#seen a couple of art pieces in there and its wild how talented the people involved are

[favouritedave]

jrwi posting rn but I never actually finished apotheosis. like. got half way through the final episode and had to turn it off cause I was super distracted + eepy from work and I just. never picked up the end of it

I've not listened to any jrwi in a while but I'd love to catch up on what I've missed in riptide at least at some point, hopefully pd too. maybe I'll even watch the end of apotheosis someday. one day I will be prescribed *something* that will give me the ability to focus on things and then I will return to jrwi. for now though. we move

[impostoradult]

I finally figured out why it feels like Supernatural murdered a unicorn (AKA why you need to STOP telling me to watch Black Sails)

I’ll start by saying, everything everyone else has been saying CERTAINLY bothers me: 

- the queer-baiting - the bury your queers - the undermining of Dean’s character arc  - the wasted opportunity for a certain kind of overall narrative closure - the flat out disrespect to Misha Collins and Jensen Ackles

 All of that bothers me tremendously. 

But there has been something else rather ineffable about this that has left a horrible taste in my mouth that I couldn’t quite pin down until last night. Bear with me, if you will, because this will require some set-up. 

*** This is not the first show to ever disappoint me in a spectacular fashion, nor will it be the last, I suspect. And one of the ways I’ve always coped with that disappointment was to remind myself that there will be other stories, other characters, other chances to get it right. (”It” being any number of things from just pure narrative emotional coherence to not burying your queers to not stringing along your queer audience and then yelling fuck you to them on the way out) 

But somehow that assurance -- that there will be other stories, other characters, other chances to get it right -- has rung particularly hollow in this instance, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on why until yesterday. 

I kept asking myself, why do I still have this feeling, deep in the pit of my stomach, like something was lost here that can never be recovered? 

Because something was lost here that I am doubtful can ever be recovered, and I don’t think I’ve seen anyone else talking about this aspect of it at all. 

***

A few months ago, TV critic Maureen Ryan did a great interview piece with Mike Schur (of Parks & Rec/The Good Place) discussing the death of long-form TV in the streaming era. They explore how the longer seasons and longer runs of traditional broadcast/cable TV provided an opportunity to tell particular kinds of stories that you simply can’t when seasons are 8-10 episodes and series typically run 2-4 seasons (thanks Netflix).

One key thing we’ve all lost in this new era of highly condensed TV storytelling (and of prestige TV narrative styles)? The traditional (several season’s long) slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance. Not only is there simply no longer the time or space to write such romances, it has also come to be seen as hacky, manipulative, cheap, artistically impoverished, low-brow, a embarrassing vestige of the era before TV became art™. 

Everybody is trying to be Fleabag now. No one wants to be Frasier. (”It’s really more like a 10 hour movie” they all like to brag)

Obviously TV still has romances, even ‘drawn out’ romances. But ‘drawn out’ in 2020 is like 2-3 seasons, maybe. More commonly it’s like half a season. Take Schitt’s Creek. The number of episodes between when David and Patrick first meet and when they first kiss? Seven. Seven episodes. Half a season. If you watched it live, it took less than 2 months for them to move from introducing that dynamic to consummating it. And I’m not bagging on Schitt’s Creek; I think the David/Patrick’s story is very lovely and well-written. 

But Niles & Daphne (Fraiser) had to wait 7 years and over 150 episodes before they finally got there. Josh & Donna (The West Wing) had to wait 6+ years, and 145 episodes. Mulder & Scully (The X-Files) had to wait 7 seasons and 143 episodes. Booth & Bones had to wait...you see where I am going with this. 

And my point is (and I can’t believe I never realized this explicitly until now): there has NEVER been a queer slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance of that type on TV ever. EVER. 

I’m going to say that again, because I think it bares repeating:

There has never been a queer, slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance that fits the 100-150 episode paradigm of delayed gratification on TV. 

Not ever.  

I can’t think of ONE example  Not a single, solitary one. And I know queer TV pretty well. Arguably the closest we’ve ever come is Legend of Korra, and that ran 50 episodes, a THIRD of the length of old school will-they-won’t-theys like Booth & Bones or Josh & Donna. 

Queer people have had a fair number of canonical romances on TV by now, even fairly long running ones. But we never got a primary/front-and-center romance that you had to root for for 100+ episodes before you got any kind of canonical consummation.

That is a particular kind of TV experience that queer people and queer characters were just 100% shut out of until it was too late. And because of how the TV landscape has changed in the last 10 years, I don’t know that that opportunity will ever come back around in our lifetimes. 

***

Dean and Castiel are/were a legacy of an earlier era of TV, an era that still contained the possibility for a will-they-won’t-they of that particular mold. There were other shows that could have also filled this gap at one time - Rizzoli & Isles, OUAT, House MD, etc. But one by one all of them were killed off, their queer romances unrequited, until Supernatural was the only one of its’ generation left standing. 

And they should have acknowledged that they were a species about to become extinct. 

There are plenty of other valid and compelling reasons Supernatural should have gone full Destiel, don’t get me wrong.

A) It would have been the most emotionally satisfying ending to the series and to those characters (and that would have been reason enough). 

B) It would have stopped the manipulative queer-baiting of the (disproportionately queer) fanbase (and that would have been reason enough). 

C) It would have been queer representation of middle-aged men, of bi men, of queers who came to their queerness later in life (and any/all of those would have been reason enough). 

D) It could have been a glorious subversion of the bury your queers trope, considering how often they’ve died and been resurrected (and that would have been reason enough). 

But point E) on this list is the reason this one hurts in a singular way that no one even appears to be acknowledging. 

Almost all of the other wrongs and missed opportunities contained in this Supernatural debacle have the possibility of being rectified (at least to a degree) elsewhere. I can and I likely will get more bi male characters from TV as time goes on. I can and likely will get more middle-aged queer characters. I can and likely will get more queer characters coming to their queerness later in life, and starting queer romances later in life. I can and likely will get more queer characters who aren’t killed cheaply and prematurely. I can and likely will get more genre TV shows with sprawling myth arc plots that are resolved in a coherent, satisfying way. I can and likely will get Misha Collins and Jensen Ackles involved in other projects that value their work and their talents. 

All of those other things are at the very least POSSIBLE, and many are even likely. 

But a queer 100-150 episode slow-burn romance a la Mulder & Scully or Niles & Daphne or Booth & Bones? That is the one baton Supernatural dropped spectacularly that no one else even has the possibility of picking up again for the foreseeable future. (They don’t even write those types of romances for heterosexuals anymore!) 

Seriously. It was a TV unicorn. And rather than letting it run wild and free, they stabbed it with a rusty nail. 

***

Given the monumental shifts in the TV landscape that have occurred in the last decade, I don’t know that TV will ever go back to the slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance spanning 100-150 episodes. Today it is a miracle if you can get ANY show to last longer than 50 episodes in the first place. 

And that is the piece of this that makes it feel (to me) like they murdered a unicorn.  

Because queer people have gotten a lot of things from TV, and they will get a lot more as time goes on. But that one? That one could very well be a totally extinct species.

That is the larger missed opportunity here that has left this feeling especially hollow and destructive. That is the thing that makes me balk when people tell me to go watch Black Sails or Pose or whatever other prestige TV show is doing this representation ‘better.’ Because that’s not really the loss I am mourning here. I KNOW there is ‘better’ representation elsewhere.  

But the will-they-won’t-they/slow-burn romance is a qualitatively unique thing that queer people literally just never got. Ever. There is no substitute, no alternate, no other show I can turn to with that kind of build-up and pay-off for a queer couple, and there probably won’t be in my lifetime. Not unless the TV industry undergoes another monumental evolution similar to the streaming revolution that shifts the incentives back to telling those types of stories again. 

All those shows you want me to displace Supernatural with? None of them can give me the one thing I uniquely wanted (and could have gotten) from Supernatural. THAT ALTERNATE SHOW DOESN’T EXIST. It doesn’t exist. And I have no reason to hope it will ever exist in my lifetime. 

So stop telling me to look somewhere else; you don’t understand what made this one a unicorn. 

***

Addendum: The only other possible show that could perhaps fill this gap is It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia (re: Mac/Dennis). But I’m hesitant to say it exactly meets that criteria, for a number of reasons:

1 - It’s far less serialized relative to Supernatural and (except for a handful of stand-alone episodes) very little of the story is grounded specifically in Dennis/Mac’s romantic dynamic (unlike SPN, where it is absolutely central to much of the narrative)

2 - IASIP is fundamentally satirically in nature/tone which makes it much harder to have genuine romantic pathos (not impossible, but harder) 

3 - All the characters on IASIP are fundamentally crummy people who you aren’t exactly supposed to root for. Which doesn’t mean a romance between two of them can’t have its value/charm/worth but it’s not the same as when it is between characters who unequivocally deserve nice things/happy endings

[cupcakemolotov]

Fall With You

I ended up pinch hitting for the exchange! It was fun, if slightly wild 48 hours to put this together. Written for the lovely @queencarolinemikaelson​. I’m really glad you enjoyed it since it ended up being a fluff fest of roommate co-hab. Also a big thank you to @bellemorte180​ for putting this graphic together!

I put the first but under a cut, bit under a cut, but the full story is almost 9K, so the link to the story is at the bottom. :)

Summary: When life throws her a curve ball in the form of her good looking, yet moody roommate, Caroline takes it in stride as best she can. Her living situation was a favor, after all, and rent is anything but cheap in NYC. Its the part where she actually starts to like him that she can't quiet figure out how to manage. Lust was one thing, but feelings? 

Warnings: Alternate Universe; Alternate; Universe - Human; Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates; Minor Character Death; not otp; Family Drama; Family Dynamics; Fluff and Humor; Domestic Fluff; Tooth-Rotting Fluff; Mild Smut; Human Caroline Forbes; Human Klaus Mikaelson; Living Room Picnics; Wine; Dates That Aren't Dates; They Could Really Get Their Shit Together Faster; but not really; Making Out; Some petting; NSFW just to be safe            

It was almost three am, her feet were killing her, and her key was stuck in her front door.

Seriously, what was with her luck today? The door had always been finicky, but until earlier this week the lock had been behaving itself. It’d gone from not wanting to turn properly to straight up mutiny in four days. It was an easy fix, unlike the door, but it also required a trip to the store and she just hadn’t had time. Amazon could have delivered the powdered graphite, but she was on a budget and believed in shopping local.

Her two year savings plan to finish her degree would not manifest itself if she bought things simply because they were convenient.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Caroline seriously considered just leaning up against the door jam and spending the night outside. It was early summer, and the air had cooled to a balmy sixty-five degrees, leaving the usually stifling hallway almost comfortable. If only she didn’t smell so heavily of beer. Shifting her weight, she winced as her shoes squelched, a reminder of the truly spectacular ending to her night. Her eight hour shift had almost doubled when the night shift manager had called in sick. Usually that wouldn’t have been a problem, but the only other person with keys was out of town leaving Caroline holding the bag to close.

She knew from experience that she had about an hour before she crashed, the rush from kicking out the lingering guests who had been clearly on an epic brawl crawl having mostly faded after the hour long subway ride home. Right then, the only thing keeping her upright was the fact that she was starving, her dinner had been rushed and only half eaten, and the knowledge that if she made it into her apartment she had the next two days off. Tomorrow she could sleep in, and if she was really lucky, her roommate’s night had gone well enough he could be coaxed into making pancakes.

Cheered by the thought, Caroline dug out her cell phone from the backpack she’d slung over her shoulder and checked it for a response. She hadn’t been sure if Klaus had beaten her home or if he was still out celebrating, but either way, he hadn’t bothered to respond yet. Her lips compressed into a thin line.

Usually, she could depend on Klaus to be awake when she finished a night shift, her roommates' hours were only reliable on how sporadic they were and depending on her schedule, hers weren’t much better. But with his big event tonight, she had no idea what he had decided to do. Honestly, would it kill the man to respond to her texts?

She’d expected him to ignore her rapidly typed apology and well wishes she’d sent in-between bites of food. Klaus wasn’t particularly good at handling sentiment of any kind and supremely anti-emoji, and she’d made a point to send several of them. She’d hoped it’d give him something to be annoyed about that wasn’t his evening plans. He needed to schmooze, and a scowl-y Klaus would not accomplish that at all.

He could be charming, when he wanted to be. She’d seen it. He just didn’t deploy full dimples unless he wanted something. Her reminders the night before that he needed to earn his half of the rent without getting carpal tunnel hadn't impressed him.

Too bad. She’d been right, and he’d known it.

He had mentioned a couple of his friends were trying to talk him into drinks afterwards, back when she had thought she might be able to join him. Usually, she would be thrilled that he was getting out and actually seeing people instead of trying to live off granola bars and tea. But right then she really wanted him to be home and grumpy so he could unlock the door. She wondered if texting Marcel with an S.O.S would be rude?

Things were a lot less complicated when she only liked Klaus for the rent he helped cover. Wanting him home, even just for a lock-related emergency wasn’t a thought she would have had even six months ago. Klaus was not what one would label as a comfortable roommate for most of the time. He was far too prickly for that, and he could be snarly in the mornings. Which fair, so could she, but the moodiness. Caroline hadn’t been one to spend much time around the art scene, either at Uni or in high school, but she’d spent the last year learning that there was a lot to be said about artistic temperaments, most of it unflattering.

She was fairly certain Klaus had been born a contrary grump, his winning personality had nothing to do with his chosen profession, she could certainly see how he’d been drawn to the lifestyle, talent aside. Most people immediately laughed off his acerbic tongue once they learned he was an artist, his behavior brushed aside as temperamental. His goods certainly helped his cause, and his accent added a layer of charm that otherwise might not have existed.

She was not so forgiving.

The first few months of their co-hab had not been easy. Klaus was messy, absent minded, and had ruined three of her towels with paint splatter before she’d blown her lid. The apartment was small enough that avoiding each other was nearly impossible, and her preferred kind of stress relief had to be timed for when she was alone, and so they’d been forced to deal with their annoyances. To Klaus’ credit, while he’d been snappish in return, he’d somehow managed to keep a lid on the worst of his temper.

They’d argued, multiple times, they were both stubborn and used to being right, but they’d eventually found some kind of middle ground. Snapping had softened into bickering, and Caroline had stopped nitpicking him about his notebooks being spread across the house and the incorrect way he rolled his toothpaste, and he stopped leaving towels on the floor and made a point to contain his absentminded mess to his room.

And then they started to talk, sometimes about work, sometimes about art, and she’d realized she kind of liked him as a person. She’d started dragging him to her group lunches on her days off, much to Rebekah’s despair, and they might have become something like friends. Except for the part where every so often, she’d look at him and something about the way he stood, the angle of his jaw or the line of his throat left her wanting to jump his bones.

It was really frustrating, when her existence didn’t even seem to phase him.

So she’d done her best to ignore whatever that little spark was between them when it flared up, and not upset the status quo. Because the past year had been better than she could have imagined. Before her mom had died, she would never have considered the life she found herself living now as a good one.

She’d just wrapped her third year at NYU, had exactly 24 hours of classes left before graduation, and had managed to wrangle her schedule so that her final semester would be a cake walk of classes. The cherry on top had been the kick ass internship she’d lined up for the summer. Her five year plan was perfectly on track, her excellent grades gave her a shot at graduating with honors, and she couldn’t wait to show her mom around New York City from the eyes of a local. She’d spent three years putting together a binder, collecting menus from her favorite places to eat and brochures from all the museums and the jam packed tourists locations to offer her mom some variety.

Then she’d gotten that phone call that had thrown everything into a tale spin.

Blowing out a breath, Caroline bounced on her toes and debated best her course of action. She could probably get her key out of the lock if she was very careful, though the past twenty minutes said her luck wasn’t great, Forbes women were nothing if not stubborn, but there was also a chance she would break the key off in the lock and she could already see the little smirk on Klaus’ face if she did. Her hand tightened on the strap of her backpack. He still hadn’t forgiven her for being far more comfortable with power tools than he was and her perfectly reasonable gloating probably hadn’t helped much, if she was honest.

She kind of didn’t regret it. Poking Klaus sizable ego was a favorite past time of hers, and he seemed to enjoy their back and forth as much as she did. Her mental tally had her up two points this month, and she wanted to keep her lead.

Unfortunately, things weren’t really going in her favor just then. Sighing, Caroline tucked her phone back into her bag and admitted defeat. She’d have to figure this one out herself. Either Klaus’ event had run long and he had actually taken her advice to schmooze people or he was home and had drunk enough that he was sleeping like the dead.

Either of those options would not help her now.

Her best bet now was to go and eat a giant piece of pie, drink her weight in caffeine, and trudge her way to the little mom and pop shop that sold a little of everything, including graphite, once it became a reasonable hour. She’d fix her lock and then crash for the following eight hours of hopefully uninterrupted sleep, and leave a very pointed sticky note on the coffee pot so Klaus knew not to disturb her.

Satisfied with the makings of her plan, she shifted her backpack to her other shoulder, mentally reviewing the pie menu, and paused when the elevator dinged from behind her. Sliding her teeth between her lip, Caroline turned and blew out a breath when she recognized the tumble of ruffled curls stepping into the hall. The hallway was dimly lit, so it took a moment for her brain to really understand what else she was seeing.

Klaus was wearing a tux.

Logically, she’d known he was going to be wearing one. His event that night had been important, his work had finally made it into a gallery tonight and it was a Big Deal. His first real show outside of the fancy art school he had attended, and he had spent months fretting over his work and brooding silently in his room as nothing met his incredibly exacting standards. Klaus had even brought home a couple of canvas to work in the questionable light of his bedroom instead of the small studio space he and five other artists pooled their money to share.

Much to her annoyance.

No amount of febreeze really removed the scent of acrylics and turpentine, and she’d been worried if she tried to burn her stash of scented candles something would catch on fire. She’d held her tongue though, because Klaus was never nervous. He was in fact annoyingly difficult to rattle even in the most ridiculous of situations, the man had absolutely no shame, and the way he’d almost jittered had been weird and kind of enduring. Since he’d seen her in numerous states of frantic and alarmed, it was nice for things to end up on a little more even ground for once. She’d done her best to force him to eat something that looked like actual food every so often, and tried to stay quiet when she knew he was working in his bedroom.

She’d even helped him pick out the tuxedo from the catalogue he’d brought home from the store he had planned to rent from. There was a fancy evening gown that she’d rented hanging in her closet that Caroline had planned to wear to go with him before work had made that impossible. But knowing all that, and actually seeing him in that tux were not nearly the same thing.

Caroline blinked rapidly. Her paint speckled roommate, with his surly attitude and annoying dimples, was wearing a tux. And he looked really, really good. He’d undone his tie so it hung loosely around his neck, and his jacket was loose and unbuttoned around his waist, his curls still somewhat tamed along his forehead. Something very much like arousal jolted through her as he looked up, the low light highlighting the scruff along his jaw and the length of his neck. For a moment, he just stared at her, as surprised as she and then his head tipped and his brow arched, lips tugging up at the corners.

“Waiting on me?”

The rest can be found here: A03

[sepublic]

Something that I am curious about in the future is what made the Clawthorne sisters so hyper competitive with each other. Lilith always tries to start something with Eda and loses except for essentially the curse and Agony of a Witch. And I mean always loses. Usually you'd eventually stop for ones one self-esteem. There's a reason that Lilith's response to "I am better than you" is to reveal the curse. It's the only thing she'd ever gotten on Eda it seems But the dynamic is so aggressive its odd

This makes me wonder if part of the reason why Lilith deliberately held off on capturing Eda, aside from recognizing her own limits… Was also because she KNEW that as much as she’d want to one-up Eda in a traditional fight and not just wait for the curse to make it easier, I think Lilith also still felt guilty over the curse;

Specifically, her motives of wanting to be better than Eda! So instead of opting to keep trying to defeat her sister in outright combat, Lilith just LETS Eda have these victories, and opts to be patient… To not let her humiliation and shame motivate Lilith to hastily seeking out Eda in an attempt to capture her ASAP, just for her own pride because look what happened last time. But then we have Belos threaten to execute Lilith by the end of the day… And Lilith is in a LOT of stress and has been letting her losses get to her, even if she doesn’t want to let them…

…Which as you pointed out, culminates in her frustration as she desperately seizes ANY example from the past in which she could’ve felt better than Eda, because why is Eda lording this over her, doesn’t she see how hard Lilith is trying, to be mature?! To look out for her, doesn’t Eda realize that not everyone is born special or with talent, that some people have to WORK for what they have and they don’t have the privilege to just go off and do their own thing, knowing they could easily fight back retribution from Belos and the Emperor’s Coven!?

Doesn’t Eda love her sister, because to Lilith… She never asks Eda to join the Emperor’s Coven, simply on the revelation that Lilith will DIE if she doesn’t. It’s like Lilith is certain that Eda values her own freedom over Lilith’s life, which says a lot about how Lilith views their relationship and any potential jealousy towards Luz, a stranger Eda has known for only a few weeks at best.

And obviously it leaves the question, as you pose (and I LOVE your reblogs and asks btw, they’re brilliant and I’m sorry I can’t respond to all of them in time), WHY does Lilith feel the need to be better than Eda? Is it because being a protective older sibling is the one thing she felt good at in life, the one role Lilith felt content in while allowing Eda to be better at everything else… So when Eda jeopardizes this relationship by becoming her own independent person, Lilith feels resentful, because isn’t being better than her enough!? Does Eda really need to go out and become a Wild Witch and leave behind her own sister?!

After Agony of a Witch, we got a piece of art from Dana showing Lilith and Eda as kids…. And they’re just enjoying each other! They’re just loving each other in the moment, no strings or jealousy attached whatsoever! THIS is what she focuses on amidst the revelation of the curse, not any hidden darkness in Lilith’s heart, but love and attachment… And coupled with the caption, “Can’t go back”, and I have to wonder if this was Lilith’s way of keeping Eda close. Of keeping Eda stuck with her so she’d never leave, so that Eda wouldn’t become a wanted criminal and possibly executed for it!

I think Lilith had a LOT of motives that night, more than anyone could reasonably count. I don’t think she exactly had friends, because… She was a KID when she did this, a kid cursing her even littler sister! It already seems suspicious that she could cast a curse THAT powerful at such an age, and I have to wonder if an outside party influenced her… And similarly, were her and Eda’s parents not so great? Lilith parallels Amity, and HER parents… oof. We know they compare Amity to Emira and Edric. Lilith mentions coming from humble beginnings, so maybe the Clawthorne parents saw their kids as a means of uplifting their social status?

Or maybe… They didn’t even HAVE parents! And yes, I know Eda alluded to their existence, but it was as a joke while messing with Luz… Regardless, maybe the two sisters only had each other, which made Lilith’s dependency all the more worse! Amidst not really having anyone to uplift or praise Lilith besides Eda herself, who was already doing better than her… You get the idea.

We’ve seen how badly the system has broken people like Amity before. The show has been setting and building itself up, to the idea that it’s the system who sets people at each other’s throats. But Amity would never curse her own siblings, and amidst the discussion that The First Day brought up, about why kids feel compelled to do certain actions, that they don’t just occur within a void… I don’t think Lilith was a very happy person when she cast the curse. It doesn’t absolve her of any blame, but like with Amity and Willow… It’s important to consider why some kids feel the need to be better, or who they feel like they have to impress. That they have OTHER relationships… Or in this case, maybe this is the only one they have!

Looking back at previous episodes, and seeing how happy and excited Lilith is about the idea of being Eda… It’s clear that she’s doing this from more than a place of absolving her own guilt. So the question remains- WHY did she do it, when that love was so very strong and came from somewhere? If Eda and Lilith’s love for each other came from a place, then what was the origin of that resentment and jealousy?

