger than you,” she says. “Or you can dive under the water, hold your breath, wait for it to pass and while you’re down there, try to learn something. Why was I in that part of the ocean? There were clearly signs that said: Rip tide! Undertow! Don’t swim! There are no lifeguards!” She’s on a roll. “Why was I there? Why was I trusting people I trusted? Why was I letting people into my life the way I was letting them in? What was I doing that caused this?”

After the incident with Minaj, her critics started pointing out a narrative of “white victimhood” in Swift’s career. Speaking slowly and carefully, she says she came to understand “a lot about how my privilege allowed me to not have to learn about white privilege. I didn’t know about it as a kid, and that is privilege itself, you know? And that’s something that I’m still trying to educate myself on every day. How can I see where people are coming from, and understand the pain that comes with the history of our world?”

She also accepts some responsibility for her overexposure, and for some of the tabloid drama. If she didn’t wish a friend happy birthday on Instagram, there would be reports about severed friendships, even if they had celebrated together. “Because we didn’t post about it, it didn’t happen – and I realised I had done that,” she says. “I created an expectation that everything in my life that happened, people would see.”

But she also says she couldn’t win. “I’m kinda used to being gaslit by now,” she drawls wearily. “And I think it happens to women so often that, as we get older and see how the world works, we’re able to see through what is gaslighting. So I’m able to look at 1989 and go – KITTIES!” She breaks off as an assistant walks in with Swift’s three beloved cats, stars of her Instagram feed, back from the vet before they fly to England this week. Benjamin, Olivia and Meredith haughtily circle our feet (they are scared of the koi) as Swift resumes her train of thought, back to the release of 1989 and the subsequent fallout. “Oh my God, they were mad at me for smiling a lot and quote-unquote acting fake. And then they were mad at me that I was upset and bitter and kicking back.” The rules kept changing.

***

Swift’s new album comes with printed excerpts from her diaries. On 29 August 2016, she wrote in her girlish, bubble writing: “This summer is the apocalypse.” As the incident with West and Kardashian unfolded, she was preparing for her court case against radio DJ David Mueller, who was fired in 2013 after Swift reported him for putting his hand up her dress at a meet-and–greet event. He sued her for defamation; she countersued for sexual assault.

“Having dealt with a few of them, narcissists basically subscribe to a belief system that they should be able to do and say whatever the hell they want, whenever the hell they want to,” Swift says now, talking at full pelt. “And if we – as anyone else in the world, but specifically women – react to that, well, we’re not allowed to. We’re not allowed to have a reaction to their actions.”

In summer 2016 she was in legal depositions, practising her testimony. “You’re supposed to be really polite to everyone,” she says. But by the time she got to court in August 2017, “something snapped, I think”. She laughs. Her testimony was sharp and uncompromising. She refused to allow Mueller’s lawyers to blame her or her security guards; when asked if she could see the incident, Swift said no, because “my ass is in the back of my body”. It was a brilliant, rude defence.

“You’re supposed to behave yourself in court and say ‘rear end’,” she says with mock politesse. “The other lawyer was saying, ‘When did he touch your backside?’ And I was like, ‘ASS! Call it what it is!’” She claps between each word. But despite the acclaim for her testimony and eventual victory (she asked for one symbolic dollar), she still felt belittled. It was two months prior to the beginning of the #MeToo movement. “Even this case was literally twisted so hard that people were calling it the ‘butt-grab case’. They were saying I sued him because there’s this narrative that I want to sue everyone. That was one of the reasons why the summer was the apocalypse.”

She never wanted the assault to be made public. Have there been other instances she has dealt with privately? “Actually, no,” she says soberly. “I’m really lucky that it hadn’t happened to me before. But that was one of the reasons it was so traumatising. I just didn’t know that could happen. It was really brazen, in front of seven people.” She has since had security cameras installed at every meet-and-greet she does, deliberately pointed at her lower half. “If something happens again, we can prove it with video footage from every angle,” she says.

The allegations about Harvey Weinstein came out soon after she won her case. The film producer had asked her to write a song for the romantic comedy One Chance, which earned her second Golden Globe nomination. Weinstein also got her a supporting role in the 2014 sci-fi movie The Giver, and attended the launch party for 1989. But she says they were never alone together.

“He’d call my management and be like, ‘Does she have a song for this film?’ And I’d be like, ‘Here it is,’” she says dispassionately. “And then I’d be at the Golden Globes. I absolutely never hung out. And I would get a vibe – I would never vouch for him. I believe women who come forward, I believe victims who come forward, I believe men who come forward.” Swift inhales, flustered. She says Weinstein never propositioned her. “If you listen to the stories, he picked people who were vulnerable, in his opinion. It seemed like it was a power thing. So, to me, that doesn’t say anything – that I wasn’t in that situation.”

Meanwhile, Donald Trump was more than nine months into his presidency, and still Swift had not taken a position. But the idea that a pop star could ever have impeded his path to the White House seemed increasingly naive. In hindsight, the demand that Swift speak up looks less about politics and more about her identity (white, rich, powerful) and a moralistic need for her to redeem herself – as if nobody else had ever acted on a vindictive instinct, or blundered publicly.

But she resisted what might have been an easy return to public favour. Although Reputation contained softer love songs, it was better known for its brittle, vengeful side (see This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things). She describes that side of the album now as a “bit of a persona”, and its hip-hop-influenced production as “a complete defence mechanism”. Personally, I thought she had never been more relatable, trashing the contract of pious relatability that traps young women in the public eye.

