#right track…. so like. its kinda like a personal anecdote?? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lokislytherin · 5 years ago

Note

For the writing positivity ask meme: 3, 10, 15, 21, 30!

OOH A RESPONSE! thank you for the ask @khunfounded!

prepare for a lot of rambling

3. What is your favorite line/paragraph that you’ve written?

hmmm i’ve written a lot of things before this is hard lmao i’ll just pick my top two!

from tower of god, ships in the night ch14: this is one of the most poetic things i’ve written, ever (thank taylor swift’s ‘cardigan’ for the inspiration with the line “you drew stars around my scars // and now i’m bleeding” because i love folklore and taylor swift is megabrain)

“The wounds she'd dug into his mind may never truly heal, but they are merely memories of pain now, pale scars painted over with gold ink, tattooed with stars and guitars and whatever the night had to give.”

from bts, burn the stage ch1: circus poetics, of course. after reading the first (and only) chapter i wanna continue this again sdfjkldkls why do i keep starting fics but never finishing them? i should actually Commit

“without a sound, it creeps into cities in their darkest hours, bringing with it shadows of caravans dimly lit by rattling lanterns and flickering light bulbs. if you take a closer look, you can see the silhouette of an elephant in its trailer, illuminated by the faintest shine of moonlight. this time, the circus is in busan.”

10. What’s the best comment on a fic you’ve ever gotten?

time to scroll through my 1000+ comments lmao

okay after a while of scrolling i have no idea what the best comment is but ngl any comment from @resident-normal-person is bound to get me wheezing at some point because her comments are so long and detailed and it’s like watching reaction vids but in words

but ngl this comment from one of the fics i’ve kinda left behind (one chapter is up and i said I’M GONNA CONTINUE THIS IT’S GONNA BE SO LONG I HAVE SO MUCH CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT PLANNED FOR JIN) cracks me up tho:

“Please continue? I'm actually interested”

15. Tell me about a time when you got super inspired.

laughs like i haven’t listened to taylor swift’s ‘willow’ five times today

so i get inspired by songs really easily? especially by taylor swift songs, because each song has a unique narrative and taylor is such an amazing songwriter she’s literally so talented i don’t know if i want to dissect her lyrics or her brain

yesterday her new album evermore came out and i promised my swiftie friend we’d listen and scream about it together, and we did, and before i knew it-

OK FIC PLANNING LET'S GO (this is me trying~) - ILLICIT AFFAIRS / CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS / CLOSURE?: FT KHUN EDUAN, JAHAD AND MAMA AGNIS, SITNVERSE - WILLOW: CRYSTAL SNOW PREQUEL, VLENE - NO BODY NO CRIME: I DON'T KNOW YET BUT PROBABLY KHUNBAM CRIMEBUSTERS AU - EVERMORE: PROBABLY RELATED TO 'EXILE' FIC holy crap the bridge i'm shivering in my seat (it's not the cold) - TOLERATE IT: I DON'T KNOW AS OF RIGHT NOW BUT I WILL, MAYBE JALENE UNREQUITED LOVE FROM JAHAD POV? - ivy: maybe a continuation of willow? but as a plant witch!arlene au, which might tie in to cruel summer? sfdlkasdfjfd - gold rush: part of khunbam celebs au? - marjorie: maybe part of 'the curious courtship ritual of a black turtle' as a tribute to arlene? marjorie was taylor's opera singer grandma - happiness: bam character study with links to rachel? or should i use clean for that - coney island: the lyrics are tragic, so maybe arlene's thoughts in her last moments in sitnverse? i need the angst practise - cowboy like me": city boy eduan gets stranded in a car trip and has to stay the night with country cowboy v? either way it does not end in true love forever or whatever - long story short: bam moving on from rachel and finding love with khun? or khun moving on from maria and finding bam? sfdkljsdfkjlfds i don't knowww so many ideasssss - dorothea: interesting song but i gotta admit i have no idea what to do with this one

kaboom

you can visibly see where i started chilling out lmao but me and my friend spent a little over an hour screaming about evermore, so far my favorite tracks are ‘no body no crime’ (true crime inspired! i want to dissect the narrative and write a fic, maybe start that fugou keiji x khunbam au) and ‘champagne problems’ (eduan-style ‘illicit affairs’ vibes, you’ll get it if you’re caught up to ships in the night)

i did pretty much the same thing for folklore too? like i linked every single song in the album to a oneshot idea and now my swiftie friend is screaming at me to hurry up and actually write the saga because she wants to read my fics

21. Tell me about a time when you impressed yourself.

me in may: *plans out the entire plot of ships in the night*

me in december, actually following the plot: *surprised pikachu* i- i can do that? i did that? just over 100k words? oh my gods this is what dedication actually is

(my inner kim namjoon, waving a razor: NOW STUDY OR I’LL SHAVE YOUR EYEBROWS)

okay but here’s another anecdote: this is me trying to analyze one of my fics, i’m connecting bts’s hyung line (kim seokjin, min yoongi, jung hoseok (hobi), kim namjoon) to space metaphors, i’m screaming at my army friend over whatsapp in the middle of the night because i was kinda high on sleep deprivation

this is like from some time early last year

hC: YOONGI IS THE NIGHT AND HOBI IS THE SUN SO HOBI BRINGS LIGHT TO YOONGI'S WORLD AND LETS HIM SEE THE BETTER PARTS OF HIMSELF AND MAKES HIS LIFE BETTER THEREFORE SOPE IS TECHNICALLY THE BEST SHIP

AND JIN IS THE STARS BECAUSE HE'S TRYING TO MAKE YOONGI SEE THE TRUTH, AND HIS MAGIC IS ALSO THE COLOR OF STARS AND WHEN HE DOES MAGIC HIS EYES GLOW SILVER AND I SHOULD FIND A PIC OF PLATINUM BLOND JIN BUT IDK IF IT WOULD LOOK GOOD

and then me a few days after that

actually no jin is the moon because he brings light to others but also because he helps them but he doesn't help himself so he's lonely that way like the moon

so namjoon could be the stars because they're not on the same level but he's still with jin

and the moon only glows because it reflects the light of the stars around it which suggests that the only reason why jin is still around is because of his love for namjoon and joon's love for him

me more than a year later, after the release of bts’s second most recent album map of the soul:7, which includes kim seokjin’s solo track ‘moon’

HOLY SHÏT DID I PREDICT MOON

LIKE JIN’S MOON MOON

i literally just remembered that just now? like i was looking for the namjinsope space analysis and then i saw jin = moon and was like JIN = MOON? I SAID THAT? ON 4/7/19? i even predicted the song meaning?

also go to 3:22 to see why jin owns my heart he deserves all the love in the world

30. Do you know how proud I am of you?

*tears up* you- you are? thank you so much

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shitty-check-please-aus · 5 years ago

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2020 Books Read So Far

Note: Most of these are audiobooks (listening to books counts as reading books and if you disagree I’d ask you to consider why you believe that), books I started and didn’t finish will be listed but not reviewed, and all my opinions are extremely subjective. I’m putting this on this blog because I want to and I think it’ll help me keep track of what I’ve read if I write it down in a couple places.

Some notes:

I’m surprised that most of these are nonfiction! I don’t usually think of myself as a nonfiction reader.

Having audiobooks has made me way more productive as a reader, since I can read while I’m doing repetitive tasks at work, when I have to stand on the bus, when I’m running, etc.

Naked, by David Sedaris

3/5, the audiobook was “unabridged selections” which means “we didn’t edit the individual essays but you’re only getting half the book”– it would probably have been a 4/5 if it was a whole book. I liked that Amy Sedaris was reading parts of it, but that’s because I like her more than I like her brother. This is sort of an example of the difference between “comedic” and “humorous,” because it’s definitely the latter.

Read it if: you want to read something pretty fucking weird.

Lafayette in the Somewhat United States, by Sarah Vowell

4/5, I saw this recommended a lot when Hamilton first came out so it’s been in the back of my mind for a good while. The book had a great cast, and having different people reading the historical quotes was an excellent touch!

However, I think Vowell’s conversational style is a little jarring here sometimes. It’s like “wait, why are you talking about Bruce Springsteen, I’m not that familiar with his work but he definitely isn’t from Revolutionary War times.” I got her book Assassination Vacation at a used bookshop recently as well, and both books suffer from post-2016 hindsight, where she’ll say something about how incompetent and foolish the politicians of her time are, and I just have to snort to myself and say “Sarah, you’re going to lose your goddamn mind soon.” That’s a bit of an unfair reaction, but it’s hard to avoid having it.

I was also, maybe unfairly, expecting to learn more than I did. The problem is that I know a Lot about the Revolutionary War, and from the introduction I thought we’d hear more about Lafayette’s later life (my knowledge drops sharply after about 1810). The book basically ends after the Battle of Yorktown, though.

Read it if: you have not seen/listened to both Hamilton and 1776, or if you want to read a summary of the Revolutionary War with a focus on one French captain.

Assassination Vacation, by Sarah Vowell

3/5, honestly maybe a 2.5/5. Okay, so. Either I know a lot more about American History than I felt like I did or this is again a very surface level thing. Part of it is because she spends 123 pages on Abe Lincoln. There are 255 pages total. 2/3 of the states I’ve lived in are Indiana and Illinois, two states that fight about claiming Lincoln as their own, and I’ve been to D.C. 4 or 5 times, so I feel like I know enough about Lincoln. I know about John Wilkes Booth, and his brother Edwin who saved Lincoln’s son’s life, and the death train that took Lincoln’s body around the country. I did enjoy learning about the doctor who was probably conspiring with Booth and how he ended up saving tons of lives in prison when there was a yellow fever outbreak (also to be briefly unbearably nitpicky: I think she might have mixed up dengue and yellow fever? She calls yellow fever “breakbone” but I can only find instances online of people calling dengue fever that. Maybe they called them all breakbone in the late 1800s. If anyone reading this is an epidemiologist, let me know).

It was interesting to hear that Charles Guiteau, killer of President Garfield, was part of the Oneida cult. I’m trying to think of anything notable she said about Leon Czolgosz, killer of President McKinley. I guess she talks about how people assumed he was a foreigner because of his name, but I already listened to “The Ballad of Czolgosz” in Assassins, so I knew “Czolgosz, angry man, born in the middle of Michigan.”

This one is from 2005 so the politics stuff is a little more interesting, since at the time I was busy learning multiplication and spending one entire baseball season learning about baseball and following my team (they won the world series, I have excellent timing). I will say that in 2005 we did have Google, so I am again annoyed with some of her asides and personal anecdotes. Look, if you go to the Hemingway house and you don’t know there will be cats there, that’s on you if you don’t bring your Claritin. Hemingway is associated with only two good things, six-toed cats and Daiquiris.

She also does not acknowledge that the parties basically switched platforms? Lincoln’s Republican party is not today’s Republican party, in fact kind of the opposite, so it’s weird that she starts the book with a dedication that’s like “to my lifelong Democrat grandpa, he’d be pissed I dedicated a book about 3 Republicans to him.” I guess she does sometimes say stuff like “how did Lincoln’s party become Reagan’s” (paraphrase), but she doesn’t actually get into it.

Speaking of Democrats, she literally spends more time talking about Pablo Picasso than she spends talking about JFK. She doesn’t explain why she didn’t talk about JFK, but it seems bizarre to me to write a book about American assassinations and to leave out John Fucking Kennedy. Literally I’ve talked more about JFK in this section than she did in her assassin book. It’s not until page 253 that JFK gets a full paragraph. There are 255 pages total. Truly, if she’d taken a paragraph to be like “I’m focusing on the presidents who were elected before 1900″ or “the presidents whose immediate families aren’t still alive” or even “I didn’t want to travel to Dallas for research” or SOMETHING to explain why she left out JFK, I would have understood it more instead of flipping through the pages wondering what was going on.

Read it if: You do not listen to too many history podcasts and you didn’t read the Wikipedia page for the musical Assassins. And I guess if you don’t want to acknowledge that JFK did also get assassinated and that was kind of a big deal. Actually just listen to Assassins instead.

And Then There Were None, Agatha Christie

5/5 as a mystery, 0/5 for its original title (not gonna say it here but if you’ve ever googled the name of HP Lovecraft’s cat, it’s along those lines). Less than 6 hours, narrated by Dan Stevens from Downton Abbey, fairly ideal as an audiobook. I am 95% sure I’ve already read this, because I spent the summer before I started high school reading every Agatha Christie book in the library (I do not have a list of all the Agatha Christie books in my library the summer of 2010, so there is some question).

Read if: you want to hear the guy from Downton Abbey deliver the line “I’m not a complete fool!” in a tone that makes it sound like “I’m not a fucking moron!” Sidenote: Can anyone tell me if Brits say “solder” by pronouncing the L that I’ve always heard as a silent L? Or if Dan Stevens just fucked up that one word?

Over The Top: A Raw Journey to Self-Love, by Jonathan Van Ness

4.5/5

This was a super enjoyable audiobook! It’s a testament to JVN’s considerable charisma that this book is full of him giving people in his past who would rather be anonymous Russian names, and it doesn’t get grating (as a Marina, however, I was shocked to not hear my name at any point; most of the other Marina’s I’ve met in my life are Russian). JVN has had a wild ride in life, and it’s a really raw, honest story of how he became who he is. I will say that if you are interested in reading this, please look up the trigger warnings; there are a lot of things that could be triggering to people.

I feel a little bad at how much more I liked this one compared to Tan France’s memoir, but I also feel like whoever was ghostwriting that one did a bad job at making Tan seem... not extremely defensive, cocky, and prickly (it seems that JVN did not use a ghostwriter; Tan’s on the other hand, let the phrase “I’m proud to be a petty bitch” make it into the final proof several times). Also JVN advocates going to therapy in his book, while Tan kind of says that you should only go to therapy if you have no friends or family or life partner to talk to, which I fundamentally disagree with. I don’t know. I also feel like, if I were to get a makeover from the Fab 5, Jonathan would love my hair (I have great hair) while Tan would say that I’m dressing too old for a 24 year old and then take me to fucking Lane Bryant or Torrid (I wear a size 16 US so IRL options are limited).

Read if: You like Queer Eye or Getting Curious with Jonathan Van Ness

Medallion Status, by John Hodgman

4.5/5

I really like John Hodgman’s podcast, and I got to ask him a question at an event he did at the Field Museum and he was very nice, so I went into this inclined to enjoy it.

And I did! I had a good time reading it. I read it the first week of January and now it’s the second week of February so I have already erased much of the book’s content from my mind, but he somehow made the perspective of being a formerly kinda famous person really interesting. I would also recommend Vacationland, particularly if anyone wants to write an au where Nursey, as a New Yorker, has a vacation home in Dex’s town in Maine. That’s right, I brought it back around to the topic of this blog. And that would be a fucking fantastic au.