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #443

“it’s not a life sentence, but a death dream for you”

When was the last time you were in the hospital? Me personally, uhhh sometime in 2017? Why were you there? I had a cyst removal surgery. Do you like Cheez-Its or Cheese Nips better? Cheez-Its. Have you worn headphones at all today? Yeah, I pretty much always do because YouTube is always open and on a video. When was the last time you had blood drawn? A few months ago or something? I'll be getting some drawn shortly though for genetic testing; due to my mom having some dysfunctional cancer prevention gene, all her children are getting tests to see if we inherited it. The last time you got blood drawn, what was the reason? I want to say I was tested for anemia most recently. What color eyes does/did your father have? Brown. What do you daydream most about? Things I wish I didn't daydream about. What is your relation to the last child you spoke to? They're my niece and nephew. Do you believe the Holocaust happened? No fucking shit? Do you prefer zebra stripes, tiger stripes, or leopard spots? Tiger stripes, ig. When did you last see a dog? At my nephew's b-day party a couple weeks ago. Nicole brought her dog Zeke over. Have you ever been in the mountains when the moon and stars were up? No, but omg I wish!!!!!!!!!! Do you know anyone from Canada? Yep. Has a cat ever licked you? Yeah. Roman especially loves to give kisses. Where would you most like to go in your state, etc. that you haven’t been? The Wizard of Oz park, probs. Are you scared to look at your own organs on x-ray or ultrasound? No, that shit's rad. o: Have you ever walked on a frozen lake/river? No, that sketches me out. I'd be afraid of the ice breaking and me falling in. Have you ever seen a volcano? No. Have you ever met an Alaskan? Met in-person, no. But I do have an online friend who's from Alaska. Or may still live there? Idk. Have you ever mowed the lawn (even a little bit)? No. Have any unpleasant public transit stories to tell? Nah. Do you know any German words? Seeing as I took four semesters of the language in high school, I know a good deal. However, my skill has definitely atrophied with time and lack of application. Do you have a passport? No. Are your teeth straight? I mean, mostly. I had braces for too long, but I didn't wear my retainer, so they've moved back some. Would you mind dating someone significantly shorter than you? Yeah, sure. I've never understood why height is an issue for some people. Can you quote the movie Mean Girls? No. I personally never got the craze. Have you ever swam in the Atlantic Ocean? I have. The Pacific? No. Can you make yourself cry? No. Have you ever held a starfish? Not a live one. What would you do if you found out your ex was pregnant/fathered a child? Faint or vomit. Wail. All three. Are you very close to your siblings? No. :/ Can you do CPR? No. Favorite sport to watch in the summer Olympics? I don't care. Ever flushed a fish? Yes. Ever been paid for sex or a sexual favor? No. I wouldn't agree to that. Last friend you talked to online? Sara. Has anyone ever said you looked like a celebrity? No. What is the best ice cream flavor? Vanilla. You have so many topping options. What’s your favorite thing to do outside? Photograph nature, especially wild animals. What would you spend $1,000 on? A big, really pro tattoo. What was the best (non-romantic) night you’ve had? Hm. I don't know. Who did you last lay in a bed/couch/recliner with? Mom and I sat together on the couch some time ago. Do you keep a planner? No. What are you craving right now? I've got a seriously random craving for shell pasta with a nice, meaty tomato sauce. Do you want kids anytime soon? DEFINITELY not soon, but also never. Has anyone ever drunk called/texted you? No. Have you ever slept in the same bed with the last person you kissed? Yeah. What’s the best feeling in the world? Knowing you're in love and really feeling it. What’s something you really want right now, be honest. There's a lot of things. Who in your family do you act like the most? I don't know, really. Who has made the biggest sacrifice for you? My mom, 100%. Do you believe that your first true love can be your only love in life? Of course not. Have you ever kissed under water? Yes. Is there that one guy that you’ll always have feelings for no matter what? Suuuure is. Wish it wasn't like that, but I don't see it ever changing, to be real... Are you 100% over the last person you kissed? 100%? No, I can't say I am entirely. Have your parents ever caught you kissing a guy? "Caught me?" How old is this question meant for? Yes, they've seen me kiss a guy before. If you mean like, seriously kiss-kissing, no. Which one of your exes hates you the most? Probably Jason. Are you named after anyone? No. Well, my middle name has been passed down, but "Brittany" wasn't from anybody else in specific. What reminds you the most of your last relationship? The song "The Only Exception" by Paramore. Have you ever rejected someone but they still wouldn’t give up on you? In elementary school, yes. When growing up, did your family always eat at the dinner table together? Usually, yes, at least when growing up. Sometimes we'd use little tables to eat in the living room though while watching TV. What is the greatest source of happiness in your life? My mom, best friend, and pets. What was the last charity/cause you donated to? I'm unsure, actually. Who was the last person you got a handwritten letter from? Sara! :') Did your parents read bedtime stories to you when you were little? Mom did. Have any of your worst fears ever come true? Yes. The greatest fear I've ever had was losing Jason, and that happened. Is anyone in your family divorced? My parents, for one. My older half-sister has also be divorced because her ex is an absolute piece of manipulative horse shit. Has anyone in your family gotten pregnant as a teenager? I think my mom? No, maybe not... Idk. I ain't doing the math. What’s your greatest talent? If you want a serious answer and not something self-depracating, I suppose writing. Would you ever want to get a master’s degree? It'd be cool, but I've never *actually* wanted to pursue that. Have you ever worn revealing clothing in order to get attention? No. Have you ever been falsely accused of being racist? I've never been accused of being racist, because I'm not. To you, is sex just about physical pleasure, or do you see it as an expression of love and commitment? Absolutely the latter. I could never engage in sex without deep emotional commitment. How many times have you been drunk in the past 6 months? Zero. What’s your favorite French food? I have no idea. What’s the most elaborate recipe you know how to cook? Nothing. Which rooms of your house have doors that lead outside? The living room and kitchen. Best purchase you ever made? My snake. :') Is there anybody you think is hot over the age of 40? I haven't seen him a long time, but boy did I have a thing for James Hetfield in high school. There are defs others, but no one else immediately comes to mind. Have you ever been caught sneaking out? No, because I've never tried to. How many Facebooks have you had? Just the one I still use. Have you ever been punched in the face? No. When was the last time you talked to the first person you kissed? The beginning of February, 2017. What is the latest you have ever slept in? Past 5. Do you have to watch yourself in the mirror while you brush your teeth? No. Do you text when you drive? Fuck no. You couldn't pay me to. What movie do you really want to see that’s out? I don't even know what movies are out right now. Did America really put a man on the moon? Eventually, yes. Call me crazy, but I do believe the supposed first one was faked, though, to "beat" Russia in the space race. Do some research and it's pretty shocking. Would you like to date someone a lot purer than you? Idc. Do you turn your phone off at night when you go to sleep? No, but I turn the brightness down for if I wake up in the middle of the night and want to check the time. Have you slept in a bed with the last person you kissed? Yeah. Has anyone ever told you that they loved you, and you didn’t say it back? Yes. Has anyone ever played a prank on you? What happened? I don't believe so. Do you like tattoos and piercings? Helllll yes. :') What are you really into? Animals, art, some weird Korean guy on the Internet... Do your parents like your best friends? Yes. Have you ever taken a nap with a member of the opposite sex? Yeah. Do you have weak upper body strength? Yes. What color was the last cup you drank from? It's just clear glass. How old is your oldest sibling? I actually don't know her exact age. 30-something. What was the last thing you ate that had nuts in it? A Nature Valley cashew bar I had earlier today. How many pieces did the last puzzle you completed have? I have no idea. Who did you last shake hands with? uhhhhhhhh Has anybody asked you out on a date recently? Nah. When was the last time somebody asked you to be their girlfriend? When Girt asked me out a few years ago. Name something you’re picky about: Food. Who did you last ask for help? My mom. Do you like corn? Yeah. If you were offered to smoke some weed right now, would you accept? Right now I honestly probably would, believe it or not. Honestly, who is the last person to tell you that they love you? My mum. Have you ever made out for more than a half hour straight? Yeah. How do you earn money? The only occasions where I ever and very rarely earn money is if someone (non-family, of course) pays me to take pictures for them. Where were you raised? All you need to know is a crappy town in eastern NC. Are your ears gauged? No, but I want the first holes in my earlobes to be, but only with very small gauges. I just can't figure out how to do it myself, at least with the gauges I have. I think I'm missing something. Explain what triggered your last kiss? We were saying goodbye. Could you go a month without talking to your best friend? I mean I could, but it'd seriously fucking suck. Have you ever made out in a park? No, because I don't do that in public. What are you listening to? "Paint You With My Love" by Marilyn Manson. I wasn't big on the album when it came out, but this is one of the songs that's aight to me. Last thing you said out loud? I gave Venus a little wave and said "hey babe" or something like that like I do sometimes when she's slithering around and looks out towards me. Are you sad? Always at least a little bit. I have been kinda down this evening. Where is your dad? I would hope at home. He's probably watching TV, or maybe in bed.

[neowinestainedress]

↬  title: the devil’s in the details, but you got a friend in me  ↬  pairing: lee taeyong / kim doyoung  ↬  summary: when Taeyong's world falls apart right before his eyes, he realizes that staying with him means that clouds will always hang around them. And he wonders if what he has to offer will be enough to make Doyoung stay, even if he will never be able to give him peace. ↬  genre: idol!taeyong (but not nct!taeyong, soloist!taeyong), song inspired - peace by taylor swift, angst (not really, doesn’t concern the couple, tho), hurt/comfort, still romantic/fluff, happy ending  ↬  warnings: since is peace inspired there are references to a situation similar to the one taylor had to go through in 2016 and the aftermath of it, so taeyong is in a bad state of mind (mention of suicidal thoughts), homophobia (one explicit comment, but there are references to it during the whole story), implied sexual content at the end (nothing explicit) ↬  words count: 6.8k ↬  playlist ↬  ao3 link

Taeyong knew it, he knew everything since he was young and naive, too busy dreaming of filled stadiums and tears marked faces screaming his name. Taeyong always knew how fucked up the music industry was, how unfair, how fake and cynical it was. But Taeyong had always been a dreamer, a believer, and after all, he still was, even now. A grin made its way on his beautiful face, as he wiped a lonely tear on his rosy cheek away. Yes, he still believed in a miracle, he really hoped that the art he had been gifting to the world for all these years was enough for people to not stop supporting him. He really wished that all of his countless sleepless nights awake writing songs on his kitchen counter while his other half was sleeping in their bedroom were worth something. He wanted to think that the immense love he had been giving to his fans travelling around the world to perform with just four hours of sleep was appreciated. But deep down he knew that now everything was gone. His world crumbled apart into million pieces, and his love, his passion, his dedication, his art, weren’t enough to save it. He sighed, letting his head fall on the back of the chair in his home studio, he wanted to cry, scream maybe, destroy everything that was in that room, but he decided that it simply wasn’t worth it. Or simply that small sparkle of hope that was still burning inside of him stopped him from doing so. Except he knew what was about to come. “Tomorrow at 8, be careful nobody sees you entering the company, they’re not happy. We have to talk about the contract.” The manager's words were direct, strict and cold even through a text message. Lee Taeyong, the record-breaking artist from South Korea, with his incredible all-round personality full of charms and talents, was over, and there was nothing he could do to change that. When people fall out of love with you, there’s nothing you can do to change their mind. They simply don’t love you anymore. 

✯✯✯

It wasn’t the first time Taeyong had to go through something like that. He had always been extremely controversial during his seven years career, whether it was for something he had seriously done or some crazy fake rumour spread around. People are fast at judging others without looking at the mirror even once, and he had experienced that on his skin more than once. He had to say sorry for things he had never done. He had to stay silent in front of the tremendous words people would throw at him, his agents never taking his side, even when they knew the truth, and some of his fans turning around on their backs. 

Was he still famous? Did he still break records? Skyrocketed on the charts at every comeback? Yes, definitely. Probably somebody could say that after all these years he still had the world in the palm of his hands, but, honestly, he felt like he had nobody he could count on. All the people who used him just for clout, just to talk shit about him once they arrived where they wanted. All of the people who liked to call themselves tyongfs but never stayed when he needed them the most. His real friends all left the country, for different reasons, and the ones in the industry he felt to call like that, could be counted on one single hand. So when he met Doyoung and the other wasn’t totally disgusted by him or tried to work his way to the top, Taeyong was seriously surprised. A bittersweet forced laugh escaped from his lips as he put his coat on, and tried to take deep breaths in the mirror, trying to prepare himself to see the end of his career. He had been through so much shit since he was barely eighteen, but nothing ever hurt him more than seeing his dream disappear from his hands simply because he loved somebody, the only one who ever stood by his side. Nothing could ever come close to the pain that he was feeling at the moment, thinking that he had to choose between the people he loved the most, Doyoung and tyongfs. A choice that he never wanted to make, because his love and his heart were enough for them both. A choice that he wasn’t making, because apparently his fans, Korean netizens, and his agency decided that it wasn’t right, that something was twisted in him, and they simply couldn’t support somebody like him anymore. Taeyong had stopped being the perfect straight boy next door, and somebody decided for him that it was time to take him and throw him in the trash. And Taeyong had come close to that many times, but never like this, never he had seen such harsh words addressed at him, never he had felt so much hate and disgust. He knew that now, they were deleting him, acting as if he never existed. 

✯✯✯

Doyoung had no idea what to do. It had been a week now since their kissing photo got spread around, one week since the internet exploded, seven days since he had to thank God he worked in his own place or else he would’ve been fired too. It had been five days since Taeyong’s company kicked him out, giving him no chance to fight for his art and his job, it had been five days since Taeyong got home and wandered around like a ghost, his favourite blanket over his head, his feet lazily dragging themselves on the cold floor, and drinking cups over cups of coffee in front of their big window which faced the whole city. 

“Sitting there all day won’t change things.” The younger said, slowly making his way behind his boyfriend. He had kept quiet the whole week, not wanting to make him feel worse, and also because he didn’t want to let out his real emotions. Doyoung felt incredibly guilty. As soon as the news came out he already knew the ending, and all he could think was that maybe if they had been more careful, or simply if they had never met, if they had never fallen in love and started dating, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. And he felt that it was his fault because he was the one who couldn’t let Taeyong go, the one who had to persist and convince him that he deserved love, and he would’ve stayed with him till the end, no matter his reputation or the things Taeyong couldn’t give him. 

Doyoung sighed when his boyfriend didn’t answer, he sat next to him on the large windowsill, his body facing Taeyong’s even though the other was turned toward Seoul at their feet. 

Taeyong let out a barely audible huff, placed the hot cup in the cavity the blanket formed between his legs, and then turned around to face the older. His head was still resting on the wall at his side, and for a while, they simply stared at each other without saying a word. Somehow, that was enough. A silence that only two souls that knew each other that deeply could donate. An unspoken secret language they had taught each other through the years. They were like that, they never needed to say much out loud, it was a particular type of chemistry that flooded between them. 

“I’m sorry,” Taeyong mumbled, breaking the eyes contact, too fearful and coward to look at him in the eyes. Doyoung furrowed his brow, his hand moving to grab his chin and lift his head up. 

“For what?” 

Taeyong sighed, he blinked repeatedly, trying to clear his eyes from the foggy views the tears he beforehand shed gave him. “For all the shit that I put you through, not only now, but since we know each other.” 

Doyoung bit his lower lip and then moved closer to his boyfriend, his hands cupped his pretty face, and a smile crept on his own as he stared at the boy in front of him. No matter how tired and broken he was, to him, he was still the most beautiful man on the hearth.

“Don’t say sorry,” he whispered, moving the wild strands of his hair who fell messily on his eyes. “I’ll do it all over again for you, Tae. I knew what was coming when I started dating you, and I choose to stay. I’ve always been by your side, knowing that dating you meant waking up with nobody on the other side of the bed for months, and trusting you while you were on the other side of the world. I’ve chosen to stay, knowing that dating you meant going on the internet and read terrible things about your persona that weren’t true. I stayed, in your worst times, when everybody decided to stab you from behind and leave you bleeding. No, I fell for you there, when you were in pieces. I could’ve escaped, walk away like anybody else, take the distances from you, even foment people against you. But I didn’t.” Taeyong was trying to hold back his tears for the nth time of the day, or better, of the week. They loved each other, he was sure about that, but their love language wasn’t a spoken one. For most people it also appeared odd, their close friends and family sometimes still couldn’t believe that they were dating for three years now. Their dynamics appeared strange to many eyes, or at least considered the few people who knew about them. But they worked, better than with anyone else. Still, with all the love they had for each other, hearing things like this wasn’t something Taeyong was used to. He knew that Doyoung wouldn’t hesitate a second to jump off a cliff if it meant saving him, but hearing what he felt out loud made his heart skip a beat and flip in his chest. 

“And you know why?” Doyoung asked as his thumb gently wiped away his rolling teardrops. “And you want to know why I would do it all over again?” His voice started to shake a little bit, Doyoung wasn’t an emotional type, not that he was distant, simply the occasion where he would let himself go in front of the others were rare. But now, with a completely shattered Taeyong standing in front of him, it was just impossible. He had seen Taeyong at his worst, when society wanted him dead, and decided to turn around for the first time, and honestly, he had thought that he would’ve never had to see that again. But he was so wrong because now Taeyong wasn’t even half as broken as he was back then, the oldest didn’t let out much in those days, but Doyoung could only imagine all the things that were running in his pretty little mind. And they weren’t positive. “Because you are a ravishing sweeping fire, the most enchanting one, you have no idea how many times I feared of getting burned by you, but I stayed anyway and learnt that your flames don’t do nothing but keep me warm and safe.” 

Doyoung stopped for a second, taking his time and giving his boyfriend the time to absorb what he was telling him. “Remember what you once told me, the day you texted me we were over because you were terrified your life couldn’t fit mine, and how you didn’t want to hurt me?” Taeyong nodded, he remembered that day clearly. They had been dating for five months at the time, the worst rumours about him had just started to slow down, so he felt a little bit safer to go around Seoul when he had a break. All it took to ruin his day and destroy the pieces he had tried so hard to put back together was a rude comment yelled at him “What’s next? It'll come out that you’re gay?” And as he froze at the harsh words, looked at the ground and kept walking, his first thought flew at Doyoung. He couldn’t do that, he couldn’t put him in that situation. He didn’t think twice when he told him that things were over between them as soon as he arrived home. But honestly, he wasn’t expecting Doyoung banging at his door, screaming that he couldn’t care less what people thought about him, or them, trying to make him understand that they would’ve got this kind of remarks anyway, trying to reassure him that as long as nobody knew they would’ve been fine. 

“Rain will always come if you’re standing with me,” Taeyong whispered, reminiscing the words he had told him through the tears that night. Doyoung nodded, softly smiling at him, and then kept talking. 

“We got drenched with rain, we’ve been in the middle of storms, and look at us.” He smiled, holding his arms out in the air to point at them. “Our love was enough to keep us warm. Your beautiful, sparkling, mesmerizing flame is more than enough to keep us alive, warm and safe.” Taeyong didn’t say a thing, his emotions were all over him, he simply couldn’t find the strength to say anything, not already at least. So he simply let himself crush against Doyoung’s welcoming body, his face sunk in the cavity of his neck as he let the sobs roll out free, they weren’t sad tears, more likely the result of pent up stress of the terrible week he had been trough and the fears for their future who simply seemed faithless and tenebrous.

They sat there for a while, the only sounds they could hear were their breathing and Taeyong muffled cries. The sun was sinking at the horizon, lighting Seoul’s skyscraper of golden, wishing the town a good night, even if the city wasn’t going to sleep at all. Maybe on another occasion, they would’ve cared about that. As Doyoung lazily scrolled through Instagram while the national news channel was playing in the background as he waited for Taeyong to come home after a long day of practice, and then together they would’ve chosen what take out to order, half of the time ending up with Doyoung having to do all by himself because Taeyong was too tired even to make a choice. Or maybe they would’ve hit up some of their closest friends and hang out with them, at their place, without having to worry about getting caught. Maybe in another situation, the radio was on, keeping Doyoung company as he cooked for them, while humming and jamming to the songs the radio was passing, and then he would’ve laughed at Taeyong flustered expression when one of his songs would play. But now, it was totally different. If they turned on the TV they would’ve seen themselves, pictures of their broken privacy splashed on the front page of every journal and gossip show. If Taeyong turned on his phone they would’ve heard the frustrating ringing of persistent notification, missed calls from his mom, and his friends, just wanting to make sure he was still alive. Calls that Doyoung had to take for him during the whole week. 

“You know what? We’re cooking together tonight, you definitely need to eat more than just coffee and cheap snacks and I need to distract your mind from all of this.” Doyoung broke the quite they were in, carefully moving Taeyong away from him to look at his eyes. He tried to suppress a sad smile as soon as he made contact with them, Taeyong’s usually big brown warm eyes were now swollen and red, deprived of their typical bright light. He just wanted him to be happy because Taeyong never deserved any of the hurt people had put him through all these years. And the more he looked at his boyfriend the more he questioned when everything would go back to normal, if it ever will. But Doyoung needed things to at least be good again, he needed his happy, goofy, bright, loud and passionate Taeyong back. Because he deserved to be happy. 

Taeyong just nodded, not like he had a choice anyway, but not that he minded. He felt the need to spend some time together with Doyoung, just them, in their home, acting like the world didn’t exist. It was just an illusion, but he couldn’t care. And he was also pretty used to pretend, in his world, everything was an illusion, it needed to be like this to survive. Or else, there wouldn’t have been any other way to stand all of those masquerade revellers and their fake smiles, and unnecessarily loud laugh to hide emptiness and sadness. And for a split second, Taeyong thought that maybe, taking a break from all of that wasn’t even that bad. 

✯✯✯

“Are you eating?” His mom’s voice ringing from the other side of the phone was muffled, her tone as worried as three weeks before when the mess first happened. Taeyong giggled and rolled his eyes in the back of his head, it was like the third time she had to make sure about that since she called. 

“Yes, mom, I’m good. Doyo is feeding me well.” And even though he couldn’t see it, he perceived the genuine smile creeping on his mom’s tired face. She was so glad his son had someone like Doyoung by his side, especially now that she couldn’t be physically near him. 

“Still can’t come by?” The woman tried to ask anyway. Taeyong shook his head and hummed in negation. 

“You know why.” Honestly, Taeyong would’ve never forgiven himself if something happened to his mother. She wanted to pass by their house since the news broke out, but Taeyong was fast at forbidding her from doing so. Three weeks now, and the situation was still out of control. He simply couldn’t leave the house, the building was surrounded by angry, so-called, fans. Sometimes they were just standing there, breaking the merch, but two times things got out of hand and some neighbour had to intervene. Not that things changed. It was disgusting and scary, to the point he was just expecting from some of them to break in and kill him while he was distracted. Also, Doyoung still had to go to work. Being the owner of his small business he could take a week off to stay with Taeyong and also made up his mind, but they needed his job. Yes, Taeyong’s money were still there, he made pretty much a fortune during his career, but they needed to stay grounded, to have something that somehow reminded them of their everyday reality. Plus, what was Taeyong going to do now? Find another agency? Start one of his own? Cry himself to sleep every night because at this point it felt much more than just music and he couldn’t handle it anymore? Now the latter seemed to be the only thing he could think of. So he just stayed home, waiting for Doyoung to call him every time he made it out and in the house safe. He spent the days with a lump in his throat because of the girls down the house and the terrible things he read on the internet. The only things distracting him, his mom and his friend’s calls. 

