#this is strangely cathartic to me after having to write this man

[north-noire]

Behold! I am the magic anon #058! Now it’s time to dropkick William Afton into the fifteenth dimension!

The FNAF good ending just dropped.

[skylermadness]

Rustic Cabin (Lumberjack TF/MC/AP)

(Original Date of Upload: February 25, 2022)

I was going to upload this last year but it was sitting in my drafts because the formatting scared me.

Original Description:

Here it is, one of my favorite works to have written thus far! I had this idea mulling in my head for a few months now, admittedly, so finally writing it and getting it out there is really cathartic. And this is definitely one of my favorite human TFs to have written so far, especially since I was trying something a little new with it. I do think it would look better with formatting but unfortunately that never translates well over when you make it a .txt file. Nonetheless I hope it turned out just as good for everyone to read as it did for me to write!

   There was a feeling of comfort surrounding the man. Surrounding him was nothing but massive trees as far as the eye can see. It was beautiful. Comforting. It felt just like home for someone like him.

   A massive, hairy hand clasped onto the axe. The worn wood sent another pang of familiarity through his nerves. Over a decade, almost two, of use and it's still going strong.

   With a strength he didn't think he had before, he lifted up the axe and began to eye the tree. A noticeable indent was within the tree. So many years of work finally coming to a climax.

   He hauled the axe backwards and paused to savour the moment, and with one last swing…

             ----------------------------------------------------------

   From what was once a previously unconscious state, verdant green eyes shot open. Forced open, rather. An annoying buzzing had started to go on and off.

    "Grrhg… I thought I had turned that off…"

   A young man laid on his back and stretched an arm out to a nearby counter before promptly slamming a fist down on a button, one that belonged to his alarm clock.

   He stared at the ceiling for a moment. A strange, foresty smell lingered in his nose, accompanied by glimpses of a forest within his mind. A part of him knew this was from a dream he had last night, but he couldn't quite remember much else. He wished he was able to stay asleep longer to find out.

   The man sat up and scratched his stubbly chin. "Today's s'pose to be my day off," he muttered to himself.

   This is Victor Marshall, and this was indeed supposed to be his day off. To be more accurate, it was his week off from work. And he was hoping to get a little more sleep in, in comparison to a normal weekday. But it was unlikely he'd be able to get back to sleep now.

   Resolving to reluctantly start his day, Victor sluggishly ran through his morning routine. Brushing his teeth, showering, aimlessly checking random sites for any updates. After showering he haphazardly threw on a navy blue hoodie, black sweat shorts, and some plain white socks. He didn't even bother to comb his hair, deciding to keep it in the messy style that he had preferred over the "prim and proper" style he felt obliged to have for work.

   After one last glance at Twitter, Victor shut off his phone and headed down to the kitchen to prepare himself some breakfast. He had a lingering mood for pancakes that he couldn't quite place the origin of. But finding them to be a little too work intensive for having just woken up he chose to just scramble a few eggs and call it a day.

   Once breakfast was all prepared Victor took a seat at the kitchen table and pulled out his phone again. A realization was beginning to dawn on the young man.

   He had nothing to do on his week off.

   While sitting around and aimlessly wandering the Internet had seemed to be an appealing expenditure of time, something was welling up inside Victor. He wanted to do something… more. 

   Unfortunately he didn't have too many options. His friends all still had work at their own jobs, and he wasn't too interested in doing something by himself like watching a movie or continuing one of the numerous game playthroughs he has hanging in the air.

   Twirling a fork in the air, Victor tried to think of something to do. Suddenly, a message notification pinged on his phone. Glancing down he saw it was from his father.

DAD Hey, kiddo! Heard you got a week off!

   Victor tapped the notification and responded.

YOU Hi dad. Yeah, got some time off. still trying to find something to do to spend that time.

DAD I don't have too much in mind, but I hope you can come up with something.

   Helpful, Victor thought. 

DAD Actually come to think of it… Do you remember Uncle Lance?

   Victor tilted his head. Uncle Lance… He couldn't quite put a face to the name, but it was familiar.

YOU not very well.

DAD I expected that. I think the last time you saw him you were still a little tyke. And that was what? 20-something years ago?

YOU Good job on making me feel old there, dad.

DAD Not as old as your old man! And definitely not as old as Lance would've been!

   Victor smiled, but he had to get his dad back on track…

YOU So who exactly is Lance?

DAD My older brother. He was such a great guy! He worked as a logger. Specifically at this cabin he owned all those years ago! Although after he went missing the ownership was transferred to your pa over here.

YOU er, missing?

DAD Yeah… we never quite got the details of it, unfortunately.  But that's beside the point! I think that cabin would be a nice vacation spot for a bit, if you're interested.

   Victor looked up from his phone and thought. It might be nice. Getting out for a bit. Although he was still a little curious about Lance's disappearance. But judging by the conversation switch it appears his dad might not have wanted to speak too much about it. After a few seconds he looked back at his phone.

YOU alright, yeah, I'm interested. send the directions if you have them.

             ----------------------------------------------------------

   The cabin was located in a northern portion of his county, specifically a heavily forested region of it.

   Victor chose to only pack a few extra sets of clothing and his laptop. His father had assured him that the cabin was still well kept and that he had tried to "modernize it" a little in the event he ever decided to stay there. Although knowing dad, modernizing might be a stretch.

   The actual drive there was lengthy, almost half the day to be precise. Over the course of hours Victor watched as city skylines shifted to heavy forestry, packed highways dispersed into nigh-uninhabited roads, and the touch of humanity faded away as he went further up north.

   Once he got far enough his car was coaxed off the road by a dirt path wide enough for vehicles to pass through. Victor started to drive onto the path, his eyes occasionally looking away to take in the forest. Massive trees towered over the pathway with the sun shining through the cracks in the foliage. The only signs of fauna was the sound of chirping birds that echoed through the branches. Something about this forest felt welcoming to Victor. Welcoming and familiar.

   Ten minutes after entering the forest his car started to pull up to a clearing. A few birds flew up from the ground as he stopped, and his eyes started to take in where he was. Victor got out of his car and started to inspect the location.

   The clearing itself was the same packed dirt as the path save for a few patches of grass starting to sprout through. A log cabin stood in the middle of it surrounded by the dense forest. As for the trees, all of the trees looked fairly similar… except one.

   It was a tree that was beside his car. It was just as tall as all the others, just as thick too. But on the side of the tree facing towards the cabin was a dent. It was as if someone had been heaving an axe into it. Etched above that dent was a set of lines, seven to be exact.

   "Must've been uncle Lance's work…" Victor muttered to himself. He placed a hand on the etched lines, a feeling of familiarity yet again running through his veins. He felt almost entranced… but he broke out almost instantly, shaking his head. "That was weird."

   Disregarding whatever just happened Victor went to the back of his car and pulled out the dufflebag containing his items before heading into the cabin. The sound of the dirt crunching beneath his sneakers as he did so felt oddly calming.

   Flicking a lightswitch Victor found that the cabin had only a small layer of dust and next to no cobwebs. Once he walked in he found himself in the cabin's living room. Inside it was a sofa with a small table beside it, and a fireplace in front of it with a few empty vases perched above it. On the left to the living room was a kitchen that seemed fairly modern containing a functional stove, microwave, and blender positioned adjacent to a kitchen island. As for the right there was a bedroom with a large, comfortable looking bed covered with a red plaid patterned blanket. Beside it was a bedside table and a door that presumably led to the bathroom.