Read it if: you like memoirs! it’s a good one.

Murder on the Orient Express, by Agatha Christie

Gonna give this one a 3/5 for performance, because Dan Stevens (again, because I liked his narration in the other one) does a really annoying American accent for a few characters, and an extremely bad Italian accent for another. I’m starting this review only a few hours in, so if it turns out that the Italian man is not Italian, I’ll revoke my criticism. Still a 5/5 mystery, though. I did have to stop many times when they were talking about Istanbul to go over to Spotify and play “Istanbul (Not Constantinople)” by They Might Be Giants.

Books abandoned in 2020 (so far) (no real spoilers, I didn’t get more than a few chapters into any of them):

The Unhoneymooners, Christina Lauren

I got to a point where the main character was telling a lie that would put her newly accepted job into jeopardy, and it stressed me out so much as a relatively new hire that I stopped listening for the day and started another one, and then the week had passed and then the library took it back. I think I’d enjoy it more if I was reading it physically and I could control how fast I got through awkward parts (I am practically allergic to secondhand embarrassment). The performance was good and I did get a hankering for cheese curds.

Me Talk Pretty One Day, David Sedaris

I had like three audiobooks checked out at the same time, and even though this was again an abridged version, I just didn’t have time for all of them. My mom has a physical copy, I’ll borrow that at some point.

The Witch Elm, Tana French

This is one I may revisit someday. The main character is kind of an asshole, which is the point of his character I think, but it made it hard to get into the story. It’s also a 22 hour audiobook, which is kind of insanely long. Additionally, the narrator has a very slow way of talking, but if I tried to speed up the rate of playback I had trouble understanding his accent (I think I just have trouble processing really fast speech in general as well, but I would’ve had an easier time understanding someone with the same accent as me). Anyways, someone put a hold on it at the library and then I didn’t check it out again.

#long post #off topic #Marina Reads #edit: put under a readmore bc I forgot to earlier

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moirai-au · 5 years ago

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Timeline: arc 6 - Aftermath, about a week after the Orator is defeated

Warnings: shippy, Davil, vague mentions of alcoholism and self-harm

Taglist: @immabethehero @bupine @tabbynerdicat @i-maybe-exist @its-ethan-bro @sandinthetardis @honestlyitsjustkenna @taikeero-lecoredier @idkwheresanti

if any of yall (18+ only for the love of god please) wanna see the ns*w version, it’s over here.

“And you still won’t tell me where we’re going, or what we’re even doing.”

“Nope! That’s the whole concept of a surprise, babe.”

Cecil pursed his lips, unamused. He closed the book he’d been finishing just a moment prior and set it aside, on the growing pile of useless volumes right next to the desk. It wasn’t as big or as comfortable as the one in his own apartment, but it made do. “You do know I still have three other idiots to take care of here, right?”

“They’ll be fine, trust me. Charlie can take care of himself, Mars barely does anything but sleep for now, and Ollie’s watching over him. You can leave for a few hours without the mansion burning to the ground, you know.”

Cecil raised a brow. “...Were you even here for the last month and a half?”

“Painfully present, yeah,” Dave chuckled. “Remember the smell of the oven melting? I still don’t understand how the kid pulled that one off.”

The older man groaned. “For someone who wanted to reassure me, you’re not doing a very good job of it.”

“Oh c’mon! It’s gonna be okay, I’m sure of it. Besides, you really need a break.”

“I do not!” Cecil protested, distractedly scratching at his appearing stubble. Dave peered up at him with a deadpan look, considering his wrinkled clothes, his emaciated face and the dark rings under his eyes. “...Really? You know what, it doesn’t matter,” he shook his head, his blue eyes hardening. “This is me putting my foot down, not a negotiation. I’m not gonna sit here and let you run yourself into the ground like this. You’re coming with me, and that’s final.”

The doctor stared at the younger man, taken aback- he’d never heard him use this tone before. it was firm, confident, and evidently left no room for complaint. “...Fine.” he heard himself say before he even realized it. Verdammt. Maybe he was more tired than he thought, giving in that easily.

Or maybe Dave just had this natural sense of authority Cecil had never seen before, because he’d never actually needed it. It actually made sense, considering he was a father.

Thinking about it now, it was obvious. Cecil could’ve hit himself.

“Great!” David beamed, his previous sternness gone as fast as it had arrived. “Just lemme grab a few things first, and pack warm clothes. I’ll get my car.”

“I- your car?” the doctor repeated, his confusion growing- just how far was Dave planning to take them? The smaller male only winked in response, an impish grin on his tanned face. “You’ll see.”

***

It was an abnormally warm night for mid-december.

Well, warm as in… not freezing. Enough above zero that you could stand outside comfortably with a thick enough sweater kinda warm. When-even-are-seasons-anymore-climate-change-is gonna-kill-us-all kinda warm.

“I don’t get it.” Cecil mumbled as they exited the car, making a valiant effort to tone down his annoyance. “Why have you brought us here?” There truly was nothing here, other than miles and miles of rolling hills, some train tracks a few yards away, and a forest somewhere East.

Dave didn’t respond- he just smiled up at him, a hand holding the strap of the backpack he’d brought along. A giddy smile that made Cecil’s stomach flutter a little. Then he silently pointed upward, looking at him expectantly.

Cecil frowned, nonplussed, reflexively following the other’s movement; what was he-

What… was…

He was looking up. Up, up into the endless sky. And he kept on looking, jaw growing slack, arms falling to his sides.

Because there was just so many stars so many stars more than he’d ever seen in his entire life, it was like he was ten all over again looking up through the window and babbling about rocket ships and aliens and how he was going to see it all one day-

“You okay in there, hot stuff?”

Cecil snapped out of his stupor, looking down to see David smirking smugly at him- he was holding a thermos in each of his hands, and there was a blanket laid on the grass, big enough for the two of them. So that’s what he’d packed in his bag. “How-” he cleared his throat, “How did you…”

Dave only winked, tapping a finger against his temple. “...Oh.” the doctor realized. Right. They’d all been in each other’s heads.

“It’s mostly faded by now,” Dave shrugged, setting the warm containers on a corner of the blanket, “Those are your memories, and nobody should snoop through them… but that one stuck with me. And I- I really wanted to surprise you, y’know?”

Cecil nodded, not the slightest trace of anger or annoyance on his features. He just looked up again, silent, pale moonlight lighting up his milky white skin.

Then he looked back at him and Dave was pretty sure he was going to die on the spot.

Cecil was smiling. Not the cocky, arrogant smirk he sometimes wore. Nor the small, timid one he managed to draw out of him once in a blue moon.

An actual, genuinely happy smile that went up to his grey, dark-rimmed eyes, crinkled up and sparkling with joy. Oh, fuck me, he thought.

Could one fall for the same person twice?

“Thank you,” Cecil breathed out, his voice uncharacteristically unsteady. “I… You… I’m sorry. For- for getting annoyed, I know I shouldn’t, you don’t- you deserve better.”

Ah, shit. This tall motherfucker was actually going to make him cry at this rate. “Shit man,” Dave choked, stepping closer to Cecil. “Just- c’m’here.”

He wrapped his arms around the taller man’s middle and pulled him close, tilting his head up to welcome the German’s lips on his own, the older man’s slender hands settling on both sides of his face. The kiss was slow, tender, yet filled with latent intensity and passion. They somehow ended up on the blanket, sitting ever-so close and filling the chilly air with wanton sighs and hums, carried away by the cold breeze.

They eventually pulled back, catching their breath- they were both flushed, eyes slightly glazed over, as they looked at each other with gentle devotion. “I must say…” the doctor murmured, still a bit lightheaded, “This is… quite the break.”

Dave chuckled fondly, before pecking playfully at his lover’s forehead. “Told you you needed it. You’re running yourself ragged Ceec, no wonder you’re on edge.”

“Still, I shouldn’t keep taking out my frustration on you. It’s not right.”

Dave hummed. “Yeah, I know. But you’ve gotten better at it, really. Just gotta keep going forward, yeah?” He tucked a strand of greying hair behind Cecil’s left ear. “ ‘sides, you know I won’t just stand there and take it if you really start to be an ass.”

Cecil snorted. “So I’ve seen. You’d probably snap me in two.”

“Damn right I could! Look at that scrawny ass, I could kick it into the sun.”

“Mmh, I don’t think so. You like it too much, as you keep telling me.”

“Aw shit, he figured it out,” Dave fake-whispered, before they both broke out into laughter. “Oh, also,” he gasped when the hilarity subsided, “this isn’t just a break. S’also a celebration!”

“A celebration?”

Dave smiled, holding out a thermos to the older man. He looked proud of himself. “Happy one month clean, handsome.”

It took him a few seconds to understand, but when he did, he reflexively rubbed at his arm, feeling his face warm up significantly as he accepted the offering, taking a sip. Mmh, black coffee, no cream and no sugar. Just how he liked it. “Ah… yes, thank you.”

“And I’m almost three months sober!” the father cheered, wrapping an arm around his partner’s neck to pull him closer. “Man, look at us. We’re doing amazing, sweetie.”

Cecil chuckled, a little smile gracing his lips as he looked up at the inky skies above. “I… guess we are.”

They laid down next to each other, their shoulders bumping together as they huddled under the extra blanket Dave had brought along. Alone, together on that grassy hill more than an hour away from the city, they tried to find as many constellations as they could while Cecil offered trivia and anecdotes on each of them, like the Earth’s sky map had been burned into his brain at a young age.

But then again, with the doctor’s photographic memory, it might’ve just been.

Ursa Major. Altair. Alpha Centauri. Supernovas. Nebulae. His eyes shone with almost feverish enthusiasm as he talked, making him look so much younger, so alive, as Dave listened with rapt attention.

Then, as the older man was going over the specifics of the supermassive black whole at the center of the Milky Way, Dave rolled them over, coming to a stop to stand on all fours above Cecil, smiling lovingly.

The German stopped rambling and blinked up at him- with his hair uncovered and framing his face in auburn curls, his deep blue eyes crinkled up in amusement, and the myriad of stars surrounding him, David looked like he belonged in a Van Gogh painting. Beautiful. Almost ethereal, yet so real, so… tangible. Oh how he wanted to frame the moment so he could keep it forever.

He gulped. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Before he could stop himself, his finger mindlessly started to trace invisible lines between Dave’s freckles, drawing a surprised giggle from the man.

His very own milky way. Full of constellations for him alone to name. All within his reach.

“Shouldn’t you look up? The stars are up there.” he mumbled, thoughts not quite straight. Dave laughed, clear and deep. “Don’t need to. I can see them in your eyes. That’s more than enough for me.”

Silence. Cecil huffed. “That was the corniest thing you’ve said yet.”

“C’mon, you know you like it. You’re blushing.”

“Shut up and kiss me again, you dumm.”

Dave happily complied.

***

It would be dawn soon. As they stared at the endless space above them- mostly void, partially stars- sipping hot tea and coffee from their respective thermoses, huddled together under a thick woolen blanket to shield themselves from the chilliness of that winter night… they felt like they’d brushed with eternity.

“Hey.” Dave whispered, breaking the comfortable silence.

A quiet hum of acknowledgement.

“Do you.. regret not going? Up there.”

“Mmh. F’course, a little still. T’was my dream.” the German mumbled, words slurring together. Right. Of course he did, dumb question. “But…”

The father blinked. “But…?”

“Wouldn’t have met… Mars. ‘liver.” A pause, an intake of breath. “Met you.”

Dave bit his lip, his heart thumping loudly in his chest. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. He wiped at the wetness at the corner of his eyes, smiling so hard it almost hurt. “Y-Yeah. I guess so.” He squeezed his lover’s hand underneath the blanket. “Ceec…?”

A quiet, soft snore was his only reply. Dave chuckled quietly and turned his head- Cecil was out like a light, lips slightly parted, his usually sharp features smoothed over and relaxed.

The smaller man gently reached out to cup the other’s sleeping face, his thumb slowly stroking over his cheekbone- just watching. This wasn’t a sight he was graced with often; they might have been sharing a bed for a few weeks now, but the doctor always went to sleep later than he did, and always got up before him, by the pale light of dawn… that is, when he even bothered to sleep at all.

That was the main reason why he’d dragged his partner out on this little trip- Cecil had been working himself to the bone again, going over piles and piles of old books in search for an explanation, for any information on Mars’ abilities and his newfound… condition. To no avail so far, which was driving the older man even more frantic. Between this, trying to cater to everyone’s physical and mental wellness, and the logistical nightmare that was the latest addition to their little group- an honest-to-god time-traveler… well, he looked like the slightest breeze would knock him over.

In short, he’d been in need of a break. Badly. Preferably the kind that would knock some sense into that big brain of his. Since they both had gotten together, Dave had been trying to get Cecil to take better care of himself, to stop skipping meals, to finally sleep a decent amount each night… hell, he’d started to see some actual progress before Mars was kidnapped and everything had gone to shit.

He couldn’t let his efforts go to waste, especially not now. Not in such a delicate time, when they were all still recovering. And now, looking at Cecil, sleeping deeply and peacefully for the first time since the kid had disappeared almost a month ago… Dave was glad he hadn’t given up.

And that he’d filled that thermos with decaf, but Ceec didn’t need to know that.

Dave sighed contentedly as he snuggled closer to the other, burying his face in his chest and drawing the blanket higher over them both, letting himself be lulled into a comfortable drowsiness. Their backs would probably be sore from sleeping on the hard ground... but that was a problem for future them.

#arc 6: aftermath #moirai #cecil #dave #davil #new chapter #i love that one a lot #i wanted to write something really cute and not angsty for once #they're my babies hqshfksf

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murderwasthecase · 7 years ago

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Showcasing Marvel’s Daredevil - The Crown Jewel of MCU

Quick rant about the situation

So this shit just happened and of course I wanted to say something. Daredevil has been CANCELLED by Netflix. Honestly, if you follow this kinda stuff, I think you all saw it coming after they did the same thing to Iron Fist and Luke Cage, but this shit hurts because the show’s third season which was, in my opinion, maybe the best one yet still hasn’t cooled off, people are still talking about it, it received many praise from critics and audiences alike, and it just came off as a really cold thing to cancel the show now especially if you’re a fan of the series.

There are already millions of videos and essays on what this kind of Thanos-snapping his fingers action that Netflix just did with Marvel’s heroes could mean and I will not talk about them in this particular piece. Instead, I’m gonna pay a tribute to the show by going through some of my favorite moments of the three seasons that we got. We definitely deserved a few more and as of now it could theoretically happen on some other network, but the Netflix era of Daredevil is over and during that time, it made it the best superhero tv show that was ever created and probably the best thing to ever come out of MCU alongside Infinity War. And now you’ll see why. By the way, the idea is to showcase the genius of the series through some of its best scenes so if you haven’t seen it, you are warned.