At least two minutes passed by in silence, just a light buzzing from the line could be heard, but Taeyong felt some sort of tranquillity in his mom’s breathing. He closed his eyes and imagined to be wrapped in her arms, his head on her chest, as it moved up and down, and her voice chanting a sweet song. Just like when he was a child, and everything was easier, and nobody had ever hurt him. 

“Yongie,” her mom called his attention. The boy hummed, loud enough that she could hear. “You know that I love you and I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve done in your life, right?” His mom had never been too happy about his choice in the career path. She knew he was talented, she never doubted his capability of filling stadiums and captivate people. She simply hated the industry, their brainwashing, the way they produced robots and not people with feelings. She was aware of what being a celebrity meant and she never wished that life for his son. But when someone you love has a dream, what do you do? Do you clip their wings or let them fly? She let him go, and never stopped, even for a second, to be proud of her little man. 

“I know,” Taeyong smiled, a sincere smile after lots of forced ones, “you’re always my number one fan, right?” 

“First and last, nobody might stand your annoying self anymore but I’m going to still be here.” She exclaimed, making his son laugh. But he knew it was true, even if everyone left, she was always going to be there. 

He talked with his mom some more, but when the phone call ended he fell back into the hole that was devouring him. He sighed, nervously running his fingers through his hair, pulling his bleached blonde locks.

He wanted to pick up the phone and call Johnny, have a chat with him up until Doyoung would've come home. Talking with his best friend would’ve definitely helped him to not think about his life. But they had already talked in the morning when Johnny called to make sure that he was okay and proposed him to spend some time with him and Ten in England. He didn’t want to bother him, but at the same time, he didn’t feel in the mood to talk with any other of his friends.

So, pretty much unconsciously, he did the only thing he shouldn’t have done. He grabbed his phone and went on twitter. Socials were toxic, he knew that. He should’ve already deleted everything and don’t think about it, but somehow he always ended up there. He desperately needed to know what people thought about him, if one, even just one, of his fans stayed. And for some sort of strange reason, he felt like he also needed to know all the bad things. To make sure that it was real, that people really hated him. Or maybe because, by now, that words already crept into his brain and he felt like he was unlovable and unworthy and deserved to read what they had been calling him lately. And his heart took it, up until he saw a tweet against Doyoung, about how they didn’t even know him but to date somebody like him they had to be twice as bad. Or another one saying that Doyoung wasn’t even attractive and at least Taeyong could’ve had better taste if he really wanted to be like that. The more he scrolled on his name the worst things got. People saying that they had been waiting for this for ages, some others saying that Taeyong should’ve already been cancelled years ago when his first scandals broke out, or how he had probably fucked his way to the top. Thousands of tweets saying that they always hated him for his attitude, and they couldn’t stand seeing him feeling himself so much, and all of that was a lesson that he was finally paying. Laughs and jokes on how probably the strong, intimidating Lee Taeyong was now crying like a little bitch.

And they were right, because he was sobbing uncontrollably, curled up on himself as he laid on the couch, the phone abandoned on the floor after he slipped from his sweaty hands. He wanted to scream, and he did. An agonizing loud scream resonated through the walls as he tried to push out of his brain the painful and dark thoughts that were drawing him. He couldn’t take it, he couldn’t sleep at night knowing that he was dragging Doyoung in this hell with him when he deserved much better. But what was he supposed to do? Taeyong had already tried to break up with him, fully aware that their lifestyles were just too different. And Doyoung had spent a whole night up just listening to his nagging and crying, as he desperately tried to convince him that no matter how hard it was going to get, he wanted exactly what they had. But now everything was different. Back then Taeyong had snapped because of one single homophobic comment, they weren’t out, nobody knew about them. Now, everything was different. And he just had to make sure that Doyoung was strong enough to get through that. Because Taeyong wasn’t so sure that all that he could offer was enough for him to stay. And he also wasn’t so sure that he, himself, could make it out alive. He just couldn’t take it anymore. And he felt so fragile as perfectly known old thought came to his mind. It wasn’t the first time other people words made him believe that he simply wasn’t worth living. He disrupted the lives of all the people he loved, he was a tornado, not the nice little flame Doyoung loved to describe him as. But he didn’t want to be like this anymore, to hurt the good and trust the evil, even if unconsciously. Maybe it was a sign, that life didn’t suit him anymore. He was tired, he just wanted a normal life. He wanted to wake up in the morning and go to work, just to go back home to Doyoung preparing dinner. He wanted to spend lazy Sundays on the couch wrapped in Doyoung’s arms. He wanted to live somewhere where they could hold hand with a little less terror of being judged and beaten. He wanted to live, as a human being who made mistakes and not an automaton. 

He wiped his tears with the back of Doyoung’ sweater he was currently wearing and got up from that spot in the living room. In less than twenty minutes Doyoung would’ve been home, and he didn’t want him to see him like that. He needed to distract himself, not let his mind travel in the wrong places, so maybe some music playing in the background as he cooked would’ve been helpful. 

✯✯✯

The evening passed by quietly. Doyoung had come home safe, finding Taeyong busy at the cookers, humming and dancing to the rhythm of one of his favourite records. The younger didn’t see it coming and slightly jumped when Doyoung hugged him from behind, maybe, given the tense situation, that wasn’t the best idea Doyoung had ever had, but Taeyong couldn’t mind. He just wanted to feel him close, to make sure that he was there for real, and he wasn’t just one of the many mindless dreams he had. Taeyong had to make sure that Doyoung was his, he had to remind himself that he deserved the happiness he could bring him. And Doyoung felt that something was somehow wrong when Taeyong kissed him a little bit longer than the usual and then didn’t pull away but let his head rest on his shoulder. He didn’t say a word, tough, other than pointing that what was for dinner looked delicious. 

Seoul's sky was particularly pretty that evening, coloured with soft shades of pink and purple, painting their living room with the same tones. And that dinner passed as one of their old romantic indoor dates, far away from the world, and strangely, for the first time after many, the exhausting sense of suffocation wasn’t there. Maybe Taeyong still felt it, but not as much as that afternoon, when he was all by himself. 

Taeyong really didn’t want to ruin that perfect mood. The apparent calm they were surrounded with as they laid on their sofa, carelessly paying attention to the movie they had chosen to watch. They were more lost in each other's touch, Taeyong let himself relax as Doyoung spooned him, their hands intertwined, because they wanted and also because Taeyong had started to nervously bit his nails once again. In the years Doyoung learnt that telling him was useless, he would panic, his cheeks flushed, and then go back doing it once again. So the most efficient method was to grab his hands, play with them, hold them, caress them, anything that could divert Taeyong’s attention and also his nervousness. Not only he would stop bite them, but it would help his sense of anxiety, and Doyoung got to feel him closer, so everybody won with that. 

But they needed to talk. This was a point of no return, and Taeyong had to know if they wanted to travel the same road together forever or not. They needed to start over. Their coming of age had come, they couldn’t just sit around and ignore the problems. Taeyong had never been firm on his choices, always walking on eggshells, with fear of crashing because the danger was near. But now, after all of these years in the industry, he had realized that he simply couldn’t get away from it. It was always around the corner, ready to attack, it lived in him. And he had to remind Doyoung that. He had to let him know all the feelings he had for him, and then let the decision in his hands. 

“I could never give you peace,” the blond mumbled, his words barely more than a whisper. Doyoung furrowed his eyebrows, he had heard what his boyfriend had said, but he couldn’t understand his point. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, moving a little so he could have a better look at the older’s face. 

Taeyong took a deep breath while his eyes were focused on their fingers playing together. “With my life, with who I am. And then your life, and who you are.” Doyoung wanted to roll his eyes to the sky, thinking he was going to witness Taeyong trying to break them apart once again, but something in the tranquillity of the other’s voice told him that this conversation wasn’t going there. 

“Sometimes I look at you, and just don’t feel enough. Not enough to cope for all the things that you had to stop doing for me, or the fears that I planted in your heart, or even the way I make your future so uncertain. I look at you and I see integrity, and it makes me feel small.” 

Doyoung stayed silent, as much as he loved Taeyong, he couldn’t deny that he was right. Their lives were totally different and pretending it wasn’t true would've been. And yes, sometimes it was hard to keep it up with Taeyong’s busy rhythm, sometimes things got bigger than what he could handle. But Doyoung knew that. Taeyong had made it clear since the start, and he knew by himself that dating a celebrity like him would’ve brought along a lot of hard times. Still, he could totally get why Taeyong always felt like a burden; he was insecure, he always believed that he wasn’t deserving of love, especially a sincere one that lead to a healthy relationship. 

“You think that I regret all these years together?” Doyoung asked when nothing else came out of Taeyong’s mouth. 

The other shook his head. “I don’t know, but I want you to know that I’m fully aware of how hard it has been for you too. And I’m glad for all the things you’ve done for me.” 

Doyoung smiled, then one of his hand travelled up to caress his hair. Yes, he knew Taeyong knew that. Taeyong had seen the most fragile and vulnerable sides of him, he had seen him fall apart in front of him so many times that sometimes he wondered why he never left. To strangers’ eyes, Doyoung was strong, always in control of everything, it looked like he always had his shit together, but it wasn’t like that at all. And Taeyong was the only one who ever seen him like that, the only one he had ever opened up to in such a real way. The times he cried because he was terrified of not being able to do well in his new business. The older wanted to spend more time next to him, but the worldwide tours didn’t give him the chance to be present in the way he really wanted. Or when jealousy and insecurity mixed up together, and Doyoung cried at night thinking that Taeyong could find somebody better than him every day; and some nights the blonde was there to roll around, hug him and love the insecurities away, but many others he wasn’t. 

“I’m sorry if I couldn’t always be there for you, but God, Doyoung,” he exhaled, squeezing his eyes to hold back the tears that were threatening to roll down his cheeks, “everybody thinks love’s for sure, but I would die for you in secret, any day, without thinking twice.” 

Doyoung’s heart skipped a beat, his head fell on top of his boyfriend’s shoulder as he held him tighter. 

“You know, right?” Taeyong asked, lifting his body to sit up with his back and look at Doyoung in the eyes. And in a fragment, he could see all of his vulnerability. Taeyong had always thought that Doyoung was like glass. Beautiful, transparent, resistant, but so, so fragile, that one single needle could tear him into pieces. And he had seen him shattered many times. He just wanted to make sure that he knew he could always count on him, since most of the times it was always Doyoung worrying about everybody else, without taking care of himself. 

The younger hummed, following his actions. 

“You know that I’d swing with you for the fences, sit with you in the trenches. Give you my wild,” Taeyong stopped for a second, his hand moved to grab Doyoung’s one, and his head rolled back as he tried to hold back the tears, and then let out a giggle “I’d even give you a child if it was possible.”

Doyoung chuckled and smacked him playfully on the arm. 

“You know what I feel for you, the way I never felt so at ease with anybody else. You know how deep under my skin you got, how deeply you know every single inch of my soul. You know how much I cherish the way we don’t need words to understand each other, a glance is enough, silence is enough. I see your family as mine, your brother is my brother, and I couldn’t ask for anything better than that.” His tone was sincere, not that Doyoung ever doubted that, but something in his voice and in the way he was looking at him, made him feel a certain kind of way. And in that moment realization hit him like a truck, what they had was just above everything and everyone else, a rare gem only them could understand. And he was so grateful that fate, God, his ancestors, or whoever people wanted to believe held the strings of life, let them together. 

“I’d give you my sunshine, give you my best,” Taeyong said, now intertwining their fingers, and holding tighter. 

“Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?” a tingle of fragility in his voice. He was scared, no, terrified, Doyoung would say no and run away from him without thinking twice and looking back. He was so scared that Doyoung would've slipped out of his fingers that he unconsciously held even more than before. 

Doyoung didn’t answer, he threw himself in the other’s arms and kissed him, slowly at first, just to become more passionate. His hands running through his locks, pulling him closer. 

“Yes, Taeyong. It will be enough. You are enough. You will always be enough.” He mumbled once he pulled away, tears marking both of their faces. 

“I don’t regret one bit of what I had with you, I could never, Yongie,” he said, his hands still cupping the other’s face. “I want this, I want you, and all the mess you bring with you. I love you. I’m dating you, not them, and their poisoned words. I’m in this with you. Not with anybody else. I don’t care about what they say to you, they don’t even know a quarter of the amazing person that you are. I don’t care about what they say about me, their words don’t define me. Their hate doesn’t define our love and its validity.” 

This time is was Taeyong’s turn to stay silent and just lean in to make their lips touch again. 

And in the dawn of the night, they stayed like that for a while. Forehead to forehead as Seoul was busy outside; with her cars moving between traffic lights and her people getting drunk in downtown bars. They could feel the city’s vibration, but they couldn’t care much about the others. It was just them, lost in their own moment. 

Taeyong leaned in to kiss him again, and again. He needed Doyoung like he was his vital lymph. And he couldn’t care if he looked desperate, greedy and messy like a teenage boy during his first love story. He just wanted to feel. To feel alive, to feel real, to feel love. He couldn’t quite remember the last time they made love to each other. The last months had been a hell for so many different reasons, always busy, life moving so fast that the only time they had together he was either too tired or a quick thing was all they could get at. 

But now, the world had stopped. His castle crumbled overnight. They took the crown from him. He wasn’t sitting on his throne anymore. He had nowhere else to be, now. 

Now they had all the time they wanted to take things slow. To get lost in the smallest details of the other. Taeyong could kiss every small portion of Doyoung’ skin. He wanted to burn in his flames, feel the heat on his skin, and deep down in his soul. 

And right now that Doyoung’s hands were on him, modelling him like a sculptor, touching him like nobody else ever could, he was sure of one thing. He had made mistakes in his life, never learning much from them, but at least he had done one thing right. 

Now that Doyoung’s starry eyes looked at him as if he was the most precious jewel in the world, he understood that just that was enough to light up his darkest night. No, Taeyong didn’t know how to call that, it was just more than love at this point. Maybe they were soulmates. No, definitely they were, there was no other way they could be described as. And a smile crept on his face, as he let himself be lulled by the strange wave of happiness and safeness that hit him. 

Doyoung noticed that, and, stopping for a second, he raised his head to level his. “Why are you so happy, uh?” He asked with a smirk on his face. 

Taeyong shrugged. “Nothing, I was just thinking that I won at life.” 

“You won?” Doyoung raised an eyebrow, his left arm was resting at the side of Taeyong's face supporting his weight so he wouldn’t fall on his naked boyfriend. 

Taeyong hummed, his "dumb" smile never leaving his face. And Doyoung was so glad that the same old Taeyong seemed to be back, at least for now. He knew that the road to healing would’ve been long, but now, Taeyong had stars in his eyes, and that was the only thing he wanted to see. 

“If I tell you that I think we’re soulmates in the middle of a lovemaking session will you run away?” Taeyong giggled as soon as he saw Doyoung roll his eyes. 

“I can’t believe I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Doyoung responded, but his hands were once again busy working on the other’s body, somehow pulling him even closer to his. 

“You want to spend the rest of your life with me?” Taeyong asked with a genuinely surprised look on his face, which disappeared as soon as Doyoung’s hands touched places that made him see stars. His lips opening, letting out beautiful moans that Doyoung suppressed with a kiss. 

“Isn’t that what soulmates do?” Doyoung asked him, leaving a trail of kisses over his neck, down to his collarbone, and all over his chest. 

And Taeyong wanted to say something rational, a small part of him even cry for the joy he was feeling after so many time, but he was already putty in Doyoung’s fingers, overwhelmed by too many emotions. But once again, words were superfluous between them. 

And as they became one in the night, burning in the heat of their love, they both had the confirmation that it would’ve been enough. Because at the end of the day, even if the devil’s in the details, they had a friend in each other.

And somehow, that was the only thing that mattered. 

 part two: where all the poets went to die

[sanstropfremir]

I absolutely LOVED reading your kingdom review. You gave me such an insight in things I never even considered, especially since our rankings are so different from each other. The Boyz was my favorite, the narrative was about RTK. How they felt bad for having to compete against their friends but eventually the groups only lifted each other up and it helped TBZ grow into the group they are now through the hardships and mental dilemma, falling into the next challenge right after they reached the top. It should have been more obvious though, I agree, it wasn't really visible for anyone who didn't know. I was wondering how you felt about the dancing in general? my reason for not ranking BTOB high was lack of choreo (and Peniel's verse), same goes for SF9. Mostly because I don't feel the hype when watching, it doesn't keep my focus on the stage. As a baby-performer myself, my goal is to make the viewer curious about what's next. is that the wrong way to look at it? that's what I've always been told, building the tension up and down to create focus. would love to hear your feedback on that! thank you so much for sharing, we need more reviews of people who actually know what they're talking about.

i'm glad that you got some insight from it! like i answered in the previous ask im here to hopefully bring some more depth and understanding for people that care and are curious!

you unintentionally proved my point about tbz’s performance: that is way too complicated! even the most talented solo dancers i can think of would have trouble distilling that down to something readable in 100 seconds, much less a group of like, a dozen people! the introductory stages are meant to show us the character of the group and their abilities in the most concise way possible, it's not the stage to do deep philosophical and emotional introspection. for a full stage? absolutely, go hog wild! but for this stage it was too ambitious and ultimately was ineffective to anyone that isn't a fan of them specifically. 

by dancing in general do you mean like, every group? i put most of my opinions on the dancing where i had them in each of the individual rankings but honestly? unless there is something that really stands out positively or negatively, a lot of ‘average’ kpop dance looks the same to me. i know it’s not, obviously, and if pressed i probably could do a more serious breakdown, but dance is only one element of performance. it has equal weight with all the others in my mind, and therefore i notice when it is either 

very good

does something unique

very bad, or

interferes with another element

which is the same as how i evaluate every element, if that makes sense. 

hmmmm. i thought about this a lot in the shower and turns out i had more opinions that i expected so i'll put them under a cut.

firstly, i don't think lack of choreo should be penalized or considered an ‘incomplete’ performance. at the end of the day, these are bands, and a part of their brand/product they sell is the music. complex choreo does not need to be attached to that to make it a successful performance. also, btob did have choreo. any movement on stage is technically choreography. but this terminology can cause confusion so usually non-dance choreo is referred to as ‘blocking.’ but they also did include the song’s original point choreo at 1.41. the blocking in their performance was well thought out and suited the arrangement, by placing spatial emphasis on each part of the song that needed it. obviously it comes down to personal taste if the performance is ultimately ‘successful,’ because all art is subjective, but just because something isn't as visually complex as something else doesn’t mean it doesn't have the same level of thought. think of it like this: one is a super clean-lined post-post-modern grey/white living room, and the other is a kitsch goth basement. both share interior design principles and have obvious care put into the space, but they are vastly different styles that appeal to different tastes.

part of the job of production designer/AD is to decide what gets emphasis. a question you're always asking yourself is ‘is this important to the story that we’re trying to tell?’ and btob/their AD made a very smart choice with their introductory stage because it says a lot about them and their abilities in a short amount of time. that stage said ‘our foundation is strong, we have the training and experience and confidence to be up here and not rely on visual tricks.’ because they know they physically cannot do the things the 4th gen groups can; they're a decade older and they only have four members, it's just not feasible. something you learn with experience is the power that specific and pointed emphasis holds, which segues into my answer to your last question. i don't necessarily think that ‘building hype’ is the wrong way to perform something, but i do think it is a flawed way to approach creating a performance.

i think that ‘hype’ is flawed concept at its core, and one that focuses on the idea that there’s always being something more, something next, beyond the work itself. now there’s nothing wrong with playing with tension within the internal structure of a piece, that's exactly how constructing a narrative happens. however, the flaws come once we extrapolate beyond the boundaries of that individual work. the idea of ‘whats next’ implies that you have to constantly be promoting, have a sequel coming, building hype etc so people will keep engaged with your work. which is deeply capitalistic in nature and operates on the assumption that art exists purely as a product to be sold. and in order to keep selling you need to keep making a bigger and better and more spectacular product. and this is not the case at all. marketability is not the essence of art, it merely a factor of creating it under this insufferable system. kpop in particular suffers from this because the industry is specifically fabricated to produce capitol. we can have discussions all day about idols and their artistic integrity but at the end of that day, they are all cogs working with a system that was specifically made up by essentially one person to be culturally exported and to just print buckets of money. so in following that train of thought, there is a constant attitude of bigger and better because shock value (whether positive or negative) gets social media attention and therefore it sells. and it has become exponentially easier (and also seemingly required) to make things that are bigger and better than ever before. i remember being blown away by the projection floor at the sochi 2014 olympics because something of that scale and complexity would never have been possible without literally having the funding of the olympics. now that technology is easily accessible to anyone with an amazon account and the time to learn how isadora works. in comparison, it took 2400 YEARS for just the job of a ‘theatre designer’ to be even become a job at all.

because of kpop’s fan culture it is especially prone to ‘hype’ behaviour. in general with the accessibility of the internet and social media, everything has turned into a competition, and who can generate the most buzz ‘wins’. but ultimately that has taken away the general public’s ability to recognize that you can enjoy something quietly and you can enjoy something slowly. that the enjoyment of something doesn’t need to be all exclamation marks and keysmashes and trending hashtags on twitter. there is value in a work engaging in an emotion within you that is not just excitement. most of the artists and companies that i consume the work of i don’t do so because their work makes me excited, i do so because i liked the experience of engaging with that work. several years ago i saw the eternal tides by legend lin dance theatre, which you can watch a really short clip of here. that is not slow motion, that is actually how slow the dancers are moving. and 90% of the show is performed like that. and its two hours long. and it was one of the most incredible performances i've ever seen. if i ever get the chance I will go see another one of their shows again, not because i care about how they can top that experience i had, but because i know they can produce that experience, and that is enough to make me want to seek them out again. the speed of the internet has also loosened the general public’s understanding of just exactly how long creating a performance work can take. the lead dancer in the eternal tides was with the company for eight years before she and the piece were ready enough to be performed. large scale operas, musicals, and plays often have a year or more of pre-production before they even get to rehearsal. smaller theatre companies workshop new pieces for years at a time. performance is hard and it takes time. you can eliminate some of that with sheer amounts of money and people, which is what the kpop industry has done, but it speeds up the cycle of consumption to a degree that is not sustainable, especially for companies and creators who do not have that kind of access. performers and performance makers often don't put enough trust in their audiences. if they like what they see, they will come back. they dont need to be constantly bombarded with content at all times.

now that i’ve said a bit about why i think hype is a flawed concept, let's bring it back to kingdom. sf9 did something very interesting with their stage in that they actively chose to limit their dance time. and this plays very well off the performance film stage that taeyang did a couple of weeks ago. taeyang is talented and confident (for good reason), and his solo was incredible. but when it came to the intro stage, instead of trying to one-up the solo stage, the group instead said ‘well people are going to be looking at us because taeyang is insanely talented, so let's show them that we ALL have the confidence and the attitude to be up here.’ no need for flashy theatrics, they had the foresight to do something that would make them stand out from the rest of the groups. even if i was just casually watching the stages without doing any analysis on them (like i did for rtk), i would still be able to distinguish them because they had the stones to stand around for half their stage time. now i recognize them and would like to see what else they can do. same principle as what btob and also what ikon did. there is a fine line between anticipation and hype that gets equated in media consumption nowadays, but the two are not the same.

i think the tldr on this is that you dont need to ‘build hype’ or ‘go all out’ to make an interesting work. just focus on telling the narrative that you want to tell, and the people that recognize that will come. i could have a lot more things to say about peoples shrinking attention spans and the constant stream of information that we consume on a daily basis that devalues the labour done by artists in the eyes of the public and promotes hustle culture that is burning out and damaging creators at a rate that is both exponential and frightening, but that’s probably for another time, because this is SO LONG

[littlequeenies]

BEBE BUELL: MUSING ON MUSES AND OTHER FANS

📷BEBE BUELLJUNE 17, 2020

Before embarking on a musical career of her own, Bebe Buell was a much in-demand model but was most often seen as the second fiddle to the famous rock musicians she was dating. She, however, saw herself as the Muse to these musicians, inspiring and sharing ideas with them. Inevitably, the term “groupie” would arise. As she says, “I’m not opposed to ‘groupies,’ per se. I just don’t like being called a name or being tagged like a sheep to slaughter’. Bebe elaborates on this idea for PKM.