   Victor heaved the dufflebag onto the couch and started to look around a bit more. This place had an air of age to it, but it still had the touch of something recent. All the wood and carpets looked clean (or as clean as something with a slight layer of dust can be). And the touch of technology was almost non-existent, yet the kitchen was new and there were a few power outlets. 

   Victor's eyes locked back onto the shelf that was above the fireplace. Between the vases was a framed photo.

   Walking towards the shelf and taking a hold of the picture frame, Victor found the image to be of a man. He was rather large, a mix of muscular and fat. The man was clad in overalls and a flannel, the first few buttons of his shirt unbuttoned to reveal his hairy chest. He seemed to be rather hirsute in general judging by his arms. One arm was holding an axe over his shoulder. He sported a thick beard with specks of grey on the chin, short hair that was greying at the sides, and a face that looked to be weathered. Through it all he sported a great smile, one that seemed to be of pride. 

   The man's smile made Victor smile. "This must be Uncle Lance," he said to himself. The man looked so happy. So jovial. Seeing this image alone had made Victor wish that he had met Lance.

   Placing the picture back onto the shelf, his eyes then caught onto something on the wall. It was an axe. Although the blade was rusted and the wood looked extremely chipped. Victor started to walk over to it, knowing it to be the axe his uncle used. 

   He felt overwhelmed with something. A feeling that maybe he too could wield that object. But the moment the skin of his hand touched the handle he was forced to retract his arm, hissing in pain. He spat out a "Fuck!" as he started to hold his wrist. "Must've gotten a splinter!" What had possessed him to touch old wood!

   He moved into the bedroom and started to look through the bedside table's drawers. He wasn't sure if a pair of tweezers would be in this place but he could only hope to find one.

   Unfortunately, a few minutes of hopeless drawer searching had been fruitless. No tweezers could be found, and strangely he found that his finger no longer hurt. Upon closer inspection, the splinter was gone…

   Victor chose not to think too much about it. But now that he was in the bedroom, curiosity started to bud inside him.

   Not too much was on the bedroom's tables save for another picture of Lance, this time with a younger Westley- er- his dad. Beside the doorway was a dresser that contained numerous briefs, jeans, and suspenders. And next to that dresser was a closet.

   Inside the closet were only flannels, all with plaid patterns. The only differentiation was the color of them which usually ranged from red, blue, green, and brown. 

   Victor took hold of a flannel. It looked so new, yet it still seems worn a little. And there was this smell, this musk coming off of it. It made his mind feel a little hazy.

   Hanging the flannel back up, he decided to stop skulking around his uncle's former living place and take a well deserved rest. Unfortunately, once he sat down and pulled out his phone he found the cabin had no reception. The last thing he had received was a text from his dad telling him to have fun. 

   Victor shrugged and placed the phone on the table beside the couch. He thought about pulling out his laptop and maybe forfeiting some of his downtime in order to work on some work documents, but he decided against it.

   Maybe sitting back and taking in the sounds of the outside would be good…

   The light of the evening Sun shone through the window as he began to relax. The bird chirps had slowed down, replaced with the rustling of the trees in the wind. The smell of the forest penetrated his olfactory senses again as he drifted into an almost daydream-like state.

   The feeling of longing to meet his uncle started to enter his mind. But he also felt like this was how his uncle spent his days when he wasn't working, just taking in the reality of where he lived. Perhaps this might be a great week for him after all.

   What felt like minutes to Victor was actually a few hours, with the Sun having now set and the darkness of the night now visible outside. The light of the cabin gave a sweet sense of solace, though. 

   Victor blinked and peeled himself off the couch. He turned his head to the kitchen and saw the time of day. After all of that he somehow felt tired and his muscles were starting to ache.

   He got up and started to head towards the bedroom. While passing a window his eyes caught a glimpse of a deer in the clearing. Another aspect of familiarity for the man…

   After reaching the bedroom Victor kicked off his shoes. But without even removing the rest of his clothes he instantly collapsed onto the bed with the sweet embrace of sleep taking him not even a few seconds later.

             ----------------------------------------------------------

   Victor's muscles continued to ache as he slept, which had caused the entire cycle to be discomforting. Every few hours he'd toss and turn while grunting, muttering in his sleep on how he should probably be a little less intense during his work. Unbeknownst to him his aches were caused by something else. Something settling in his body.

   At first it was growing pains. A slow growth spurt occuring in his sleep, bones in his arms, legs, and back lengthening with each passing hour. There were times he'd hear a soft crack in a joint or in his back, an event that forced him to think again about work. About not overworking himself. 

   The growing pains were accompanied by muscle aches. While his limbs lengthened, they also bulked. Muscle mass growing in his arms and legs. His pectorals subtly increased in size while abs began to form. His hands were catching up with the changes too, growing larger and meatier. His fingers were basically sausages now.

   There was a point in the night where Victor resolved to sleep on his back. Loud snoring started to escape his throat at this time, having replaced what was once his quiet sleeping behavior.

   His noticeable musculature didn't last very long after that. With each inhale came a bit of bloating in his body. Fat started to accumulate on his belly, his hoodie starting to ride up it as a result. A set of moobs soon melted out from his pectorals. Many  of his features had also grown softer, his arms and legs looking thicker while his face looked chubbier.

   Another aspect of discomfort was then added in the form of itching. Victor placed a massive hand on his belly as it  began. This was due to hair starting to grow out of his body. A treasure trail was growing up the middle of his belly. Thick hairs were growing on the back of his hands and all over his arms. A bushy mustache grew out of his upper lip while the remainder of his facial stubble grew into a short beard. And as for the hair on his head, it looked to be shortening and darkening. All of this new hair was a deep black instead of the brown he once had.

   A  wave of changes then washed through his clothing. All of them grew to become a little bit more fitting on his body, but a few more adjustments had to be made. One of the sleeves of his hoodie began to roll up. Splotches of plaid-patterned red started to appear in the blue fabric. The hood itself began to shrink into more of a collar. Even a few buttons emerged while the beginnings of a split formed in the middle of the hoodie. The legs of his sweat shorts grew longer while the fabric thinned. And despite the fact he wasn't wearing his shoes, they were experiencing multiple shifts too: deepening from white to brown, the topline rising, and the overall look of them growing bulkier.

   It was here the changes were beginning to slow. Specks of grey were starting to shine in some portions of his hair, the palms of his hands seemed a little rougher, and his height had finished increasing significantly. His clothing had also paused mid-changes.

   Victor huffed as something began to shine in his eye. It was sunlight. How was it morning already?

   He blinked his eyes, mind still feeling tired. Last night was… severely uncomfortable. Maybe it was because this was a new place to sleep?

   As he shifted around his bed the springs creaked under his weight. Did they do that before? He could've sworn they didn't…

   He draped his legs and stood up off the bed. He caught a glimpse of his footwear, which now looked like a weird mix of sneakers and leather boots. But he didn't have too much time to dwell on that because he really needed to go to the bathroom now.

   Each step to the bathroom felt heavier than he remembered. The wooden floorboards would sometimes creak beneath his feet. Come to think of it, everything felt heavier than before. He unintentionally placed a hand on his belly and felt the thickness of it, which forced him to look down to see how big he's gotten. He… he wasn't always like this was he?? And why… why did his hoodie look partially like a flannel.

   Walking into the bathroom then brought him to a mirror, face to face with himself. Wider, chubbier face; thicker facial hair; black instead of brown hair; so much was… different.

   "What… happened last night…" he asked himself. His voice was so deep. Gruffer than it was before. He looked down and undid a few buttons of his hoodie-flannel to find that his chest had gotten hairier. "I wasn't always this hairy was I??"