***

It was the assault trial, and watching the rights of LGBTQ friends be eroded, that finally politicised her, Swift says. “The things that happen to you in your life are what develop your political opinions. I was living in this Obama eight-year paradise of, you go, you cast your vote, the person you vote for wins, everyone’s happy!” she says. “This whole thing, the last three, four years, it completely blindsided a lot of us, me included.”

She recently said she was “dismayed” when a friend pointed out that her position on gay rights wasn’t obvious (what if she had a gay son, he asked), hence this summer’s course correction with the single You Need To Calm Down (“You’re comin’ at my friends like a missile/Why are you mad?/When you could be GLAAD?”). Didn’t she feel equally dismayed that her politics weren’t clear? “I did,” she insists, “and I hate to admit this, but I felt that I wasn’t educated enough on it. Because I hadn’t actively tried to learn about politics in a way that I felt was necessary for me, making statements that go out to hundreds of millions of people.”

She explains her inner conflict. “I come from country music. The number one thing they absolutely drill into you as a country artist, and you can ask any other country artist this, is ‘Don’t be like the Dixie Chicks!’” In 2003, the Texan country trio denounced the Iraq war, saying they were “ashamed” to share a home state with George W Bush. There was a boycott, and an event where a bulldozer crushed their CDs. “I watched country music snuff that candle out. The most amazing group we had, just because they talked about politics. And they were getting death threats. They were made such an example that basically every country artist that came after that, every label tells you, ‘Just do not get involved, no matter what.’

“And then, you know, if there was a time for me to get involved…” Swift pauses. “The worst part of the timing of what happened in 2016 was I felt completely voiceless. I just felt like, oh God, who would want me? Honestly.” She would otherwise have endorsed Hillary Clinton? “Of course,” she says sincerely. “I just felt completely, ugh, just useless. And maybe even like a hindrance.”

I suggest that, thinking selfishly, her coming out for Clinton might have made people like her. “I wasn’t thinking like that,” she stresses. “I was just trying to protect my mental health – not read the news very much, go cast my vote, tell people to vote. I just knew what I could handle and I knew what I couldn’t. I was literally about to break. For a while.” Did she seek therapy? “That stuff I just really wanna keep personal, if that’s OK,” she says.

She resists blaming anyone else for her political silence. Her emergence as a Democrat came after she left Big Machine, the label she signed to at 15. (They are now at loggerheads after label head Scott Borchetta sold the company, and the rights to Swift’s first six albums, to Kanye West’s manager, Scooter Braun.) Had Borchetta ever advised her against speaking out? She exhales. “It was just me and my life, and also doing a lot of self-reflection about how I did feel really remorseful for not saying anything. I wanted to try and help in any way that I could, the next time I got a chance. I didn’t help, I didn’t feel capable of it – and as soon as I can, I’m going to.”

Swift was once known for throwing extravagant 4 July parties at her Rhode Island mansion. The Instagram posts from these star-studded events – at which guests wore matching stars-and-stripes bikinis and onesies – probably supported a significant chunk of the celebrity news industry GDP. But in 2017, they stopped. “The horror!” wrote Cosmopolitan, citing “reasons that remain a mystery” for their disappearance. It wasn’t “squad” strife or the unavailability of matching cozzies that brought the parties to an end, but Swift’s disillusionment with her country, she says.

There is a smart song about this on the new album – the track that should have been the first single, instead of the cartoonish ME!. Miss Americana And The Heartbreak Prince is a forlorn, gothic ballad in the vein of Lana Del Rey that uses high-school imagery to dismantle American nationalism: “The whole school is rolling fake dice/You play stupid games/You win stupid prizes,” she sings with disdain. “Boys will be boys then/Where are the wise men?”

As an ambitious 11-year-old, she worked out that singing the national anthem at sports games was the quickest way to get in front of a large audience. When did she start feeling conflicted about what America stands for? She gives another emphatic ugh. “It was the fact that all the dirtiest tricks in the book were used and it worked,” she says. “The thing I can’t get over right now is gaslighting the American public into being like” – she adopts a sanctimonious tone – “‘If you hate the president, you hate America.’ We’re a democracy – at least, we’re supposed to be – where you’re allowed to disagree, dissent, debate.” She doesn’t use Trump’s name. “I really think that he thinks this is an autocracy.”

As we speak, Tennessee lawmakers are trying to impose a near-total ban on abortion. Swift has staunchly defended her “Tennessee values” in recent months. What’s her position? “I mean, obviously, I’m pro-choice, and I just can’t believe this is happening,” she says. She looks close to tears. “I can’t believe we’re here. It’s really shocking and awful. And I just wanna do everything I can for 2020. I wanna figure out exactly how I can help, what are the most effective ways to help. ’Cause this is just…” She sighs again. “This is not it.”

***

It is easy to forget that the point of all this is that a teenage Taylor Swiftwanted to write love songs. Nemeses and negativity are now so entrenched in her public persona that it’s hard to know how she can get back to that, though she seems to want to. At the end of Daylight, the new album’s dreamy final song, there’s a spoken-word section: “I want to be defined by the things that I love,” she says as the music fades. “Not the things that I hate, not the things I’m afraid of, the things that haunt me in the middle of the night.” As well as the songs written for Alwyn, there is one for her mother, who recently experienced a cancer relapse: “You make the best of a bad deal/I just pretend it isn’t real,” Swift sings, backed by the Dixie Chicks.