I remember the first time I saw a photograph of Oscar Wilde. I was five and it was Easter. We were at the Virginia Beach home of my mother’s friends, Poppy and Tilly, who were hosting a Sunday get together. We were dressed in our pastels and frills and the candy and food was flowing. It was an adult affair and, being the only child there, I wandered off to explore while the grown-ups enjoyed their martinis and snacks. I found myself in a living room study area and on the table was a big book filled with photos of poets, painters, sculptors and scholars. I was immediately drawn to an image of Oscar draped on a chair like a velvet throw! It stuck with me and when I got older I looked him up in the school library. At the age of twelve I read The Picture Of Dorian Gray, but my main interest was in Oscar Wilde, the man and his story. I felt an instant connection, just as I have with all the great inspirations in my life. In 1978, when I was living between NYC, Maine and LA, before finishing the year in London, I never missed one episode of Masterpiece Theatre and their 13 episodes of Lillie about the life of Lillie Langtry, played brilliantly by Francesca Annis. To my delight, it explored in great depth the relationship/friendship between Oscar and Lillie, and I became obsessed with knowing everything and anything I could about their dynamic. I was intrigued, too, by the descriptions of Mrs. Langtry in the press at that time in England and the U.S. She was often called a “Professional Beauty” or “The Jersey Lily” because she was born on Jersey, the largest of the Channel Islands off the coast of Normandy. She was also one of the most featured women in advertising; her face was everywhere. She was the image for Pears Soap and the most respected painters of the day stood in line just to have a sitting with her. In 1877, she met Edward, Prince of Wales, later King Edward VII, and became his first publicly acknowledged mistress.

One of my favorite quotes was attributed to her from her conversations with Wilde: “They saw me, those reckless seekers of beauty, and in a night I was famous.” This reminded me of the back room at Max’s Kansas City, the temple of cool when I arrived in New York during the era of everything! It was this platonic duo that introduced me to the role of the “Muse”—that is the Artist and the Muse. Throughout history and especially in the arts, there seems to always be a driving force that brings the flora. In the series Lillie, they emphasized how Oscar would repeat Lillie’s quips and observations in his writing. Their banter with one another fascinated me and I often envisioned myself as a “Patron of The Arts”, in a sense, as I’ve always promoted and sang the praises of those whose work I liked. I felt an affinity with that spirit—the gift of inspiring and sharing special ideas with an artist I admired. It wasn’t just music. I adored musing with photographers, writers, film directors and designers, too. Creative energies have always fed my soul. The first time I referenced the term “muse” was in a 1981 interview I did with the Emmy-winning writer Stephen Demorest for the edgy publication Oui. Its sister magazine in France was called Lui. Playboy had taken over ownership of Oui so it was a glossy, classy, European-style men’s delight, targeting a younger demographic. When Stephen approached me about the piece, he showed me a couple other interviews with “It Girls” that had been published.

One was with Patti D’Arbanville, the inspiration for some of Cat Stevens’ biggest hits. He even used her last name in one of the songs, “Lady D’Arbanville”. I knew Patti from the early 70s and, in fact, it was she who introduced me to Jimmy Page in 1973 on a night out dancing with her in NYC. It was a quick meeting, as I was eager to get home to my boyfriend at the time, Todd Rundgren. A year later, I would run into Mr. Page again and the rest is the stuff of rock tales.

I adored Patti so knowing that both she and Jerry Hall had done this particular interview sealed the deal. Like Patti Boyd, Jane Asher, Linda Eastman, Maureen Van Zandt, Sara Dylan, to name a few, the musical muse is the most often of the muses referenced. I recall how so many people wanted to know my viewpoints and opinions about the word “muse” and why I preferred it to the term “groupie”.

Even in Cameron Crowe’s Almost Famous, his beloved character Penny Lane’s first words on screen are, “We are not groupies. We inspire the music- we are bandaids!”. The film was Cameron’s love letter to women and how even at that time a stigma was attached to calling a woman a groupie; it was not necessarily a compliment. It was almost like a dismissive jab, on par with “she’s such a slut” or “whore”. Another scene in Almost Famous has all of the members of the fictitious band Stillwater squeezed onto a small plane that, they thought, was about to crash. Secrets were spilled and fingers were pointed. In one of the most moving moments, the William character defends Penny when she is described as “that groupie” by one of the band members. William nails it when he points out who and “what” she really is- a bright light and cherished fan. Someone who loved them all and for all the right reasons.

I feel that women have been unfairly branded and labeled without cause. I’ve often said that I’m not opposed to “groupies,” per se. I just don’t like being called a name or being tagged like a sheep to slaughter. Summing me up for the life I’ve lived, seen through someone else’s eyes or, worse, exaggerating the truth. I didn’t want those I’ve truly loved or the relationships I’ve had to be considered less sincere because of the visibility of my partner.

Certainly loving music or dating musicians is not derogatory. Isn’t it logical, then, that birds of a feather flock together? Like-minded tribes mate or unite because of chemistry? Rock boys and models have been drawn to each other since forever! In the Netflix series Hollywood, you find that sex and sexual favors were the core of the industry. Several of the movie stars everyone loved on screen had started out as rent boys or nude models to make ends meet. Who decides why someone can give a blow job to the “right” person and get a starring role in a movie and another blow job by an aspiring talent gets tossed into the trash can of regret.

Why, after having four children with Mick Jagger, a successful modeling career and now being Mrs. Rupert Murdoch, would anyone refer to Jerry Hall as a groupie? Or gold digger, another favorite term used to describe women who marry well. Or Marianne Faithfull, Anita Pallenberg or Winona Ryder, for heaven’s sake? These are the questions I’ve always had and one of the main reason why I have rejected the term groupie in the press. It’s not a personal attack on those who identify with the moniker. It’s my own rebellion against being labeled and frowned on for the relationships I’ve had.

I’ve taken this stand for a long time, even though it’s also caused some judgement and negativity towards me from other women. It’s almost as if they think I see myself as better than them. Or that I’m not being honest when I don’t just call myself a full-on groupie, and own it. My closest friends tell me it’s just jealousy but that doesn’t make it any less hurtful to have tales and lies circulated about you by people you barely know or those who don’t know me at all. Or to have relationships that lasted for years being reduced to a laundry list of “conquests.”

This is nothing new, of course. Catherine The Great‘s enemies within the Emperor’s Court turned on her and started rumors that she was a sex fiend who had intercourse with horses. That stuck with her throughout her life and even in the museums of Russia, the tale has echoed although it’s completely untrue. Cleopatra and Anne Boleyn were also targeted. Ruining reputations was the way people got their revenge in days of yore. Or in some cases, the reason why some lost their heads to the guillotine. Why is it that women who have power or beauty have been subjected to crazy accusations of sexual voracity or deviance? Eve takes the blame for the banishment from Eden and although she was supposedly created from Adam’s rib, she is seen as a temptress and Adam as her victim.

I believe every woman should identify by how she feels comfortable and for the work she does. I personally prefer to be known for what I do, my accomplishments, my career. However, dating a rock star or an actor should not merit a nasty quip or name calling fest. It becomes unbalanced when just because someone gets famous as, say, a model or an actress and then dates a rock star, that she should get called anything other than what she does to earn a living. I’m not sure “groupie” falls under the umbrella of job occupation. I’d file it under pastime, hobby, passion, or fetish.

The origins of the groupie started with nothing more than a desire to be close to the band—the guys who made the music. Or in some cases, the women. The term came into use in the mid-1960s as slang for women who liked to hang out with musicians. It’s fair to say that not all “groupies” are the same. There are many tiers and pecking orders when narrowing it down. Certainly not every girl who dreams of being with a rock star will waltz backstage and demand sex or give oral gratification. That’s the image I despise and wish would not tarnish the entire viewpoint to the outside world. Some of the girls on the scene want to take the word “groupie” back, to personify what it meant in the ‘60s and early ‘70s. It became something entirely different when the ‘80s rolled around. Bands born out of the LA scene liked a different kind of arm candy than the Rolling Stones or the Beatles. They preferred exotic dancers and porn stars, the girls du jour of the time. Just as music changes with each era, so do the kinds of women who pursue the bands. But, more importantly, what kind of women the bands seek out. One man’s status is another man’s yen.

And then there are those who look at being a groupie as a form of prostitution. I’ve never understood that one because most girls who live that lifestyle don’t charge money to be with their favorite rock god or even their crew. It’s a thrill to be with the band, but it seems the glamor that was once attached to that goal has changed. For me, it was a thrill to fight to say “I’m IN the band”… or even “I AM the band!”

When I was living with Todd, he produced one of the first all-female bands, Fanny. They were so great! June Millington could shred! I felt bewildered when I would hear snide remarks wondering if Todd was sleeping with one of them. I thought to myself that would have never been said or thought if they weren’t women.

The bottom line is preference. We all have a choice. And we all can be whatever we want. We can wear many hats. I see myself as a mother, wife, musician, singer, songwriter, writer, mentor, animal lover… many different things. What I do in my spare time is how I make my soul happy. Who I date is based on connections, fate and karma. We end up with who we’re meant to be with and the experiences we have are all meant to be. I’ve been with my husband Jim for twenty years now. Our 18th wedding anniversary is coming in August 2020. So, I’m writing this piece from the perspective of a wife, mother, working musician, writer and mentor. Not just a girl who had lots of suitors in her youth. Every single little thing is part of the journey.

The first time I saw a photo in Rolling Stone of what they called a “groupie”, I was 15 years old and in the 10th grade. It was 1969, and neither the image nor the word was at all something ugly to me. It just seemed exciting and cool. The girls were so outrageously dressed, and it reflected an almost innocent charm. I didn’t aspire to be a groupie but they seemed like they were the ones who made the guys in the band cool. They helped dress them, created make-up looks and spread the word all over town about how good they were. It didn’t seem to be so much about sex and backstage antics. Maybe I was too young to fully understand everything, especially from the pages of a magazine.

On my first trip to LA with Todd in 1973, when I finally did meet some real girls who liked to be called groupies, it still didn’t seem derogatory. I started to see how it was all just tossed together in some people’s minds. It’s a complex dance between an artist and his muse. None of it is something so vulgar or tainted as being only about sexual conquest. Maybe to some, it’s about that. But for me it was a series of fated encounters that have lasted throughout my life.

Some people see a groupie as a girl who will do anything, including have sex with a roadie, to get to the band. There is that element to the rock n’ roll lifestyle. But it’s not the entire package. Others see groupies as a vibe, the girls who are there when the band makes it, the girls that helped them make it, the on-the-road bestie, or the girls who get the bands drugs and food. Or even give them the clothes off their backs if the band is short a cool stage look. I often joke that that’s how wearing your lingerie out became a signature rock girl look- the band had taken her clothes to wear onstage!

I recall reading where Pamela Des Barres said she was still a virgin when she first discovered her teenage heart being drawn to rock boys. It felt sexual to her and it was also just youthful and sweet. Not a salacious sexual quest. More a desire to be near the music and the men who made it. That’s perhaps what one would define as a “classic groupie”. Or, in some circles, “fan” is the preferred analogy. I can relate to that myself as I knew when I was ten years old, I would hang out with Mick Jagger one day. I knew those were my people… my kind.

Pamela has made a career out of her life as a proud groupie. But certainly she has a right to claim the term because she helped invent it! She now calls it her “groupie heart” and that is something anyone who’s ever had a crush on someone or loved someone’s music so much that it altered your DNA can relate to. Hasn’t everyone felt that way? Every guy or gal who picks up a guitar or slings a mic stand had to have been dazzled by their inspiration or felt a need to pursue that for their own futures. So, my point is this- none of it is negative nor should one word hold so much power that when it’s flung at a woman, she’ll feel shamed or scorned.

When I started to get a bit of fame, the media seemed to want to call me anything but “groupie”. It was “Friend Of The Stars”, “Queen Of The Rock Chicks”, “Leggy Model”, “The Mother Of All Rock Chicks”, “It Girl”… so when the internet entered our lives, I began to see just how judgmental and downright mean people were about the women who hung out with the bands. It started to become something so dirty and taboo that I wanted no part of that term. It’s a thin line, a hard one to walk. Personally, I feel loving music and being attracted to musicians is as natural as doctors and nurses getting along. Humans are drawn to their soul tribe. Music, musicians and all art forms attract me. I’m the moth to that flame.

As an entertainer myself, it always hurt me when what I actually do for my job was ignored or not taken seriously because of the famous names I’ve been attached to. It’s so one-sided to only put that burden on women. It has been the norm for men to be patted on the back and admired for their taste in women and especially if they were able to appeal to many and have tons of sexual experiences. Even in the animal kingdom, the male peacock has the massive plume bloom to attract as many lovers as he can. A male lion can rule the pride with his sexual domination. A male celebrity only becomes more famous if he’s got a beautiful model or actress on his arm. Whereas a woman who’s dance card is busy or even full is often ridiculed or bashed. Branded with the scarlet letter of infamy.

It started to get under my skin when I saw myself defined only by who I’d dated or had close friendships with. It’s the luck of the draw. Some women who are in the public eye can date and marry a celeb several times and be embraced for it. They use it to further their already visible life. They are proud and exploit all their lovers as the playthings that they’ve become. Some have become famous by leaking a porno or being on a reality show. What was once a limited field has become wide open with lots of branches of thought and assumption. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy for me to fight for my image… my persona… my legacy. But I did fight. I turned down almost every request I was presented to be interviewed for groupie documentaries or sensationalized TV shows. Sometimes turning down large sums of money. But I wanted to work hard and felt if I worked hard enough one day I’d be thought of for what I did on a stage, in front of the lens of a camera, as a mother and at times even a manager, more than who I shared my life with. Dare I use the “R” word? I wanted RESPECT.

There’s lots of contrast in the definition of groupie or muse but what about “partners”… the duos who took the world by storm. Sonny & Cher, Karen & Richard Carpenter, Debbie Harry & Chris Stein, Jack & Meg White, Jane Birkin & Serge Gainsbourg, Stevie Nicks & Lindsey Buckingham, Annie Lennox & Dave Stewart, Kim Gordon & Thurston Moore, etc… Or Chrissie Hynde and Courtney Love, who both married musicians. There’s a kaleidoscope of ways women are seen. It all depends on how you are first perceived. The general public seem to hold on to how they first heard of you even if you go on to do many different things in your life. Marianne Faithfull is a perfect example of someone who has been able to transcend her detractors and carry on like the warrior she is. But it baffles my mind how anyone could call her or Anita Pallenberg anything but tastemakers and trendsetters. They were the women I would stare at for hours as a young girl. They fascinated me almost more than the guys they hung out with. Yet I still hear them sometimes referred to as groupies.

Like any entertainer, I have an overwhelming need to be loved and to give love and positive energy to others. That’s why I crave being onstage. The connection with the audience is almost like having the best sex in the world. Or at minimum, a great, soulful hug that sends sparks through your body. I’ve been doing this since 1980, in public anyway. This is my life… not the talented, special men I dated in my youth. That’s part of my story and I will never regret a single heartbreak nor will I ever regret loving to the point of forgetting myself and my own pursuits. But I want to be remembered for more than my dates or suitors. I gave birth to a child who grew up to become a superstar so the role of nurturer has followed me throughout my life. I’ve accepted the fact that my fate is to be a vessel for talent and to enrich those who possess it. It’s become who I am- all the parts and pieces of my karma rolled into one big bang! My artistic side occupies just as much space as my musing side- equal parts love and creative energy.

Things come full circle especially when I get approached after one of my shows by young girls that call me “High Priestress” or tell me that they are my “groupies”. When I hear the words “Bebe, Im your biggest groupie!”, my heart swells but I also like to immediately remind them that I do what I do onstage because of them. Because of the exchange being a performer gives to my being. It’s like fuel… hors d’oeuvres for the soul.

One morning in 2009, I got a call from an old industry friend who had landed at Interscope Records. I was awoken with, “Bebe, you’ve been touted in a song produced by Pharrell Williams called ‘Bebe Buell’ by a young band from Boston called Chester French.” I remember thinking “wow, that’s a nice compliment” because the gist of the song was that someone like me or Pamela Anderson Lee were the creme de la creme of rock-boy desire. There’s a clothing line called ‘Muse & Lyrics‘ that has a blouse/top called “The Bebe” and the brand ‘I’m With The Band’ has named their leopard scarfs and headbands the “Bebe”. There’s even a cocktail called “The Bebe Buell”.

But I think one of the coolest things was having Cameron Crowe name the lead singer in Stillwater Jeff Bebe. He gave me the original T-shirt that was used in the movie, too, and boy do I treasure it! Cameron sprinkled all kinds of little clues and messages throughout Almost Famous. I was especially touched by the Jeff Bebe nod because he knew how much I wanted to be a singer in a band. I remember him once saying to me that I should just go for it. At that point, people only knew me as a model and Todd Rundgren’s girlfriend. I hadn’t even done Playboy yet, so I was still trying to figure out who I was and how to do it. I finally did but it took me six more years to get in the studio and front a band!

It’s moving to be honored and it’s also nice to be appreciated by the younger generation of pop culture lovers. The first time my name was in a song, I was excited by it. My old friend G.E. Smith had a line on his solo album that was about coming to visit “Bebe and Liz”… he came over to my best friend Liz Derringer’s house to play it for us. We were elated… it was cool. I would never be so bold as to sit here and make a list of my lovers or the songs they wrote for me because it seems so long ago. I’d rather leave that up to the fans of the music to decipher and besides not all songs written for others are acknowledged as such. I’ve had several songs given to me as gifts or written to me in letters.

Sometimes the authors don’t admit it because their feelings change and they don’t want to upset their new love interest. Didn’t Bob Dylan write “Leopard Skin Pill Box Hat”, “Just Like A Woman”, “Fourth Time Around” and “Like A Rolling Stone” about Edie Sedgwick, only to later deny it? I know the feeling because it’s happened to me. So, at this point in my life, I just cherish the letters (yes, I still have them so one day when we’re all gone they will maybe solve the puzzles) and I respect and allow artistic license to have its day. It’s an artist’s prerogative to change their minds so I hold no hurt feelings. Music buffs are pretty smart anyway and they usually know the truth, so it matters little unless it’s blatant. The one topic that irks me is that I claimed This Year’s Model was about me. Well, that’s impossible because I didn’t meet and start to date Elvis Costello until he was well into Armed Forces. I was living with him in London when he recorded it in the fall of 1978. He included a couple of lyrics from songs on Armed Forces in letters to me but I can say with certainty that “Party Girl” wasn’t one of them. I guess it was the timing of the release that made people speculate I was the subject, but I wasn’t and never claimed to be. He didn’t even know me when he wrote those records. Why this is disputed has always been a mystery to me. The songs Mr. Costello sent me in letters were from later albums, starting with Get Happy. I will always wonder too why he would say something so false and perpetuate a rumor twenty years later in the liner notes of a re-issue.  Here’s to hoping it is finally put to rest. And even with the shame and pain I felt at the time, I feel no regret or ill will toward anyone. To me the truth is pretty obvious. Remember the story I told earlier about Catherine The Great? Revenge is often used when hearts are hurt, and it is very common in the entertainment industry.

In summing up my thoughts on the topic, I feel it’s time in our culture to appreciate the roles women have played in art since the beginning of time. Dali had his Gala, Picasso would hide the initials of his mistresses in his paintings and secretly tell them so they would know it was for them, Clapton immortalized his love and lust for Patti Boyd with the ultimate ode in “Layla” and John Lennon may have written the most beautiful love song of all for Yoko in “Woman”. Or was it Paul McCartney with “The Long And Winding Road” about Jane Asher or “Maybe I’m Amazed” about the spectacular Linda Eastman McCartney?

We can’t leave out the spirited and unique George Sand whose given name was Aurore Dupin. She was born in Paris on July 1, 1804 and adopted the name “George” because women couldn’t write professionally with the freedom of men in those days. She became one of the most popular writers in Europe during her lifetime- one of the most notable writers of the European Romantic era. She would wear male attire in public saying it was easier and more affordable than women’s garb. She was a confidant to Franz Liszt and lover and muse to Chopin. She would lie beneath the piano while Chopin composed, saying it sent the music through her entire body instead of just her ears.

Music is primal and it gets into our bloodstream. It’s easy to see why young girls get crushes on their idols and some even grow up to marry their dream man. But the days of defining women by their sexual desires or “conquests” should be on the wane. I never looked at the men I dated or loved as conquests. Humans aren’t territories to be battled over or ceded to. The human connection is divine. Each and every person we cross paths with is part of our magical life story.  So, whatever you identify yourself as is fine. That is your privilege and judgement should not follow even if the choices aren’t the norm. As Oscar Wilde said, “Be yourself. Everyone else is taken.”

*Closing side note* As I was finishing this essay, I was doodling with a People magazine crossword puzzle and one of the clues was “GROUPIE”. Guess what the answer was… “FAN”. The timing was uncanny!

[apharine]

Sightseeing

Chapter 2

Pairing:  Siane x Nanu

Fandom: Pokemon

Rating:  T

Read on AO3

Chapter 1

My writing commission info!

Summary:   Siane hadn't meant to wind up in Alola, under Nanu's care, while she recovered from a mysterious illness that left her prone to weakness and collapsing. But now that she's here and getting stronger, she wants to see more of Ula'ula than just the rainy skies and the Po Town wall by Nanu's police station. And who could be better suited to give her a tour than the Kahuna of the island himself?

Notes:  Siane is the wonderful HybridDragoness’ OC and she is amazing!  This fic is a commission for Hybrid and I’m honestly so honored to have been able to write for Siane and Nanu bc I love them so much!  Hybrid is a really talented artist and you can find her art of Siane here!  You can also find Hybrid on Twitter and AO3 under the same handle as on Tumblr!

                                        _____________________

“That was brilliant,” Siane declares, hopping off the Charizard’s saddle.  “Thank you so much!  You were amazing!  And the saddle really was helpful,” Siane adds, hopping around to give the Charizard a gentle pet on the snout.

“Here,” Nanu says, fishing some Poke Beans out of his pocket.  “You can give him a couple as thanks.  Not too many, though,” he adds, handing them over to Siane.  Truthfully, his heart had been hammering out of his chest the entire time Siane had been flying on Charizard’s back.  The fear that something might go wrong and she might lose her grip, or pass out and fall, had been forefront in his mind the entire time, and he’d urged Honchkrow to fly as close to Charizard as possible.  As if he could catch her if something went wrong, he thinks to himself, then pushes the morbid thought aside.  Siane’s okay, and that’s what matters.

“Thank you so much,” Siane says, holding her hand out flat with the Pokebeans on top of it.  The Charizard nibbles them up, then taps her with its nose affectionately.  “Have a good rest of your workday, okay?”

“Char,” the Ride Pager Pokemon agrees, then turns to take off to go to its next job.