   A headache started to emerge in his mind. He was so confused. "Uuugh… get a hold of yourself, Vic… Vi…"

   He forgot his name.

   He placed his two meaty hands at the sides of his head, letting out a few ragged breaths as he did so. His head was swimming in thoughts- his body, his clothing,  his name, even his own memories. Everything is conflicting with itself! But something was there trying to reassure him everything was normal. Everything was fine.

   "C'mon… Vin… Vince, everything's fine," he told himself. He's been living in this cabin for a few… months was it, now? Nothing about this should be out of the ordinary!

   He was snapped out of the chaos of his mind by the sound of his stomach rumbling. He gave his tummy a knowing pat while smiling weakly. "Maybe I should follow up on that cravin' yesterday and make myself some flapjacks…"

             ----------------------------------------------------------

   "Nothin' like the smell of flapjacks in the morning!"

   He wasn't quite sure how this oven got here. He could've sworn it wasn't there last he checked! But he didn't care too much. He somehow knew how to use it, and he could still make that sweet smelling breakfast that always made his day better. Especially after that morning he had!

   The sound of Vince's weird footwear clomping on the ground of the cabin was slightly off putting. He was still a little confused about everything in general, honestly. His mind felt hazy, like something wasn't there yet. But maybe that's just the last remnants of sleep. Maybe after filling his belly and getting some energy he'd feel better!

   It took a few more minutes to fully prepare the remainder of his meal, but soon he found himself with those fluffy flapjacks. Once they'd been accompanied by a small slice of butter and some syrup he knew everything was ready.

   The moment he shoved a forkful of flapjacks into his mouth he was practically assaulted with flavor. So fluffy, so buttery, so sweet… it was as if he were trying these for the first time! And as Vince continued to dig into his breakfast, a new surge of changes ran through him… 

   Another round of fat started to pile up in his belly. If he stood up he would've noticed he was losing all sight of his legs and feet. His shoulders then broadened in order to keep up with his new body shape.

   In spite of that, his body wanted to persist. Bouts of strength radiated from his core and throughout his body. And even though it wasn't visible under all of that fat, he was gaining another burst of muscle mass.

   Specks of hair grew out all over his chest, with a thick thatch of it now visible from the portion of unbuttoned shirt he still had. His beard grew out becoming larger, thicker, a proper beard for someone like him! The hair on his head continued to shorten, however, and his hairline seemed to recede a bit.

   His clothing caught up to the changes too. The other sleeve of his shirt rolled itself up. The remainder of the hoodie shrunk into a proper collar. The splotches of plaid spread and got rid of any remaining blue while also thinning the fabric a little. More buttons trailed down the shirt until it became a proper flannel. Even a breast pocket emerged on the right side of the split.

   His sweat shorts could no longer be called that. The legs had grown so long they went a little above his ankles, the fabric changed to be a little thinner, and belt loops had manifested around the waist. A brown leather belt soon slithered around the man's waist before promptly buckling itself. And that wasn't the end of it's changes as straps slunk up the front and back of his body, snaking and branching in order to change those pants into suspenders.

   His footwear had finished their own changes too. The material changed completely into hard, brown leather. The topline reached pretty high, halfway up his lower leg. Shoe strings materialized and clasped the lip of the boot to his leg snuggly. 

   His mind clicked right when two clicks rang from the straps of his suspenders fastening themselves onto the pants. Licking what food remained off his lips, the burly bear of a man gave himself a good look.

   He smiled. "I don't think I've eaten like that in a decade! Always makin' yourself proud, eh Vance?" He didn't care that his body looked different. Or his clothes. Or even the fact his voice was so deep and powerful. 

   With his plate pretty much cleaned off he rose from his seat and took a look around. That air of familiarity he had yesterday, that was all because this was his home. It had been for a good while. He couldn't get the years right, but he knew he'd been here for a long time taking in the nature of the world around him. 

   Then a new memory popped up. Something he'd been wanting to do for a long time.

   His axe hung mounted on the living room wall. Wood worn, metal rusted. He couldn't remember how it got like that. He could've sworn he used it yesterday…

   Vance clasped onto the axe and lifted it from its perch. Holding onto it… it felt so different…

   In mere moments Vance's body changed for one last time. Where his hands met the axe his skin calloused and scarred with years of work getting put in them in seconds. More and more greys speckled into the black of his hair giving his body hair and beard a salt and pepper look. Grey also settled into the sides and back of his head hair. His hairline continued to recede a little, stopping right before it would be considered balding. And the remainder of his head hair shortened for one last time into a soft mat of hair.

   His face weathered and aged. Crows' feet indenting themselves into the ends of his eyes, wrinkles forming in his face, and a few stretch marks emerging through it all. It would settle to what would presumably be his late 50's, if he could remember his age properly.

   As for the axe, it underwent the opposite. The wood fixed itself by smoothing up and filling in chips, but it still retained a bit of wearing to it. Rust chipped off the blade and dissipated, the blade ending up looking cleaner and functional. This was the axe that Lance knew.

   Hauling the axe over his shoulder Lance smiled proudly. He knew what he was doing today.

   The lumberjack headed outside and took a moment to breathe the fresh forest air. It smelled like his dreams, he thought. Then he headed towards where the road met the clearing. A big red pickup truck was visible on the road. But that wasn't what he was headed towards. 

   He was headed towards a tree. The tree.

   It was bulkier in comparison to the rest. The trunk was really thick. A sign of it being really old. Likely older than him. The tree had a wedge in it, years of hacking away at it signified by this wedge alone. The seven lines above that wedge each stood for a year. He's been working on this tree for seven years.

   "And today I'm taking you down…"

             ----------------------------------------------------------

   There was a feeling of comfort surrounding the man. Surrounding him was nothing but massive trees as far as the eye can see. It was beautiful. Comforting. It felt just like home for someone like him.

   A massive, hairy hand clasped onto the axe. The worn wood sent another pang of familiarity through his nerves. Over a decade, almost two, of use and it's still going strong.

   With a strength he didn't think he had before, he lifted up the axe and began to eye the tree. A noticeable indent was within the tree. So many years of work finally coming to a climax.

   He hauled the axe backwards and paused to savour the moment, and with one last swing…

   The sound of breaking wood could be heard as the tree started to fall into the forest behind it. Lance bellowed, "TIMBER!!!" as it did so.

   Finally, it was complete.

   He'd give one of the guys a call tomorrow to pick it up. It should have a good lot of lumber considering its size and width.

   Taking a look at the sky he saw that it had already become evening. This work was always so time-consuming, but in a good way. He enjoyed it.

   Once Lance was back inside his cabin he hung up his axe for the day. The man mused on how one of his buds would always tell him he'd always get the job done faster with a chainsaw. Maybe they were right, but something about heaving an axe at the trunk felt like it carried more weight to him. 

   He took a seat on the couch and let out a content sigh. Another day of work done, now it's time to relax a little and listen to the world around him. Although he did notice a few peculiarities, like a duffle bag he couldn't remember owning and a… cell phone on the desk…

   He picked up the cell phone and pressed the power button. Somehow it's battery still hadn't died. He instinctively unlocked the phone, Lance unsure how he ever knew the password. The last thing that was open was a message application to someone named "Dad". And for some reason, seeing the word dad reminded him of his brother Westley… It brought him back to that picture on his nightstand of him and his brother.

   Maybe he should take some time to visit him…

             ----------------------------------------------------------

   Less than a week since Westley sent that last text to Victor. He kind of felt bad for neglecting to mention the cabin would have no signal.