How does writing about her personal life work if she’s setting clearer boundaries? “It actually made me feel more free,” she says. “I’ve always had this habit of never really going into detail about exactly what situation inspired what thing, but even more so now.” This is only half true: in the past, Swift wasn’t shy of a level of detail that invited fans to figure out specific truths about her relationships. And when I tell her that Lover feels a more emotionally guarded album, she bristles. “I know the difference between making art and living your life like a reality star,” she says. “And then even if it’s hard for other people to grasp, my definition is really clear.”

Even so, Swift begins Lover by addressing an adversary, opening with a song called I Forgot That You Existed (“it isn’t love, it isn’t hate, it’s just indifference”), presumably aimed at Kanye West, a track that slightly defeats its premise by existing. But it sweeps aside old dramas to confront Swift’s real nemesis, herself. “I never grew up/It’s getting so old,” she laments on The Archer.

She has had to learn not to pre-empt disaster, nor to run from it. Her life has been defined by relationships, friendships and business relationships that started and ended very publicly (though she and Perry are friends again). At the same time, the rules around celebrity engagement have evolved beyond recognition in her 15 years of fame. Rather than trying to adapt to them, she’s now asking herself: “How do you learn to maintain? How do you learn not to have these phantom disasters in your head that you play out, and how do you stop yourself from sabotage – because the panic mechanism in your brain is telling you that something must go wrong.” For her, this is what growing up is. “You can’t just make cut-and-dry decisions in life. A lot of things are a negotiation and a grey area and a dance of how to figure it out.”

And so this time, Swift is sticking around. In December she will turn 30, marking the point after which more than half her life will have been lived in public. She’ll start her new decade with a stronger self-preservationist streak, and a looser grip (as well as a cameo in Cats). “You can’t micromanage life, it turns out,” she says, drily.

When Swift finally answered my question about the moment she would choose in the VH1 Behind The Music episode about herself, the one where her career turned, she said she hoped it wouldn’t focus on her “apocalypse” summer of 2016. “Maybe this is wishful thinking,” she said, “but I’d like to think it would be in a couple of years.” It’s funny to hear her hope that the worst is still to come while sitting in her fairytale living room, the cats pacing: a pragmatist at odds with her romantic monument to teenage dreams. But it sounds something like perspective.

#taylor swift #interview #by taylor #the guardian #lover era #lover album #not sure how I feel about the interviewer's approach...there's a lot of irony in it #but a fun read for us nonetheless

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nerianasims · 3 years

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Billboard #1s 1985

Under the cut.

Foreigner -- "I Want To Know What Love Is" -- February 2, 1985

One of the quintessential 80s power ballads. It's actually kind of interesting if you think about it enough. He's not in love yet, but he's gotten sick of not being in love, so he's asking someone he's in the pre-love stage with to show him. Though he's had "heartache and pain" before, and doesn't know if he can face it again. It's not consistent. I feel like it's a missed opportunity, but oh well. It's good enough for what it is.

Wham! -- "Careless Whisper" -- February 16, 1985

Oh my god I love the saxophone in this. The music throughout the song is so incredibly sexy. And this is the kind of song George Michael's voice was made for. He's totally capable of sounding both hot and in agony at the same time. I actually adore a whole lot of cheating songs -- mostly, though not exclusively, the tormented kind. Drama! Love! Sex! Angst! Gorgeous.

REO Speedwagon -- "Can't Fight This Feeling" -- March 9, 1985

<3. He keeps singing "r"s like a pirate, but he doesn't go as hard on the other consonants, so I'm good with it. Lyrically, this song sounds like it might be two songs mashed together. "What started out as friendship has grown stronger" or "my life has been such a whirlwind since I saw you." Well which is it? Except I've had that happen. I love this song.

Phil Collins -- "One More Night" -- March 30, 1985

This is a depressing heartbreak song without the saving grace of any of Phil Collins' neat drum stuff. Blah.

We Are the World -- April 13, 1985

Whoo boy. I was 8 when this came out. Obviously I loved it. All the kids loved it. Now, though... I'm sorry, but it's bad. Really bad. Many others have gone deeply into why it's bad. I feel acutely embarrassed listening to it, so I'm just running away from it as fast as possible. (Remember all those celebrities singing "Imagine" in their mansions in 2020? I blame this song for that.)

Madonna -- "Crazy For You" -- May 11, 1985

This is one of Madonna's most straightforward love songs. Maybe the most, period. This or "Cherish," and this is a better song. It's lovely. Like Olivia Newton-John, Madonna can act a song. (Unlike in most movies she's been in.) But what I'm thinking about now is learning in this article that her label wouldn't let Madonna release "Into the Groove" as a single. That song was huge. It was played on the radio all the time. If it had been released as a single, or maybe if Billboard had tracked songs then like it does today, it would have been a massive smash, definitely #1. "Into the Groove" is also the best song of her very early career. "Crazy for You" is good, but not nearly as special.

Simple Minds -- "Don't You Forget About Me" -- May 18, 1985

As I am "Gen X", I am supposed to deeply connect with The Breakfast Club. I was 8 years old when it came out. My life as a teenager was nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, like that movie. I didn't recognize any of the "types." I liked the movie when I saw it in college, mostly, but the whole sexual harassment turns into a relationship deal was not seen as cool any longer. The "jocks vs. nerds" thing also felt very dated. The school in the movie was bigger and richer than mine, but it's a fantasy.

Anyway, though I don't feel much about the movie, its breakout song was really good. It does speak to a real fear both in graduating high school and during young adult relationships. I haven't forgotten the people I knew in high school, as far as I know, but obviously they don't have the same importance to me any longer. I'm Facebook friends with a lot of them. And very much not with a couple who were the most important then, because we grew apart -- or blasted apart. One of the nicest girls I knew in high school thinks there's a war on Christmas. Another keeps trying to get me to join her MLM. One of my best friends became my first boyfriend, and I don't regret that, but it was also a semi-disaster. And others... we just have nothing to say to each other any longer.