“That was the first time I’ve flown in…I don’t know how long,” Siane says, turning around to grin at Nanu.  Her hair is a little wild from the wind and altitude, but she looks absolutely radiant.  If that’s how passionate one little flight could make her, Nanu thinks it’s no surprise that she decided to specialize in Flying type Pokemon.  “It felt amazing.”  Still smiling, Siane turns to take in the cityscape around her.  “So, this is Malie City, huh?”  She muses, drifting towards one of the great gates that mark the start of the main street.

“The one and only,” Nanu says, a little swell of pride bubbling up in his chest.

“The architecture is really cool here,” Siane agrees, touching the cool stone of the gate.

“Glad you think so, girl,” Nanu says, taking a couple steps closer to her.  Was it just his imagination, or had she been a little wobbly on that step just then?

“You said this city’s on the ocean?”  Siane prompts, a curious look on her face as she looks around.

“Yeah.  You’ll have to make it down the main street a ways,” Nanu says, eyeing her appraisingly.  The look flares something up in Siane, though, and she sucks in a deep breath, puffing her chest out a little.

“That’s not gonna be a problem,” she says confidently.  Nanu chuckles.

“Glad to hear it.  Let me give you the tour along the way, then.  There’s a lot to see in the city,” Nanu says, taking a tentative step down the road.  To his relief, Siane follows and lingers close to him as she walks.

Nanu points out some of the major shops and landmarks as the two of them walk by, including the glittering Malie Library and, in the distance, the Kantonian Gym.

“It’s lovely,” Siane breathes, taking in the structure.

“Hey, my favorite restaurant is actually coming up soon.  They specialize in really high-end sushi…that sound like the sort of thing you might like?”  Nanu asks, quirking one eyebrow in Siane’s direction.

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” Siane agrees.  “I can pay for my half.”

To her surprise, Nanu waves her off quickly.

“Don’t worry about that, Siane,” he grumbles.

“It’s really fine,” she insists.  Nanu frowns for a moment, then slows his pace until he’s paused in his tracks entirely.  Siane stops beside him; she thinks she’s doing a good job of concealing the confusion on her face, but Nanu can see through her facade easily.

“This place…isn’t cheap,” he says carefully.  “I wouldn’t have mentioned it if I wasn’t okay with paying your half.”

“What do you mean by not cheap?”  Siane asks pointedly.

“I mean…it’s probably the most expensive restaurant in the region.  They don’t usually do takeout, but Sensei knows me pretty well by now, so I figure they might make an exception for me,” Nanu says with a shrug, trying to play it cool.  It doesn’t work particularly well, though, and he watches as nearly every emotion in the book passes over Siane’s face.  The most expensive restaurant in the region…by the looks of some of these amazingly dazzling buildings, Siane figures that probably means that a single meal cost more than an entire year of groceries for herself typically would.

“I - I don’t usually…do expensive things.  It - things weren’t like that for me over in Aedis,” Siane finally says.  Nanu waits for her to elaborate, but when she doesn’t continue, he finally speaks up.

“Well - we don’t have to eat there, if it makes you uncomfortable,” he concedes.  “But if you did want to try something really nice for once…I’d be happy to treat you.”  Even he’s a little surprised by how much he allows his voice to soften as he says the words, and he watches Siane’s eyes widen a little - whether at his tone or the offer, or both, he can’t tell for certain.

“Um, well,” Siane stammers, clearly thinking a mile a minute.  “Maybe…just once?”

Nanu smiles and nods and begins to walk again, checking over his shoulder to make sure that Siane is coming along as well.  She’s staying close - good.

“You wanna stop and grab our food before or after seeing the ocean around Ula’ula?”  Nanu asks, though he’s pretty sure he already knows what the answer will be.

“Ocean first,” Siane beams, and Nanu feels his smile grow just a little more.

 ***

 “It’s so warm,” Siane sighs, sitting at the end of a pier and dipping her toes in the water.

“Everything’s warm here, girl,” Nanu says, though his words have no real edge to them.  

“It’s nice.  I really like it here,” Siane admits, one foot kicking up a small splash.  The water droplets sparkle in the sun as they fall.  She watches them, then raises her eyes to the distant horizon where seat met sky.  Nanu watches her, noticing the way the brilliance of the ocean reflects in her eyes.  “Everything is so…peaceful here.  It’s, um.  It’s nice.”

Nanu feels his eyebrows crease; he doesn’t know everything that’s happened in Aedis, but from what he’s able to piece together, Siane’s struggled with conflict nearly her whole life.  The thought that a single day out, with no cares in the world imminent on her shoulders, could mean so much to her tugs at Nanu’s heartstrings, and he puts his arm around her shoulders in much the same way he would comfort Acerola.  Except, somehow, it doesn’t feel entirely like comforting little Ace - but Nanu pushes that thought out of his mind for now.

“It is nice, here,” Nanu agrees.  Siane turns those eyes of hers on him, and he adds quickly, “I’m glad you enjoy it.”  Then, he pulls his arm away and moves away just a little, clearing his throat.  “As you know, I work extremely hard to keep Alola as peaceful as it is,” he says with a wry smirk; his words have the intended effect, and Siane dissolves into unabashed laughter.

“Yes,” she says between laughs.  “Your duties just have you running all over the island, trying to fight crime and dangerous monsters twenty-four-seven.  And you get absolutely no naps.”

Nanu feels his smirk falter a little, because there was a time where he was running all over the island, and fighting Ultra Beasts, and trying to be the best Interpol officer he could be.

And what did it get him?  What did it get her, besides chewed up by Guzzlord, never to be seen again?

“Yeah,” Nanu says faintly, turning away from Siane to look out at the ocean.  “No naps.”  He hears the tremble in his own voice, and hates it.

Siane notices - of course she does, she’s not stupid, Nanu thinks to himself - and scoots a little closer to him once more, putting her hand on his nearest shoulder.  She leans into him just the slightest bit, and somehow the contact feels grounding for Nanu.  The two of them watch the ocean in silence, and though Nanu waits for her to ask what’s wrong, she stays quiet.

Within a few minutes, the world around him begins to feel a little more real again, the echoes of the past fading in his mind.  Siane is still peaceful and silent beside him, still grounding him with her touch, and he wonders how many other people she’s seen like this, back in Aedis.  How many people has she provided her silent support to?

“Let me know when you want to go get sushi,” Nanu says instead.

 Within an hour, they’re heading into the Malie Gardens, little brown bags of sushi in hand.  Sensei had complained about how undignified the brown bags were, but had ultimately capitulated to one of his top customer’s request for inconspicuous takeout.

“Oh, wow,” Siane breathes, pushing a big fern aside so she can get a better view of the lush land in front of her.  “It’s gorgeous here.”  She doesn’t wait for a response, instead pushing forward and approaching the enormous golden-plated bridge that greets the Garden’s visitors.  Nanu hastens behind her, both brown baggies cradled in one arm so he can steady her with his free hand if he needs to.

Not that he’s needed to so far today.  But better safe than sorry, right?

“Is this real gold?”  Siane asks, rubbing the banister of the golden bridge.

“Gold plated,” Nanu shrugs, hovering close by.  “It’s supposed to be a sister bridge to one just like it in the Kanto region.”

“It’s lovely,” Siane says, already on her way across it, running her hand over the smooth banister as she goes.  

Suddenly a thunderous noise draws both of their attention, followed by a quick flash of feathers and a multi-colored beak.

“What was that?”  Siane asks, already enrapt.  Another flash of feathers ensues as the Pokemon circles back around; on its second pass, Nanu is able to identify it.

“That’s a Toucannon,” Nanu says.  “You know all the Pikipek you’ve seen?  This is their final evolution.”

To his horror, Siane actually sets off at a jog after it.  She’d just nearly fallen in the shower literally yesterday, and she was trying to jog today?!

“Its beak looks brilliant,” she gushes.  “I need to get a better look at it.”

The Toucannon in question has roosted on a low hanging branch, and eyes Siane carefully as her footfalls carry her across the bridge.  Nanu’s already running at nearly full bore, desperate to catch up to her - and to stop her from approaching a particularly strong, angry bird capable of spitting seeds strong enough to break boulders.

Fortunately, Siane stops well in advance of the Pokemon, and Nanu watches, fascinated, as her conservation training seems to kick in.

“Look - it’s got a bunch of Pikipek on the trees behind it.  It’s likely trying to protect its family,” she says in hushed tones.  “They’re all drilling into that tree, see?  There’s probably lots of bug Pokemon inside, because it looks like pretty dead wood.  They must not have any issue finding food, because that Toucannon’s beak is in excellent condition.”

“What’s a beak got to do with it?”  Nanu asks, not seeing the correlation.

“A healthy, shiny, smooth beak means it’s eating a healthy and variegated diet.  Birds that don’t eat well can have all sorts of issues with their beak.  And do you see how glossy its feathers are?”  She’s enraptured, but respectful.  And, Nanu notes, she’s breathing hard, clearly more winded from her little jog than she’d like to admit.  “It’s getting lots of essential fatty acids.  Super important for feather health.  You’ve got a pretty healthy ecosystem here, Kahuna,” she adds, finally turning away from the Toucannon and affixing a brilliant smile on Nanu.

His heart skips a beat.

“Well.  Glad to hear your professional assessment,” Nanu says, though he smiles a little back at her, and he actually means the words as he says them.  “Now come on, Siane.  Let’s go find a place to sit.  You’re tiring me out, running me all ragged like this.”

“I’m tiring you out?”  Siane says with a laugh, raising her eyebrows.  “Come on, Kahuna, you’re a fit man.  Don’t pretend this is anything much for you.”

Nanu’s heart does another flip at this.

She thinks he’s fit?

“I’m old,” he says, as much for himself - as a reminder of the one, key difference between them - as for her.  “Now let’s go.”

Siane’s smile falters a little, but she falls into step beside him readily.

“You’re not that old,” she pushes.

“Right,” Nanu snorts.  “That’s why all my hair is gray.  Because I’m not that old.”

“Gray hair looks handsome on you,” she says nonchalantly.  “And besides, I bet you’re just the sort of person that started graying early.”  When Nanu doesn’t respond, her lips curl into a smile.  “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Do you want to eat by the water?”  Nanu deflects.  It doesn’t work, though; Siane’s smile only grows.  She knows she’s right.

“Sure,” she agrees.

 ***

 Sushi by the waters of the Malie Gardens is an altogether peaceful affair.  Nanu can see why that little tea shop submitted a zoning request to set up shop right in the middle of the Gardens; tea would be perfect right about now.

“How’s your food?”  Nanu asks, turning to Siane.  The sun is brilliant on her hair, which flutters just the slightest bit in the breeze.

“It’s…insanely good.  This is absolutely the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”  She’s been taking really tiny bites of her food, as if to make it last as long as possible.  She’s probably eaten only half as much as Nanu has at this point.  “I - I didn’t even really know food could be this good.  I’ve had good food before!  But…”  She bites her lip and looks out at the water, and to Nanu’s surprise, little tears spring into her eyes.

If he thought she’d pulled on his heartstrings earlier, he has no words to describe how gut-wrenching it is to see this young woman start to cry.

“Hey, hey,” he says, quickly scooting closer to her.  “Hey.  Don’t cry, Siane.  Don’t cry.”  He reaches out to her just as she turns to fold into him, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to do.  And if he’s honest with himself, holding her to his shoulder does feel natural, somehow.  As if they had been made to support each other, to comfort each other.

But such a thought was preposterous.  Wasn’t it?

She doesn’t break down into outright tears, but the arm wrapped around her shoulders still feels the way she takes a few deep, shuddering breaths.

“I’m sorry,” she says.  “Everything here is just…so different than back home.  It’s not bad,” she adds quickly, mumbling against his shoulder a little.  “It’s actually really great here.  And somehow, that hurts worse than if it had been just as bad here as back home.  I don’t know if that makes sense,” Siane trails off.

“It does,” Nanu says, grimacing.  “Believe me.  It does, Siane.”  He doesn’t know what to say about the fact that, for all he cares, she doesn’t have to go back.  She could stay with him for the rest of the year, if that’s what she wanted.  Maybe longer.  But she talks about Aedis like she needs to get strong to go back there, so he tries a different tack entirely.  “You’ve been through a lot recently.  Things must be hard for you.  I hope you know…I’m here for you, however I can be.”

Siane pulls away at this, but doesn’t go far.  Her face stays close to his, and she manages a small smile for him.  Then, to his surprise, she cups his cheek in one hand.

“I do know, Nanu.  You’ve been nothing but incredibly kind to me,” she says, her voice low and a little shaky but somehow, so intimate.  Nanu feels his jaw drop open, and he wonders for a moment if she’s going to kiss him.

“I - I’d hardly describe myself as incredibly kind,” Nanu stutters.  He can’t even remember the last time he’d stuttered.

“Well, I would,” Siane says, and presses a small kiss to his cheek before pulling away.  “So thank you.”

Nanu swallows hard, his hand drifting up to touch at the imprint her kiss had left on his skin.

“Yeah.  You’re welcome,” he mumbles, and goes back to eating his sushi, too.

He has a lot to think about.

[looselucy]

Guilt

July 15th “I don’t really remember the first time I started work on the Blood Sun.” Styles tells us, sitting in his quiet New York gallery whilst sipping slowly on a glass of wine, a deep red. “I don’t know if I’ve blocked it out. I know it started with the idea of thunder and lightning, but it veered from that pretty quickly. I had an idea what I wanted from the painting emotionally. I don’t know if I got that with the end product, but I knew I couldn’t get that from thunder. It had to be a sun.”

I was sat in PJ’s in silence, scrolling through a relatively recent article about Harry on my phone as I waited for my breakfast. I had always tried to avoid going online to read about him, because I knew whatever I saw was likely to be monitored and watered down, not even by those reporting on him, but by Harry himself. He was never going to share intimate truths so publicly, so there was nothing real for me to learn, but it had been so much harder to avoid since he’d sent me the painting. I wanted to know what he’d said about it, if he’d mentioned anything about selling it or not. I needed to know everything I could. Styles must be bored of answering questions about his most celebrated work at this point, but it is by far his most intriguing. Not only is the painting spectacular, with stunning mixes of oranges, yellows, and the artists own blood, but it’s a piece he seems to be refusing to sell – no matter how high the offer. “I don’t make art for it to be sold. I make art to express. If selling was the reason I painted, I would have given this up a long time ago. I never saw that as a reason to paint, it was always to do with the feeling, the emotion. I guess the therapeutic side of it, too. I’m not going to sell a piece for the sake of it.” I should have known he would have started painting again when he’d left, but that seemed like confirmation, what with him saying he would have given it up. I didn’t know how to feel about it. Of course I wanted him to continue with his passion, work in a way that showed his talents, made his life beyond comfortable, but it was what came with his painting that made me uneasy. I hadn’t seen anything expressing that he no longer used blood, and I thought that would have be a focal point had it been the case. I cursed his agent, leaping viciously to the conclusion that it was him who kept Harry in the frame of mind, convinced him that he had to paint with blood or people would lose interest. I was sure of it. I took a deep breath in and continued. “That painting means more to me than any number, I don’t think I’ll ever sell it, per se. I’m not even accepting offers anymore.” I question if his new work that he will soon reveal is a way of distracting people from the painting, moving on. “Partially.” He admits. “But it’s also a new time for me. It’s new work, paintings I’m really excited to share. I’m looking forward to seeing how I end up feeling about all this new stuff. What I want to sell, what I don’t. We’ll see.” What Harry has managed to achieve with his art is remarkable. It’s not merely the power of his paintings, something that is preposterously palpable if you’re lucky enough to be in the same room as one. And it’s not limited to the success he’s had, the respect he’s received from his peers ever since he was granted a scholarship when he was still a teenager. It’s the emotions that his work inspires. He is quiet, but with purpose. He doesn’t talk about the inspiration behind each of his pieces, what makes him paint – instead, he throws you in head first to figure it out alone. You are never told what to see or how to feel, every brush of paint open to interpretation. Styles never ties you to the idea of what his work should be, instead his art is open, free of chains, exposing you to the truth of your own emotions rather than lumbering you with the truth of his. There is something magic in his secrecy that allows you to feel personally connected to his work, your feelings valid. In his less is more approach, you are left feeling as much a part of his art as he is. He connects with his consumer by saying so little, a truly impressive feat. Harry Styles is not ours to know, but his masterpieces are, and that’s exactly why our relationship with this extraordinary artist works. Reaching the end of the article, I locked my phone, leaning back in my chair and taking a deep breath inward, the words resting heavily on my chest. It wasn’t even necessarily what they’d been saying in the write-up, not really, it was more the strange sensation of reading about him that way at all. The Blood Sun was still sitting where I had found it. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do with it, I didn’t even have the space in my flat, not that I thought it would even get through the door. It was almost as though I didn’t dare move it, fear of damaging it, fear of admitting it was mine to damage. It had been almost a fortnight since I’d received it, touched it for the first time, breathed it in, but it hadn’t moved and inch and I was still perfectly clueless. I’d cried that night when I’d got home. Once we were back on the shop floor, I’d managed to get through most of the day at work without talking about it, without really even thinking about it, but the second I closed my front door, I burst into tears. I stood at the bottom of the stairs and just allowed myself to completely shatter, freeing whatever emotion had felt so imprisoned. I hadn’t really stopped thinking about him since, slowly driving myself insane with wild thoughts of the boy I’d once known, the boy who’d left my life and then re-entered it in the most spectacular and elaborate way. I didn’t want to think about him because it didn’t help. Even with him sending me that painting, it didn’t give me any leads, any answers; I still felt entirely powerless. But what was playing on my mind relentlessly was the knowledge that he had been thinking of me. Since he had departed from my life, I’d managed to convince myself that he no longer thought of me at all, that I would never cross his mind. I had been sure he was simply getting on with his life and I had become a hazy memory of his, another girl he had once been with for a few months of his life, another mistake. It was one of the things that had helped me to get over him, to know I wasn’t even beneath his skin enough for him to have dig me out. I told myself that I’d barely scratched the surface. Him sending me that painting made me feel differently. To know he had sat and thought of me, gone out of his way to make sure I became the owner of his most personal work. He wouldn’t have done something so grand on a whim, meaning without doubt that I had been playing on his mind. I wondered how he felt when he thought of me. I wondered what emotions I might stir. I hoped they were positive, and judging by the nature of his gesture they may well have been, but then again maybe his feelings towards me were as complex as mine towards him. Some days I’d think of him and feel happy, grateful we had what we did, that I experienced love in its truest form, even though it wasn’t reciprocated. I had loved him, and I was fortunate to have been able to feel that way about someone who so rarely let people into his life. Yet other days, the thought of us produced anger. Others, upset. Others, longing. It seemed impossible to look back on something so formidable with limited and lax emotions. I knew I wouldn’t find the answers to any of my questions in any article, but it was the only option I had. “Here we are.” Paula approached cheerily, placing my Eggs Benedict down in front of me. “Do you want me to top your coffee up?” “Please.” I sighed as she started pouring the dark liquid from the old-fashioned compressor into my mug. “You look knackered.” She sounded concerned. “Everything okay?” “Couldn’t really sleep.” I looked up to her. “Think I’ve only had a couple of hours.” “Any reason?” “Um… Dunno. I don’t think so. My minds just been working overtime recently. I can’t seem to shut off.” I hadn’t been sleeping well for what I felt was a variety of reasons. No matter how much I tried, how tired I was, it was like I’d get into bed and my head would just start spinning, conjuring up all these questions and ideas and worries that simply didn’t allow me to drift off. And the longer that lasted the worse it got, gradually becoming alarmingly aware that I should have been fast asleep. I’d start counting how many minutes and hours it would be until I had to get up and face another day on so little sleep, tossing and turning and losing my mind. That morning, I must have only drifted off at around 4AM, and yet still I awoke just before 7AM, and I couldn’t get back to sleep. That was why I’d headed to PJ’s, getting in a good meal and an abundance of coffee before I opened the shop for the day. “How longs that been going on?” “Couple’a weeks.” I tried to shrug it off. “It’s nothing, really. M’fine.” “Alright.” She griped, unsure. “I’ll always have free coffee here for you, if you need it.” “Thanks, Paula.” She squeezed my shoulder encouragingly before getting back to work, leaving me to tuck into my meal and pray that the coffee would be enough to see me through the day, because the amount of sleep I’d had certainly wasn’t enough on its own. I was only a few mouthfuls into my first meal of the day when the front door to PJ’s opened, my eyes instinctively lifting upwards to see who’d walked in. It was Chloe and Sam. Though things were okay between the three of us, it still felt awkward then. It was early, there was only one other person there, an old bloke who was sat in the corner keeping himself to himself. It was like it was just the three of us, which made for a rather uncomfortable atmosphere. There was no anger there, no hatred, but that didn’t mean we were at ease. “Hey.” I smiled to them both after swallowing my food, grateful I hadn’t started choking on it the second they’d walked through the door. “Hiya.” Sam greeted, straightening his back out. “Hi.” Chloe barely whispered. I felt bad for her, in some ways. She had never quite figured out how to be around me, weighed down by her guilt even though she shouldn’t have been, and I’d expressed that to her more than once. They shuffled past me, going over to the counter to order some food, whispering between themselves. It was so stupidly awkward, so much worse than it should have been. They’d been together for well over a year at that point, it shouldn’t have been that bad! I sat thinking to myself, knowing it was likely that the reason it was so bad was because we’d let it be. We hadn’t put the effort in to make sure we were all okay with each other, we hadn’t put the effort in and gone out of our way to avoid the awkwardness of our affiliations. We had to get past it. I took another bite, regretting my decision before I’d even voiced my thoughts but I knew what I wanted to do, and as long as I’d put the effort in, that was the best I could do. Once I’d heard that they’d finished ordering, I turned around, closing my eyes and blurting it out. “Do you wanna sit with me?” I opened my eyes to find them both looking at me like I’d gone mad. They were probably right. “Are you… I… Wh-what?” Sam blundered. “Do you wanna… sit… with me?” I said again. “We could just… y’know… talk, or whatever.” “Are you serious?” Chloe dazzled, dumbstruck and emotional. “Have we… done something wrong?” Sam asked me. “No! Nothing, I just… I can’t stand this.” I exhaled. “I hate being this awkward with you both, we need to push past it. So would you just… fucking sit down so we can get over ourselves and just be normal? We’re too old for this bullshit.” Sam just looked amused, sniggering to himself as he sat down on one of the chairs across from me, Chloe following close behind. She was different. She looked as though she could burst into tears at any moment. She sat down, biting her lip to hold back tears as Sam dove straight in with questions, asking about me, about my dad, updating me on how his mum was. I kept catching her from the corner of my eye and she wasn’t settling. She couldn’t ease at all. It was clear she still struggled, with all of it. It was hard for her to sit there with a friend she’d lost, knowing it had happened because of choices she had made. I knew that was why she got upset when she was around me. There’s nothing quite like love, the power it holds over you. I had to be conscious of the reasons why she chose Sam, even when that meant losing her friends. When love is that strong, it doesn’t care about anyone else, who it hurts, what it breaks. When love is that strong, it’s a force to be reckoned with, its pawns powerless to its forces. I’d seen throughout my life that most people would do anything to save love, to keep it in their hearts for as long as possible, whatever the cost. It might have seemed odd, the abundance of sacrifices she’d had to make just to be with him, but their love had told her to do that, to fight for him. I hoped he was worth it. I hoped that every loss paled when she looked at him, when that love took over. The only problem was that when she was around us, and me specifically, it didn’t feel that easy. She’d get upset, she’d realise how much she missed us, how much she missed how things had been. She hadn’t just lost me when her and Sam had gotten together, it had slowly picked a lot of her friends out of her life, but it centred around me. It was so difficult to admit that we’d never be the same again. It was gutting to come to terms with the fact that we’d lost something so good. My only comfort was knowing that she’d gained from it in some way or another. That morning with her was a quiet one, conversation mainly being held between Sam and I as she put most of her energy into holding herself together, not breaking, reminding herself of the reasons things had changed so much. But as far as I was concerned, anything was better than how we had been for the past year or so. Anything was an improvement.