   He wasn't sure why he brought up his brother's cabin in the first place. Considering Lance had gone missing there twenty years prior with no evidence as to how it happened wasn't really reassuring. But it was oddly compelling to do so. His son needed something to do and he was happy to provide…

   Westley sunk into his slightly oversized polo and looked over at a picture of him and Lance. He really did miss him…

   As if on cue he heard the sound of a car pull up outside his home. He had assumed it to be his son's convertible but after a cursory look out the window he found it to be an all too familiar pickup truck. He walked outside in confusion. They never found the truck either so why would it be outside his house?

   He heard a door slam all-to-hard before a figure stepped out from behind the truck. Clad in a flannel, suspenders, and leather boots; and just as hairy as he was when Westley last saw him; alive and walking towards him was Lance.

   The bearish man let out a hardy laugh. "There's my favorite brother! It feels like it's been years since I've last seen you!"

   Westley stepped back a bit, awestruck. "Lance? I thought…"

   He wasn't given a chance to finish his sentence as he was scooped into the warm embrace of his older brother. A slight headache formed in his head as all recollection of his brother's disappearance faded away.

   Lance let Westley out of the hug and smiled. "You thought what?"

   Westley looked down for a moment. "I uh, don't remember… But a part of me feels really glad to see you…"

   Lance placed a hand on Westley's shoulder. "I knew you missed me!"

   Westley smiled. "Yeah. I did…"

[shehungthemoon]

Just dumping my Ina Paha thoughts here. 🙃

First of all I did NOT know it was the 100th episode going into this, so i was very confused watching the montage at the end lol

I also had to click out and make sure I didn't click the wrong episode when the Pilot started playing at the beginning. When I heard Danny's voice on the phone instead of Hesse's I swear I got whiplash

It's filmed so well (bar where they reshot the pilot where Steve gets Danny on the phone instead of a dead dad, in which they literally forgot to put the same filter over the scene to make the stitching coherent) and I absolutely love the camera work they did with the white-room and the video projections. It felt very much a level above normal network television cinematography, especially the parts where Steve's going in and out of the hallucinations.

Steve finally FINALLY killing Wo-Fat was so cathartic, it should have happened ages ago but I'm willing to look past all the dumb ways he survived just to allow this incredible ending to his story.

Ina Paha gave me Kono doing... this. I owe Grace Park my whole life. Pls costuming department put her in hot pink again 💗

yes, it was a Steve episode. but Danny REALLY shone, first as the only resident Actual Detective figuring out what happened to Steve by the tire-tracks, rampaging through the compound steadily and efficiently and knocking people off without a pause, and then in Steve's mind shooting Hesse's kneecaps off?!?!?! That was CRAZY and probably not suppose to be as hot as it was and definitely made me want an ex-mobster AU immediately. Basically I have a competency kink and really like badass!danny shit 😊

Seeing Chin's long hair again made me swoon

My jaw dropped when I saw Jenna! I think it's really interesting that Steve still thinks of her so much, and I was surprised that she showed up in both the actual dreams and the montage. I definitely underestimated how much she impacted Steve's life, it seems, and I hate that we'll never hear him address that and we'll only know about it inadvertently like this.

(hand over the heart for how lori got like. one team shot. poor girlie.)

⭐I took the montage at the end as being flashbacks and memories that Steve was having as he left the compound. Looking at it through that lens certainly makes one unwell.

Obligatory squeal for Adam appearing just to save the day :))) look below to see the love of my life! :)))))) ⬇⬇⬇

Of course, the obligatory mcdanno bullet(s). It writes itself! The way Danny said Steve's name so small and broken when he found him. The way they look at each other on the ground, the pain their faces. I need an official apology statement from Scott and Alex for it. Can we talk about what flashes by during the montage at the end? (IMO it being Steve's memories.) So much Danny.

The first thing is Danny and Steve's first meeting. Jfc. The showrunners milk it SO MUCH and who's complaining

The big, rocking hug. The hands clasping underground. Gracie of course. And then Danny collapsing from the bioweapon, which to be honest I was NOT expecting to see at all--it felt like a genuinely strange choice to include in there and it really ONLY makes sense if you go along with all that being what Steve's remembering. Even then, I was surprised to see it, so basically this is Hawaii Five-Oh making mcdanno gayer than even I was wanting them to be. Steve still thinks about that? From so long ago? Even with so many other close calls in between then and now? Good fucking lord ok then loverboy that's WILD. Canon accepted ig this show is just pure whump.

Danny goes through all of this just days after losing his brother and killing Reyes. JFC can we please address that. I need a 30k introspection fic to let me into this man's mind rn.

The Wo Fat v.s. Steve fight at the end was INCREDIBLE. I would love to give the choreographer's hand a shake, it's some of the best work I've seen on television in a long time. It was impressive for a procedural like this. It was long and physical and you truly didn't know what the outcome was going to be; it everything that their built-up relationship deserved for a conclusion. It also happening with a Steve coming off of hours of torture and drugging was crazy (guess we finally know who would win a PVP if they were both at full strength!). That being said I was really impressed with Wo Fat's capabilities and physical prowess, I was not expecting it to be so even and close to the line. I actually jumped when Steve LIFTED him up into the lighting fixture. We do not talk about Steve's (Alex's???) raw upper-body strength enough.

Anyway. Electricity in the water play. The physicality hell that this gif below is ⬇. Fire extinguishers and loaded needles. Crazy martial arts. Chair and buckets (holy shit did y'all see the force with which Wo Fat SHOT that bucket?????) flying. All's fair. I loved it.

The shot going right through the forehead, clean. I don't know how to put into words why that's so monumental to me but it is.

The mystery bad lady was SO intriguing, I wish we got more from her... How does she know Wo Fat? Why was she entrusted with all that information on him and Steve and especially Doris? Absolutely where did she come from, what was her name? Why did I have a huge huge hot crush on her? All important questions. (Goes to show that h50 CAN give us some more genuine badass, not just there to date someone women characters, just explicitly choose not to. I'm holding out for Ellie to remain platonic so hard right now.)

Almost forgot Danny in that black Hawaiian shirt. Will be whimpering over that image forever. The whole episode I was trying to focus on the underlining betrayal mystery they were laying out but every time my brain started working too hard Scott with his stupid waist and those flower patterns just started flashing into my head

Again, are you seeing this:

I'm unwell and so so happy.

H50 you're a gem when you want to be.