So, Breakfast Club: I don't connect with at all. "Don't You Forget About Me": Speaks to something very real and timeless.

Wham! -- "Everything She Wants" -- May 25, 1985

What a dick. Songs in which the narrator is a colossal jerk are perfectly fine, of course, but this one gets under my skin. He's whining about his wife getting pregnant when she's dissatisfied with their life and that they're broke. As if it's something she chose to do to him. She's stuck creating a whole other person with her blood and flesh, and he thinks it's all and entirely about him. I really hate it.

Tears for Fears -- "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" -- June 8, 1985

I can't hear this song without thinking of this Baldur's Gate fan trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jdd06d2nids. Speaking of which, I am incredibly excited for Baldur's Gate 3. I've been reading the early access reviews on Steam, and anything anyone is saying that's negative is stuff I don't gaf about (except bugs), whereas the positive stuff, I care about deeply. I hope it's got some of the feeling of that trailer. Um, right, Tears for Fears.

Honestly, though, it works best as a Baldur's Gate theme song. I don't think everybody actually wants to rule the world. It sounds good though. And pretty different from other stuff around it. But I like Lorde's cover better, and not just because it fits so wonderfully with all sorts of fantasy stories.

I usually play a paladin or paladin-type the first time in fantasy RPGs, but I'm thinking bard this time.

Bryan Adams -- "Heaven" -- June 22, 1985

He's been with this woman since they were young, and while they've broken up and gone through rough patches, now they're together forever and they're "in heaven." Bryan Adams knew exactly how to write a song that would become a hit. I used to not mind it at all, but it also means nothing to me. The chorus is catchy as hell though. So catchy that I ended up waking up with it in my head and it would not leave for hours and hours, so now I resent this song.

Phil Collins -- "Sussudio" -- July 6, 1985

I refuse to believe anyone ever told Phil Collins he was too young. He was born middle-aged. Anyway, the narrator isn't supposed to be him, so it's fine, but it's still kinda funny. He's got a crush on someone who doesn't even know his name, but "she's all I need all of my life." Um. The music is repetitive, the drums aren't as interesting as Phil Collins at his best, and I don't like the lyrics. I don't hate it, but I don't like it either.

Duran Duran -- "View to a Kill" -- July 13, 1985

I'm not sure I've ever heard this song before. It's about as good a song as the Bond movie they wrote it for was as a movie. In other words, it's bad. I'm not even sure there's a melody. Just a mess. "Ordinary World" would have made a far better Bond theme, but of course that was the 90s, when Duran Duran decided to try to make sense both lyrically and musically.

Paul Young -- "Every Time You Go Away" -- July 27, 1985

I like the high keyboard notes in this. They're sort of haunting. The rest of the song is musically pretty good, too. Lyrically though, it's only passable. This woman keeps leaving him every time "the leading man" shows up, so I guess he's the backup. Why does he keep waiting for her anyway? There's no hint in the song. I'm kind of embarrassed for him.

Tears for Fears -- "Shout" -- August 3, 1985

I think "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" is a better song than this one when done by Lorde. But I think "Shout" is a better song than Tears for Fears' original iteration of "Everybody Wants to Rule the World." The chorus seems clear enough. But the verses are not. "They gave you life/ And in return you gave them hell" makes sense in isolation, but then there's a bunch of stuff that doesn't go with it. Like "I'd really love to break your heart" -- wtf? But the music is really good.

Huey Lewis and the News -- "The Power of Love" -- August 24, 1985

This was the big song for Back to the Future, and it meshed beautifully with the movie, but it doesn't need that association to be a great song. "Don't need money, don't take fame/ Don't need no credit card to ride this train/ It's strong and it's sudden, it can be cruel sometimes/ But it might just save your life." Yep. It's sort of Motown, sort of rock, and I love it. (Also: "Stronger and harder than a bad girl's dream." Heh.)

John Parr -- "St. Elmo's Fire" -- August 24, 1985

Of all the John Hughes movies I have not seen and do not plan to see, St. Elmo's Fire sure is one of them. The song is about a disabled man who inspired people by rolling himself cross-country in his wheelchair for charity, which has absolutely nothing to do with the movie. I'm disabled, and I just... okay look, what he did was admirable. But we shouldn't have to be inspirations to be counted as worthwhile, and I've been told I should die because I can't produce for capitalism, so you know. I've got some personal issues with this and I'm gonna move along.

Dire Straits -- "Money for Nothing" -- September 21, 1985

This is not Dire Straits' best song, but it's an awfully fun one. I watched the video tons when I was a kid. (That sound is Tipper Gore falling to the floor in a dead faint.) The music is great rock. And the lyrics are very true-to-life. You can either sanitize people or present them as they are honestly, and I know which I prefer.

Ready for the World -- "Oh Sheila" -- October 12, 1985

The band's from Michigan. The English accent at the beginning of the song is fake. That's a good preview for the song, which sounds like a 3rd-rate Prince knockoff at best. Blech.

a-ha -- "Take On Me" -- October 19, 1985

The video totally ripped off one of my aunts. Somehow or other, they saw into the little comic she drew for me about someone going into a land of drawings to rescue someone else in a romantic adventure, years before 1985. Anyway, this song is great musically, massively synthesizer heavy without sounding artificial. Though I can only understand maybe a third of the lyrics as he sings them. I've always understood "It's no better to be safe than sorry" though. Yep, at least when it comes to romance, which is what they're singing about here.