Writer’s room of Daredevil has blessed the MCU with some of its richest characters. Their actions are well-thought, striking and every one of them has some kind of dilemma going on in their heads which makes them more human and more interesting for the viewer. They have personal demons and individual values which are fleshed out to the maximum. That characteristic just brings those fictional people closer to the audience, resonating with their own lives. While MCU’s movie characters are more concerned with battling aliens and saving the planet, ones in Daredevil fight the battles of the ordinary people.

The drama in Daredevil is mainly based around the clashes of polar opposites in the lives of its main characters. The best example of this is, of course, Matthew (brilliant Charlie Cox), whose ever-lasting moral fight with his Catholic faith and God is one of the running themes of the show. The crescendo of it comes in the series’ third season when Matt, much more pessimistic than before, considers taking another man’s life which he earlier swore never to do, running away from the fundamental principles of his religion which earlier guided him through his vigilante mission.

While the aforementioned third season takes that battle inside the mind of Matt Murdock, in the previous one, we can see that fight literally taking place with another person. Enter Frank Castle, aka The Punisher, played by the amazing badass that is Jon Bernthal, who does the same thing as Daredevil, except he TAKES lives because of his beliefs. Psychological clash between these two broken men takes it’s heights in the third episode of the show’s second season, where Daredevil confronts Frank Castle and tries to reason with him, eventually planting the seeds for clash in his own head a season after that.

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That is exceptional writing and phenomenal acting right there. Even though I think the second season of Daredevil is the least good one from all of them because of the tiring ninja subplot, the Punisher arc is one of the strongest things that happened in these series. That’s another polar opposite for you.

Dialogues like that are one fantastic way to flesh out characters and their essence, to show us who they are and what goes on in their heads. Daredevil isn’t overcrowded with quips and sarcastic insults like the movies are, the time it’s not wasted on melodramatic, soap-opera style love triangles which occur in the CW shows. Compared to them and even to other Netflix superhero TV series, Daredevil brings a deeper meaning to its characters by including philosophical arguments that connect us to their dilemmas, layering the story in the process. For instance, take a look at this scene (can’t embed it because of Tumblr) from season 1, when father Lantom tries to answer Matthew’s question about the existence of Devil.

Have you heard the last question in that clip? This scene not only brings a thought-provoking anecdote to the table - it’s much more than that. It serves as a great MOTIVATION for the main character to link the speech to his real-life situation, to try and stop the evil, even if its power seems impossible. This is superhero mythology at its finest.

And it works for antiheroes as well. Like the situation from season two, where Punisher refuses to deny his radical beliefs, taking a piss on the whole judicial system in the process, packed with another great Jon Bernthal performance.

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Talking about great acting, it would be a sin not to showcase the ability of Vincent D’Onofrio who gives a role of his career as the main villain Wilson Fisk, the pinnacle of excellent writing on this show.

His portrayal of this crime lord is so menacing. D’Onofrio plays Fisk who with his posture and gestures reminds you more of a shy child than a criminal mastermind, but he’s at the same time almost harrowingly dominant and explosive. This makes for an extremely unpredictable villian who is layered, complex and whose character development is, as a result, ever-lasting. Just watch as he transforms the scene by delivering this great analogy about the good samaritan.

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To all you aspiring writers, actors and directors who want to work in the superhero medium - take notes.

When talking about Daredevil I obviously have to talk about action scenes. I would argue that Marvel’s Daredevil is probably the best action series of all time considering how it balances good writing and exhilarating fighting sequences, but I’ll let someone more experienced to prove that hypothesis.

The action in Daredevil has reached almost a mythical point by now, with fans making memes about their duration and ridiculously coordinated and well-executed stuntwork and camera work. Hallway fights have become a norm on the show and there are lots of good YouTube videos that analyse them so I won’t get in detail here and dissect them even though that would be fun - I will rather point out the one geeky detail about them which is key to why the most talked about action scenes in Daredevil are so good.

You know what was my all-time favorite action scene on tv for a long time? Let’s take you back to the first season of True Detective, precisely, to the end of fourth episode, when Rust Cohle infiltrates this biker gang and goes on a mission to the hood with them - just to blow his cover and capture their leader. This is one of the best scenes I’ve ever seen in tv series, ever. Director Cary Fukunaga decided to film this as a TRACKING SHOT.

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By placing the camera directly behind Matthew McConaughey’s back he placed US in the perspective, almost creating a 3D, video-game like environment in which we get close to the situation as much as possible. Doing this, he creates tension, the feel of urgency and danger which resonates with audience and makes everything more interesting. That raid scene was six minutes long without visible cuts or edits. Fukunaga used a long take which made episode end on the high note. In my opinion, this is how grounded action should be made. It has to communicate with viewer, it enhances the atmosphere.

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When I saw something similar in the hallway fight in Daredevil’s first season, I was hyped. It wasn’t exactly that as we watched everything from the hall, not from “behind Matt’s back” perspective, but it reminded me vividly of Fukunaga’s take. And in the second season, when they filmed the Staircase scene, they used that exact method which they pushed it to the limits in the prison sequence in the third season which is as of right now definitely my favorite action scene in any tv series, of all time, period. And another thing which is mind-boggling is how they make it longer every season. Hallway fight from the first season was three minutes long, Staircase was five minutes, while Prison was around eight. All in single take. By that, you can see how the cast and crew tried harder and harder every season, pushing the boundaries of not only superhero genre, but the tv series making in general. Do you know how hard it is to film something like those scenes? You can look it up online, it’s an extremely difficult work.

DAREDEVIL has created a perfect mixture of drama and superhero crime story, presenting us a gritty world of crime-ridden New York. Of course, as everything, it has a few problems here and there, but it’s by far the most mature thing to come out of MCU. I don’t know who’s really responsible for the cancellation, is it Disney or Netflix or both of them, but I hope they’ll realize what stupid move they’ve made and let the cast and crew continue their magic. Because if not, our dear MCU has just lost one of its crown jewels.

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bytheangell · 7 years ago

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Support System - Chapter 5

When Alec's favorite show gets cancelled and he takes to messaging customer service repeatedly to show his support, he doesn't expect to connect so well with the support representative he keeps getting paired off with. (Read it from the start on AO3!)

Alec feels the heat in his face as he stutters something out - he isn’t even sure what at this point because his brain shut down entirely in his flustered panic. But the attractive man he spilled coffee on like a total klutz is still smiling, laughing and shrugging and disappearing into the coffee shop with a wink. The thought occurs to him to follow - to buy him a coffee, at least. But he remembers how late he’s already running, and it’s the easiest excuse to cling to as he turns to leave.

Still, his thoughts linger on the man - those dark brown eyes that seemed to flash with flecks of gold when the light caught them (though he never make eye contact long enough to tell if it was just the light playing tricks on him), the way the sleeves of his dress shirt clung to his impressively large biceps, and how the tailored plum vest he wore over it suited him so perfectly. And those maroon highlights in his hair…

...the blush was back on Alec’s face even though he is now an entire block away. He needs to stop. It isn’t like he can go out for drinks in the city his entire family lives in! He didn’t have a choice but to say no; what if someone sees him? Izzy is the only one who knows he’s gay, and if his brothe,r or parents, or even any of his parent’s friend’s see him out and say something… he just isn’t ready for that. But it still feels nice to be hit on, even if he did chicken out on the follow-through.

So he forces the thoughts from his mind the best he can as he steps through the door of the shop. Or at least he thinks he does.

“...what happened?” Izzy asks immediately.

“What?” He asks, confused, placing his coffee and bag down on the nearest counter.

“Your face is right red and you have a dopey grin on your face.”

Shit.

“Oh, I ran into someone at the coffee shop. Literally. I spilled coffee on them and it was embarrassing and we’re going to pretend it never happened now.”

“And on a scale of 1 to 10, how hot was he?”

“Izzy.” He chastises, rolling his eyes, but when he’s met with nothing more than crossed arms and a defiant stare he sighs. “11.” And since he knows she won’t let it go that easily he pauses only briefly before adding (and not without a hint of satisfaction). “I offered to pay to have his shirt cleaned and he said I could pay him back with a drink instead.”

“You got a date?” Isabelle asks incredulously, but Alec shakes his head quickly before she can get her hopes up too high.

“No. I said I couldn’t and left.” He sees the disappointment all over her face. “You know I can’t, Iz. If someone saw-” “I know, I know.” And her tone is understanding but laced with sadness. “I can’t tell you how to live your life, big brother, but I’ve said it once and I’ll say it a thousand more times if I have to - you deserve to be happy. No one who matters is going to judge you for that. And if they do, I’ll kick their asses.”

“I know you will,” he says with a fond smile. “Thanks.” He braces himself for more but Isabelle drops it there and the Lightwood siblings get to work opening the store.

The day passes by slowly and uneventfully after that, and Alec is back home and falling into what is quickly becoming a new routine. Eat, sleep, wake up to a midnight alarm so he can catch a chat or two with Magnus, universe willing. The queues are down to 3 or so minutes each time now, still holding strong, and he passes the time in between by sending out tweets and e-mails, and writing brief exchanges with the first two support reps he gets connected to who aren’t Magnus, until:

Support: You are Chatting with Magnus B. Magnus: Just the name I wanted to see. Alec: Hello again to you, too. Magnus: One of these times I’m going to come across another Alec L. and things are going to get hilariously awkward. Alec: You could always use a regular greeting, you know. Magnus: Where’s the fun in that? I like living on the edge. Alec: I wish I had some of that mentality. Magnus: You can take some of mine. I have plenty to go around. Alec: Heh, thanks. Alec: Any word on the show? Magnus: Unfortunately, nothing new on my end. Same old blanket statement. Alec: Damn. Alec: Sorry, can I curse in here? Probably not. Magnus: If you think you’re the first person to swear in a customer service chat, boy do I have news for you. Alec: Good point. So where are you in Season 2 now?

They chat about the show for a few minutes before Alec realizes he’s still far too tired for this right now. Every time he blinks his eyes stay shut for longer and longer, and it isn’t like Magnus doesn’t have an actual job to do here. Alec: Well, I should let you get back to work. Maybe I’ll try and pop back in later. Magnus: I hope you do. This chat has ended.

Alec decides to try and sleep the rest of the night and wake up early enough to catch Magnus before the end of his shift in the morning. A plan that would’ve worked great if a massive rumble of thunder followed by a tremor that rattled his entire apartment didn’t wake him up at 2:34 am, and try as he might he just can’t fall back asleep. He pulls his laptop off of the bedside table and boots it up, browsing through the #SaveTheHunt tags for a few minutes before donating to a fundraiser set up in the campaign’s name for an amazing LGBTQ+ Nonprofit. And then, when it becomes clear he isn’t about to fall asleep any time soon, he decides to try the support chat again.

This time there is no queue, which is good, because it takes three tries to get to Magnus.

Support: You are Chatting with Magnus B. Magnus: Welcome back. Alec: I couldn’t sleep, and this seemed better than tossing and turning for another hour. Magnus: Not that I’m glad you can’t sleep, but it’s been an uncharacteristically quiet night here. I thought I’d be glad to see things die down but I kinda miss it. Alec: I’m sure it’ll pick back up. We’re far from giving up - in fact, there was a new fundraising campaign started today in the show’s name, benefitting LGBTQ+ youth in honor of all the representation and impact the show has in the community. Magnus: That’s amazing! I’ll have to check that out after work. I’d be remiss not to give back in honor of the positive bisexual showing so far. It isn’t often you find something in pop culture that goes out of its way to give us such a good rep. Alec: Oh, you’re bi? Magnus: Sorry, tmi. Alec: No, it’s cool. Alec: That’s cool.

Alec hesitates, hands hovering over the keyboard as he thinks back to earlier at his desire to live on the edge a little more. To the missed opportunity at the coffee shop. To Isabelle telling him that he deserves to be himself. His pulse is racing, but that’s stupid, because it’s just a word. It’s just a word to a person who doesn’t even know him. A person he’ll never meet. And there’s a certain safety in the anonymity of the internet, isn’t there? He’s just a name here, and not an uncommon one at that. He can be anyone, anywhere. And if he can’t bring himself to type the words to a stranger on the internet how will he ever say them out loud to the people around him? It seems like the perfect starting point.

What does he really have to lose?

He takes a deep breath and starts to type.

Alec: I told my sister I was gay after watching the first two seasons with her, so I get it. It’s important. Seeing the support the everyone gave, even after the whole wedding fiasco, had a huge impact on me. I’m not sure I ever would’ve done it otherwise. Magnus: Oh wow. That is big. Congratulations! Alec: Thanks, but it isn’t that impressive. I’m 22 and she’s the only one I ever told. Magnus: Everyone moves at their own pace. I’m sure you’ll get there.

Alex exhales the breath he didn’t realize he’s holding. Admitting that truth about himself to someone other than Isabelle is so freeing, no matter what the context, and Alec feels a small sense of peace settle over him. Nothing as intense as what he felt talking to Isabelle, but nice in its own way.

The conversation seems to flow so easily after that, and Alec forgets his nerves almost entirely. They talk about a mixture of personal anecdotes and things from the show (with Alec carefully treading around spoilers from things beyond the point Magnus stopped at in his reactions and replies) for much longer than Alec realizes, both of them losing track of time. It starts to feel like he’s talking to a close friend rather than some faceless stranger across the internet when the tone of Magnus’ text takes a sudden, abrupt turn.

Magnus: I need you to end this chat right now, but I promise I’ll explain later. Alec: What? Magnus: Please. This chat has ended.

And Alec sits there, feeling a bit lost and more than a little confused, staring at the blank screen of the ended conversation. It is difficult to pick up on intonations through written word, but he could sense the urgency behind Magnus’ request enough to not question it. But something uneasy sits in the pit of his stomach as he wonders if he said something wrong. They talked a lot more this time, and about personal things, not just the show. But it all seemed alright at the time. So what happened? What changed?

Alec wonders exactly when ‘later’ is - if he’s supposed to try to talk to him again right away, or in an hour, or maybe not for the rest of the night? He has nothing to go off of. He resolves to wait at least an hour but before the time is up he dozes off, and doesn’t wake back up until the sunlight is already pouring in through the window. What time is it? Maybe he can still catch--

But the clock reads 8:05, and Alec’s heart drops. Magnus’ shift is over, and if he’s going to get any answers he’ll have to wait for them now.

#malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #isabelle lightwood #shadowhunters #fanfiction #sh fic #sh fanfic #malec fanficion #HERE WE GO CHAPTER FIVE #I wrote this earlier today but I had to rush to work so I didn't get to throw it on tumblr until now #this isn't how i intended to end the chapter but this story has a life of its own when I sit down to write and I love it #elle writes a few deadbeat lines

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panther-stars-blog · 7 years ago

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Paprika

Next step- everyone met Saffron yesterday, so time for our next introduction. I’m excited so, I’ll jump right in. This is my Teacup bitty, Paprika. They prefer they/them pronouns (All the others are distinctly male out of the five I have adopted thus far, but teacups have always struck me as very androgynous in the way they are presented personality wise in fan-art and fiction.)

I think this bear is going to be a common feature in these photos based on my track record so far. I think he was in both Sathe’s and Saffron’s intros. It makes for a good size comparison for my own reference.

Watching TV- newly revamped to actually have a screen. In Sathe’s into its still was just cardboard. Though you can kinda only see the popcorn reflection i guess. I do have to note Paprika is kinda hard to sit down naturally with the til- it took me the better part of my day experimenting before I mastered it.

With the tablet- this photo actually was taken before the one with Saffron but that is cool. Paprika’s enjoying themselves.

A shot of Paprika's room. They like fashion, dancing, and the color purple. You’ll notice their paintings feature a ballet dancer and a angel with very nice aesthetic hair. They also enjoy dinosaurs and both fantasy and young adult novels, as seen with their book selection - Lois Lowery’s The Giver, Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451, JRR Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, and Leigh Bardugo’s Shadow and Bone.

Sleeping. They have a loft bed, that occupies what part of their room isn’t shown above. Also that blanket is soft as hell and if it were human sized I would be using it.

Relaxing. Here you can see the TV room, and two unoccupied bedrooms, as well as part of Paprika’s.

I’m delighted to have Paprika with me and accompanying Saffron.

The next introduction (which will be 3/5) should be in the next few days. It should by all rights be tomorrow, but I burnt my hand, so I need to bribe my sister into doing some of my steps in the making of the dolls. I think I will be successful, but having one person working on it may slow everything down. I can do some parts, but anything that is repetitive or puts a lot of pressure on my index finger hurts and that makes everything hard. If it takes a bit to do the intros, I’ll fill space with anecdotes about what Saffron Paprika, and occasionally Sathe are doing. I intend to have at least one post about my bittys each day. I between that, I reblog undertale art. All art is queued which at least keeps things active.

#undertale #bittybones #bitty!teacup #bitty!softbones #Paprika #Saffron #crafts #dolls #introduction

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mistleto-3 · 8 years ago

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Coming To Conclusions

Misaki is in the midst of a sexuality crisis, and is further thrown for a loop when he finds out Tatara is transgender.

Pairing: Misaki/Tatara (trans male!Tatara)

5,241 words. Fluff.

Content warning for internalised homophobia, internalised transphobia, and mentions of domestic violence. Brief mikorei mention.

(Slightly belated) Fic for my fav ginger’s birthday.

AO3 | Ko-Fi

When Tatara had told Misaki he’d finally found a buyer his father’s old home and would be away from the bar for a couple of days to empty the last of the things out of the house, Misaki had been quick to volunteer to help him out. He’d reasoned that Tatara wasn’t exactly strong, and Misaki didn’t know how he’d cope moving heavy boxes and bits of furniture around by himself. Izumo was too busy running the bar to help him, and Mikoto was… well, Mikoto, so Misaki had taken it upon himself. It had taken a little while to convince Tatara to accept the offer- initially he’d been insistent that he would be fine on his own, and Misaki didn’t need to trouble himself, but eventually, he gave in.

It had been somewhat surreal for Misaki to enter Tatara’s childhood home- a tiny, run-down cottage just outside of the city. It didn’t seem like the kind of place someone like Tatara would have grown up. The house was fairly sparse; most of the furniture was gone, save for some of the things Tatara hadn’t had the space to bring with him when he’d moved into his apartment in Shizume city. The only indication Tatara had lived there were the knickknacks and paraphernalia of his old hobbies that cluttered the shelves, now dusty from disuse.

The pair spent the first morning moving out the furniture- most of it was rickety and held together with wood glue and duct tape, so Misaki pulled it apart and tossed the remnants into the dumpster Tatara had hired (he had great fun wielding the axe he’d found in the shed, though Tatara couldn’t watch in fear that Misaki would accidentally chop off his own foot, or something equally silly).

By lunchtime, the house was devoid of furniture. The pair had sat in the unkempt grass of the front lawn to eat their lunch, but as they returned into the building, Tatara was stopped in his tracks by the sight of the house he’d grown up in.

“Seeing it empty is so strange.”

Now that the cosiness of the mismatched and well-used furnishings had gone, the main room looked barren and cold. The wear was easy to see- the floorboards were scratched; the paint was flaking off the window frames, and damp had begun to peel away at the faded wallpaper.

Misaki didn’t know how best to comfort him, so he simply clapped Tatara on the shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring way. “If someone’s buyin’ it then maybe they’ll do it up and it’ll get turned into a home again.”

Tatara smiled faintly. “I don’t know why I’m getting so nostalgic all of a sudden; it’s not like I had the happiest childhood here. But it’s still strange.” Despite the nod to what seemed to be a dark chapter of his history, Tatara’s expression was as carefree as ever.

“What do you mean?”

“Hmm?”

“About it not being the happiest.”

“Ah. As you can probably tell, we didn’t have much money when I was a kid. My dad… had some troubles. Debt, that sort of thing, and my mother left him when I was younger. He tried his best, but he was absent a lot, so I ended up being here by myself most of the time.” As Tatara spoke, he wandered over to the windowsill, where some of his old things still stood. He was still smiling slightly as he talked, as though he was simply discussing the weather.

Misaki frowned, but followed him across the room. A few photographs in cheap wooden frames perched between the other keepsakes and souvenirs on the sill. Tatara picked one up, leaving in its shadow a clear spot amongst the thin film of dust that covered the rest of the surface, and he smiled fondly at the faded picture.

“I still loved my family, and I still remember the happy times. My dad wasn’t a bad person, he was just troubled. It’s sad to think of what could have been here instead of an empty room if things had gone differently,” Tatara said, and as he spoke, Misaki peered at the photograph he held in his hands. The image had been bleached by the sunlight over the years, but it still clearly depicted a man and a woman, standing with their arms around one another in what looked to be a neater version of the front of the house. The lawn wasn’t overgrown, and flowers grew in terracotta pots beneath the window and beside the doorstep. Between them stood a little girl, smiling at the camera.

“I didn’t know you had a sister?” Misaki said cautiously, looking at the child in the photo. She bore a great resemblance to Tatara, but she wore a lilac dress, and her hair was longer and tied into pigtails.

“Hm? Oh, no, I don’t.” A sheepish look crossed Tatara’s face.

“Is that like your cousin or something then?”

“No, it’s me.”

Misaki raised an eyebrow. “Why are you dressed like a girl?”

Tatara smiled shyly. “I always forget you guys don’t know… I was sort of born a girl.”

Misaki paused, his brow furrowing as he tried to process the information. He was vaguely aware of people changing gender as a concept, but if he was perfectly honest, he was totally flying blind when it came to this sort of thing. He’d heard people mention things about sex changes and transsexual people in the past, but he was dubious about how reliable the information was.

He clammed up, stuttering as he tried to come up with something appropriately supportive to say, but his attempts were thwarted by the dozens of competing thoughts that bubbled to the forefront of his mind at the revelation. He bit his tongue, holding back the questions that even he had the good sense to know were inappropriate. Now that Tatara had mentioned it, it was sort of difficult not to notice how… feminine he was. Tatara had always been effeminate, but Misaki had always put that down to just being the way he was- that and the fact that Tatara was openly queer, and it sort of showed in his mannerisms. But in the light of what Tatara had just said, Misaki couldn’t not pick up on how delicate his hands were, how narrow his shoulders…

He shook the thoughts from his head- they felt disrespectful somehow, but he wasn’t quite sure why.

“S-sorry…” he began. “I’m, uh, not super up on all this stuff…” Misaki rubbed the back of his head nervously. “S-so that makes you, tra… transsexual, right?”

Tatara chuckled gently at his bashfulness, and to Misaki’s relief he didn’t seem offended. “That’s sort of an outdated term; most people use the word ‘transgender’ now, but yes. When I was born, they thought I was a girl, but I figured out as I got older that that wasn’t right.”

Misaki nodded slowly, and apologised again. “Who else knows…?”

“I was already out as a guy full-time by the time Homra really started to form, so the only other people in Homra who know are King and Kusanagi-san. And Anna. I try to keep it quiet- it’s not actively a secret or anything, but the guys have all always known me as a man, so it’s easier just to keep it that way.”

Misaki gave another nod. “I understand… I won’t tell.”

“You don’t have to treat me any differently or anything like that. I’m just like you and the rest of the folks in Homra, just wasn’t born with the same equipment.” He paused for a moment, then smiled, leaning against the windowsill. “I can tell this has kinda thrown you for a loop, hm?”

“L-Like I said, I don’t really… know anything about all of this.”

Tatara started setting the knickknacks from the windowsill in a cardboard box as he began to explain: “I figured out when I was about nine or ten that being a girl didn’t really feel right- I didn’t like being referred to as a girl or dressing in girly clothes. It’s like… how you feel when people say your name is a girl’s name, but turned up to eleven.”

Misaki nodded slowly.

“And then I hit puberty and my body started changing to be more like a woman’s and it made me uncomfortable, but I didn’t really put together why that was until I watched a movie with a trans character in it. I was watching English language films because my hobby at that point was learning English, and there was a woman in one of the movies that was ‘born a boy,’ so to speak. And I started to wonder: if she could be a woman even though she was assigned male at birth, maybe I could be a boy. So I did some research, and here I am.”

“But like… how do you look like a dude?”

“Testosterone injections. I’ve been on them for two years now; they help to masculinise my body- changing the way I store fat, making my voice drop, making me grow a bit of facial hair, amongst other things... Well, we’re still getting there on the facial hair front,” Tatara conceded, fingering a patch of sparse peach fuzz on his jawline.

Misaki smiled a little at the self-deprecating joke. In a way, it sort of dropped it all into perspective for him- worrying about being able to grow stubble was such a normal thing for a guy to worry about (indeed, Misaki had his own insecurities around his smooth face). “That… makes sense, I think. As long as you’re happy, I guess it doesn’t matter whether the doctor said you were a boy or a girl when you popped out, right? S-sorry if I say anything dumb.”

“It’s okay- you’re learning. If you have any questions, you can ask.”

Misaki offered a weak smile. “Thanks.”

The rest of the afternoon passed mostly without incident- the pair continued packing away the keepsakes on the shelves, and by the end of the day, they’d finished emptying the house even though Tatara had predicted it would take a couple of days. Having two sets of hands made quicker work of it, even with Tatara pausing every now and again to recount some anecdote about an old hobby of his, or a childhood memory. The insight into Tatara’s youth was sort of strange for Misaki. Aside from the whole him not always having been a dude thing, it was weird to see him talk so casually about what was objectively quite a neglectful childhood. It amazed Misaki that he turned out to be the sunny person that he had, considering everything he’d been through. Especially considering that the only other neglected kid Misaki really knew was Saruhiko, whose attitude was the total opposite of Tatara’s.

But underneath that, Misaki could still feel himself seizing up. He tried to distract himself with the packing, but there was only so much of his brain he could occupy just putting stuff in boxes. He felt like an ass for it, but he could feel the anxiety he usually only got around women tying knots in the pit of his stomach. And he didn’t know why- he’d always seen Tatara as one of the guys; why should he feel any differently now? He tried to avoid his friend’s eye as he worked, chewing his lip as a wash of guilt settled over him.

And of course Tatara noticed- Tatara was the sort of person who could read people’s thoughts off them like they were typed across their foreheads.

“Yata-san, is something wrong?”

“H-hm? Oh, no, just tired I think,” he offered, attempting to give a reassuring smile.

“Well, we’re nearly done here at least,” Tatara replied, though Misaki wasn’t entirely sure he was convinced by the lie.

It wasn’t until he got home that Misaki could really reflect properly on what it was that had been bothering him all day. He kicked off his shoes, collapsing onto the couch in his apartment and staring up at the ceiling with a deep huff. He didn’t like to think about this sort of thing- in fact, he actively hated it. But he hated the idea of Tatara feeling uncomfortable even more; he didn’t want Tatara to think Misaki’s obvious awkwardness and discomfort had anything to do with him being trans.

In a rather uncomfortable recent period of self-discovery, Misaki had come to the realisation that the reason he wasn’t exactly confident around women was because he didn’t feel the way he thought he was supposed to about them. Ever since he was a kid, he’d seen men in real life and in the TV shows he watched lust over women, pursue them to the exclusion of all else, obsess over them, get in fights and fall out with their best friends over them. It seemed to be the norm to do stupid and detrimental things just to get in some girl’s pants.

And Misaki didn’t get it. He just didn’t. He didn’t get what was so great about the idea of dating a girl or kissing a girl or having sex with a girl or whatever.

And then he’d met Tatara and the pair had become close friends, and Misaki suddenly started recognising the feelings he’d heard people talk about in the past- the butterflies in your stomach, the dry throat, the daydreams, the distraction, the desire to spend time with them. Except he didn’t feel them about a girl; he felt them about Tatara. Tatara was kind and funny and gentle and beautiful and Misaki felt a sort of magnetism toward his clansman that he’d never felt toward any woman.

It had taken Misaki a long time to process the fact he thought he might be gay- even now, he hadn’t completely made peace with the fact, and he’d never breathed a word about it to anybody.

At first, he’d worried he was a misogynist, and that was why he didn’t like girls in that way. Which had made him hate himself. Ever since he’d seen the black eyes his biological father used to give his mother before they’d gotten divorced, he’d promised himself he wouldn’t be the kind of guy his dad was. Being the sort of man who respected and cared for women, the provider, the man of the house, the protector, was important to him. It had taken a while to reconcile this desire with his lack of attraction to women.

In a weird sort of way, it had helped when he started hearing rumours that Mikoto was involved with the Blue King. Mikoto was the kind of guy Misaki had always aspired to be- he was strong and brave and he protected those who couldn’t look out for themselves and he never let himself show weakness. The only depiction of gay men Misaki had ever seen before that were the stereotypical effeminate guys with lisps and feather boas, and as much as Misaki respected those people, that wasn’t what he wanted for himself. And then he’d caught Mikoto and Reisi kissing in the bar, and aside from his initial mortification, in an odd sort of way, Misaki was comforted. It was reassuring to know that someone like Mikoto could still be… well, Mikoto, and still kiss guys at the same time.

It had taken months, but Misaki had finally started to come around to the idea that he might be gay after all, and maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. He’d even started to fantasise about asking Tatara out, and had a plan half-formulated in his brain.