[cherryberg]

Also. This is your sign to introduce an OC. Here and now

hi ardate :] this is a bit late but, since i did it, i might as well introduce her now in this post

for my april fool's day joke, i did a little trick on the find everything discord server where i made a handful of screenshots showing a new (fake) character:

this is Myla Warper, a Whatsit Woods NPC

i don't have much on her at the moment, and i suspect a lot about her lore will become obsolete when 0.3 comes around, but essentially, she's an engineer and the inventor of the Warp, the in-game fast travel system. she spends a lot of time at home, but is getting out a little more, using the Warp and a range of mobility aids

she managed to trick a few folks (which, looking at how the first find everything hoax, wouldn't've been a hard thing to pull off) but, shortly after - though, in retrospect, it could've been left revealed until the end of the day, i revealed the prank with:

anyway, i'll put the fake screenshots under the cut and maybe post Myla concepts in a reblog :] + notes. there'll be notes. i've got notes

i don't remember when exactly i conceptualised Myla, but it might've been between when 0.2 was released and when the developers streamed their 0.2 launch stream a few days later. this is because i had this thought of Myla living in that old abandoned house, working away at her tech (in the early stages, Myla's outfit in my mind would be a the classic tanktop and half-worn jumpsuit where the top half was tied around her waist, you know the look), but obviously had to be just a fun scrapped idea when it was discussed on the stream that Old Man Majig lives there

still, Myla being hidden away in this corner of Whatsit Woods is reminiscent of that idea i guess. it is also just a very good spot for something you could've missed, especially since the community had been combing through save files looking for the second fun value, but it does sort of make her following dialogue a little strange as she's not near any Warp pads

this bit is meant to, like, mirror dialogue from "tutorial NPCs" who casually introduce new concepts to the player. having worked hard on drawing Illie last year for Halloween, i had her a lot in mind, with Illie also being a tutorial NPC. looked over her 5 lines of dialogue a lot to try and get the vibe down right (of course, she wasn't the only one, but she was the main one) .. i can wrap my head around the Find Everything art style, but writing stuff that matches the FE vibe got me stumped so i hope it didnt stand out all that much

originally, those first two lines where different and. stiffer for a long while ("I actually make a few Warp Drives myself!"/"Er… Let's not be humble, maybe more than a few. Maybe all of 'em."), but i think it worked out in the end. the very first bit of dialogue was also changed ("Hey there, blockling! Just on a walk.") to just be combined with the next line but i just really wanted to preserve that "blockling" here. i know it's just the species name of like. the Roblox character, but it also reads as a little endearing term to me

ahh, the reason why i sort of thought up Myla in the first place. see, a big contention in the find everything community is Whatsit Woods being the only major area in the game without a Warp Drive, despite there already being Warp pads by its entrances in two neighbouring areas. the lack of a Whatsit Woods Warp is very likely to be changed with the 0.3 map rework, but i always thought this (and the Construction Zone Warp.. ) discourse was stupid. Myla going "No. Why? I live here." is like. cathartic to me.(??)

but regardless, she and Watcher Macallit are kind of ocs born from asking "why is this the way it is?" why is there no Whatsit Warp Drive? what makes a Thing a Thing? just ocs to play with and sort of expand worldbuilding, and i love doing this

[ncisfranchise-source]

Brian Dietzen‘s Jimmy Palmer is now the chief medical examiner on “NCIS,” having taken over that function as the character’s mentor, David McCallum‘s Ducky character, slid into an emeritus role a few seasons ago. When McCallum died in September, it fell into Dietzen’s real-life lap to become something of a grief examiner, as he took on the duty of co-writing a farewell salute to Ducky — and to David — along with one of the series’ longtime executive producers, Scott Williams.

The tribute episode they came up with, “The Stories We Leave Behind,” airs Monday night on CBS. For many longtime viewers, Ducky’s memorial will be, well, tearducty, as elder fans, especially, remember not just McCallum’s two-decade run on the top dramatic series of the 21st century but a lifetime of roles stretching back to the actor’s star-making 1960s co-lead part on “The Man From U.N.C.L.E.”

As McCallum’s primary scene partner for 20 seasons, Dietzen had a vested interest in celebrating Ducky for the third episode he has co-written for the show. (He talked about his writing debut for his series in an extensive interview with Variety almost exactly two years ago.) In this catch-up, he discusses wanting to provide both the audience and himself some catharsis with the double-duty on this episode… and what’s up for Jimmy Palmer beyond the current grief, with the show having the formerly bumbling character as one of its most solid rocks two decades into a historic run.

What was it like for you, to be co-writing a tribute episode, so soon after the death of the man you’d worked so closely with for 20 years?

You know, when you lose a friend, and then you process your grief by writing something immediately, that’s to be consumed by the masses — not writing and journaling about what you’re feeling, but writing something for performance, for public consumption… it was very strange in a way. But also very cathartic.

How quickly did the show move toward thinking about how to handle the death, and how did you come into the writing part?

We had this major work stoppage. It was the end of September that David passed away, so we were all walking the picket line out there, and I would meet tons of people who would come up and express their condolences, people who had been fans of his for decades and decades. We knew immediately we wanted to do something to honor the person, but also, of course, the character within the universe. Once the writers went back to work, Scott said he definitely wanted to write that episode, and furthermore, he wanted to team up with me to write it. This is our third script that we’ve written on together, and when he brought my name up, our showrunners Steve Binder and David North said, “Yeah, we’d love for that to happen — Brian’s worked alongside David more than anyone else, and then Scott has obviously written for him for years.”

You have some clips in the episode, but there are only so many you can work into 42 minutes when you also have to spotlight the team’s emotional responses… and have a crime, which no “NCIS” episode is ever going to go without, as a rule.

God knows we could have done a show where it was just clip after clip of David, and these wonderful, long diatribes that he’s had. But we wanted to make sure that there was something that brought the team together one last time with Ducky, and so we found a way to have this be something that Ducky had left undone, and that the team felt a need to honor their fallen friend by finishing something for him. You know, when you lose someone, it can sometimes feel like, “What do I do? What do I do with my hands? What do I do with my body right now?” And you can feel jittery, because this is a part of grief. And so our team actually gets to go into action, and not just sit in their distress but actually affect change in someone else’s life, and by proxy fulfill a wish of Ducky’s.

Was there anything that you specifically wanted to channel into the remembrance of the person or the character?

One of the biggest things that I wanted to talk about and explore had to do with the loss of any friend or a loved one, but that really works really hand-in-glove with the character of Ducky: He told so many stories, over the course of the last 20 years at NCIS, and that I think is what a lot of people remember that character for. I certainly will; me playing Jimmy Palmer, I listened to so many of those stories, some of them long, some of them very short and quippy. Ducky had a lot of those, and David had a lot of those over the course of his almost 70 years in Hollywood. The name of this episode is “The Stories We Leave Behind.” So that’s what I wanted to do to honor him, to recognize that those stories are earned and meaningful. You add ’em up altogether and you have a very full life, and that very full life is all we really leave behind to affect people; once we’re gone, those stories become our legacy.

The other goal was that I wanted a communal space — 42 minutes of time where all of his colleagues, the people that called him a friend, and the folks that have never met him but have known him for the last 60 years and watched him weekly on “NCIS” for the last 20 years — a space where we could all come together and share our sadness, and also share the joy that we got to know him, even if it was over a television set. I think the ritual of getting together and having a memorial for someone, whether you call it a funeral or a party, is really important, and it’s something I wanted everyone to be able to share, and I think David would’ve loved that… Grief is a powerful thing and sometimes feels like an awful thing, that recedes and comes back and recedes again. But I’m hoping that we’re left with a sense of hope by the end of this episode, and not just sadness that he’s gone, but also, boy, what a blessing that that he was here.

“The Stories We Leave Behind” – Pictured (L-R): Brian Dietzen as Jimmy Palmer, Katrina Law as NCIS Special Agent Jessica Knight, Wilmer Valderrama as Nick Torres, Diona Reasonover as Forensic Scientist Kasie Hines, and Gary Cole as FBI Special Agent Alden Parker. Photo: Michael Yarish/CBSCBS

You and your lab partner, Kasie (Diona Reasonover), have an interesting scene, where you discuss guilt that comes after a death over not having fully expressed feelings. And then that scene ends with an “I love you.” It’s like you’re telling the audience that we should feel good about actions having proved love… but hey, maybe we should be going beyond that with words.