Whitney Houston -- "Saving All My Love for You" -- October 26, 1985

It's not better to be safe than sorry, but that doesn't mean it's good to be an absolute idiot in matters of romance either. Nor is it good to be a colossal jerk. That's what the narrator is here -- the "you" she's singing to is married. And he won't leave his wife and children, though he used to say he would. The lyrics seem to say that's she's accepted the situation, but the way Houston sings it, I think the narrator's trying to get him to leave his wife -- and children -- for her still. This makes sense, as it puts some kind of passion and sense of story into the song, which without Houston's singing would not be there. The narrator certainly never acknowledges that what she's doing is wrong in the slightest iota. This song could be done in a way that works. But it's a completely sincere ballad. So, no. I despise the narrator, I despise the man she's singing to more, and the whole thing leaves me feeling gross.

Stevie Wonder -- "Part Time Lover" -- November 2, 1985

No one's thinking anyone's gonna leave anyone in this one. It's about cheating, and the thrill of it, but then at the end, he's found out his wife's cheating on him too. "I guess that two can play the game/ Of part-time lovers." This kind of funk groove is one way you make a song like this. It makes the whole thing sexy and fun, and the lyrics also work even beyond that ending, because they acknowledge it's wrong.

Jon Hammer -- "Miami Vice Theme" -- November 9, 1985

My parents didn't watch Miami Vice. And then I never felt like watching it in re-runs when I got older. I don't recognize this song. It's an energetic instrumental, but there's so much going on, I keep trying to figure out if there's a main musical idea anywhere. Nope. Just lots and lots of synth. Headache-inducing.

Starship -- "We Built This City" -- November 16, 1985

Blech. This song sounds both unfinished and overproduced somehow. The chorus seems designed to be catchy with absolute ruthlessness by people who didn't really care, and no one involved even seems to want to bother to fake it.

Phil Collins & Marilyn Martin -- "Separate Lives" -- November 30, 1985

This is supposed to be heart-wrenchingly sad. Well, it does tank my dopamine, but that's not what a good sad song does. A good sad song makes you feel better. This one makes me need to turn on something high-energy after about 30 seconds, before I sink into bleakness. It's aggressively boring.

Mr. Mister -- "Broken Wings" -- December 7, 1985

This was one of the first songs I recorded from the radio. On my pink tape deck/radio that was a sort of a mini boom box. I've always had my own tape player since I can remember, but that was a definite upgrade from the Sesame Street one. I was 9 then, so getting more seriously into music and developing my own taste intentionally, rather than simply absorbing what was happening around me.

Anyway, the song. It's about a relationship in trouble, and he wants to stay with her. To me it sounds like she has been so seriously hurt (and not by him), that she can't trust anyone, and he's laying himself on the line for her. That has spoken to me deeply ever since I first heard the song as a child. Moving on to the music: While the lyrics are repetitive, the music is not, which is what makes the song so good. It's a beautiful song.

Lionel Richie -- "Say You, Say Me" -- December 21, 1985

I look forward to Lionel Richie no longer being on the charts. This song was on the soundtrack of some movie I've never heard of. I wish I'd never heard of the song. Totally artificial glop.

BEST OF 1985: "Don't You Forget About Me" by Simple Minds WORST OF 1985: "We Built This City" by Starship

#billboard number ones

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justjessame · 4 years

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The Deal Chapter 21

Finding a cabin as we hear gunshots fired felt lucky. Unlucky was that it was already inhabited, by someone talking on a walkie to others. Carol and Tyrese held the man at gunpoint, as I carried Judith inside and leaned back against a wall, with a view out a covered window. While they urged the man to give them information, I watched, making sure that our new friend’s friends didn’t come for a visit. Judith seemed to be as intent in her focus on my shirt collar as I was with the view.

Finally, Carol took charge. She planned on going in alone, even though Ty wanted to argue. A glance at me and Judith, and he was more agreeable to staying behind. While he stood guard, Carol took our buddy’s ample supply of fireworks, and with a smile and nod, she was off.

I can see the walkers coming, and as I tell Ty, the idiot that we were holding hostage grabbed me and Judith, and threatened Ty with our deaths if he didn’t walk outside into the mass of biters. Sharing a look with my reluctant protector, he doesn’t fight it. He goes, and then, within minutes, he ambushes the idiot when I feign shock at what I’m seeing from my view and position near the window.

Tyrese had killed an entire horde of fucking walkers with his bare hands, and killed the moron who took a look at me and Judith and decided we were fair game.

When Carol returns, she isn’t alone. And seeing Dad and Carl rush forward to wrap me and Judith in their arms has me crying in happiness. They survived. They were alive and here and kissing my cheeks and head. And Dad, after checking every inch of exposed skin on me for signs I was hurt, took Judith from me and did the same with my baby sister.

I watched him, and Carl take over the care of Judith, if only for a short while, and then I see HIM. Daryl. Alive and safe. And his arms are around me and his face is buried in my hair, and I relax, fully for the first time since I left the prison behind. Because he was in front of me, and he was alive.

As we leave, Dad takes a moment to “fix” the sign urging people to come to Terminus for safety. “No Sanctuary”, far more truthful than what had been. And hopefully keeps far more people safe.

We had new members. Short introductions. Abraham, the soldier with a mission. Eugene, the mullet that swore he knew a cure for the dead rising. Rosita, Abraham’s second, and possibly lover? And Tara, someone that had apparently been with the Governor at his final stand.