And then this happened. He’d discovered the guy he felt so strongly for had been born with what most people would deem a girl’s body, and now the parts of himself that had fought so vehemently to suppress the idea he might be gay had resurfaced with a vengeance. They told him he was wrong after all- if the guy he wanted to date wasn’t really a guy, then maybe he wasn’t really gay.

Misaki pulled the front of his beanie down over his eyes in frustration with himself, resisting the urge to pull on his own hair. If he’d heard anyone else suggest that Tatara “wasn’t really a guy” because of the way his junk looked when he was born, Misaki would have punched their lights out. He knew Tatara was a guy- he’d been a guy as long as Misaki had known him. But he was having difficulties getting those intrusive thoughts to shut the hell up.

Eventually, he managed to get them to tone down their misgendering, but he still couldn’t quite shake the thought that maybe if he was attracted to someone with what most would consider female body parts, then perhaps he wasn’t gay after all. He didn’t even know what parts Tatara had- even he had the good sense not to go asking about whether Tatara had boobs or what he had in his pants, but even the slightest prospect that Misaki might have a crush on someone with a vagina was enough to sow seeds of doubt in his head.

And Misaki could feel that doubt starting to make him act strange. His nervousness around Tatara continued to bug him, and he felt his cheeks heating up whenever he was in his vicinity. He’d also noticed himself getting more protective of his friend. Tatara’s effeminate appearance often meant that people weren’t quite sure right off the bat how to gender him, and it wasn’t uncommon for people in his vicinity to be heard whispering to one another wondering if he was a man or a woman.

Unfortunately for the whisperers, Misaki overheard some of them one day, and something just sort of snapped in him. A pair of boys from the nearby high school were walking not far behind Misaki, Tatara, and Dewa as they made their way back to the bar.

Chuckling, one of them whispered to the other: “Do you think that blond is a dude or a chick?”

Misaki normally wouldn’t have done more than shot them a glare, but this time, before he could stop himself, he whirled around and snapped at them:

“Are you an asshole or just an idiot?”

The boys looked flabbergasted for a moment, but then had the decency to mumble an apology as they hurried past, abashed.

Tatara tried to assure Misaki that it was alright- he didn’t have to defend him, but Misaki hadn’t been able to resist the urge. A part of him knew he was overcompensating for the intrusive thoughts he’d had after Tatara had first come out to him, and it only made him feel more guilty.

Misaki could feel himself continuing to acting weird for a couple of weeks. The unwanted sexuality crisis was bad enough, but piled on top of that, his shame at the fact he was even having this crisis in the first place was eating away at him. Tatara was a man, regardless of whether he’d known that his entire life, and Misaki was attracted to him, but not to girls, and that made him gay. It was simple. So why couldn’t he shake the doubt taking root in his mind?

He was also mortifyingly aware of how observant Tatara was, and constantly convinced that his friend would pick up on his behaviour, and somehow figure out what it was that was on his mind. It’s not like it would be difficult- he’d mysteriously started acting strange right after Tatara had come out to him, and he hated the thought that Tatara would assume Misaki was uncomfortable with his gender identity.

Thankfully, he didn’t mention Misaki’s odd behaviour, and when Misaki’s birthday rolled around, he seemed as eager as ever to organise something to celebrate. Seeing as his birthday fell mid-week that year, Tatara had planned something big for the following weekend when more people would be free to attend, but he also insisted that they have a small gettogether on his actual birthday, even if most of the Homra guys wouldn’t be able to make it. Tatara had been so excited to plan it that Misaki couldn’t bring himself to decline (he felt awkward, allowing him to do all this when he was having all these shitty thoughts, even if he couldn’t control them), but he was secretly sort of reassured- at least he knew Tatara didn’t hold a grudge.

To Misaki’s relief, Tatara’s plans for his birthday itself were low-key: movies and pizza and a couple beers (the invitees were instructed not to tell Izumo that Tatara was enabling underage drinking) with the guys at Tatara’s apartment, and all Misaki had to do was show up. Unfortunately, only a few people could make it- most of the clansmen either had plans that night or work the following morning, so either couldn’t come, or could only do so for a few hours. Rikio seemed a little off all day at the bar, and predictably he texted to say he couldn’t make it as he had a stomach bug, which Misaki thought was fair enough, so at the start of the evening, aside from the host and the one celebrating his birthday, the guest list consisted of Yo, Dewa, Kosuke, and Akagi. However, most could only stay for one movie, with the exception of Yo, who left two-thirds of the way through the first film, citing a hot Tinder matchup as the reason for his premature departure.

When Misaki was left alone with Tatara, he offered to leave, not wanting to make things awkward, but there was a genuine smile on Tatara’s face as he asked him to stay.

“There are plenty of snacks left,” he joked, and Misaki gave a weak smile, settling back onto the sofa beside him.

And of course, Tatara immediately picked up on his odd demeanour. “Everything okay?” he asked casually.

“Y-yeah…” Misaki cursed himself internally for his stutter- Tatara didn’t seem too concerned before, but now he leaned forward in his seat, a crease between his eyebrows.

“You sure? You’ve been acting a little strange for a while…”

Misaki shut his eyes in embarrassment. “S-sorry…”

“Sorry? What for?”

“I’ve been acting weird since that day at your place…” he mumbled. “S-since you told me…”

“…Told you I’m trans?” Tatara offered, his tone neutral.

“Y-yeah… And I didn’t want you to think I was bein’ intolerant or anything. I’ve never seen you as anything other than a dude and that ain’t gonna change.” His voice was quiet, and though he’d opened his eyes, he kept them fixed on the coffee table. He drummed his fingers against the half-empty beer can in his hands anxiously; he didn’t really want to be having this discussion.

“I didn’t think you were being intolerant,” Tatara reassured him, and as he rested his hand comfortingly on Misaki’s shoulder, Misaki felt his heartbeat stumble in his chest. “You didn’t seem disgusted or anything like that. But I am a bit worried; what’s bothering you? Are you afraid of saying the wrong thing?”

“Y-yeah.” It was true, but only a half-truth, and Tatara obviously knew it.

“…And?”

Misaki shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I-It’s heavy, I don’t wanna be a downer.”

“You’ll probably feel better once you’ve gotten it out. I don’t mind.”

“I’ve never… talked about it before… I don’t wanna make things weird…” The words almost seemed to physically snag in Misaki’s throat.

“It won’t,” Tatara promised immediately.

Misaki screwed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath. “I-I sorta… had a sexuality crisis… and all the gender stuff brought it back up in my head.”

Tatara patted him on the shoulder comfortingly, waiting for him to elaborate.

“Over the past few months, I’d… I dunno, sorta figured maybe I was g-gay…” He let out a shaky breath- it was strange to hear that said aloud. “B-but it took a while to like… fully accept it, I guess. I thought you had to be like stereotypically gay, and I didn’t want to be like that. I didn’t want to have a lisp and watch crappy daytime TV and listen to Lady Gaga. So I fought really hard against the idea.”

Tatara smiled softly. “That’s okay. You don’t have to fit into society’s stereotypes to be gay; the only thing you have to do to be gay is to only be into other guys. I know it’s easy to internalise all the crap people say about queer folks, but liking other men doesn’t make you any less of a man.”

Misaki gave a weak smile. “Thanks…” Then, he sighed again, steadying himself to force out the next sentence. “I was getting pretty sure I really was… gay… especially after Mikoto-san started screwing the Blue King or whatever, like if he can kiss dudes and still be kickass then so can I…”

“That’s good. I’m glad you’re starting to accept yourself. There’s nothing wrong with being gay; you’re still you, no matter who you happen to fall in love with. Am I the first person you’ve told?”

Misaki nodded. “Mm. I’ve never even said it out loud.”

“That’s okay. There’s no pressure to ‘come out’ if you don’t want to, or even to label it if you don’t want to. It’s nobody’s business but yours, and perhaps any guys you’re interested in,” he added with a grin.

“T-thanks.”

“Is there anyone you’re interested in?” Tatara asked playfully, but then he paused, examining the expression on his friend’s face. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah, fine,” Misaki replied, but he spoke far too quickly.

“…Coming out wasn’t the only thing bothering you, was it?”

Misaki bit his lip. “I-I dunno if you wanna hear the other bit.”

“It’s okay, you can talk to me about anything.”

Misaki huffed a sigh, slumping back against the couch with a torn look on his face.

“I promise. No judgement.”

“Hnn… fine,” Misaki conceded, fixing his gaze on his shoelaces. “I-I thought I’d sort of come to terms with it, you know, the whole gay thing… and then you came out to me…” He paused, taking a deep breath. He didn’t dare look over at his friend. “…And all these stupid voices in my head I couldn’t get to shut up were doing some fucked up mental gymnastics to try and reason that maybe I wasn’t gay after all.”

Tatara tilted his head. “Why would that make you not gay?”

“Because… y-you’re hot, okay? It’s just an objective fact. Like, there isn’t a person alive who’s into dudes who wouldn’t be attracted to you. But these stupid voices were trying to persuade me that if you weren’t born a dude or whatever or if you have girl junk… n-not that I’m asking! Whatever’s in your pants is your business… but like… Ugh, I sound like such an asshole. I don’t know how to say it without coming off like a total douche. Like, you’re a dude, so whatever junk you have is dude junk, and I’ve never seen you as anything but a dude regardless of junk and I really need to stop talking about your junk I’m sorry…”

Tatara continued rubbing his shoulder. “Take your time.”

Misaki sighed, trying to slow down the pace of his words. “The dumb nagging voices at the back of my head were trying to twist you being trans into an excuse to say I wasn’t really gay, because I still think you’re hot even though you’re trans, and I’m pissed off at myself for trying to think that way.”

“You weren’t doing it on purpose. Like I said, it’s hard not to internalise people’s intolerance when you’re figuring yourself out. As long as it’s not really you talking, then it’s fine.”

Misaki gave a stiff nod. “T-thank you. S-sorry, I shouldn’t be making you comfort me for being like this… Y-you’ll always be a dude in my eyes and I’ll fight anyone who says you’re not.”

Tatara was quiet for a second, and Misaki finally lifted his gaze to look over at his friend, afraid he’d upset him. But to his surprise, a faint smile curled the corner of Tatara’s lips, and his cheeks were flushed.

“Totsuka-san?”

“People don’t usually question their entire sexuality just because one person they think is hot turns out not to have the junk they’re expecting them to. It usually takes a little more than that…”

Misaki opened his mouth to protest, but Tatara cut in before he had a chance.

“Yata-chan, do you have feelings for me?”

“W-what? Why would you think that?” Misaki’s heart squeezed in his chest in panic, and he could feel himself stumbling over his words.

Tatara gave him a soft smile. “I had suspicions for a while- you get this look in your eye when you look at me, but I didn’t really dare believe it…”

Misaki paused. “W-what?”

“I thought: ‘maybe it’s just wishful thinking,’ ‘maybe I’m just projecting’.”

Misaki blinked in shock, the surprise almost knocking the wind out of him- he’d forgotten to breathe for a second. He couldn’t quite allow himself to process what he thought Tatara was suggesting. The room felt sort of wobbly, as though he was dreaming.

“A-are you saying…?” Misaki didn’t quite have enough breath to finish the sentence.

But he didn’t need to. The next thing he knew, Tatara had cupped his jaw gently, and had leaned in to brush their lips together. Misaki froze on the spot, unable to do anything more than close his eyes.

Tatara pulled back, and after a moment, he chuckled. “Breathe, Yata-chan.”

Misaki nodded, finally managing to draw in a gasp of air. “Y-you…?” was all he could manage to say.

“…Like you?” Tatara finished for him, and Misaki managed another stiff nod of confirmation. “Yeah, I do. You’re handsome, and you’re really sweet beneath your hardcore exterior. After Fushimi left and we started spending more time together, I found myself really looking forward to seeing you, and getting butterflies and being self-conscious about how I looked because I wanted you to see the best side of me…” He blushed deeper as he spoke, and the sight of Tatara’s cheeks turning pink made Misaki’s chest feel funny.

He couldn’t quite summon words for a few second, and when he could, all he could think to say was: “A-am I awake?”

Tatara burst into a fit of giggles, rocking forward to bury his face in Misaki’s shoulder, almost bashfully. “You’re so cute…”

“S-shut up…”

Tatara looked up, a hopeful grin still playing across his lips. There was a playful twinkle in his eye, and Misaki didn’t think he’d ever seen anything so pretty in his life.

“So what do you say? Wanna go to dinner with me sometime?”

“I’m definitely gay,” Misaki blurted, staring at Tatara in disbelief. Now he’d finally come to that conclusion, he sort of couldn’t believe he’d ever doubted it- it seemed obvious now. He was really god damn gay and he had a big fat gay crush on his closest friend, the contents of his underwear be damned.

Tatara giggled once more. “Is that a yes~?”

“F-fuck yes!” Misaki didn’t seem able to spit the words out fast enough, and Tatara threw his arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly with a dazzling grin.

Misaki decided this was the best birthday present he’d ever gotten.

#yata misaki #totsuka tatara #k project #tatasaki #yatatotsu #k fanfic #character birthday

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shooklynn-blog · 8 years ago

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Thrift Shop (Chapter 1)

so this is something I started a while ago (like the actual first fanfic i wrote, i think it’s from the beginning of april) but kind of stopped writing and i’m not sure i like how it turned out very much but I just wanted to put this out there in case anybody ended up liking it, then i’d be happy to write more! i have a chapter 2 totally done and ready, so if you like this, let me know and i’ll put it up and continue to write it (maybe?) but it was just a little thing i wanted to do and, if people like it, it’ll be my first chaptered fic! any feedback is appreciated! oh, it’s also my first AU fic! really hope you enjoy :)

summary (kinda spoilery for the future lol): Dan goes into a thrift shop downtown for the first time and meets the only employee there, a boy named Phil. He makes a fool out of himself and, when cleaning up his mess, talks to Phil. Phil is outgoing and Dan thinks he talks too much and leaves without buying anything, but interactions that take place between them end up giving Phil major self-confidence issues and lead him to develop selective mutism over the year that they’re apart. They meet up again and Dan realizes the effects of his words, and maybe the boy isn’t so bad after all and Dan was all too quick to judge.

au: i wrote this imagining that it took place somewhere in their teenaged years, where they are roughly the same age. also: pastel!Dan and pastel!Phil because i love them so much omg. later there’s gonna be mute!Phil but not in this chapter.

word count: 1,641

genre: fluff and a little angst

warning: Dan is kind of a jerk lol, rated G for a little bit of gay later

Dan’s POV:

I had no idea why I’d never been to the thrift store downtown. I’d gazed into the windows occasionally before, but it never was a good time to go in. The clothes were tasteful, I’d just never really gone in. I decided that it was time to check the store out, if only to never return again, just so I could say that I went in. Really, it was a cute shop with a nice window display, in an alley just off of the main street.