Yeah. I’ve experienced that before and I have loved ones that have experienced that before, where you lose someone and you go, “Oh, man, did they know?” When my mom passed away, did she know how much I loved her? And of course she did, but still the question persists, and it still nags at you. And I think there is that moment for Kasie of saying, “You know what? I do love you.” It doesn’t hurt to say. There’s an “Our Town” sort of thing that happens there where it’s like: “Why are these people not saying they love one another every moment of every day? If I were able to go back and do it again, I would be doing that in a heartbeat.” And I love that idea that if if your eyes are open to (learning from) that, then maybe you savor that moment a bit more when you get to connect with someone on a Saturday morning, or the sandwich tastes a little better, and there’s something about life that you will look at and appreciate more than before you had lost anyone.

What were some of your thoughts about David, observing him up-close for almost 20 years? He had huge fame at an early age with “Man From U.N.C.L.E.,” then fell out of sight, then seemed to have a very casual relationship with the limelight when it came back to him, less intensely, in his career’s third act.

A lot of us would marvel at how young he seemed. You know, he was cast in this show when he was 70 years old, and everyone said, “Oh, he looks like he’s in his late 50s” when we started this show. And the guy had it figured out. He knew what stressed him out, and he avoided that. I remember saying, what’s the secret to the longevity and that sort of stuff, and he said, “I try not to stress myself too much. You know, if I find things that do stress myself out, I try not to do those things, or I try to get help with those from other people.”

I was talking to his wife, Katherine, last month, and she said, “I’ll never forget when he was 70 years old, coming to me and saying, ‘Catherine, my people want me to go audition for this thing, this new Don Bellisario show. I don’t know. Do you think I should do another TV show?’” And she said, “Ah, yeah, go, you know, you’ll enjoy it. You’ll have a good time. Who knows how long it’ll last anyhow.” And then that turns into a 20-year gig. It was interesting that when we were, gosh, maybe in our 10th season, he had just finished a writing a novel that became a New York Times bestseller (“Once a Crooked Man”). He was voicing two different cartoons that were major hits for the Disney Channel, and a couple different video games as well. And he was portraying Ducky on the No. 1 show in the world. I was in my mid-30s at the time, and I thought, this 80-year-old man is making me look so lazy. He just wanted to keep going and keep working; he really enjoyed it.

But I think that some of the balance that you’re kind of alluding to — that he didn’t crave to be some rocketing, huge superstar — was that he loved his family more than anything. And I think that’s where his heart was a lot, and I’m so glad that over the past five, six years, he was able to spend a lot more time not just in California but in New York with all of his grandkids. He had a wonderful grounding that way.

David had been pretty much full-time with the show through the 15th season, and then he got on a semi-retirement path, it seemed, cutting his workload down to being on just half the episodes in a season, then six, then three, remotely. From the outside we didn’t necessarily know whether that was being realistic about what he could do health-wise, or whether that was just wanting to enjoy life. But fans did appreciate that he didn’t leave the show outright.

And what was incredible was that he was largely a very, very healthy person, keeping himself well. I mean, he was doing Pilates. And he still just hit the scenes hard. I mean, the scene that keeps being shown for these promos is a scene from a show where the character of Gibbs has just left (in the opening stretch of the 2021-22 season), and Jimmy is having a tough time with that and says, “We just lost Gibbs. Bishop just left, and I lost Breena last year, and I’m just about ready for people to stop leaving. I’m having a tough time here.” And David says — or sorry, Ducky says — “Change is the essence of life, and our pain is a small price to pay for his peace.” That scene, when we filmed that, that was probably one of the last handful of scenes that he and I got to film in person together. He just knocked it out of the park. And that was him at 88 years old, and just tremendous.

So, as far as him pulling back and wanting to do less, I think it had very, little to do with health or ability or anything like that, and much more to do with “what’s smart for my life, what’s good for me — but I never want to stop doing this, because it feeds my soul, it feeds my creative energy.” He always had been and always will be an actor. But he also wanted to just spend time with family. And he was so encouraging of me in my journey in taking over the role of medical examiner on the show. He couldn’t have been more supportive and more kind.

Brian Dietzen and David McCallum. (Photo by Monty Brinton/CBS via Getty Images)CBS via Getty Images

As someone who was his primary scene partner, you had a great introduction to the public, since an audience that had watched him for decades was going to be riveted to the few scenes they got with David every week, but with you as foil, he was not going to be sucking up all the oxygen.

And he was certainly very giving with his scene work. With all of that said, he was also a veteran, and a guy who knows the tricks of the trade, and how to get great coverage and that sort of thing. I learned so much from him over the course of this period of time. So if once in a while, if all of us are standing on one side of the body and he walks to the other side because he knows he’ll get a great single shot of himself, you learn from that sort of thing, too!

To focus on Jimmy for a minute, the character has been considerably elevated over the years. His personal life has been highlighted. What do you foresee for any of that this season or going forward?

Jimmy’s been on on such a ride. Over the course of the last few years, Jimmy certainly has seen some tough stuff between obviously the biggest event of his life, which is the loss of his wife during COVID, and then his team shifting. And then, with the addition of Gary Cole and Katrina Law, there’s a very different team dynamic that this show has right now, and I absolutely love it. Being able to have Jimmy actually fall in love is great to play — not to mention, I get to do more scenes with Katrina Law, who’s an absolutely fantastic actor, and we work very well together. So we will definitely see some advancement of the Jimmy and Jessica storyline. That doesn’t necessarily mean that everything’s smooth sailing all the time. He loves her enough that he blurted out “I love you” in front of an entire bullpen full of people, and she was kind enough to say it back, later in the episode. But, yeah, there’s gonna be some stuff that they’re gonna go through that maybe is some growing pains, and maybe even some bigger stuff than that.

I’ve also already shot some stuff this season that is just some terrific, classic NCIS comedic stuff that I love digging my teeth into. Our writers have really given ussome incredible scenes to do. We have this truncated season of only 10 episodes, so everyone kind of feels like, “Oh, I get one at-bat, basically, this year,” and everyone swings hard and swings for the fences. Not to pat ourselves on the back too much, but when I read these scripts, I’m like, man, it’s just banger after banger. So, yeah, the comedic bits have been fantastic, the Jimmy and Jessica stuff has been great, and then, of course, you know, the crimes… There’s always the crimes.

It’s still a little surprising to see an inter-office romance treated comfortably on “NCIS,” for anyone who remembers the Tiva years, when the romantic tension between Tony and Ziva was always paramount and those lines into clear consummation wouldn’t be crossed. Then the audience got a real romance on the sister show, “NCIS Los Angeles,” and it seemed the franchise got a little friendlier with the idea that this doesn’t have to be played purely as torture. You can see why for a lot of years the show did not lean into anything like that, but at the same time, maybe the audience enjoys some contentedness.

Yeah. I think that started with Don Bellisario, who was right with the conventional wisdom that said, for a long time, well, you have to have the tension of will they or won’t they? Because if you consummate that relationship, then there’s no more tension. That was the thought process for a long time. But I think, right now, man, audiences are really smart, and audiences also really like to see the positive. Again, not that there won’t be bumps. But when you get home from like a long day at work or you just want to have your family time together on Monday nights and sit around and watch your “NCIS” family play, there’s something to be said for it being pretty cool to see a relationship where there’s an emotional maturity about it, and they’re lifting each other up. You know, there’s something that’s, like, “Ahhh, that feels good,” you know? Because there’s a lot of stuff that doesn’t feel so good right now.

No one can appreciate more than you the irony that, as a former bit player, you are one of the rocks of “NCIS” — along with Sean Murray, a year-one anchor the show’s O.G. viewers depend on.