“Here she is!” Niall yelled when I stepped into The Tin Mouse that evening, everyone greeting me cheerily; all except Lin, who didn’t really do anything, staring blankly at me as I cautiously approached the table. I was feeling rather anxious, my hands dug into the pockets of my denim jacket, pressing my lips together tightly. I didn’t really want to be there, to be honest. “Hi.” I just about smiled, taking a deep breath inward before I spoke. “Shall I get a round in?” Quite purposefully, I’d been running rather late, meaning they were all at the end of their drinks by the time I got there. They put in their requests quickly, all rather distracted and chirpy, meaning it took longer than it should have. Lin still hadn’t said a word by the time I was heading over to the bar, but I knew he’d grab at his opportunity. I’d only just put in the large order when I noticed him leap up to his feet and storm over to me, his voice leaden and irked when he spoke. “Why’ve you been ignoring me?” “I haven’t.” I protested. “Well, that’s fucking weird, because you haven’t answered any of my calls or my texts. You didn’t come to watch the match on Monday, you haven’t been at the pub.” He was angry, and I was fighting tears. “Don’t treat me like a fucking idiot, Alf, I know what’s going on.” I hadn’t meant to avoid him. I didn’t want to create an atmosphere. I didn’t want him to be angry with me. I didn’t want a lot of things that had come into fruition of late. What I had wanted, was to continue being honest and upfront with him, but receiving that painting and that note from Harry had somehow made everything with Lin feel twice as difficult. Because I knew it had to end. It had been hard enough to admit to him that I wasn’t sure on my feelings and what was happening between us, so it would have been even harder to be blunt and really end things, to tell him that I could finally make sense of the mess in my own mind. I knew it wasn’t right, that’s what my head was telling me, that’s what my gut was telling me. That’s what my heart was telling me. I just didn’t know how I was supposed to tell him. He waited for me to say something, my throat dry and tight as I tried to figure it out. “Please don’t be mad at me.” I whispered. “I don’t want to be mad at you, Alfie, I’m just frustrated!” He whelped. “Because if I knew asking you out would have led to this, I wouldn’t have fucking done it. I don’t think you understand how much I don’t wanna lose you, Alf! I can’t!” I looked right past him, staring over his shoulder and concentrating on the back door that would lead out to the beer garden, because looking in his eyes summoned too many emotions, ones I couldn’t supress. He made being opaque sound so easy, like it wouldn’t involve hurting his feelings and choking up over every single wrong word. I didn’t know how to handle it, what I should or shouldn’t say, and I certainly didn’t want to tell Lin that the main thing that had driven me away from even thinking about him in a romantic way was the delivery of a fucking painting. “Don’t avoid me, please!” He went on. “Just be honest. I can take it.” “It’s not as easy as that.” “It is! I’m telling you, it is! Because by not saying it, you’re saying it anyway. So, you might as well bite the bullet.” He sighed, wound his jaw. “Put me out of my misery. Please.” He just wanted it to be over, maybe even more than I did, but for different reasons. We were both in agony for different reasons and it needed to end. “I don’t wanna do this here.” I started to cry. I felt like all I did was fucking cry. “Fuck, don’t get upset. Oh shit. I don’t want you to feel guilty or sad, please don’t cry. If it’s not right, then it’s not.” He reached to grab my hand, pulling it away from my face as I tried to hide my tears. “You’ve just gotta be honest with me about it. I knew I was running a risk when I asked you, I just wanna be kept in the loop!” “Lin, it’s not that easy!” I wept. “I care about you so much and I didn’t wanna hurt your feelings. And I’ve had such a shit couple of weeks. I’ve been so sad and-” “That’s… the opposite of how I want you to feel!” He wailed. “C’mere. Wipe those bloody tears away, eh? I don’t wanna see you sad. Don’t be sad, not for my sake.” He held my cheeks steadily in his hands, wiping his thumbs beneath my eyes to dry my tears on my behalf, shaking his head like I was being silly, which made me laugh. He was good at that. It was obvious he was irritated with how I’d handled things since our date, but he was still trying to keep things sweet between us in any way he could, whilst also getting his point across. I sucked it up as much as I could as he wiped away a few more tears, talking calmly as he did. “Are you crying because of me? Did I go in too hard?” “No.” I shook my head. “I just feel bad. I didn’t want it to go like this.” “No… I can’t say I did either.” He chuckled uneasily. “It just… It doesn’t feel right. I wish it did, but it doesn’t.” He dropped his hands whilst my tears terminated progressively. “I don’t want-” “LIN, WHY’RE YOU MAKING ALFIE CRY?” Niall yelled from across the room. “NIALL, SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Lin yelled back, proceeding to mentally block him out. “For fuck sake. Someone needs to tell that lad that it’s not always appropriate to drop a joke.” Despite the fact that I agreed, we were both still sort of laughing, shaking our heads and rolling our eyes. “I think we should probably do this another time.” I whispered, wiping away the last of my tears. “Sorry for getting mad.” “Sorry for avoiding you. I’d be mad too. And sorry for crying. You should be able to be pissed off without me crying and making you feel bad.” Abruptly, he moved in and wrapped his arms around me, releasing a swell of air that had be stuck in his chest. We could hear Niall whinging whimsically about how they were all waiting on their drinks, which were now sitting on top of the bar waiting to be paid for and waiting to be carried over to their consumers, but we had things to say. After quite some time, Lin pulled out of the hug but remained close, pressing his forehead against mine and speaking quietly, still trying to block out our surroundings, his hand latched against the back of my neck. I breathed him in, eased. “We’ll be okay, I promise. I don’t really know where we go from here, but-” “Harry?” I heard Louis yell through the bar, and I knew. Before I’d even turned around, I knew. I could tell from the sound of his voice, the perfect blend of surprise and terror. I knew and yet it didn’t seem real. Not until I watched Lin lift his head to gaze over the top of mine, eyes and mouth wide. “Holy shit, Harry’s here.” I whipped my whole body around a second later so I was facing the right way, so I could see for myself. That was the moment I locked eyes with Harry for the first time in over a year. He was completely motionless, so still and beautiful and perfect I could hardly comprehend that he was real, an image frozen in time and likely captured in my mind forever. He was stood in the doorway staring forward, right at me, as though he wasn’t conscious of anything else. It was just me and him and the static canvas we had become. His emotions were difficult to decipher, looking as shocked as I must have even though it was him who’d turned up out of nowhere. He hadn’t stepped foot in that pub since the previous May, but he was gazing right at me as though I had entered his space, like it was my presence that was the cause for alarm. He looked hurt, in ways. Those seconds felt like a lifetime, only able to snap out of my daze when Niall crashed his body against Harry’s, threw his arm around his neck. “What the hell are you doing here?” Libby howled excitedly as she approached him. “Are you moving back?” Niall asked whilst hugging the life out of him. “Please tell me you’re moving back.” It was then that Harry managed to pull his eyes away, and so did I, darting my vision to the left to look at Louis, who was already staring at me with wide eyes. “What the fuck?” He mouthed mutely. I found that my eyes drew back to Harry within seconds, like a magnet. His were back on me. He looked amazing. He always did. Even when he was exhausted and drained, his body had a certain shine to it that I’d never seen the likes of before and would never see again. Maybe I saw him in some divine light, but staring at him then I felt sure that simply, he was magnificent; radiant, powerful, immersed in splendour. “Uh…” Harry eventually began to grumble as Niall detached himself, looking away from me but not looking at anyone else, his gaze shooting down to the floor. “I dunno why I’m here. Sorry, I… I should go.” “What? You just got here?” Niall keened. Lin tried to edge past me to get closer to Harry, attempt to convince him to stick around like the rest of them were doing, all confused and stunned by his presence but desperate for him to stay. As he moved, Lin placed his hand on my waist gently, tenderly trying to edge me closer to the group to help with encouraging Harry to stay, but that minor action seemed to have the opposite effect. Harry witnessed the trivial exchange and withdrew completely. “No, m’sorry, I can’t do this.” He walked backwards, pushing his weight against the front door to open it without looking. “I dunno why I came, I’m sorry.” “The fuck, Harry?” Niall, Libby and Louis were all so dumbfounded they could barely move, just watching him back himself out of there. “What is going on?” It was rather clear he was overwhelmed, and I didn’t necessarily think it was the sole reason, but I knew that he was piqued by what he’d seen between Lin and I. He’d always had his paranoias, and though they still felt rather misplaced, he hadn’t been entirely delusional. The last time we had been together, we had kissed and held one another so intensely, the situation overflowing with passion and heartbreak. That was the last physical contact we’d had. Following that, he’d sent me a painting that was closer to his heart than most of the people in his life could ever hope to be. No matter how we’d ended or the complications we’d faced, I predicted that he saw me in a similar way to how I saw him – that in some way, we would always belong to one another. I would never be okay seeing him with someone else, and he didn’t want to see me with another man. Our history was too strong. For him to see me for the first time over a year later, another boys hand in my hair and lips close to mine. I knew I wouldn’t have wanted to see him and another woman like that, whether it meant something or not. I knew that was one of the reasons he desired a swift exit. “I shouldn’t have come. I don’t wanna interrupt, m’just gunna go. I promise I’ll see you soon, I promise, I just… Fuck.” With that final curse word he was outside, the door closing behind him. There were only a few seconds of shocked silence before Louis turned and bellowed to me. “Alfie, for fuck sake, go after him!” With no plan, no thought process and nothing to guide me, I ran out the door to catch him. I could barely make sense of a single thing, all I knew was that I couldn’t let him walk away without putting up a fight. I was terrified that if I let him walk away, that would be the last of it. Harry was sometimes hard to read, difficult to predict, and despite recent actions, I knew the chances of him disappearing from my life completely, never to seen or heard from again, were large. I knew there was a chance that this could be the very last time I saw him, and that was more likely if I didn’t go after him. I had too many questions that needed answering; why he was there, why he’d sent me the painting, how he had been for the past year. I wanted answers, and then if he wanted to leave he could. I could only hope that he desired the same closure I did. “Harry!” I yelled as soon as I could. He had his head down, walking central down the countrylane, heading towards town, towards the house where he used to live, towards a history he didn’t want to face.  He tried to ignore me, not wanting to acknowledge my presence. I was so fucking confused. “HARRY!” I yelled again once I was out on the road, and he had to stop then, coming to a complete standstill but not turning to look at me. “What the fuck are you doing?” He didn’t answer. “Why’re you here?” “I… I don’t know.” He slowly turned around, but kept his line if vision right on the ground ahead of his feet. “It was stupid, m’sorry, I’m just gunna leave. I thought I was ready for this and I… I’m really not, so-” “Ready for what?” “Being back here. Seeing… I-I can’t. I have to leave.” He set off again, running his hand through his hair, clearly wanting nothing more than to get away from me. Though I could feel my frustration bubbling, I kept it locked down, remaining still and watching him walk away. “Why did you send me that painting?” I asked tersely, breathless, and that brought him to a standstill once again. I was surprised by how calm I sounded. Even when he turned back around and lifted his head to look at me, I remained still, serene, patiently awaiting his answer. He blinked, strangely acting as though he hadn’t been expecting me to question him on that, like he thought we’d both look past it, like it was regular, expected. “Because… it’s yours.” He eventually managed an answer, speaking as though it was obvious. “No one else deserves it.” “Har-” “I need to go, Alfie. I’m sorry.” He started walking backwards once again, not wanting to delay his departure. “I’m sorry for showing up, I-” “Wait… Fuck, I’m so… Don’t you think we need to talk?” “No. I can’t. Just… Forget about it, okay?” He shuddered. “I’ve got so many fucking questions, Harry! How do you expect me to just forget this?” “Will you tell them I’m sorry?” He said, and when I remained silent, stunned, he turned around and picked up his pace. I wished he’d called me Fee-Fee. I didn’t fully understand why that was my first thought, but all I knew was that I craved to hear him call me by that nickname he had so fondly adopted. I longed for that familiarity, that sense that we knew one another, that we had a history, because as he was walking away from me then, he truly felt like a stranger. The only thing that felt the same was the way he was running away from a situation that was more complicated than he’d bargained for. Exasperated, I picked up the pace and followed his footsteps, diminishing the space between us and then jumping so I was directly in front of him, forcing him to stop. We were mere inches apart. “Alfie-” “I don’t give a fuck if you don’t want to talk to me, Harry, that’s fine!” I fumed, retrieving my phone from my pocket and searching through it, unable to look him in the eye now we were so close. “I stopped expecting things from you when you fucking left, I’m past it. But you need to speak to your mum. Here.” I held my phone out ahead of him, keeping my eyes on his chest but putting the screen right before his eyes, the contact information for his mother brightening his face. “Wh-what?” “It’s your mum’s number. Take it. Call her.” “But-” “If you don’t, I fucking will. Please step up and do it, Harry. She’s desperate to hear from you.” “How… How do you-” “I spoke to her about you, and I don’t even care if you’re angry with me. I really don’t fucking care anymore, because this is your way to reach her and that’s all that mattered to me. And now you know that she does want you to reach out for her, she tried to reach you, so you’ve got no excuse. Take it, call her. Please.” He was shell-shocked for a little while, taking his time before he reached into his pocket to retrieve his poor excuse for a phone, some old looking thing that didn’t look like it would still function, typing the number he could see and then hopefully saving it to his phone, but I didn’t check to confirm that. I just had to hope he was listening to me, and that I’d said enough for him to finally get in touch with Julia again. “You done?” I asked bluntly. “Uh… Yeah.” “Okay, I’ve done my part, so leave. I don’t care.” I huffed, moving past him, my shoulder colliding with his rather lethally. I had spent the past few months of my life trying to pick him away from my memories, some sort of survival technique I had attempted to adapt, tearing even the tiniest detail from my thoughts. Even down to the simplest thing, like the exact colour of his eyes, the precise shade of green. I had almost forgotten that colour, and the second I was close enough to reacquaint myself, I daren’t look, daren’t remind myself. Or maybe I daren’t acknowledge that I’d never really forgotten. I never could. One last thing held me back before I left him there alone, went back to trying to forget. I rotated to face him again, seeing he hadn’t moved. “And I’d fire your agent, if I was you.” I said. “What?” He turned slightly, enough so he could see me. “Your mum got in touch with him and he never told you. Fire him, he doesn’t give a fuck about you.” His hurt and his horror were clear within his face even though he didn’t say a single thing. I didn’t give him much of an opportunity to reply, really. I had done what I wanted to do, placed the responsibility and the knowledge within his hands, and then it was his to handle, his to deal with however he felt was best. I had hopes, but I certainly didn’t expect anything from him. Not after everything. As I walked away from him, I could feel tears building, like my heart was breaking all over again, like I was losing him all over again even though I’d never gotten him back. Truthfully, he had never been mine to lose.

[luciferpens]

( CAMILA MENDES , FEMALE, SHE/HER ) ⌇ have you seen RAYE TORRES around icaria? they are the 30 year old child of HADES. they remind me of THE THEATER MOMENTS BEFORE THE CURTAIN OPENS, COLD NIGHTS WITH A DRINK ON THE ROOF, and A SILKY SMOOTH VOICE. They’ve been on the island for 7 years.

BASICS

FULL NAME: Raye Torres

NICKNAMES: Ra, Tor

FACE CLAIM: Camila Mendes

AGE: Thirty

SEXUALITY: pansexual & panromantic

DATE OF BIRTH: July 21

GENDER/PRONOUNS: cis female she/her

EDUCATION: Masters in communications. 

OCCUPATION: Voice actress. Theater director of Deadpan Theater.

GODLY PARENT: Hades

GODLY POWERS: Pyrokinesis is & phobokinesis are her strong suits. She can create any sort of flame she wishes, along with control or elicit fear in those around her.  She can’t fully see ghosts (its more like a shadow) but she knows when they are around her and is working on her ability to truly speak to them. 

BIO + BULLET POINTS

Martina Torres was a drug addict and a horrible mother. She abandoned her infant child to the system and avoided any contact Raye has ever tried to make with her

She was adopted by Richard and Gale who feared their daughter. Richard started to abuse Raye as her powers started to show.

He threatened to kill her at a young age

Raye ran away from home and lived on the streets.

She got addicted to drugs

Delilah found out and her family took her in, got her clean and loved her.

She started to show an interest in acting and was scouted at 17.

Raye started to do voice acting and after 5 years she had become well known among actors. She was allowed to move wherever as long as she had a home studio.

Hades moved her to Icaria -- and set her up with Lyric. 

Lyric and Raye dated for 3 years.  But things fell apart and they both realized they were better as friends. 

Raye then met Wesley and they fell deeply in love, marriage was on the horizon until Raye met Ava who told her there was a chance of her love dying. Raye panicked and made up a lie to protect Wesley. 

She vanished to LA and only returned because Hades forced her.

TW: Miscarriage -- Raye was pregnant but had no idea until she was mugged one night and ended up in the hospital and found she miscarried. Its been a year and shes not told anyone.

Maria Torress was not what you’d call a good mother. In fact, she was a piece of shit woman who Raye denounces at literally any turn she gets. Maria was an alcoholic and a druggie from the age of 20 till -- well as far as Raye knows, now. Maria has tried over and over again to get clean but within a couple of days falls back into drug use. It was during one of these times that Maria was out at a Halloween costume party when she met Hades. The two hit it off and had a night of fun together. 

He was gone the next day. Maria ended up on drugs one again. Three months passed and it was clear that the little bit of weird sickness she was feeling wasn't from the drugs and instead from pregnancy. She didn’t care much though, but she did stop the harder drugs and instead just drank herself silly. When 9 months passed and Raye was born Maria returned to her druggie ways and left Raye to the system. She was an infant addicted to drugs and alcohol and she spent three months under the care of the hospital before she was deemed safe and given to the system. 

She was placed in a foster home, Richard and Gale, and things seemed well for the infant until she was about 4 years old. Like any other toddler she had fits and crying fests, but at 4... her fits started little fires. The family was shocked and terrified. Richard said she was a devil child, Gale agreed but said they needed to try and “save” her. At 5 Richard snapped when she set a towel on fire and he smacked her; Gale never knew. Any time she set something on fire and Gale wasn’t around she was smacked.  A year passed and at 6 she had started school, started to learn that being hit by your parents wasn’t normal, that what she could do wasn’t normal. She had another temper tantrum and this time her father threatened to kill her if she didn’t stop with the fires. This installed true fear in the child, a feeling she had never truly felt.  This fear triggered another power lingering in the child and when she wanted or needed to, she could toss her fear or create fear in others. This ability was wild and uncontrollable like her pyrokinesis. But this fear, these powers reacted whenever Richard was home, putting them into a deadly spiral. Her fear and fire jumped to them, their fear and anger made her fear stronger and on and on and on. 

When she was 13 Richard found out that she had gotten a bad grade on a test he smacked her so hard she fell into the table and busted it and part of her face. She set the table remnants on fire, along with the carpet in her anger and fear. Raye ran into her bedroom, grabbed her go-bag, a bag she had put together when she was 10 and just switched out items over the years, and ran. 

She lived on the streets for a year and a half, sleeping in parks, showering at the school gym every day, and finding random odd jobs to do around the city to afford any food she might need other than her school lunch. In the midst of all this, she made some bad friends, ended up on drugs, luckily for her they weren’t the worst of the worst. When trouble came for her she defended herself with her fire, and when she burned someone and gave them 3rd degree burns she panicked. That night Hades came to her in a dream, he told her he was her father and that her powers weren't a curse given by the devil but instead a gift given by him. She was good at keeping her appearance normal, at not letting anyone know of her situation. Well, that was until she met Delilah, Delilah saw through her lies and saw that she was suffering, she brought the girl home and there --Delilah’s grandparents took her in helped her get clean. 

Raye lived quite happily with Delilah and soon the two found out that they were related in another way -- they shared a father in Hades. The two became thick as thieves, and when Delilah’s grandparents realized the connection the girls shared -- they more or less adopted her on the spot. Raye adores the Sun family and they are the only people besides Hades himself she calls true family. 

The Sun family pushed Raye into acting when they realized her love for the art. She started acting in school plays during the year and in the summer was doing community theater. She was 17 when a scout arrived at their small local NYC theater, he recognized her talent and within six months he was her agent. She started doing voice acting and small bit roles in tv shows filmed around the city. Raye spent the next 5 and half years making a name for herself within the community and traveling the world for conventions. Her love for travel was well known among her employers and as she neared 23 she was told she could move wherever she wanted. So long as she had a fully built and to code sound recording booth. Figuring that was easy enough she decided to try a more -- tropical area and Hades suggested Icaria considering it was a demi-god safe zone. 

After a couple of months, Hades set her up with Lyric, another demi-god child in hopes the two would fall in love and maybe marry one day. There was a deeper plan in place and Ava knew that. She knew there was a reason her father wanted her and Lyric to be together, what that reason was? She had no idea. And for a couple of years, it actually worked out, the two were close, rather in love and happy. But slowly, things fizzled out and the two slipped into a comfortable friendship and realized -- they were truly better as best friends than lovers. They broke up but continued to be best friends, even when Lyric went into the peace corps and Raye moved on. He was one of the first to hear about Wesley, one of the first to know they got engaged -- and one of the first to know about their breakup too. 

And sure -- while they were happy....Hades and Aphrodite weren’t.  

Raye hadn't known what would come from meeting Ava, if she had even had a lick of an idea of what would spiral from it she would have avoided the other woman’s warning. But luck, that was not on her side. Tragedy and fear seemed to always surround her, just another great thing as a present from her father. The two women had bumped into one another at the end of one of her plays and dived into deep conversation. Slowly it turned to relationships and the future when Raye noticed Ava seemed highly nervous, the woman ended up explaining her powers, how she saw strings and how a frayed almost broken string of fate meant one side of the string was close to death. She warned her to be careful and conscious of what was happening around her.

Fear rushed through her -- she was the daughter of the god of death. Death surrounded her normally, from ghosts to fear and depression, that was normal for her. But to know that one side of a string, that either her or Wesley were close to death? Fear overload her brain and she panicked knowing that her father wouldn’t take her but -- Wesley? Wesley, he might take as punishment for disobeying him. She knew she had to get away from Wesley, it was the only way she knew to keep him safe. To keep her father from revenge. 

She rushed to her best friends told them what she had been told and multiple plans formulated. First, she needed to break up with Wesley. Second, she had to move off the island and far away to keep her father’s attention on her, not Wesley.  She would move to L.A. would continue her job -- it was easy enough to convince her employers that being in L.A. for a bit would be better than being in Greece for a while. Hell, she did have a premiere coming up -- no one would question it... 

But the part she knew would be hard would be that break up. There was no way to leave Icaria without Wesley chasing her; that was to be expected -- he was her fiance. There was nothing she could say to convince Wesley to let her leave without him coming with her.... at least.... nothing that would be harmless. So the plan went into motion, they had to pretend she cheated, that she slept with another person... It ripped her soul apart but it was for his safety.. so Leo agreed and the plan was in motion. She told Wesley she had to go to L.A. for a couple weeks for work -- nothing out of the ordinary... then at the airport she broke the “news” told him what she had “done” and they were over. She got on a plane, moved to L.A. 