I walked in and was pleasantly surprised. Unlike most thrift stores, I wasn’t bombarded with the smell of old people and musk, but rather the shop smelled of a sweet cotton candy. Some soft, upbeat music played in the background, a tune I didn’t fully recognize, but that seemed vaguely familiar. I looked around and was frankly shocked by the size of the shop. It was far larger than it had appeared from the outside, filled with seemingly endless racks of clothes. The walls were painted a pastel blue. It was really a beautiful shop.

“Hello! How can I help you?” I heard a voice coming from the back room and turned my head. I jumped a little, not realizing that somebody else was there. It was a boy, a little older than myself, holding boxes of clothes piled almost to his chin. Of course, I assumed they were filled with clothes or something, but it was nearly impossible to tell. I smiled curtly at him and began to sort through one of the racks. It was filled with t-shirts in various sizes, most had been washed so much that the cotton had worn thin. I pulled a faded teal shirt off of its wooden hanger.

“Excuse me, do you have any fitting rooms?” I hated having to bother the clerk, but I really didn’t want to buy the top without knowing if it would fit.

“I’m sorry, we don’t really have one. If you’d like, you could try it on in the back room if you don’t mind all the boxes of donated junk.” I smiled and walked to the small room from where the boy had first emerged. It was small and nearly filled to the ceiling with boxes stacked on top of eachother. There wasn’t a lot of space that I could change in, but I thought it would be rude to walk out after I’d just come in, so I pulled the door shut behind me. I tugged my jumper off and slipped on the t-shirt. It fit pretty nicely and the material was very soft on my skin. I was checking myself out in the mirror when I heard a soft knocking on the door.

“Sorry, I think I left my phone in here,” I opened the door to let the boy in, “Wow! That shirt really suits you. It’s a very nice color. Really brings out your eyes.” I blushed and mumbled thanks while he grabbed his phone and let me be. It wasn’t that I didn’t get complimented, it’s just that a majority of the nice things people said to me came from my relatives or close friends. The opinion of some random thrift shop employee shouldn’t matter so much to me, but I guess sometimes it’s nice to be recognised. Plus, I didn’t really like my eyes. Of all the things anybody could point out, my eyes were generally not the topic of compliments I received. They were plain and brown and boring. They were definitely nothing special.

I tugged the shirt off, apparently a little too excitedly. While I was free from the grip of the teal shirt, pulling it off had cause my elbow to sail into one of the boxes of junk, shoving it away and causing all of the boxes to fall onto me. I groaned. Of course of all things, I’d ruin all of the sorted boxes of donations. The door burst open.

“Oh my, are you alright?” the boy looked down at me, concerned. I laughed half heartedly, “Yeah, I’m great, just, you know, buried in boxes.” He reached his hand out to me and pulled me out of the boxes sitting atop me. At that moment, I realized that I wasn’t wearing a shirt and quickly turned around and looked for my jumper under the boxes. I pulled it over my head and over my torso to cover myself up. My face was flushed, I’d messed up pretty badly.

“I’m really sorry, I’ll help you get everything cleaned up. I’m such a clutz,” I sighed, bending down to put stuff back in the boxes. The boy giggled, “It’s fine, I can clean up here. We don’t get many customers anyhow, now I’ll have something to do for the rest of the day.” I felt so bad for him. It didn’t seem like there were any other workers to help him. It was my mess, it was only fair if I helped him clean up.

“Really, I insist. I’ll be here to help you keep company. I owe you one, I should’ve kept better track of my elbow.” There was that giggle again, the boy’s tongue poking out a little as he smiled at me. It was clear that he was the exact opposite of me, at least personality wise. He seemed very friendly and outgoing, whilst I tended to recoil at the idea of any social interaction. He sure did like to laugh, and, while I was pretty sure he was laughing with me, I still couldn’t help but feel that he was teasing me for knocking everything down. I felt really bad for having inconvenienced him, but he didn’t have to try and make conversation while trying to repack boxes. I just wanted to help him and go.

“So, do you always pull your shirt off so violently?” Did he just wink at me? Maybe he just blinked. Was I seeing things? This boy did love to talk. He told me stories about his mum, who had taken a photo where her hand looked like a claw, and joked about her being a lobster. He said that he worked in the shop every day because his mum owned the place and paid him to help keep it running. While the way he babbled on was undeniably adorable, I didn’t come to the shop to hear his life story. Still, I couldn’t be rude and ask him to shut up, so I just grinned and nodded while he continued to chat. I felt very bad about knocking all of the boxes over, after all. Slowly but steadily, we managed to return everything to its proper box.

“Thanks for helping. This would have taken ages if I were alone. We make a good team, huh?” the boy gave me a small smile. I grinned tightly back at him. I was ready to go back to the safety of my bed where I wouldn’t have to face the social humiliation I had to when I inevitably messed something up because I was a clutz. Honestly, I’d have rather been anywhere else other than that stupid shop with that extroverted employee trying to converse with me.

“Yeah, we sure did make a good team. See you round then,” I made a beeline for the door, not leaving quick enough to avoid seeing the boy’s face fall as I quickly escaped from the shop. Thank god that was over. As I looked back in one last time, I saw the boy sitting at the checkout, looking sadly down at the register. What was his problem? I was just a customer, I was sure he saw loads, right? It wasn’t my job to babysit him while he worked.

Phil’s POV:

What did I do to scare him away? I thought I’d acted more than friendly towards the curly-headed customer. I’d shared some funny anecdotes with him and tried to engage with him. He seemed like a nice guy, a bit reserved, yeah, but he did stay back to help pack up the boxes after he’d knocked them down. I just didn’t understand why he left so abruptly, like he couldn’t even face me. Had I done something wrong?

I knew it was silly, but it got lonely in the shop. We hardly saw any customers at all in the shop, and those we see are usually old people or those donating. I rarely saw anybody my age in and, well, it was nice that the boy made me feel a little less alone. Of course, it was silly. He'd just been shopping downtown and I was just another employee. He stayed back because he was polite. That’s all. I just wish he could have stayed. I couldn’t help but wonder what his life was like, as I’d shared so many parts of mine with him. All things considered, he hardly shared anything at all with me, and I talked most of the time.

I hated how I’d just shoot off at the mouth. That was probably it. That’s why most people tended to avoid me. I was just too clingy and easily attached. I read too much into things. He thought I was gross and obnoxious and arrogant because I talked too much. That made sense. I just wanted to make him feel comfortable, you know? Not everybody was as outgoing as me, and some people just weren’t comfortable sharing their life with a stranger. Oh god. I must have seemed so strange. Why am I so stupid? Of course he didn’t care about my life. He was just polite. Just polite, nothing else. That’s why he stayed. That’s why he smiled and talked a bit with me and left. I just wanted someone to care about me. I just wanted a friend.

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lifeonashelf · 5 years ago

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CLARKSON, KELLY

Since we’ve already tackled a fairly diverse musical sampling in this tome, it may not shock you to learn that I sincerely think Kelly Clarkson is awesome-sauce. And I’m not just referring to her talent (which is obviously abundant) or her register of great songs (which is also obviously abundant), I’m referring to her essence—the authenticity she embodies, and how much more fundamentally likeable she is than any other pop star of her stature or epoch. I have not met Kelly Clarkson, yet her entire vocational ethos has been so blessedly free of pretention that I kind of feel like I know her, even though the only thing I know for a fact about Kelly Clarkson is that she is a singer named Kelly Clarkson.

I never viewed one episode of the American Idol season she won and I have never seen her interviewed as far as I can recall. The impressions I have of her character are intrinsic, based on nothing more than the calmative sound of her voice and the traits I instinctively suppose a person whose voice sounds like hers must surely possess (certain voices are just like that—I don’t think anyone on the planet assumes Morgan Freeman is a dick, for instance). By that criteria alone, I am led to believe Kelly Clarkson is a kind human being, the sort of gentle soul who gleans authentic happiness from making other people happy. I am led to believe she is a humble human being, the sort of grateful and unaffected luminary who lends her resources to numerous charitable causes without requiring any fanfare for it. I am led to believe she is a wonderful mother, although I am merely presuming she has kids since I don’t actually know anything about her personal life. And I am so innately certain of these things that if someone told me they have it on good authority that Kelly Clarkson bathes in the blood of kittens to preserve her youth, I wouldn’t believe that person for a second, even if they had pictures (conversely, if someone told me the same thing about Taylor Swift, they wouldn’t even need photos to convince me).

I have an anecdote which supports my hypotheses, even if the anecdote isn’t my own. My cousin Lauren worked at a restaurant in Hawaii for a few years, and on her last day at this café, a vacationing Kelly Clarkson happened to stop in to eat there. Since it was Lauren’s final shift, her co-workers were scribbling farewell messages on her uniform with magic markers throughout the day, inscribing it like the pages of a yearbook. My cousin’s engraved vestment drew the notice of the eatery’s eminent visitor, who amiably asked about its significance; when Lauren explained the circumstances to this world-renowned superstar in her establishment, Clarkson proceeded to gush about how delightful she thought the gesture was and asked if she could add her signature to the shirt. As a result, my cousin is now the proud owner of a decidedly unique piece of apparel which is autographed by a slew of her former hospitality industry peers… and Kelly Clarkson. When Lauren told me this story, I was acutely charmed and—yes, I admit—a little envious. But I was not a bit surprised, because that is exactly the sort of genial exchange I imagine everybody who meets Kelly Clarkson probably has with her (conversely, if Lauren told me that Taylor Swift came into her restaurant, wrote “fuck you” on her t-shirt, then defecated on the floor, she wouldn’t even need the signed garment to convince me).

While artists like Lady Gaga and Nicki Minaj have allocated periods of their careers to embodying post-apocalyptic femme-bots or community-theater sorceresses or whatever-the-fuck, Kelly Clarkson has exclusively devoted her career to embodying a performer named Kelly Clarkson who doesn’t come across as markedly different than the self-effacing lass named Kelly Clarkson who curls up on her tour bus after her concerts to watch old episodes of Friends (granted, I have no idea if Clarkson is a fan of that particular show, but she sounds like she must be). The only way I would ever recognize Lady Gaga in the wild is if she walked up to me and said, “Hi, my name is Lady Gaga”—and after I nodded and remarked, “oh, that’s kinda neat for you,” I can’t imagine I’d have much else to say to her. Yet if I happened to be at a craft store and I spotted Clarkson browsing the yarn aisles (for some reason, I also presuppose she knits a mean sweater), I would instantly know who I was spotting because she would probably look exactly like Kelly Clarkson always does, and I’d feel duty-bound to approach her, shake her hand, and thank her for being all of the things I assume she is. And if she wanted to hang out for a little while and chat about patterns, I would totally hear her out, because listening to Kelly Clarkson extrapolate on the textile arts sounds like a perfectly pleasant way to spend an afternoon. I have a strong sense that if I were to meet up with Kelly Clarkson for coffee—actually, now that I think about it, she probably prefers tea—we would totally get along; I also have a strong sense that Kelly Clarkson is precisely the kind of celebrity who actually would meet up with a fan for tea (not me, obviously, because I clearly sound like a lunatic right now).

“The Girl Next Door” is such a tired trope (especially in my case, since the girls who live next door to me are a Goth lesbian couple), but that is indeed the model Clarkson educes: an ingenuous small-town gal-done-good who spent her teenaged weekends canning homemade jam with her grandmother and reading YA romance novels on her porch with a glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade beside her (again, I’m not sure Kelly Clarkson did any of these things; regrettably, my insights into small-town living are limited to the saccharine tableaus represented in the Lifetime Original movies I’ve watched over the years—which, consequently, I presume Clarkson also enjoys). Her comportment evokes a high-spirited yet enduringly sweet kid sister you impulsively want to protect from the leering eyes of the world, and while she is certainly a beautiful woman, my attraction to her has never ventured anywhere near the realm of the erotic (my pop chanteuse crush is Demi Lovato, whose open struggles with bi-polar disorder, depression, and substance abuse—perhaps unfortunately—make her way more my type than Clarkson is). Honestly, I can’t envision making out with Kelly Clarkson; any fantasies my brain might entertain about her would be more likely to involve tracking down whatever scoundrel inspired the fervent pathos in her performance of “Behind These Hazel Eyes” and defending her honor by punching that fucker in the face.

I guess the word I’m really looking for here is “refreshing.” While Clarkson built her renown in a realm of play-acting, her career has been defined by an absence of artifice, which is ultimately a much more substantive thing to define oneself by than prowling around in spangled booty shorts. At her peak, Clarkson’s implicit message to the young women in her fanbase seemed to be, “you don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not; just be who you are and great things will happen.” I’m certainly no prig, but if I had a music-consuming daughter who looked to pop idols for guidance, I’d much rather her absorb that philosophy than the one proffered by, say, Rihanna—whose well-publicized turbulent coupling with Chris Brown would instead tacitly edify my fictional offspring that “ride-or-die” means sticking by your man even after he beats the absolute fucking shit out of you.

Of course, Kelly Clarkson’s ascent was predominantly reliant on her faculty—I doubt millions of people bought her records solely because she’s a nice person—yet in that respect also, she handily outshined her contemporaries. While most of the circa-aughts female pop icons were essentially sonically interchangeable, Clarkson’s soaring vocals always had enough distinctive character to render them unmistakably hers—surely, no amount of Auto-Tune could have endowed the bottom-scraping likes of Fergie with enough juice to do “Because of You” justice. She was also savvy beyond her years, and it was her refusal to let her handlers dictate the course of her career that ultimately allowed her to flourish when so many of her fellow American Idol graduates floundered.

Clarkson’s sophomore album—2004’s Breakaway—turned out to be the best-selling entry in her discography, and will likely forever remain her most iconic opus. But she had to fire her manager and battle just about everyone else in her camp to make that disc happen on her terms. After riding the wave of Idol worship which lifted her safe and satisfactory debut Faithful to its logical ceiling, she was tenacious in her resolve to transcend that threshold and announce herself as an artist capable of achieving far greater heights than triumphing in a televised popularity contest. As preparations for Breakaway began, Clarkson insisted on being heavily involved in the songwriting process—disregarding the protests of her mostly-male producers, who myopically deemed that a twenty-something woman couldn’t possibly possess any insight into what the twenty-something women who comprised the largest audience for the record they were making wanted to hear. She was also adamant about integrating more diverse and dynamic elements into her sound instead of simply settling upon another cycle of tepid pop-contemporary numbers. The result was a monster of a record that offered up five chart-igniting classics and a supporting cast of remarkably strong deep cuts. As evidenced on Breakaway, Kelly Clarkson’s vision of her craft encompassed something much weightier than a series of Pez-dispenser singles and shark-costume dance numbers. She clearly wanted to make a cohesive album that never gave the listener occasion to reach for the Track-Skip button, and she succeeded brilliantly. Commencing with the anthemic title cut, the feisty “Since U Been Gone”, the masterful “Behind These Hazel Eyes”, and the show-stopping apogee “Because of You” in immediate succession, Breakaway is surely a front-loaded disc, but it’s nevertheless one that continues delivering gems long after it exhausts its radio bait: “Addicted” is as solid as anything else on the record, “Walk Away” brims with irresistible quirk, and despite being buried near the tail-end of the track listing, “You Found Me” is more indelible than most other artists’ biggest hits.