Oh, I called it from day one! I got this one-day guest star role that I was gonna go audition for and I was like, “If I play my cards right, this is gonna turn into over two decades’ worth of work.” No, of course I couldn’t know, but I’m just happy and blessed to still be playing a character that’s changed and evolved quite a bit. And people keep enjoying the stories that we’re telling, and if we keep telling good ones, then I think hopefully they’ll keep ordering some more.

[udaberriwrites]

Fic Writer Self Rec

Fic authors self-rec! ✨ When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers ❤️

Oooh, a chance to ramble about my fics, I see, well let's do this! Thank you, @sliebman10!

Let's tag... @mikaharuka , @alpaca-clouds , @thememoryofthatday , @sapphosewrites , @axolotlsupremacyowo , @0nelittlebirdtoldme , @kayedium-writes and @tsunderewatermelon !

Ok, ok, so... as usual, I'm going to be jumping around, because you guys know how my attention span can be xD

1. Life is a Rollercoaster; or Tao Xu's Fight Against the Big Butterfly of Doom (Heartstopper | 11.1k | Fluff, Humor, Time Travel)

Tao got the chance to go back in time and undo his worst mistake. Tao prevented Charlie from being outed or bullied. Tao changed things enough that, the second time around, Charlie didn't get assigned the seat next to Nick Nelson in form.

…Fuck.

Or: the Butterfly Effect sucks, and if Tao has to take desperate measures to ensure his friend's happiness, he will. He draws the line at Iron Man 2 though, someone has to keep some standards around here.

I binged the show and immediately got the urge to write something for it, but I didn't expect it to blow up as it did! I had fun with this one, and the readers were super nice and encouraging, plus sharing this one is what led me to eventually meet @mikaharuka as we rambled over our fics, so for that alone it's always going to have a special significance for me 😁

2. Neither Grief Nor Glory (TSOA/Hades | 7.6k | Angst, Smut)

Dying had been a relief, but death is turning into its own kind of torment.

Dying was just the beginning. Achilles' journey back to Patroclus is a long and twisted one. Along the way he'll have to confront his unaddressed grief, face his many regrets and learn to truly become a man worthy of Patroclus' unconditional love.

But like all journeys, eventually he'll reach his safe harbor.

My first yuletide! This one took months and a couple of minor breakdowns, but the end result is something I am very proud of, both in terms of the prose and the worldbuilding. And my giftee left the loveliest comment ☺️

3. All That Matters (Asterix the Gaul | 2.6k | Character Study, Queerplatonic Relationships)

Asterix has always felt different, but he has Obelix, and that is usually enough. Everybody else has questions, however, and he grows tired of answering.

"He wants to shout, even if he still doesn't know what he wants to say, even if he knows that if he lets his frustration take hold of his tongue, he will regret the harm he will cause."

This was... very, very cathartic to write. I remember rewriting sections of this so often, and I am humbled by the response it had. It was a very validating experience.

4. Life is a Flower, Love is the Honey (Deep Space Nine | 9.5k | Romance and Fluff)

“I don’t think Julian would like that,” Leeta said, without pausing to think about it, but… “We could ask him,” Rom had replied. And wasn’t that an interesting idea?

(A self-indulgent, mostly Rom-centric, Julian/Leeta/Rom fic because I was re-watching ‘Bar Association’ and this happened. I have no regrets.)

The one that brought me back into writing, after several years of hiatus... and the one that gave me confidence to push on, even if I nearly backed out due to it featuring a strange rarepair. This story is always going to be special for me <3

4. When You Speak, I Hear Silence (Deep Space Nine | 1.8k | Friendship)

Terok Nor is no more, and strange new aliens are coming to the newly named Deep Space Nine. Nog doesn't expect life to change; but then he finds a friend, who gives him the greatest gift he will ever receive.

If there's a fic where I wouldn't change a single word or a moment of the writing process, it has to be this one. I'm so glad I didn't go with my initial idea, because this version with Jake&Nog just made things click for me ^_^

[wherewhereare]

Gavin Rossdale: 'I just quit everything to work on my private life, which was a waste of my time'

Separate ways: Gavin Rossdale with ex-wife Gwen Stefani

By Joe Nerssessian

April 06 2017 09:05 AM

The past few years have been a little rocky for Gavin Rossdale, but he's adamant joining The Voice was one of his 'best decisions', and working on the new Bush album proved a much needed catharsis.

Gavin Rossdale is a busy man. Aside from his role as a coach on ITV's The Voice UK, the Bush frontman has been working on a new cookery talk show, his own clothing line, is currently promoting the band's latest record, and the ink is still drying on his first venture into songwriting for other artists.

The past few months have also seen him play his first UK gig in more than five years, amid frequent trips to see, and visits from, his three youngest children (he has three sons with ex-wife Gwen Stefani, and is also the father of 28-year-old model Daisy Lowe).

It all seems quite remarkable given that, two years ago, Rossdale had cancelled a tour and decided he'd never record music again - because, he says, he wanted to focus on trying to fix things with then-wife Stefani, who he'd been married to since 2002 (however, their divorce was finalised in early 2016).

"I just quit everything to work on my private life, which was ironic because that was a waste of f****** time," explains London-born Rossdale (51). "I stopped working when I got divorced, I didn't care, I didn't want to work... I went insular and I put all my time into them (his sons)."

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Slowly but surely, however, the pain subsided and he returned to work, which involved writing two albums - the first of which he "spared" everyone, while the second is Black And White Rainbows, Bush's seventh studio album, released in March.

Then there's The Voice. Rossdale calls the decision to join the series one of the best he's ever made, but admits it perhaps seemed a little strange.

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"I know it was unusual that someone like me, a street urchin, from counterculture corners where this ancient transcription called rock music exists, [would do something like that], so I know it was a bit of a weird thing, but I'm really proud to be on it and it's nothing but a total pleasure," he insists.

Rossdale was also recently signed by a new record label, after his dealings with BMG came to an end. He claims they feared that he would release a "manic depressive" album, admitting the unreleased material perhaps swayed towards that.

But it was never intended for consumption, he says: "I wasn't writing for anyone but just for me, to find a way for me to mourn, so I went through the mourning process and then a record appeared - and because I'd decided to be as English as possible and take the high road and never discuss it, it meant I had to put everything I felt into the music.

"It was really cathartic and pure because I wasn't trying to sell anything, I wasn't trying to get a hit record."

Bush are famed for being a UK band embraced by America, a trend that's continued with Black And White Rainbows.

However, for a group rarely treated to praise from the Press, Rossdale argues that concern over what the critics think is almost beyond him.

"Of course it bothers me being bashed around, but the funny thing is the world is so serious and difficult, and whether you take the 16 million people who are facing famine, or look at Syria or at the refugees in other war-torn areas, it's a bit much to shed tears because someone says, 'You're pants, you're not very good, we don't like you'."

He thinks The Voice offered a platform for the UK public to see him as a "three-dimensional character", as opposed to "a headline or the t*** who is successful in America and not here".

Rossdale continues: "It was never a situation where I was concerned or worried about a lack of success, I was just as successful as The Pixies, just as successful as The Jesus Lizard, all the bands I grew up with and love and admire. How greedy can you be? 'Oh love me more', it's b*******, man up."

On a roll, he recalls how, when touring with Bowie, the late pop superstar told him to "outlive your critics".

"And I have, I hope. Also, I don't really read as much about our albums because I'm sick of getting a hiding," he adds with a laugh, before suggesting he had a lot of critics in the UK media because of his success in the States.