TW: Miscarriage, Violence & Depression

 It was a short train ride from her house to get to the studio and every day she took the same path to and from the train at about the same time... Her routine grabbed the wrong person’s attention. While walking home one afternoon two men jumped her stealing her purse, jewelry but somehow missing her engagement ring that hung around her neck and under her shirt. She screamed and screamed until she passed out and they ran off. He screams had gotten the attention of a neighbor who found her beaten and bloody, passed out on the street. She rushed her to the hospital. She awoke in a hospital bed under heavy sedation, an IV in her arm, three ribs were broken, she had a concussion and she was covered in bruises. A nurse rushed in when her heartrate spiked and they realized she was awake.

The Nurse checked everything and then got the doctor and the two of them broke the news that she had lost her baby. Now, this was news to her -- she hadn’t even known she was pregnant and to find out she had been... only to learn instantly that she had also lost it... Raye was not in a good place mentally.  The nurse, Ally, sat with her for the next couple hours, despite being off the clock, as she worked through the first wave of emotions. They signed her up for a miscarriage support group and got her signed up for counseling. she stayed in the hospital for another four days before they released her into the care of a coworker who had become one of her closest friends while in L.A. And for the next couple of months, she went to see her therapist twice a week and she started taking anti-depressants to quell the dark thoughts that were lingering in her mind. 

End TW

Despite all of this, L.A. was still a great place to be, at least for her career. It took off in a whole other path. She worked on more and larger name shows, throwing her voice into tons of cartoons and online shows, she appeared on tv itself in multiple shows when she had the time and was generally... making a small name for herself within the voice acting community. Raye had pretty much decided that she would stay single forever now, not ready or willing to move on from Wesley. She wore the ring around her neck on a necklace and never took it off. Sure she got questions from fans and the occasional interview but she never spoke on it, never mentioned him, not wanting the fans and reporters to try to hunt him down. 

She was content with what her life had become, settled in it, and ready to deal with what became of it when Hades appeared to her one night and forced her to move back to Icaria. So she did. She uprooted herself, her studio and her work and moved back to Icaria only a little over a year after she left in the first place. 

HEADCANONS/WANTED CONNECTIONS

Anyone from his childhood. Especially anyone would might have thought something was weird about him

An ex-boyfriend or girlfriend who knows of what his family does.

Someone he’s helped over the years!

Friends of the family who know what he does.

[tigerkirby215]

5e Josuke Higashikata build (JoJo’s Bizzare Adventure Part 4: Diamond is Unbreakable)

(Artwork by David Productions. Image from the JoJo Fandom Wiki)

OI JOSUKE! Koichi showed me this cool board game called Dungeons and Dragons! I’m a Half Orc Barbarian; ain’t that wacky? But Koichi said that I can’t use 『ＺＡ ＨＡＮＤＯ』 to erase the enemies he puts down!

In my constant determination to beat Tulok at uploading JoJo builds here’s Josuke! Well, Part 4 Josuke. Diamond is Unbreakable is my favorite of the JoJo parts as I loved the small town setting. All the characters were lovable and memorable and the part had by far one of the best and most charismatic villains in any anime. But even though a David Bowie build would be fun (maybe someday!) I’m here to make a build for the JoJo of the part: Josuke Higashikata - Joestar by blood but not by name. (As Joseph is forever loyal to Susie and hates the Japanese; clearly.)  Giorno had a more clear-cut ability to create life which translated into summons but Josuke just heals... with his fists. Man that would be hard...

What? Way of Mercy? Life Domain? I have no idea what you’re talking about.

GOALS

I feel utterly refreshed! - Josuke is the main character but is also the party medic. Good on Araki for recognizing the usefulness of the healer!

I'm gonna “fix” that spaghetti - Crazy Diamond can fix anything, not just wounds. Punching up temporary walls is a favorite tactic of Josuke... and yes: punching spaghetti too.

I won't be "bullying the weak" then, now will I? - When push comes to shove we’ll need to be able to DORARARARARARA our foes. Just be sure to heal them first so it’s a fair fight.

RACE

Josuke only has Joestar blood, not vampire blood, so that makes him human. High ho it’s Variant Human time! Variant Humans get an increase to two ability scores of their choice: increase your Dexterity and your Wisdom by 1. You also get a skill of your choice: take the Perception skill to notice when a few letters are missing from a sign. You also get a language so again pick whatever you want: Josuke probably knows English well enough to speak to his dad.

Of course the main trait of Variant Humans is that you can take your choice of a feat and how about a Crazy Noisy Bizarre Talent? The Wild Talent feat from the Psionics Unearthed Arcana will give us a boost to our skills that don’t necessarily have to be psionic. You get a Psionic Talent die that can be used for two different uses: Psi-Boosted Ability will let you roll the Psionic Talent die on an ability check to boost its ability, and Psi-Guided Strike will let you roll it on an attack roll instead. The Psi-Talent die has a bunch of unique features that I won’t go over here (you can read the UA yourself) but in short:

It grows in power as you level up.

If you roll a 1 the die size increases, if you roll the highest number it decreases.

You can reset the die to its original size with a bonus action.

The feat also increases one ability score of your choice so increase your Wisdom further.

If your DM doesn’t allow the Psionics UA take the Observant Feat instead.

ABILITY SCORES

15; DEXTERITY - Josuke is quick on his feet and quicker with his punches. Typical Joestar stand rush.

14; WISDOM - Josuke is quite the emphatic person. Only natural when you love your town so much you develop a spirit that heals people.

13; CHARISMA - Have you seen that hair? It’s GREAT!

12; CONSTITUTION - Damage is interesting in JoJo, but you need enough durability to get hit with a couple of explosions and survive.

10; INTELLIGENCE - Josuke’s a student but not necessarily a good one. Hard to study when you’re trying to find a serial killer.

8; STRENGTH - As the joke goes JoJos get less buff as they go later in parts, and we don’t need Strength much.

BACKGROUND

Unfortunately there isn’t a background that can give us both Intimidation for those who insult our hair and Investigation for... investigation, so make your own background. Call it the “punk detective”, since it hardly fits the “punk with a heart of gold” description.

(Artwork by David Productions)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - MONK 1

Starting off with our stand at a young age, Monks get proficiency with two skills from the Monk list: Insight will let you tell if that weird injured blond guy is lying, and Athletics will help you CHASE YOOOOU! ANYWHERE I’LL CHASE YOOOU! You also get proficiency in a musical instrument or artisan’s tool of your choice so pick up the Lute to play the guitar in your theme... unless Barber’s Tools are available to keep that hair in check.

As a Monk you get Unarmored Defense equal to 10 plus your Dexterity and Wisdom modifier, which is good because a schoolboy’s outfit hardly counts as armor. You also get Martial Arts so Crazy Diamond can punch with your Dexterity, up to twice currently since you also get a punch with your bonus action. DORA!

LEVEL 2 - MONK 2

Level 2 Monks get Ki points for some crazy abilities from Crazy Diamond. Flurry of Blows lets you attack twice with your bonus action instead of once for three DORARARAs, Patient Defense lets you dodge the hand with a bonus action, and Step of the Wind lets you dash or disengage as a bonus action while also doubling your jump distance so you can CHASE YOOOU!

Speaking of Chase by batta you also get 10 feet of Unarmored Movement, letting you run 10 feet faster than the guy you’re trying to ＣＨＡＳＥ. By the way the jokes about Chase won’t stop it’s a good OP stop being mean.

LEVEL 3 - MONK 3

At level 3 Monks get their Monastic Tradition and the Way of Mercy is perfect for those with a diamond heart. You get Implements of Mercy which give you proficiency in either Medicine or Insight... but you already have Insight proficiency so just Medicine then! You also gain proficiency with the herbalism kit and the poisoner’s kit, which isn’t too in-flavor but it could be useful.

Of course the main strength of Crazy Diamond is its Hands of Healing. As an action, you can spend 1 ki point to touch a creature and restore a number of hit points equal to a roll of your Martial Arts die + your Wisdom modifier. You can also replace one of the unarmed strikes you make with Flurry of Blows with a use of this feature without spending its ki cost, so instead of going DORARARA you can go DORARA and also heal Jotaro!

But if you end up healing your allies you also have Hands of Harm to punch extra hard. When you hit a creature with an unarmed strike, you can spend 1 ki point to deal extra necrotic damage equal to one roll of your Martial Arts die. Don’t use it to pick on the weak, however, because if the creature is incapacitated or poisoned, the creature takes necrotic damage equal to three rolls of your Martial Arts die instead. You can only make a Hands of Harm punch once per turn, so make that DORA count!

And you also get Deflect Missiles as a monk, letting you use your reaction to reduce the damage of a ranged weapon attack by a d10 plus your Dexterity modifier and your monk level. You can even throw it back if you reduce the damage to zero, so punch away those arrows and CHASE YOU! I told you the references to Chase wouldn’t stop.

LEVEL 4 - MONK 4

Level 4 Monks get an Ability Score Improvement and I’m actually going to suggest increasing Wisdom over Dexterity so we can heal more than we harm. (Don’t worry though we can still do plenty of harm.) On the bright side Crazy Diamond can now help us Slow Fall, reducing any falling damage you take by an amount equal to five times your monk level.

LEVEL 5 - MONK 5

5th level Monks see their Martial Arts die increase to a d6, and get an Extra Attack for up to 3 attacks total and up to 4 with Flurry of Blows, so you can DORARARARA! And you can punch an opponent particularly hard with Stunning Strike, forcing them to make a Constitution save or be stunned as you prepare for a beatdown. (Pro tip: being stunned counts as being incapacitated for Hands of Harm!)

Oh and you know that Feat I told you to take at level 1? Your Psionic Talent Die increases to a d8.

(Artwork from the Diamond is Unbreakable Manga)

LEVEL 6 - CLERIC 1

“Ha ha well this was expected!” I hear you say. “Bet Josuke’s going to be a Life Cleric so he can heal more, right?”

Nope! Forge Domain! Along with proficiency in Heavy Armor (which you can’t wear as a Monk) and Smith’s Tools you get Blessings of the Forge. After a Long Rest you can have Crazy Diamond reforge a weapon or piece of armor to be sharper and sturdier, turning it into a +1 weapon.

As a Cleric you get access to Spellcasting. You get three cantrips from the Cleric list: Mending is an obvious pick (though the repairs aren’t as fast as I’d like) along with Spare the Dying to... spare the dying, and Sacred Flame will let you direct a piece of radiant glass that ignores cover.

A Forge Cleric can Identify spaghetti whenever they want, or cast Searing Smite which you... can’t, because you don’t have a weapon. Well Monks can still use weapons, even if it isn’t in flavor. But of course the majority of our spell slots are going to be used for healing! Cure Wounds for more touch-range heals, and Healing Word for long ranged heals. And while they probably aren’t too useful all the time Detect Poison and Disease along with Purify Food and Drink will let you make sure there’s nothing wrong with that previously mentioned spaghetti. Or the water.

LEVEL 7 - CLERIC 2

Second level Clerics get access to their Channel Divinity: all Clerics can Turn Undead, which perhaps isn’t too in-flavor but hey gotta have a backup if you mess up with healing someone.

Forge Clerics however gain Channel Divinity: Artisan's Blessing. You can spend an hour to turn up to 100 gold worth of materials into something. Technically it has to have some metal in it but that’s a small restriction. You lay out the materials to create the object, and after the hour is done the created object appears at your feet. Unfortunately you can’t use this to deconstruct something, but technically you could turn a sword into a different sword or other similar things.

And you can also prepare another spell: Shield of Faith will let you preemptively prepare a shield for an ally if they get attacked... or yourself!

LEVEL 8 - CLERIC 3

Third level Clerics can prepare second level spells. Forge Clerics have Heat Metal and Magic Weapon innately prepared: sharpen a sword or punch it until its a Red Hot Chili Pepper!

For your prepared spell Locate Object will let you send an object back to its source so you can find who it belongs to. Is this thematically accurate? Yes. Is this spell highly situational? Yes. Should you prepare another spell instead? Yes.

LEVEL 9 - CLERIC 4

Fourth level Clerics get another Ability Score Improvement and since we increased our healing last time we’ll increase our damage this time with a Dexterity increase.

You can also prepare another spell and another cantrip at this level. I’m going to hold off on the spell until next level but for your cantrip Guidance will help you motivate the idiots in your party to win the fight! But be gentle: he’s not that smart.

LEVEL 10 - CLERIC 5

5th level Clerics can Destroy Undead of CR 1/2 or lower with their Channel Divinity. Again not really in-flavor, but your great grandfather knew a lot about that.

But you also get access to third level spells! As a Forge Cleric you have Elemental Weapon always prepared, as well as Protection from Energy. Producing elemental effects out of nowhere is more of Koichi‘s thing but you can certainly block some electric attacks!

For your prepared spells Mass Healing Word is obvious, and Beacon of Hope will let those heals have the maximum value. There’s a lot of good stuff at third level so if not for the spell slots I’d say prepare more stuff from third level!

LEVEL 11 - CLERIC 6

6th level Clerics get another use of their Channel Divinity, which doesn’t impact you much since your Channel Divinity is more for utility. Speaking of things that don’t impact you Soul of the Forge only works if you have heavy armor! Well at least you’re resistant to Fire damage: should help if you’re ever hit with an explosion, not that that’s going to happen anytime soon...

And you can also prepare another spell: Remove Curse can let you remove any negative stand affects hurting your party. Frequent crying? Skin loss? Sounds like a curse! Or just good cooking.

And your Psionic Die increases.

LEVEL 12 - CLERIC 7

Level 7 Clerics can prepare 4th level spells, which is why we went into Forge Cleric: you know the Fabricate spell innately, which will let you reconstruct raw material into something useful! Fabricate has a ton of uses as long as you have the materials, so use your imagination to make something useful with the environment thanks to that stand of yours. You also get Wall of Fire; perhaps not in flavor but perhaps you’re punching open a lose gas pipe?

You can also prepare 4th level spells, but since none of them really work for our character I’d suggest the Unearthed Arcana spell Spirit Shroud, which will make your punches do more damage and keep enemies close to you. DORA!

LEVEL 13 - CLERIC 8

The 8th level of Cleric gives you another Ability Score Improvement, and I’m actually going to suggest an increase to Dexterity again for the hardest punches. Speaking of hard punches you also get Divine Strikes to do an extra d8 fire damage on hit. Technically it says weapon damage but it’s been confirmed that your fists are weapons as a Monk, and you can still use a weapon for your first two attacks if your DM’s really stingy about it.

You can also prepare another spell and... I dunno. Prayer of Healing from second level? You honestly have all the spells we need for roleplay so prepare the spells you need, because that’s the point of Cleric.

(Artwork by XenonVincentLegend on DeviantArt)

LEVEL 14 - MONK 6

Getting into tougher stand fights? Well now your punches can finally bypass magical resistance with Ki-Empowered Strikes. But more importantly you get some 5 foot range stand power with Noxious Aura: As a bonus action you can spend 1 ki point to create an aura with Crazy Diamond. The aura surrounds you for a minute unless you’re incapacitated or you end it early.

While the aura is active ranged attacks have disadvantage against as Crazy Diamond strikes them away. Any other creature that starts its turn within 5 feet of you must succeed on a Constitution saving throw or become poisoned until the end of your next turn, taking poison damage equal to your Wisdom modifier. Consider it your desire for justice pushing you forward!

And your Unarmored Movement also increases for more CHASE.

LEVEL 15 - MONK 7

7th level Monks get Evasion to dodge things like... explosions, taking half damage on a failed save or no damage on a successful one. You also get Stillness of Mind, allowing you to use your action to end an effect of being charmed or frightened. Consider this you being too angry to look at some dumb manga; that guy just insulted your hair!

LEVEL 16 - MONK 8

8th level Monks get an Ability Score Improvement so it’s about time to cap that Wisdom score to cap off Crazy Diamond’s power!

LEVEL 17 - MONK 9

Level 9 Monks get an Unarmored Movement Improvement to run across water and walls as long as you end your turn on solid ground. I’d flavor this as you reshaping the terrain around you so you can move.

And your Psionic Talent Die gets its final size increase.

LEVEL 18 - MONK 10

10th level Monks are immune to Poison and Disease thanks to Purity of Body. You got over the stand fever as a kid, after all. Your Unarmored Movement also increases to 20 feet for 50 feet total of running.

LEVEL 19 - MONK 11

At 11th level Way of Mercy Monks get Healing Technique, letting them remove an effect of being blinded, deafened, paralyzed, or poisoned when they heal an ally with Hands of Healing. You can heal people’s wounds: fixing their eyes and ears is the next logical step. Your Martial Arts die also increases to a d8, letting you heal on-par with Cure Wounds with your own hands!

LEVEL 20 - MONK 12

Our final level is the 12th level of Monk for another Ability Score Improvement but instead I’m actually going to suggest a late feat for the final fight. If you want to mimic someone’s dad on the phone take the Actor feat for +1 to Charisma along with advantage to mimic someone and the ability to mimic someone’s voice. Is it a little late for this feat? Yeah probably.

FINAL BUILD

PROS

Pearl Jam - You have a lot of healing. Like, a lot of healing. 12 Ki points to spend on essentially Cure Wounds, spell slots for a variety of healing spells and Beacon of Hope to maximize those heals.

Highway Star - You also have a very wide effective range with 50 feet of movement to run in to heal or harm, and that mobility is further increased by the tricks you can do as Monk.

Echoes - You have a lot of utility outside of just healing. You can keep enemies at bay and buff your allies’ weapons and armor, and have tons of out-of-combat utility with Fabricate to make whatever you need and your skill checks all being above average with Wild Talent boosting them further.

CONS

The Lock - Your powers have limitations just like your stand. Your Channel Divinity only works on metal, and Fabricate is an expensive spell slot that also needs materials. What’s more is that a lot of your powers take a lot of time to use, so no instant builds like in the anime.

Boy II Man - Cleric levels are cool and all, but in order to get Fabricate we skipped a lot of the Monk’s stronger abilities like Tongue of the Sun and Moon and Diamond Soul, which is practically named after our stand!

Enigma - There’s such a thing as too much of a good thing, and this build possibly has too much healing in it. What’s more is that Forge Cleric really doesn’t benefit this build much since you can’t wear Heavy Armor.

But you aren’t fighting alone; you have a whole town to back you up! Your job is to keep the shining resolve of the people alive while also being ready to give a beatdown to any punk who threatens the people. Or if they insult your hair; it can be tough to keep your cool.

(Artwork by DGraySpartan on DeviantArt)

[giannimaldonado]

Album Of The Day: Satan Is Watching

When most people born after a certain period of time think of the genre that is “country”, and what it has morphed into in the context of this day and age, a lot of unpleasant images spring to mind. Pretty boy, clean cut, poser rednecks who’ve never seen a farm outside of their music videos, trying to pretend to be another “honest Joe” when they couldn’t be any further from such a thing, making trashy, twangy glam rock mixed with watered down trap music/EDM for white southerners who might have interesting views on those of different races, rolling around in million dollar sports cars while adopting the moniker of “working class”...is probably what your mind immediately begins to conjure up in that brain of yours.

I honestly can’t say that I blame you. Country, or, at least, MAINSTREAM country, has lost its way completely. Luke Bryan, Brad Paisley, Tim McGraw, and Blake Shelton polluted this once proud, grassroots, amazing genre with pandering, trite garbage aimed at making money off of dumb hicks in the bodies of frat boys whose trucks cost more than your own damn house.  Gone are the days when country music was filled to the brim talent, creativity, passion, and heart. Now, this “jock country” has taken its place, having thoroughly fucked country up the ass a few too many times that it has lost its way. For good, perhaps.

Underground country’s usually no better. There’s some exceptions (we’ll get to those soon), but for the most part, it, too, has gone off the rails and destroyed itself completely. It’s often just indie folk or what have you with even more acoustic guitars, though perhaps with more twang, whiny vocals that are trying (and failing) to recreate a stereotypical southern accent, a reliance on cheap gimmicks, sarcasm, and irony to carry their trash because the excrement can’t do that itself, and a musical quality that tries SO hard to imitate the great Mr. Cash, but is little more than a cheap, pale imitation that folks who wear WAY too much flannel and wire rimmed glasses will eat up like it’s the second coming of Joy Division.

No matter how you look at it, country has been thoroughly gentrified for the most part, just like many genres that were previously for a much different variety of people. Like trap music, or blues, or hardcore punk, or black metal. All of the original meaning is gone, driven out by money hungry label executives, clueless and ignorant listeners, and musicians hellbent on half-assing their way to fame and fortune.

It’s a crying shame, it really is.

But fret not, dear reader! There is still a soft, seedy underbelly of the country genre that has taken the long dead (yet forever revered and loved) sound of “outlaw shit”, as Mr. Jennings would put it so eloquently, to its most logical extreme. One that would make Nelson, Cash, Haggard, Coe, and others that might’ve been at the top of their “underground”, “anti-mainstream” game seem rather...accessible. These aforementioned artists and their peers are still greats who, in their primes, were powerhouses that made some of the greatest works the genre would ever produce. But when compared to this particular sound...they just don’t hold up as well. The rawness, the grassroots nature, the down-to-Earth (and sometimes below the Earth) attitude, the simplicity, the honesty, the bluntness, the intimacy, the melancholy...all of it gets turned way up to eleven. It’s dark, it’s mischievous, it’s harsh, it’s gritty, it’s angry, it’s bitter, it’s darkly humorous, it’s lonesome, it’s ornery, and it’s damn sure pretty fucking mean.

Call it whatever you want. “Southern gothic”, “dark country”, “death country”, “gothic country”. It doesn’t matter what name you apply to it. All that matters is that it’s country. Real fucking country. Country meant for the guttersnipes, punks, street urchins, hobos, peasants, and forlorn drifters. This ain’t pretty boy music. This isn’t nice, Christian contemporary that you can play at your local uptight establishment. These aren’t harmless tunes your the posers can get drunk and go mudding to. This is country as it was meant to be. The eptiome of the term “outlaw shit”.

There’s a plethora of wonderful bands in this scene. Sons Of Perdition, Sixteen Horsepower, whatever project Jay Munly’s got going on this time around, The Dead South, the early days of The Devil Makes Three, The Builders And The Butchers, Wovenhand, Ghoultown, Coffinshakers, The Pine Box Boys, and, of course, everyone’s favorite descendant of the Williams family tree. The third one, that is.

But all of those fall short of that truly, truly, TRULY horrific honky-tonk, old-time, folksy, backwoods atmosphere that this duo produces. One that hails from the isolated, empty thickets that lie out in rural Wisconsin. A mentally disturbed pair of “prophets of the country doom”, as they have decided to label themselves. A fine example of those who have gone completely mad, completely sad, and doing so makes them feel very glad. They revel in their craziness, and while no album sounds the same, each one is marred by a couple of recurring themes: humanity is worthy of being sent straight to the fiery depths, these boys are depressed beyond your wildest comprehension, a rebellion against both God and Satan, and a desire to document the lifestyle of society’s forgotten ones, hated ones, and feared ones.

Let me introduce you to Those Poor Bastards.

Fitting name for a couple of enigmatic, largely unknown, extremely obscure pair of men known simply as Lonesome Wyatt (impassioned orations and guitar-based melodies) and The Minister (everything else).

The Minister is completely anonymous, with no one having even seen his face, while all that’s known about Lonesome Wyatt is that he’s from Wisconsin, (probably) lives alone, and is likely of an unsound state of mind.

Why is that all important? Well, go listen to their albums, and then you’ll find out why these little intricacies are vital to the dynamic duo’s imagery, music, and cult status.

While all of their material is quite good in my opinion, today we’re going to look at my favorite album from them, and possibly my favorite album from any country artists EVER! Everyone, please proceed to throw on “Satan Is Watching.”