This, too, illustrates a refreshing component of Clarkson’s mien—she made an entire record worth listening to, a feat which regrettably few artists on the pop landscape ever seem to bother themselves with. None of the tunes on Breakaway resonate as throwaways; each has something to offer beyond a hummable chorus, and each is solely Clarkson’s domain, firmly entrenched in her esthetic wheelhouse and blessedly devoid of any posturized pandering or blundering Ja Rule cameos. Even at this early stage of her artistic development, she possessed a seasoned understanding of the clear difference between making a song marketable and making a song memorable, and a keen awareness that those two things are not mutually exclusive. Surely, Clarkson was just as aggressively promoted as any of her peers, but her product wasn’t aimed at the audience hungry for gyrating, hypersexual caprice��peddlers like Christina Aguilera already had that demographic covered. Kelly Clarkson wasn’t selling her navel, she was selling a much more durable commodity: fantastic songs performed by an exceptional singer. And the grandeur of her vocal acumen elevated her wares beyond the disposable and into the timeless—indeed, as of this writing, Breakaway remains a thoroughly satisfying listen; meanwhile, nobody would bother spinning an Ashlee Simpson album from start to finish today, not even Ashlee Simpson.

And unlike far too many of her colleagues, Clarkson didn’t require a force-field of studio trickery to bolster her transmission. The organic nuance and passion in her voice floated atop the reverb rather than drowning in it, and the intricate, exquisite descants she conjured revealed hours spent mining her soul for the best way to communicate the emotion each track called for instead of pondering what shoes to wear in the eventual video. Which is probably why “Since U Been Gone” still makes me pogo around my apartment every time I put it on, while every Katy Perry song sounds like it was specifically written for a lipgloss commercial.

Clarkson’s output has waned in the last decade or so—though “Stronger” is a notable high-point—but even if her most significant work is destined to remain behind her, the legacy she built for herself transcends her standing as the first and most successful American Idol victor (at press time, that is; I’m willing to entertain the possibility that Lee DeWyze or one of the seven other winners whose names nobody remembers might still create the most amazing record ever made). After weathering an era replete with shameful moments like the skinhead meltdown of Britney Spears, The Pussycat Dolls pledging the drooling males in their litterbox echelons of filthy sluttery their lowly mortal girlfriends could never aspire to, and Lindsay Lohan being Lindsay Lohan, Kelly Clarkson emerged with her class, her dignity, and her career intact. The reality-TV platform that introduced her to the world is now a footnote, but her catalog continues to stand the test of time. And even though I actually shook Randy Jackson’s hand when he ate at the restaurant where I work (take that, Lauren), Clarkson will always be the American Idol alumnus I feel most closely connected to.

Speaking of… Kelly, if you’re reading this: my last shift at Eureka is on Monday, January 28. If you happen to be in the vicinity of Claremont that night and feel like swinging by, I’d be honored to have you sign my shirt. Just don’t invite Taylor Swift, please; I heard she does some really gnarly shit to kittens.

January 17, 2019

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savetheinformanrarites · 5 years ago

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Reissue Liner Notes

J Murph & Lou – J Murph & Lou – Photo by Monica Dtc

Bug is the third and final pearl in the string of albums released by the original formation of Dinosaur Jr. The music here shows the band moving into ever more orderly realms of composition and structure, even as anecdotal evidence suggests that they were coming apart at their physical seams.

After the release of Bug, Dinosaur changed their name to Dinosaur Jr, due to the protests of a band of San Francisco ballroom-era leftovers. This seemed incredibly stupid at the time, but now it is possible to see as both a remark (by the hippies) that the band was starting to become known, as well as one by the band that they didn’t give a fuck. It was in this time that people truly began to appreciate the power of the songs that had always lurked inside the band’s sonic cataclysm. Live shows of the period were incredible. They harnessed a very special kind of aggression like no one els,e and the emotional turmoil inside the band frequently erupted into something cathartic and Brobdingnagian. J had moved to New York City, and there was a new sense of disconnect within the band. Lou was doing his own recordings for Homestead, Murph was playing more aggressively than ever, and J was kinda doing his own thing. Without any songwriting input from Barlow, the material for Bug was scripted entirely by Mascis, and when it was time to record the stuff, J had very specific ideas about how everyone’s part should be played. If the band prior to this had been operating in at least a faux-democratic way, that pretense was now shucked. It was, it seemed, J’s band. And this knowledge (both within and without the group) loaded some of their live shows with a particularly furious edge.

There might be true havoc on stage, now and then, as J and Lou’s antipathy towards each other increased, but more often this negative gush was channeled into an orgy of magnificent meat music. The trio’s roar – one that had initially seemed impossible to contain or control — began to assume a comprehendible shape in front of an audience that was familiar with the material (from the records) and attuned to its details. Not all their live shows were perfect, but there were lots of great ones, and their first trip to Europe in late ’87, brought them before a group of people who were both delighted and mystified by their utterly American combination of explosions and mopery. The British press fawned over them (in their own tongue-in-ass fashion), but Dinosaur Jr’s true impact was on the audiences, who were absolutely ready for the stylistic shift into post-core non-ironic-rock that the band’s music suggested. Indeed, it is postulated that a whole generation of British “shoegazer” bands sprang up as a reaction to that first visit. Even if this is hyperbole, it is undeniable that Dinosaur Jr were offering a way out of the noise morass for certain group of misfits.

Their songs were complex in a way that seemed both simple and intuitive, their lyrics were sad and reflective without appearing obnoxiously introspective. These were graspable creative tenets, so it made sense that they would be aped. And aped they were. The band’s profile on the American scene was growing exponentially at the same time. This had been something in the making for a while, but their popularity was blown wide open by Bug, and its accompanying single, “Freak Scene” — a classic slab by any known yardstick.

Robert Pollard (of Guided By Voices) remembers, “I bought their first album when it came out and I couldn’t figure out what the fuck it was. I couldn’t tell if they were nerds or goth heads or what. I thought they looked cool, but I couldn’t figure out what time period they were about. That first album was mesmerizing, but it was so strange. The picture with the sun on the cover just confused me. The music was recorded real lo-fi, but they didn’t fit into anything that was going on. When you listened to it, you might think parts of it were from the late ‘60s or early ‘70s. I mean, what was it? Sort of a dark psych metal but with punk roots.

“The band’s whole approach reminded me of something our band was doing a little later, because they were burying strong melodies inside of this total sonic attack. There was almost something sinister underlying everything, but it was beautiful, too. There was always something hidden inside their songs. When I thought my lyrics were corny, we would use tape hiss to cover up the sentiments and fuck things up. It seemed like they were trying to fuck up their music by the craziness of their attack,

“And each of their albums just got better and better. They really are one of the few bands that, to this day, I get out all of their early catalogue and listen to them all in a row, all the way through. I still do that every so often. The amazing thing about their songs is that even though they were all sonically heavy, almost every one of them has the ability to give me a chill. The first songs on their albums were always great. Like ‘Forget the Swan.’ That may be my favorite. But they had so many great ones – ‘Little Fury Things, ‘Budge’ – they’re all great. I even like ‘Poledo’! (laughs) That one actually sounded more like the way we were doing things then. But my favorite album is definitely Bug. They were so solid musically by that time, and every song on it is good.

“It was also around that time that I saw them play in Cincinnati. I saw them with Murph and Lou one weekend at this club that had all the heavy bands right then, like Big Chief and Nirvana. They were really loud, and J was such a great guitar player — one of the best in the world. I just loved that band.”

As they rolled on, there was no lack of people who’d second Pollard’s sentiments. “Freak Scene” became one of the great college rock anthems of ’88. A beautiful blend of confusion, neo-folkie yearning and guitar belligerence, the songs still slays. But there’s so much great stuff on Bug. One of my personal faves is “Don’t,” which is like a perfect post-core version of a track from the Stooges’ Funhouse. Repeat-o sludge riffs up the wazoo, absolutely raunched guitar textures, and bellered vocals (which J, perversely, had Lou sing) that ask a perplexingly simple question, “Why don’t you like me?” What could be better?

Well, one thing that could have been better, one presumed, was morale inside the band. They didn’t last all that long after the completion of Bug and the tours to support it. Dinosaur Jr continued in name for a good while, and they released some great records. But there is something totally organic and beautiful about the first three albums. They represent a creative arc that begins with teenage hardcore sput and ends with the dream of guitar heroism. And its an arc that many followed, but one this trio defined. Once and for all. Over and out. Amen.

–Byron Coley Deerfield ma 2004

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burning-up-ao3 · 6 years ago

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20 Penguin Thoughts: What’s It Really Like Returning From Injury

20 Penguins Thoughts: What it’s really like returning from injury

March 26, 2019 8:19 AMBy Jason Mackey / Pittsburgh Post-Gazette

NEW YORK — Let’s start with a personal anecdote for a change.

The summer before my senior year playing baseball at Westminster College, I split my kneecap in half, the result of a line drive up the middle that knocked me head over heels and caromed all the way to the dugout fence.

After spending the next six months rehabbing from two separate surgeries, I was hesitant and nervous the next time I toed the rubber. On the very first pitch — a low-and-outside fastball— a shot up the middle whizzed an inch past my left leg.

I threw my glove in the air and jokingly said that was it; I quit.

With opening day approaching, that injury and coming back from it got me thinking about the process of recovering from a serious injury at the NHL level, all the work Penguins players put in to get back on the ice and what it’s like once they get there.

“It almost feels like there’s different phases of it,’ Nick Bjugstad was telling me last week in Nashville. “It doesn’t really set in until a few days later, it seems like. Once it hits, you’re watching your team play. It’s no fun. Obviously you want to be out there on the ice.

“Toward the end, you get anxious to get out there. There’s a lot of excitement. It’s kind of a cycle … but not one you want to go through too often.”

So, what happens when a player gets hurt? Let’s take a look.

2. The hardest part is being alone, several players said.

While everyone who’s healthy is going on road trips, game-planning for opponents and has an actual shot at making a difference, you’re unable to contribute much of anything.

Yes, guys watch the games, but it’s not even close to the same sort of thing. Or even remotely satisfying.

“It is a little bit depressing,” Bryan Rust said. “You come to the rink in the morning. Nobody’s there. You’re kinda dragging your feet around there a little bit. It definitely [stinks].”

3. To combat the monotony, players often focus on small goals, whether that’s incremental increases in what they’re allowed to do or meeting certain benchmarks set by the strength and conditioning staff.

None of this includes being measured by goals or points, the usual stuff. More it’s tracking progress, things feeling the way players would like them to feel and graduating to more difficult drills.

“I think they do a really good job here of keeping that process moving along day-to-day and slowly progressing,” Rust said.

4. If they have to pick one, players would seemingly take an injury that allows them to keep skating versus one that does not.

At least that way, their lungs and legs stay in shape; the feel for shooting and puck-handling is seemingly a little easier to get back.

When you’re rehabbing a lower-body injury, that first skate back can often be ugly. In those cases, it’s probably a good thing nobody’s around.

“That first skate is usually just a twirl, 15-20 minutes to test things out,” Rust said.

“It’s like you’re stuck in mud,” Garrett Wilson added. “It’s kind of a confidence-shredder there for a bit. For the first couple, you’re like, ‘Holy [crap], I’ve been off this long?’ ”

5. Those before-practice skates are typically handled by skating and skills coach Ty Hennes, whose voice is almost always raspy from yelling to push players and keep the intensity up.

The guys love Hennes for this reason.

If there’s one good thing they can say about getting hurt, it’s that even then they’re getting pushed to get better, to meet the goals the team’s medical staff has set out for them.

“We’re really lucky to have Ty,” Matt Cullen said. “Honestly, he’s as good as there is. He’s a really upbeat, positive, high-energy guy. His drills, the way that he skates you, it’s so good.”

6. Nobody would prefer to get hurt, obviously, but Cullen said he’s actually noticed an improvement in his play whenever he’s been out of the lineup for a stretch.

For Cullen, it has allowed him to work on things that he might’ve forgotten about over the course of a long season.

“When you come back your hands and feet often feel better,” Cullen said. “Sometimes during the course of a season you get into your routine, but Ty will take you out there and he’ll work on skill stuff that you haven’t worked on much during the season. Sometimes it can be a good refresher.

“For me, whenever I’ve had some time with Ty, I came back and felt probably better than when I went in as far as handling the puck.”

7. I can relate a little bit to what Cullen is talking about.

Whenever I came back — after that initial pitch — my arm actually had a surprising amount of life. I found my mechanics were a lot better, too, and I paid attention to little details that seemed new.

Wilson, who separated his shoulder last year in Wilkes-Barre/Scranton, liked how there were several people working together, from the top in Pittsburgh to the organization’s AHL staff.

“The strength coach and the trainers kind of work together,” Wilson said. “I think that helps a lot instead of just one guy doing what he thinks. They put their brains together. They go from a health aspect to a strength aspect. That really helps.”

Still, when everyone else leaves for long road trips like the one the Penguins just completed, it’s hard to not be with your teammates, doing what you love so much.

“Guys are getting fired up to go on the road. You’re stuck back at home, knowing that you’re going to get bag skated, it’s tough,” Wilson said. “But it’s part of the job. It takes a lot of mental strength to come back from an injury.”

8-9. Moving on …

Sidney Crosby is on pace for more than 100 points and should get some serious consideration for the Selke Trophy, awarded annually to the NHL’s best two-way forward.

Yes, the two of them are related. Not just in my eyes, either.

“I do think they are related,” coach Mike Sullivan said. “I’ve never been a believer that you have to sacrifice defense to be good offensively and that you can generate offense from playing solid defense.”

I spent some time earlier on this trip asking guys how Crosby is able to use his two-way play to put up points. There are obviously several factors at play here, but here are the most common:

• There’s the direct relation between the two. If a player forces a turnover in the opponent’s defensive end, it puts his team in a great position to capitalize.

Nobody is expecting a turnover. The Penguins might have numbers. The other team is likely on its heels.

“A lot of the highest-quality chances that occur in a game usually occur off of a transition opportunity or a turnover, where the possession changes from one team to the other,” coach Mike Sullivan said. “I think Sid does that better than anyone.”