I nodded through the introductions, feeling the exhaustion that had been building since I’d walked away from the prison into uncertainty catching up. But there wasn’t time. We had to put distance between us and what Daryl mentioned was a place full of cannibals. Great. And he seemed preoccupied. Beth had been with him when we all got separated, and now she was missing too.

We rested, eventually, and I found out that Michonne was without her katana. And seeing her without it, it was like seeing Hershel without his leg at first. She was still a badass, but something was clearly missing.

And Hershel? He hadn’t made it. Philip had killed him. And I was happy to hear that good ol’ Phil had met his fucking maker too.

Dad and Carol seemed to make peace. And I watched as Daryl and Carol took a moment to themselves.

I felt that I should feel content. We were together again. Most of us. I knew that Daryl wouldn’t rest until he found Beth. I knew that Carol was still a little bit cagey, which I understood. I knew that our new members were adamant that they had to find a vehicle and head north. Get the prize that was mullet man to his lab, was the mission, apparently.

So while I knew what I should feel. I couldn’t make myself feel it. Not when I knew that Daryl would rush off to play hero. That Dad would make it his mission to find us another safe place. That I would once again be relegated to the middle of the pack peacekeeper. It was the same, but it wasn’t. And I couldn’t put my finger on why, at this point in my life, that it bothered me.

Before he can rush off to play hero, Daryl does run off, but he kisses me awake and smiles down at me to let me know he’s going hunting. He doesn’t ask me to join him. I haven’t hunted with him for so long he doesn’t even bother.

I don’t bother telling anyone else. I just assume that the rest would realize that Daryl would go hunting. He had his precious crossbow. We were surrounded by forest. What’s so surprising? But I should have, because everyone is still twitchy and the poor man of mine had to hold up his line of squirrels when he came back to his own group prepared to take him out because he made a little noise in return.

“We surrender,” he says, and I bite back a laugh.

We find a minister, stuck on a rock of all places, and surrounded by walkers soon after. Honestly? I’m thinking as our group takes care of the danger and the holy man, Gabriel, tries to make jokes about stealing Daryl’s squirrels. Dad gives him the questions and I listen as the answers are no, no, and because God doesn’t abide violence. Well, he’s going to last a long time, I think, shaking my head and waiting to learn our next move.

Gabriel’s church is nearby. Dad, Michonne, Carol, and Glenn clear it before the rest of us enter. Abraham notices the church bus and once again reminds us of the importance of getting Eugene to Washington. Michonne, glancing at me and the clear vision of complete exhaustion that I must be wearing, says we need supplies and rest. I close my eyes and nod my thanks. And nearly fucking cheer when Dad agrees with her.

Gabriel tells our group about his own survival tactics, and something rings strange to me, but I’m so tired that I can barely stand. Carol and Daryl have gone to fill our water bottles and containers. Dad has Michonne, Sasha, and Bob come with him and Gabriel, clearly not trusting the good man of the cloth. And Maggie, Glenn, and Tara decide to loot for weapons. Before he leaves, Dad thanks Tyrese for keeping his girls safe and takes Carl aside.

Tyrese leads me to one of the church pews and takes Judith from my arms. “Lay down, Jessi, rest.” He commands, and before I can argue, my body takes the command to heart and I’m out.

I wake up before our group returns. Carl is standing over me and I blink to make my eyes focus on him. He glances at Tyrese and asks me to come outside with him. Outside he shows me deep scratches along a window and a horrible message dug into a wall. “You will burn for this.”

I share a look with my little brother and nod. He has to show Dad. And we have to find out just what the hell Gabriel’s story really is.

There’s a celebration later that night. One that I feel is premature at best, and tempting fate at worst. Abraham, using my little sister to support his mission’s end game, tries to sell us all the pipedream of Eugene the man who could save us all. Judith, a baby, coos and Dad takes it as a sign. And so, we have a new purpose it would seem.

I don’t notice Carol slipping out. I don’t see Daryl follow. But, as the hours pass, as more horrors show up on our doorstep, I realize that once again, he didn’t take the time to say goodbye.

#daryl dixon x ofc #rick grimes daughter #eventual negan x ofc #angst #The Walking Dead #mental illness #alternative universe

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quercussp · 4 years

Text

The Royal Mr. Whiskers

Rating: T

Word count: 2.3k

Summary:

Mr. Whiskers just could not understand why they had to move to a new apartment. This apartment was perfect! It had the couch Mr. Whiskers liked, the little nook above the fridge from where Mr. Whiskers could keep watch, a nice warm bed for him. All the smells were accounted for, all the walls sufficiently improved by Mr. Whisker’s claws. But no, apparently with Phil moving in, his humans didn’t have enough space anymore.

Authors note:

Happy Birthday Zan! This fic is about moving in, roommates and cats, so I hope you like it <3 Have the most lovely day today!

Special thanks to @alittledizzy and @bisexualshoemarriage for the beta work <3

Warnings: light swearing

[read on ao3]

Humans truly are ridiculous. Also very needy. Mr. Whiskers just could not understand why they had to move to a new apartment. This apartment was perfect! It had the couch Mr. Whiskers liked, the little nook above the fridge from where Mr. Whiskers could keep watch, a nice warm bed for him. All the smells were accounted for, all the walls sufficiently improved by Mr. Whisker’s claws. But no, apparently with Phil moving in, his humans didn’t have enough space anymore.