What you’ll first be met with Lonesome Wyatt letting out a loud, wild, manic screech that almost doesn’t sound...human. It’s not even a word. Just an unhinged howl like Lonesome Wyatt’s been possessed by some sort of demon from the pits of Hell, having taken over the “doomsday preacher boy” to spread the wicked gospel. A hell of a start to an album of any kind, let alone a country album. It’s bold, but it lets you know right off the bat that they aren’t fucking around. This is going to be a rough ride from start to finish, and you’ll be left quaking in your seat once Those Poor Bastards has pierced your mind, heart, and soul with their fiendishly unholy sound. A truly nihilistic piece of art about how this world is foul and wretched, and deserves to burn to a cinder.

But that’s just the first song.

Things only manage to get worse from there. Everything from songs about how Lonesome Wyatt’s a degenerate who revels in just how much filth and squalor he lives in, to songs (well, more like suspiciously suicidal rants) about how life is fucked and there’s just no point in living it anymore, to various “take that!” pieces towards lovers who have wronged him in times that have long since passed, presumably. Typical topics for country artists, but contorted and warped to the point where they sound like miniature horror stories being yelled and hollered by a crazy, top-hat wearing yokel than the struggles and strife that are endured by the common man/downtrodden fellow. Hell, there’s even a Johnny Cash cover! A twisted, perverted, scummy, bone-chilling, haunting, eerie take on the previously wholesome, innocent love song The Man In Black made for June. I can’t exactly look at it the same way, what with these mysterious hooligans having thoroughly butchered it.

Instrumentation is minimalist and simple. Nothing too fancy or technical here. It’s quite self-explanatory. Despite how evil it is, the rhythms are still toe-tappingly catchy. The drums, being pounded upon by the fiery hands of The Minister, provide anything from a nice, plodding beat you can stomp your feet to, all the way to a rowdy raucous of a banger that’ll have you doing some sort of line dance with the living dead. Lonesome Wyatt beats upon his acoustic guitar like it owes him money. Not even really playing it. Just smashing the strings until weird, disgruntled, odd noises come out of it. He also seems to thoroughly shatter his ability to talk without a sore throat, pushing his voice to its very limits. The bass compliments everything very well, providing a creepy, fuzzy, dirge-like texture in the background to keep the menacing tone alive and well.

All in all, while this may not “experimental”, “avant-garde”, or even “progressive”, this is certainly an album that’ll give you the heebie-jeebies, and for a country album, it is most certainly “out there”. It takes the usual country tropes, and either turns them into something out of a David Lynch movie, or subverts/plays with them to fuck with the audience and make them contort their face with confusion...and excitement. A spooky bit of acoustic noise that’ll restore your faith in country music, and remind you that there is still a small resemblance of a spark left within the dying genre.

Please, I highly recommend you check this out.

This has been another installment of “Esoteric Warfare”, and remember...

NOISE, NOT MUSIC!

[gigsoupmusic]

INTERVIEW - MICKO WESTMORELAND ON 'VELVET GOLDMINE' AND LIFE WITH THE MELLOTRONICS

Micko Westmoreland first came to the public's attention as the enigmatic Jack Fairey in the star-studded glam rock fake biopic 'Velvet Goldmine', and since then has done everything from making electronica as The Bowling Green to the sharp edged new wave of his current project Micko & The Mellotronics. With that band on the verge of releasing their second single, a double A-side with the timely 'Noisy Neighbours 'and 'You Killed My Father' (featuring the late Neil Innes), he spoke to Gigsoup to tell all... Starting at the beginning, you got your first break appearing in the film ‘Velvet Goldmine’…  Quite a baptism of fire! Yep, I was fresh out of film school with little acting experience. So I did a ton of research, suspended all activities other than glam rock ones; late mornings, blurry eyeliner, became a kind of ‘Our Lady of the Flowers’, to quote Jean Genet. I did appear on set however with well prepared sleeve notes. Ziggy/Hunky and early Roxy had been teenage territory. Toni Colette really helped me during filming, showing me where and how to move and stand in frame etc. which I really wasn’t aware of and she was such a wonderful person to hang out with. Ewan McGregor was enormous in the 90s but treated you like a complete equal. I’ve acted the fiction of being a sensational rock star, my embalmed alter ego is now moth balled and hermetically sealed for posterity. What do you make of the film’s recent re-appraisal – it was panned at the time but now it’s considered a cult classic A lot of the film heavyweights liked it at the time and have consistently sung its praises over the last 20 years, which has contributed to its legacy, plus Todd Haynes is now seen as a 24-carat auteur. 1998 wasn’t ready for a kaleidoscopic pansexual odyssey. Velvet Goldmine truly tapped into a teenage hormonal feeling, so the audience is responsible for its longevity I think, people have grown old with it and new fans have discovered it. You had quite a lot of success making electronic music as The Bowling Green but then switched tack to making more song-based stuff.  What’s the story there? The music I was making was becoming increasingly filmic, so I moved into movie sound tracks for a while and did two film scores and a few documentaries with my brother; acclaimed director Wash Westmoreland (Still Alice, Colette). One of them, Echo Park L.A., won best drama at Sundance in 2006! I was becoming more attuned to a literary narrative and was listening to Dylan’s Time out of Mind and Beck’s Sea Change at the time – couple that with improvements in technology that weren’t so reliant on sampler and keyboard. I started playing much more guitar again, my first love and now my primary instrument for writing. You made a couple of albums under your own name but then formed Micko & The Mellotronics – your first ‘band’ project.  What was the thinking behind that move? I was very much used to working on my own. I made a couple of solo albums, one which Terry Edwards (P.J. Harvey/Holy Holy) released on his Sartorial label called ‘Wax & Wayne’, and ‘Yours Etc Abc’, on my own Landline records imprint, which I believe was the main unconscious projection into putting a live act together. The person doing PR for it asked, ‘Who’s in the band?’ When I realized I didn’t have one, it made sense to look for folk to start pushing sounds around. How would you sum up the band to someone you hadn’t heard you before?  Can you name us a few bands that have influenced its sound? We get compared to the Buzzcocks quite a lot, I’ll take that. I’ve loved Magazine since teenage, Television too. I also dig Serge Gainsbourg majorly and bands like The Silver Apples. I’m really into Iso Tomita, the 70’s electronic musician and of course Mr. Eno too. People have commented that the double A side, soon to be released, is like early Genesis but I think it’s much closer to The Rutles. Patrick from R.O.C. said there was violence to the sound. I do pride the writing on an intricacy and eccentricity but without getting prog about it. Talk us through the Mellotronics members and their individual flavours... Nick Mackay a friend referred me to. He was playing in a two-piece called ‘Barricades’, and was clearly a very good drummer, real flare as a player/performer and had the magic ingredient for any band – he was a thoroughly decent chap you could spend a ton of time with. Jon Klein is our very own rock star hiding in plain sight. He has a CV better than the rest of us put together: Banshees, Sinead O’Connor to name a few and of course his own band Specimen. I lent Jon my amp when we were on the same bill. I gave him a copy of my previous album and he contacted me the next day, which I considered a big thumbs up. He’s very quick, obscenely talented and has revolutionized day-to-day working practice. In short a turbo charged V12 engine has been carefully placed inside a Hillman imp, with fresh brake pads added. Vicky Carroll the bassist also came through personal referral, Haydn Hades who does stand up. At the time she was playing in a band the ‘Owls of Now’, a very bright lady indeed. She really got what the band was about and had great style. The dynamic of now the band get on and its chemistry is essential to longevity. Having a woman on board was important to us, so we really lucked out by finding such a smart cookie in Vicky. So far, you’ve shared ‘The Finger’, your first single, and now two new tracks, which will (eventually) be released as a 7” single.  Talk us through ‘Noisy Neighbors’ and ’You Killed My Father’. Noisy Neighbours came about from my experience with dealing with serial complainers whilst living in a housing co-op. We shot the video with filmmaker Ashley Jones (www.thechaoesengineers.com) in the next door location the inhabitants of the song were occupying, so we had to be quiet. Of course some complaints are genuine but most were more telling of the complainant than complainee. There are control issues, which come about as a result of trying to micromanage your environment beyond your own four walls. I wanted to make a witty statement about that without being over critical or condemning. Raising a single eyebrow over that type of behavior. ‘You Killed My Father’, the double A side was inspired by Neil Innes R.I.P. (Monty Python, Bonzo Dog, The Rutles). So of course I was thrilled when he agreed to play on it. I was introduced to him through an artist friend Harry Pye. We inadvertly created a supergroup together called the Spammed and meet up once a year to record for the Teenage Cancer Trust. Last session Tony Visconti produced a cover of Bolan’s ‘Get it on’, for us. It comprises, Rat Scabies (The Damned), Horace Panter (The Specials), Neil when he was with us and actor/comedian Kevin Eldon on vocs, I play guitar. The song relates to my childhood, growing up in Leeds and has a Shakespearean quality. I checked the prose with an expert to make sure I hadn’t over egged the pudding. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_5iswf8GG6o You seem to be able to attract some interesting names to collaborate with - Horace Panter of The Specials and the late Neil Innes recently, but also members of The Blockheads, Madness, Stranglers and Goldfrapp in the past.  Who would be top of your collaborative wish list? I’d love to do something with Eno again. We became friendly during the mid nineties. I was tutored by him, whilst working on an art show called ‘Self Storage’ with Laurie Anderson but never made it into the studio. A wild card like Wendy Carlos, famed for the soundtrack of ‘A Clockwork Orange’ would be great too. Likewise, your videos have featured some interesting names from British comedy…  What do they bring to the party?  Anyone else you’d like to get on board if you had free reign? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pDr7nkOQN9Q All the comedy connections came from Kevin Eldon initially, a super bright and truly wonderful guy. He introduced me to Paul Putner at a Specials gig. Paul’s a brilliant bloke and really likes the band. He found the remarkable Suzy Kane for us. All three have taken excellent roles. Suzy had a lot of input in Noisy Neighbours, suggesting wardrobe and even shots to Ashley as we were making it; we really have had tremendous fun with our contributors. Obviously, Chris Morris would be fantastic but I’m a little afraid to knock. We hear the debut M&TM album is close to completion – what have you got in store for us? A psychedelic mish mash of fable, sound collage and idea. With the new single, 3 of the songs are now out there. On a musical front Horace Panter out of The Specials has guested on a couple of tracks for us and of course we have one of Neil Innes’ last performances too. I’ve written a song about Imelda Marcos, she seemed like a person who was way ahead of her time, a modern template for a highly manipulative battle-axe. I have an author friend in his 60s who’s an eminent  psychologist, (Georg Eifert - Anxiety Happens) so I wrote a song called ‘The Fear’, with a lot of his theories in mind. There’s also one too called ‘Sick and Tired’, it’s not about what I’m eed up about, but like Noisy Neighbours it’s a comment about complaint. When writing I try to look at what gets talked about by everyday people and base some of the songs around those themes. Earwig on phone conversations on buses, pick up discarded bits of paper, when you get into the habit you’ll be amazed what you find. So I get on the 38 and set my brain to record. There’s also a fair amount about growing up on the record too, which I hope all can relate to. I think you have to start with a good idea, that’s on any level otherwise you’re unlikely to get far. From my art college days I got into the habit of noting things down, if you don’t it often escapes you. It’s difficult to marry a multitude of ingredients and let’s face it the world is full of plenty, pair it down and make it resonate. Anyone who tells you otherwise is telling porkies. To make something that stands the test of time is more difficult still. But I’m not afraid of the work and I enjoy ‘the doing’, for me that’s what it’s all about. I believe that as individuals we have a natural tendency to evolve, if we choose to see it that way and trust, it’ll ‘self fulfill’. If you’ll allow yourself to tap into that expansion creatively, you’ll always find inspiration. Micko & The Mellotronics release 'Noisy Neighbours / You Killed My Father' on Landline Records on April 17 with the 7" single schedule to hit the shops on June 27. Read the full article

[woodsofblight]

Do you have any headcanons on either Ly or the People of Prhys you could share?

Oh boy do I ever!

I’m sure by now most people in the fandom know or has experienced it, but it can get exceedingly difficult to put together a reliable timeline, considering the conflicting events (god help you if you’re including Origins/Legends). Needless to say there’s a bunch of things in the Rayman universe I assume to be gross exaggerations, mainly for the purpose of not losing my mind. With that said, Ly and the People of Phrys.

First of all, I should note that a lot of the promo material, especially the artwork for Rayman 2, seem to suggest that the friendship between Rayman and Ly has been around far longer than just the events of 2/Revolution. Based on information from the old R2 website, it can also be reasonably assumed that the events of 2 weren’t the first time Rayman has come across the pirates (Razorbeard is another issue entirely if you wish to take the Animated Series into consideration). More on this later.

I believe Ly and Rayman are close to the same age, though exactly which of them is older is a frequent topic of debate, made all the more difficult by Rayman coming into existence as at the very least an older child (depending on how old you think he is in 1). 

Considering the People of Phrys are only every mentioned in an off-hand note, I personally think they were a fairly reserved society with not as much contact with the mainland of Polokus. Whether this is because they served a different god or were merely very prone to isolating themselves is anyone’s guess, though the note implying secrets would suggest the latter.

Taking their high status into account, the nymphs were probably one of the few people who could reliably set foot upon their lands (accompanied by the requisite amount of Teensies for transportation). As secretive as they may have been though, they probably did recognize the importance of gaining knowledge (or were merely convinced by the nymphs) and either through their recommendation, or Betilla’s decision, Ly is chosen as an envoy and, essentially, transfer student at a very young age. Young enough to still be receptive to the outside world and able to learn many things she could eventually bring home and help enrich their culture. 

Based on her promo material and general behavior she was likely an attentive and respectful child when learning, but wild and prone to exploring the forest for days on end, whenever she could.

Betilla has been shown to unlock Rayman’s abilities in 1, but Silver Lums are still something we’ve only ever seen specifically from Ly. This is more than likely an extremely rare talent, especially when you consider how instrumental Lums of all kind are to the fabric of the world. It is talent the nymphs would recognize as extremely important to cultivate. However, unlike with her teachers (especially Betilla, her primary mentor, Holly, who believes to this day that she has a beautiful singing voice, if only she could be more confident about it, and Anetta, who adores her despite Ly’s aversion to large bodies of water), she never quite got along with other fairies (apart from Tily). 

Whether this is because she’s so different, or if it’s envy because the nymphs favored her, is anyone’s guess. Still, no wonder she chose the depths of the Glade as her home, instead of the Council. Likewise no wonder that her other favored spots are a stele and a cave! 

Either way, she ended up finding kinship with other “odd” fellows of the Glade instead, such as Clark, Globox, and of course, Rayman. Another group she ends up befriending are the Teensies, whom she follows around with curiosity, as due to the isolated nature of her homeland, they were seldom found there. The Teensies find her curiosity adorable and they end up taking a liking to her. This grows into immense respect as she protects them during the Pirate invasion. So much so, that they have created several monuments in her honor, and out of pure affection, often in places fairies usually wouldn’t access on their own, so as not to fuel any existing animosity.

Going forwards in time, I believe she returned to Phrys at a certain time. The first skirmish of the Pirates is beaten, but either the main force, or a second attack comes rolling in and things quickly go out of hand. Ly breaks the isolation and calls upon her friends for assistance and while they are relatively successful, the sudden attack and damage to the land is too much for its inhabitants to bear. The People of Phrys panic, and turn to desperate measures, unearthing the secrets they held, the very ones Ly tried to help them protect (with spotty knowledge on what they even were). The results were… exceedingly bad.

It’s hard to place when or how this art piece occurs (if it does at all, since there’s some things that just didn’t end up in the main game), but after initially believing it just show the Pirate’s devastation, I now think it shows something different. I believe this piece takes place immediately in the aftermath. The People of Phrys are gone. Ly is devastated. Clark is waving goodbye to a land he once helped shape and Polokus is likewise distraught, whether they were his children or not (I don’t think Rayman realized who he was at this point in time, and he may only be there as a temporary manifestation, hence his introduction later in 2).

In any case, the people Ly wanted to protect are now gone. This is incredibly hard for her to swallow and while she does try to hide it, the (perceived) failure weighs heavily on her, for years on end. It drives her deeper into her studies, resulting in even further isolation from the Council and her other fairy kin, from which her friends work tirelessly to pull her out of. While she has no concrete proof, she desperately wants to believe that whatever happened to her people is just some kind of massive displacement, rather than eradication. After all, much of this world is centered on dreams, who can say they might not be out there somewhere? 

I believe this ends up being something that drives her to obsessively learn and sometimes even vanish for certain amounts of time, which is why she seldom appears following Rayman 2/Revolution. Whether this is good for her in the long run is anyone’s guess. Such frustration, combined with the magic she possesses, could prove volatile in some cases.

As for other things, I also think she would get along relatively well with Barbara, though the latter would likely consider Ly to be far too stuck-up and serious for her temperament. It would drive her tease Ly on occasion, to which she sometimes would respond in kind, though she would defer to her in most cases that cannot be solved by just planting the business end of an axe in them. 

I believe Ly might actually be a bit jealous even, considering how far Barbara has been able to go adventuring with Rayman and co.; something she would like to do as well, but unfortunately she just cannot cope with the extreme changes in temperature, such as in Gourmand Land or the Blue Mountains. Nevertheless, she would never outwardly show that.

~ ~ ~

I think that about covers it! I’m very fond of Ly as a character and really hope she’ll make another appearance in a future Rayman game. I wouldn’t necessarily count on finding out more about the People of Phrys, but Michel Ancel and his team are unpredictable enough that anything could happen. 

I may have forgotten about a couple of minor, flavor things, but those will probably end up appearing in some shape or form in my writing.

Thank you for tuning in to my essay on this lovable cat-fairy! All images are courtesy of the RaymanPC Wiki.

[rockthistowninsideout]

Fanbruary 2019

Weekend 2 - Saturday 09.02.

For @fizzingwizard, based on this fic.

February 14th dawns bright and sunny - but it cannot fool Koushirou. As he is eating his breakfast he feels the presence of Taichi’s handwritten invitation burning in his back as it sits on the counter behind him. Involuntarily, he imagines Taichi stately reigning over the Valentine’s party in a white tuxedo, shaking hands with every new student coming into the room. Koushirou’s hands start to tremble violently because surely, as it is Taichi’s tendency, he would look incredibly dashing in this tux, all bright smiles and electric hair tips. Koushirou shakes himself. No, he has a whole school day ahead where his woobles cannot possibly get in the way. And preferably not ever again.

  The school day goes surprisingly smooth, if you conveniently forget about the notorious couples that seem to spring on Koushirou from every corner in every break. In the end, he has mastered the art of dodging them by leaving the class rooms even before they do.

But this has all been for the birds when Koushirou makes his way to the gym (Taichi would have also taken the big arena a couple of blocks away if it hadn’t been too expensive.) From every new hallway joining the one leading to the auditorium couples stream, the modest ones only having linked their arms, the more annoying planting kisses over each other’s faces, barely moving and blocking the way of the innocent. Which Koushirou counts himself to, mostly to keep a facade to himself. But at the back of his mind there is the distressing thought that he could do both, slobbering Taichi’s beautiful face while still walking a straight line and not disrupting the natural order. He shivers. Surely it’s the obscenely flowery smell wafting through the halls that causes these un-Koushirou-like thoughts.

  When he finally enters the gym he does become an obstacle for others to manoeuvre around after all. Planted like a tree, he stands in the doorway and stares. He cannot do anything else. Pink explodes in front of his face, the place is drowning in paper streamers in various shades of the colour and from every possible surface blink cut-out hearts.

  Maybe Koushirou has a hidden talent of forecasting the future or maybe he just knows Taichi too well -  his assumption was right. Taichi is indeed flaunting a white tuxedo with a bright pink bow-tie and when he spots Koushirou he comes over, his walk a wild mixture of a I-know-I-look-amazing-swagger and childlike ecstasy about both the party being better than expected and seeing Koushirou in particular.

  “Kou! I’m so glad you came.” He smiles dazzlingly and clasps his hands on either of Koushirou’s shoulders, sending a 100.000 volt lightning bolt through the sixth-graders body.

  Koushirou goes immediately rigid as he stammers “Yeah, well, I, er, couldn’t possibly ignore your invitation. You, uh, wrote it yourself. That must have taken ages.” It’s easy to find confidence in sarcasm, this is familiar territory. Still, Koushirou feels bad that Taichi is the target of his sarcasm. This is not how you convince the source of your woobles to admit that they feel the same.

  Yet Taichi seems to be undisturbed by it. He still smiles as if he wanted to eclipse that traitor of a sun that had gone, of course, immediately into hiding when Koushirou had stepped out of his apartment this morning. With an arm draped around Koushirou’s neck, he guides him through the throngs of people.

  “I’m so proud how all this turned out. Look, I have fireworks on every table but the best thing I got my hands on is that soda fountain over there!” He indicates a monstrous crystalline fountain that spurts bubbly strawberry flavoured lemonade and stands on a big table in the middle of the gym.

  Before Koushirou can reply a large and stupid something barrels into him from behind. “Taichi, I finally found you!”  Daisuke yells while he absentmindedly steadies Koushirou.

  A cold shiver runs down Koushirou’s back when he spots the mandarin oranges basket, adorned with a big blue ribbon, in Daisuke’s hands. Oh God, he thinks, Daisuke has acted on his threats after all.

  “Taichi, can I talk to you for a moment?” Daisuke says in a pace Koushirou would have hardly understood if he hadn’t had years of practice doing so.

  “Oh hey, Daisuke, nice that you came. Sorry, I don’t have time just now. The DJ must be here any minute.” With that, Taichi hurries back to the entrance door.

  “Hey Koushirou, thanks again for the advice with the fruit basket. After a bit of thought, it’s actually a really good idea. And I’ve also prepared a song. After a bit of digging I found a really nice country love song.” Daisuke gives him a well-meant pat on the back that nearly sends him staggering into the next table where two fellow sixth graders are feeding each other the halves of a steggy bear.

  So he indeed wants to opt for public humiliation over on the karaoke stand Koushirou had spotted when he had entered.

  Suddenly there is a hushed whisper sweeping through the attending students. Heads turn to the stage and someone plucks at Koushirou’s sleeve, then indicates the person standing on it.

  He does look like a DJ, with baggy clothing, big headphones and an oversized cap. But then he swings his hips in a seductive manner and throws his cap into the audience. There are a few excited cheers but most students are too stunned to speak. Koushirou doesn’t grasp at first what is going on. Why should a DJ behave like this? And where is his equipment? The only music at the moment comes from a boom box, it has a thumping bass and something lewd to it.

  He lets his gaze roam and sees Yamato and Sora speak softly to each other, faces red but Koushirou can’t tell if it’s second-hand embarrassment or anger. A little further stands Jou, midway frozen in nibbling on a piece of chocolate, while Miyako watches him like a tiger on the prowl.

  A sudden “Yagami” shout rings through the gym. Heads turn again to the entrance door where their fuming headmistress stands. Out of the corner of the eye Koushirou sees a speck of white disappearing behind the drawn curtains. The headmistress must have seen it, too, because she comes charging through the students who willingly step out of the way.

  “Oh no, I’ve missed again the opportunity to tell him that I love him” Daisuke moans, disappointedly eyeing the basket in his hands.  He looks helplessly around, then thrusts it into Koushirou’s hands and snakes his way through the crowds.

  By now, the teachers have persuaded the stripper to come down. Koushirou can only speculate, but in his rush to make the gaudiest party the school has ever seen, Taichi has probably called a stripper DJ instead of a real one. Though it doesn’t do anything to dampen the mood here. While he observes his happy peers again, he absentmindedly picks a mandarin orange and starts to peel it.