• There’s also the idea of where the game is typically being played when Crosby is on the ice.

If Crosby’s line is setting up shop in the offensive zone, the opponent has to spend energy there trying to prevent a goal. Defending, theoretically anyway, should be made easier if the other team is only entering the offensive zone at the end of a long shift.

“They go hand-in-hand,” Matt Cullen said. “The way he plays defensively allows him to play more time in the offensive zone.”

• It’s also a a smart-player-who’s-good-at-hockey sort of thing. Crosby has innumerable physical gifts, but his mental capacity is really something else. He understands what he’s doing on the ice and why he’s doing it.

Which serves as a huge benefit here, Nick Bjugstad said.

Before we get to Bjugstad’s quote, I did want to point out that Bjugstad and Cullen were sitting side-by-side when I brought this up in Carolina. Even Cullen seemed impressed by the thoroughness of Bjugstad’s answer.

“He’s on the right end of the puck everywhere he goes,” Bjugstad said. “He creates the puck luck for himself because he’s in the right position.

“As a center, a lot of times you want to go and help. But a lot of times that’s doing too much. You almost have to stop and slow it down, be below that winger breaking out the puck. Otherwise it will come back the other way, and it’s a good chance in the middle for the other team.

“Being patient but also supporting your wingers at the same time is super important, and he seems to do that very well.”

10. Crosby attributed the whole offense-from-defense thing more to execution than anything else. And, truth be told, I expected him to swat my question away like Dikembe Mutombo.

But you also have to put yourself in position to get those chances, and obviously Crosby does a tremendous job of that.

“As far as producing, it comes down to execution and making sure you take advantage of the chances you get,” Crosby said. “I do think it helps when you have the puck more and you’re able to get out of your zone.”

11. Crosby’s season is somewhat baffling to me, in the sense that I fail to understand why more people aren’t talking about it.

It almost seems like his defense is ignored because he’s labeled an offensive player. Then when it comes to that stuff, it’s assumed that he puts up numbers because he’s Sidney Crosby.

I asked general manager Jim Rutherford about that during our chat last Friday in Dallas, and he agreed. He, too, can’t believe so many people seem to be overlooking the season Crosby is having.

“There’s such a high standard set for Sid. When he does something, everybody just takes it for granted,” Rutherford said. “The fact of the matter is not only this year but over the last few years he should be in the Selke Trophy conversation. He has truly become an all-around player.”

12. The NHLPA recently did a study where Crosby was voted as most likely among current players to one day wind up as a general manager.

I don’t know if I agree with it. I could see Crosby going back to Nova Scotia and preferring some anonymity for once or maybe working on the developmental side of the game.

His current GM, though, can definitely see Crosby one day running his own team — if that’s what he wants to do.

“He’s going to be able to do whatever he wants when he finishes playing,” Rutherford said. “He has a lot of years left in him to play. He knows the game inside and out. He knows talent. He’s going to have his choice to do whatever he wants.”

13. Sticking with Rutherford here …

One of the things I asked him was about Erik Gudbranson and why it’s worked so well here compared to what he did in Vancouver.

“Don’t get me going where you guys [media] start with players,” Rutherford said. “I don’t even need to play it out. You guys know how you started off with Jack Johnson and how you started out with Gudbranson.”

I pointed out to Rutherford this story I wrote, although he seemed unmoved. He remains unhappy with how Johnson was treated at his introductory press conference.

“You guys have no point of return on how you started out with him,” Rutherford said.

14. As for Gudbranson, Rutherford said — and I agree — that he simply needed a change of scenery.

I think the culture around the Canucks was probably wearing on Gudbranson more than we knew at the time. Everything he did was criticized, and more was being asked of him than could probably be reasonably expected.

In Pittsburgh, Gudbranson has been appreciated for what he is instead of being criticized for what he’s not.

“He’s a good player,” Rutherford said. “We were aware that it wasn’t working in Vancouver. We were looking for a guy who could come in and play and give some pushback in games where they got a little more physical, bring some leadership and put him in a role where he could be successful. That role that we were looking for got expanded because of the injuries. He was put in a tougher spot when he first got here and handled it very well.”

15. Remember when Rutherford last summer ripped Tom Wilson for running away from Jamie Oleksiak in the playoffs?

Wilson read Rutherford’s comments, and they seemed to set the stage for the Oleksiak-Wilson bout on Dec. 19, the one that ended with Wilson one-punching Oleksiak and concussing him.

When we talked on Friday at the Stars practice facility, I asked Oleksiak whether he had a problem with Rutherford saying what he said. If maybe he would’ve wished for Rutherford to just have kept quiet.

“Rutherford is entitled to say what’s going to say. It’s his team, and that’s your boss,” Oleksiak said. “That’s not going to dictate whether I have to go fight somebody. It’s a new kind of game. I just try and pride myself on being a guy who can make his own decisions.”

16. Have you noticed what Rick Tocchet’s Coyotes have been doing?

Yes, they’re two points out of the final playoff spot in the Western Conference, but that’s better than pretty much anybody expected given the team’s youth.

Penguins players are obviously plenty busy worrying about their own season, but Crosby, for one, has been following what Arizona has been doing.

“Having Tocc here, knowing him and having won with him, I think you probably look at them a little closer than you would if he wasn’t there,” Crosby said. “Seeing the job that he’s done with the injuries that they’ve had and still finding a way to hang in there and having a shot at the playoffs, that would be great for him and great for their team.”

17. You can sense Teddy Blueger’s confidence growing.

When he was first flexed to Evgeni Malkin’s spot, I worried that maybe Blueger was in over his head. I was wrong.

That line has generated plenty, and Blueger has comported himself well. If Phil Kessel buried a few of the Grade A opportunities he had in Nashville, that whole line might’ve been the story of this trip.

“I think just try to play my game — play the same way that got me there in the first place,” Blueger said. “I don’t want to try and change anything and be something that I’m not. Just try and be as consistent as I can be.

18. Credit where it’s due: Many of us in the media were extremely critical of Dominik Simon a few weeks ago, pointing out his lack of goal-scoring.

I still think Simon needs to score more. The Penguins’ whole third line, too.

But lately, Simon has been one of the big reasons that line has been so good. His offensive instincts have been on display, and he’s done a terrific job helping the Penguins break the puck out of their zone.

As a result, Simon, Bjugstad and Patric Hornqvist have enjoyed a ton of offensive chances.

“I think we’ve been playing well,” Hornqvist said. “We’ve been playing both sides of the puck. We’re creating a lot of chances. We haven’t scored that many goals, but if we keep playing the same way, we’re going to get goals.”

19. Number of the week: 40

Since 2006-07, the Penguins and Sharks are the only NHL teams to win at least 40 games in every full season — excluding, of course, the lockout year.

That’s a crazy amount of consistency.

With all the talk in our city over what the Steelers have become, I don’t think we give the Penguins enough credit when it comes to consistently being in the thick of things.

20. Non-hockey Thought of the week: I don’t understand all the fuss over Michigan State men’s basketball coach Tom Izzo.

So he yelled at a kid? And this is a problem?

Some of the feedback I got from people on Twitter was that there are other ways of getting through to kids. I agree. But calm reasoning also doesn’t ensure your message gets through, especially when talking about college kids.

If you send your son to play for Izzo, you know what you’re getting into. I also don’t think he was physically trying to harm anyone.

He’s being intense and he’s trying to motivate players in any way possible. Is that a crime?

Jason Mackey: [email protected] and Twitter @JMackeyPG.

First Published March 26, 2019 8:00 AM

#Pittsburgh Post-Gazette #pittsburgh penguins #jason mackey #20 Penguin Thoughts #March 26 2019

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technicalsolutions88 · 7 years ago

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Have you ever wanted to see one of your “hate-reads” stretched out to feature-film length? If so, you’ll want to watch HBO’s new documentary, “Swiped,” which takes a depressing, trigger-inducing and damning look at online dating culture, and specifically Tinder’s outsized influence in the dating app business.

The film evolved from journalist Nancy Jo Sales’ 2015 Vanity Fair piece, entitled “Tinder and the Dawn of the ‘Dating Apocalypse,” which was criticized at the time for its narrow focus on 20-something, largely heterosexual women in an urban setting. The piece had extrapolated out their personal dating struggles and turned them into condemnation of the entire online dating market.

But the VF piece was actually more memorable for Tinder’s response.

The company – well, it went off.

In a 30-tweet tirade (that’s still some of the best of the internet, mind you), the company lost its ever-lovin’ mind on both Vanity Fair and Nancy Jo Sales alike.

One sample tweet from the Tinder meltdown: “@VanityFair: Little know fact: sex was invented in 2012 when Tinder was launched.”

Ah, take that! Right?! Right?

Despite the complete PR buffoonery, Tinder had a point.

The VF piece wasn’t representative of Tinder’s larger user base, only a sliver. And the complaints from a few users couldn’t be used to make a point about the entire industry.

Besides, what exactly was unique about those complaints?

Was it truly swipe culture to blame for the mistakes made in dating and sexual experimentation, when you’re young? Don’t you at least once or twice have to choose the wrong person, so you can begin to triangulate on what’s right?

Unfortunately, the film doesn’t fully correct the article’s problem in terms of its demographic samplings.

It still mostly relies on anecdotes told by (usually drunk) 20-somethings, which are then spliced up by the occasional expert commentary.

And the subjects are often really, really drunk.

There’s one scene where a young woman is so wasted, it’s hard to believe she gave the filmmaker informed consent to use her footage.

(Not the one below. But I’m pretty sure those Solo cups aren’t filled with lemonade.)

Meanwhile, the expert commentary has its highlights, too.

There’s one expert – April Alliston, a Princeton professor – who breastfeeds her baby on camera while giving her commentary on pornography. (Oh yes, please discuss rape porn while the baby suckles your breast, thank you very much.)

Look how cool and progressive we are! is the unspoken subtext, even as the film continues to subtly vilify casual sex among young adults, or act as if Tinder itself is somehow entirely responsible for the callous behavior of its users.

Unlike the magazine article, the film does slightly expand its cast of characters to include gender non-conforming and other LGBTQ people, more people of color, and – well, it’s Tinder! – a couple interested in threesomes.

But the general slice of the Tinder user base interviewed remains young, urban, and, in some cases, fairly vapid.

As for “Swiped’s” milieu, much of its action is in the city.

Specifically, scene after scene in the film is labeled, “New York, New York,” as if the experiences of people in this competitive and unique market – a place where leveling up to something better is a way of life – could somehow represent a universal truth applicable to all of Tinder’s estimated 50 million users.

The film does, however, cover nearly everything that’s awful about dating apps – from young men ordering girls to their door as if it’s a meal from Seamless, to the overwhelming sense of dread and the depression that results from being on dating apps – or really, the internet itself – for too long.

There are also scenes touching nearly every Tinder trope:

The sending of dick pics; men posing with fish in their profile photos; that supposedly happy couple “looking for a third” (spoiler alert: they’re not happy and are broken up by end of film); the “DTF?” come-ons; and basically every other reason people delete these apps in the first place.

Where the film is somewhat stronger is when it talks about the very real psychological tricks Tinder and other dating apps have adopted to keep users engaged and addicted to swiping.

Tinder, it’s pointed out, uses gamification techniques: Brain tricks like intermittent variable rewards that are proven to work on pigeons, no less!

You see, if you don’t know when you’re getting the reward – a treat, a match, etc. – you end up playing the game more often, the psychologists explain.

One of the better quotes on this topic comes from Tinder co-founder and CSO Jonathan Badeen, where he essentially compares the act of using Tinder to doing drugs or gambling.

“We have some of these game-like elements, where you almost feel like you’re being rewarded,” says Baden. “It kinda works like a slot machine, where you’re excited to see who the next person is, or, hopefully, you’re excited to see ‘did I get the match?’ and get that ‘It’s a Match’ screen? It’s a nice little rush,” he enthuses.

Yeah.

Yikes.

Of course, these are concerns that extend beyond the online dating app industry.

Social media apps, in general, have been more recently called out for similar behaviors – that is, for leveraging psychological loopholes to addict their users in unhealthy ways.

The ramifications of our smartphone addictions are only now being examined, in fact.

Apple and Google, for example, have just launched screen time controls aimed at giving us a chance at fighting back at the dangerous dark patterns and brain hacks these apps use. (Apple’s toolset is only arriving in iOS 12 – which is just now getting to the public.)

It’s certainly fair to criticize companies like Tinder and Bumble for bringing these gamification tricks into delicate areas like those where the focus is supposedly on forming real human connections or “finding love.” But it’s disingenuous to act as if this is something unique to Tinder (et al) and not just, generally, the god-awful state of the tech industry as a whole at present.

The only other worthwhile part to “Swiped” is where the film points out that no one knows if any of these addictive apps actually succeed in helping people find real relationships.

Dating app companies don’t have any data on how many lasting relationships result from their app’s usage, “Swiped” finds. It’s odd, as tech companies are usually data hungry beasts. And success rates would seemingly be the exact kind of metric a company claiming to solve issues around relationship-finding would want to track.

Though everyone today seems to know someone who “met on an app,” it’s unclear what portion of the user base is actually finding long-term success with those relationships. The dating app companies have no idea, either, the film proclaims.

Asked how many people who met on Tinder got married or ended up in committed relationships, Jessica Carbino, a sociologist at Tinder, tells the filmmaker: “we do not have that information available.” She then adds she’s “inundated with emails” from Tinder users getting married and having babies.

(She also hilariously defends casual hookups as something that people go to church to pursue, too, so don’t blame Tinder for that! I mean, sometimes this film is just comedy gold, I swear.)

Of course, with a user base in the tens of millions, a good handful of happy emails should be expected. It’s definitely not evidence that Tinder is any better than the alternative – bars, blind dates, introductions through friends, etc.

The film then drives this particular point home by citing user studies by both Tinder and the more relationship-focused dating app Hinge, which seem indicate that swiped-based dating doesn’t work.

“80% of Tinder users are looking for a serious relationship,” says one Tinder survey. The text then fades, and the next statistic, this time from Hinge, appears.

“81% of users have never found a long-term relationship on any swiping app,” it says.

By the end of the film, it’s clear you’re expected to delete Tinder and all the other dating apps off your phone and get on with your life.

However, as with Facebook and social media, backlash doesn’t mean abandonment.

Tinder’s swipe culture is the new normal. It’s right to hold it accountable in areas it can do better – reporting and abuse, for example – but it’s not going away anytime soon.

from Social – TechCrunch https://ift.tt/2p1MxuE Original Content From: https://techcrunch.com

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sheminecrafts · 7 years ago

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I watched HBO’s Tinder-shaming doc ‘Swiped’ so you don’t have to