“Listen, it’ll be great! We’ll take the couch with us, you’ll have more space to roam. I promise you, you’re gonna love it!” Phil was explaining to Mr. Whiskers once again, while sorting laundry. Dan was out at work, and Phil was using that time to once again try to persuade Mr. Whiskers that moving would be a good idea. “See? Nothing fits! We just don’t have the space, I keep having to keep my socks in a pile on the floor! ... No, that is not acceptable. … Because clothing needs to be put away or it’ll get dirty again! Look at this, there’s more cat hair in here than there is fabric!” Phil waived a pair of socks in front of Mr. Whiskers face.

Mr. Whiskers has had this argument with Phil at least 20 times by now. When the topic first came up, both of his humans were incredibly excited. They would spend hours looking at their little lit up book, discussing potential new apartments, choosing what furniture would come with them and what they would buy. And they had the audacity to not even ask Mr. Whisker’s permission before making that decision.

Of course, Mr. Whiskers could not let that lie. Phil’s favorite mug had to go (it was thrown off the counter in the middle of the night, just for additional impact), along with Dan’s new shoes (if his human didn’t want him to pee in his shoes, he should have put them away into the closet. Or he could have stopped this silly moving nonsense). But even those desperate measures didn’t seem to help.

Dan, of course, being the thick headed individual that he was, could not put two and two together and insisted that Mr. Whiskers was having a “mid life crisis” and that they should just ignore his antics (and put away all their shoes at night).

Phil, on the other hand, definitely knew what prompted the destruction of his mug (along with the ruined sweater and of course the ‘cactus incident’. Poor Billy did not deserve to die that young, but he ended up collateral damage). So he started a campaign to persuade Mr. Whiskers that it would be a good idea. Well, maybe persuade isn’t the right word, more like bribe him.

The first thing Phil had to do was persuade Dan that they absolutely could not live in a flat on the ground floor. It was a two week argument in which Phil was forced to be very creative, explaining that he needs the exercise of going up the stairs and that he’s scared of a piano falling through the ceiling on top of him (it’s not like he could tell Dan that Mr. Whiskers insisted that he needs a good view of the pigeons outside and that he refuses to stare at people’s feet all day. He was Mr. Whiskers, not some lowlife dog.) Eventually, after multiple arguments, a lot of whining and several “persuading sessions” that Phil carried out in their bedroom, throwing Mr. Whiskers out of the room with whisper “Do you want the view or not?”, Dan gave in.

Next was the room issue. Phil was absolutely adamant that he and Dan need a separate room from Mr. Whiskers, and it was not easy to satisfy either Dan or Mr. Whiskers. Dan kept throwing his hands up in disbelief and shrieking “Why do we need TWO extra rooms?! I get one is a guest room, but what the hell are we going to do with the second bedroom?! Phil, no we do not need a separate room for the cat!.. Ouch! Fuck off, you animal, that hurt!” Sometimes humans just needed to be reminded that stupidity has consequences.

Mr. Whiskers on the other hand demanded that he would get the Master Suite. He might not exactly know what that meant, but if anyone would have the room that’s called the “Master” room, surely it should be Mr. Whiskers.

So that is why Phil was currently on his knees in the bedroom, folding Dan’s underwear and trying to reason with Mr. Whiskers, who was in the middle of his bathing session.

“It’s just called that because it has an en suite bathroom. You don’t even use the bathroom, why would you want that room?”

Mr. Whiskers gave Phil an unimpressed glance and continued licking his tail.

“It’s already hard enough to get Dan to agree to that place with the extra bedroom. If we tell him that he doesn’t even get the big room, there’s no way he’s gonna go for it and we’ll have to start the search all over again!”

Mr. Whiskers went on to carefully licking his toes.

“I know you don’t care if we stay here for another couple months, but we’re going crazy here! And do you remember that there was an actual gas leak last week, right? Please, be reasonable!”

“Hey Phil! Are you having a debate with the cat again?” They both turned their heads to see Dan glancing into the room, cheeks red from walking home. Dan came up to Phil and gave him a peck on the lips and ruffled his hair. “You’re a weird one, Lester.”

He tried to give Mr. Whiskers a scratch behind the ears, but Mr. Whiskers had no time for that nonsense and jumped up on the dresser with a huff.

“Fine, be that way, see if I care,” Dan hissed at him and went to the kitchen to start dinner.

Phil shot Mr. Whiskers a pleading look.

“Mr. Whiskers, please, you have to be the bigger person here. Or the bigger cat I guess,” he murmured quietly before following Dan into the kitchen. Mr. Whiskers could hear wet smooching noises and laughter and assumed that the humans were doing their licking thing again. Gross.

***

In the end, a compromise had been reached. After some lengthy debates, Dan agreed that having a separate room could be useful in the future (“In case we want to expand the family some day” Dan said and both of the humans suddenly got very red and giggly, much to Mr. Whisker’s confusion), and Mr. Whiskers finally agreed to take the smaller room for himself, as long as Phil promised that he would get a proper sized bed to sleep on. And not one of those kitty beds, a proper bed. One that he would approve of himself.

And that’s how they end up sitting at the kitchen table, all three of them, shopping for beds on Dan’s computer thing (it didn’t really make sense no matter how many times Phil tried to explain it to Mr. Whiskers, but the humans didn’t need to know that, or they might think that they’re smarter than him). Dan was showing them different pictures, and Mr. Whiskers was gracefully situated in Phil’s lap, who was gently scratching his stomach in an attempt to make the whole process more pleasurable for everybody (himself mostly, of course, as there is no greater pleasure than petting Mr. Whiskers, and Mr. Whiskers was kind enough to allow it.)

“How about this one?” Dan showed a picture of a small wooden bed with drawers at the base. “We can use it as a daybed and store things in there? Maybe fit a table in the room as well, have a little home office?”

“That could work, what do you think Mr. Whiskers?” Phil replied.

“Yes, of course, what does Mr. Whiskers think,” said Dan in a slightly teasing voice.

Mr. Whiskers let his claws out a bit and kneaded at Phil’s lap.

“Ouch ouch ouch, ok, ok! No, Mr. Whiskers doesn’t like it. He wants something bigger.”

“My god, this cat is such a diva!” Dan rolled his eyes but continued looking. He showed them a couple other options but Mr. Whiskers remained unimpressed (“You don’t have to claw me every time, man!” Phil would tell him, “I get it, you don’t like it!”).

Dan continued scrolling until a picture caught Mr. Whiskers’s attention. He stood up from Phil’s lap and let out a loud meow.

“I think Mr. Whiskers likes this one!” Phil exclaimed, pointing to a picture of a gigantic white fluffy bed, with a gold headboard.

“You’re kidding, right? You have to be kidding, Phil! Do you see how much it costs? It’s a king size! It won’t even fit in the room!” Dan was starting to get a little hysterical in Mr. Whiskers opinion. And the “king” part sounded pretty good, whatever it meant.

“No, Phil, no this is absolutely not happening!”

***

But of course it did happen. Many weeks and boxes later (who knew that all Phil had to tell Mr. Whiskers to convince him to move was that there would be endless boxes. Of all sizes. All for Mr. Whiskers to enjoy, despite his humans trying to use them for other purposes), they were getting settled in their new place, and Mr. Whiskers had to admit it was pretty nice. There were large windows with a nice wide windowsill for Mr. Whiskers to lounge on while looking outside. The pigeons on the balcony were an endless source of entertainment. They got a lovely new dining table and chairs, one of which Mr. Whiskers of course promptly claimed for himself. Even the couch that they brought with them seemed to be more comfortable, now that it wasn’t totally overflowing with random things.

As for the bed, Mr. Whiskers immediately knew that it was going to be quite acceptable, as soon as Dan and Phil tugged it into the apartment, red and panting from the effort.

“Phil, I hate you for making us get a place on the 4th floor. We are never moving again, you hear me?” Dan whined, plopping himself on the sofa dramatically.

“Yes, dear,” answered Phil breathlessly and went into the kitchen to get some water.

Mr. Whiskers jumped down from his lounging space on top of one of the bookshelves and went to investigate. The bed they brought in was packed in just an absolutely magnificent specimen of a box. It was giant, just the size Mr. Whiskers deserved. He sniffed the box while walking around it. The smell wasn’t great, but that was fixable. He clawed a bit at the cardboard.

“Impatient, are you, you fucker?” Dan asked, still panting.

Mr. Whiskers shot him a dirty look. His human really needed to learn to hold his tongue sometimes.

***

Under Mr. Whiskers’s careful instruction, the bed was assembled in his room and the box from it was left in the corner for him to enjoy later (that did require some scratching to achieve, as Dan was adamant on throwing it out. Once again, the stupidity of humans continued to baffle Mr. Whiskers). Phil put down nice purple sheets and some pillows on it, and Dan moved all the cat toys and Mr. Whiskers’ scratch tower into the room with him.

“I cannot believe we have a seperate room for our cat. We must be crazy,” he said, wiping off his forehead and pulling Phil to his side gently.

Phil wrapped his arms around Dan’s waist and leaned his head on his shoulder. “I can’t believe we’re finally done moving. I can’t wait to live here with you.”

They were looking at each other with that disgusting look in their eyes, and Mr. Whiskers felt the need to remind them of who the real mastermind behind this whole moving thing was by jumping onto the new bed and meowing.

“And with you of course, Mr. Whiskers!” Phil corrected himself.

***

That night Dan and Phil closed themselves in their room pretty early and left Mr. Whiskers to wander the apartment on his own. By now Mr. Whiskers knew that they would keep the door closed for a bit, but then probably Phil would go to get himself some water and Mr. Whiskers could sneak in at that moment. More often than not, Dan was already too tired to kick him out again, and Mr. Whiskers could get some sleep in peace.

His plan worked perfectly of course, and just a couple of hours later Mr. Whiskers quietly tiptoed into the room, just as Phil was closing the door. He waited until they both settled back into bed, softly jumped up and made his way across the covers to the nice warm spot between the two humans.

“You stupid cat, you have to be kidding me!” Dan grumbled half asleep. “Get out! Get out! You have a separate room! With a separate bed! It’s bigger than ours! Go away!”

Mr. Whiskers ignored his rambling and curled up comfortably.

“Phil, tell him to go away,” Dan mumbled, but Mr. Whiskers could hear that he had given up. “Tell him he has his own bed.”

Phil just sighed and pulled Dan closer to him. Just a couple minutes later the two humans were peacefully asleep. Mr. Whiskers curled up a bit tighter and closed his eyes. He swished his tail, gently bumping it into the two bodies around him. He would let Dan sleep a little bit before moving to his preferred sleeping location - Dan’s pillow. It’s not like Dan needed it. No matter how much he liked to pretend to be annoyed at Mr. Whiskers for pushing him off of the pillow, he seemed to prefer Phil’s chest anyway. And Mr. Whiskers was not cruel enough to deny Dan the opportunity to do that. He was generous like that.

#phan #phanfiction #my fic #happy birthday zan #i love you very much <3 #this is sequel to my previous fic #but can be read as stand alone

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