Despite all this, Rossdale is a charming interviewee. He makes frequent jokes, cheerfully compliments questions, and critiques himself as a hypocrite when suggesting some celebrities cross platforms too readily.

He's also surprisingly funny. After being reminded of a television appearance on The Nightly Show, in which he sat quietly as his fellow Voice coaches did the talking, he admits he was kept silent by a dilemma over whether to have Chinese or Italian for dinner.

His new-found friendship with fellow coach Sir Tom led to the Welsh singer attending Bush's recent gig at London's Shepherd's Bush Empire, and perhaps more poignantly, prompted a conversation about Elvis, which has left a mark on Rossdale.

"People can't go through a week without having a good day, a bad day; it's being human and no matter your stature in life, life is just there.

"I realised this recently after chatting to Tom and he was telling me about a phone call he had from Elvis in 1965. He'd (Elvis)had a tough couple of years, had Kissin' Cousins, the worst Elvis song, he'd stopped making music because he took part in some dodgy movies and he was lost," Rossdale explains. "Tom told me this, and I thought, 'Oh my God, if Elvis was lost for two years, how the f*** are the rest of us going to cut it?'"

From <https://www.belfasttelegraph.co.uk/entertainment/news/gavin-rossdale-i-just-quit-everything-to-work-on-my-private-life-which-was-a-waste-of-my-time-35597417.html>

[spaceroadtrip]

I am absolutely terrible when it comes to writing anything about my own WIPs on this blog despite making a specific writing side blog for this purpose. So I thought I'd share a list of some of my favourite quotes from Spes Super Sydera--out of context, of course! Spes Super Sydera is my sci-fi WIP centring on the main character, Eloise, and her struggle to unravel what exactly happened to her dad after he went missing on a deep-space mission about a year before the book starts. It involves heists, kidnapping, potential aliens, and adventures on spaceships.

Here beginth part one of the quotes:

(They were all going to go here but I started reading the earlier chapters and discovering more and more bits that I enjoyed so I'm splitting it up. I've currently got 42 chapters and counting. Don't know how that happened!)

Ch. 5: “Don’t look at me like that. I haven’t done anything illegal—personally, anyway."

Ch. 6: “I vote for breaking the door down.” Charlie bounces on the balls of her feet and rubs her hands together far too gleefully for Eloise’s tastes. “I’ve always wanted to have a go with an axe.”

Ch. 7: Not that she expects to find many vases down here. It’s not the sort of thing that a space exploration company tends to keep in their important archives that are off-limits to most people. Unless it’s a vase from space, perhaps. An alien vase would be worth keeping.

Ch. 7: “I’m delegating like any good leader does. Hop to it, peasant.”

Ch. 10: Eloise gives up on thinking and climbs onto her bed so she can scream into the pillows. It’s cathartic.

Ch. 12: With a sigh, Eloise kicks her heels against the desk drawers from her position atop the desk. “Am I supposed to do all the talking now? I’m not sure I like the sound of my own voice enough for that sort of commitment.”

“I’m thinking,” Rebecca snarls, catching one of Eloise’s feet in an iron grip. “Something that would be easier if you could sit still. We’re not children anymore.”

“Don’t I know it. I never had to deal with international security secrets or conspiracies when I was a kid. It was usually just low-level bureaucratic bribery and incompetency.”

“My, aren’t you hilarious.”

“One of us has to be.”

Ch. 16: Charlie kicks one of her feet up to bop Eloise on the nose and she scowls, batting the offending foot away before the smell of sweaty feet overwhelms her. “Give over, Eloise. My feet smell of daises and lavender if they smell of anything at all because I actually remember to shower regularly, unlike some people.” She glances around the circle and everyone stares right back, utterly unbothered by her accusations.

Ch. 18: "For someone who’s supposed to be our leader, you don’t seem to be paying much attention,” Dom drawls, reaching around the back of Charlie’s chair he can jab Eloise’s shoulder—hard.

Rebecca scowls. “I contest that. Eloise is not our leader.”

“Seconded.” Eloise sticks her hand in the air and reaches for her coffee mug. Someone pushes it out of the way. “Hey! Seriously, I don’t want to be in charge of you lot. I can barely stay in charge of myself.”

Ch. 18: Benedict folds his arms across his chest and leans back in his chair, managing to look remarkedly intimidating for a short and rather gangly man wearing a fluffy dressing gown and dog-shaped slippers. It’s a skill Eloise would pay to learn.

Ch. 19: Not, of course, that Eloise is actively planning to try. But if the opportunity presents itself? Well, who is she to stand in the way of the universe?

Ch. 20: A sudden crackle in Eloise’s ear makes her jump. She almost claps her hand over the earpiece, barely managing to turn the gesture into smoothing other a non-existent errant strand of hair.

“Are we going for full-on lies now, Eloise? Careful it doesn’t come back to bite you on the ass,” Rebecca says in a sing-song voice, sounding strangely chirpy. It’s disconcerting.

“Oh, we’re being a proper peanut gallery then, are we?” That’s Charlie and her words are fainter, as though she’s further away from the microphone.

Muffled rustling fills Eloise’s ear. “No. We’re here to listen. And provide useful comments.”

“Useful. As if anyone has ever had any of those.” A burst of bright laughter fills Eloise’s ear after Benedict’s grumbly words and she winces again, cringing at the too-loud noise.

Ch. 22: “The hell is wrong with you? Not everything requires a kidnapping.” Charlie shrugs as Dom cards both hands through his hair, restyling his artfully tousled curls into something resembling a particularly unkempt bird nest.

[vaguelyregrettable]

Cirque Du Humaine Nature

---

Sweeping curtains lifting to reveal an empty stage, the perfect canvas for the circus of human nature. An acting group with a focus on physical expression. Having only started in the last few years, the troupe seemed to still be acquiring its footing in determining its actual appeal. Having done slapstick silent film era comedy reimaginings to full dance renditions of acclaimed musicals. A single clown would sit on the edge of the stage, notepad and pen in hand. "Oh, how futile these words to express the love I have for you." The words on the paper, read aloud, sounded strange and obtuse being recited by the clown. "Duorre, how's the new script coming along?" The woman's voice carried a mixture of arrogance and annoyance in equal parts. "It'll be ready soon enough, Dan." Duorre let out a shallow sigh with their placation. Dan, or rather Danielle, the director of the show, had been asking with ever increasing frequency. Little did she understand the creative process, atleast that's what Duorre would tell anyone willing to listen. "I need it done before the end of the week. We don't have this place forever. Besides, I want to get to practicing soon." The clown nodded and continued focusing on their work.

Three chairs are placed around the beautiful cherry wood dining table. A small candelabra is sitting at the center of the table. A single candle burning, serving as the guiding light for the first guest to find her seat. "Dinners ready." She summoned the other two guests as she sat down to an empty table. For a moment, it seemed the candle would be the only guest to join. When a young man walked out, his footsteps at once too heavy and too soft for the uncarpeted stage. "Thanks." The man whispered, obviously annoyed, as he sat down with a sigh. Finally, the last guest made his presence known. A much bigger man, older and more muscular. "Dinner looks great, babe." The man spoke with a tired rasp. The younger man growing more agitated every second sighed loudly, dramatically. The older man hadn't quite sat down yet, pulling his chair out when the younger man slammed his fists on the table. "I'm done! I won't pretend to be a part of this family as long as he's here."

The theatre was silent as Duorre sat in the front row, still writing notes. "Don't you think writing the father as some abusive piece of shit character is a little overdone?" The older man asked, having unintentionally snuck up on Duorre. "I don't know, Alex. It's still a big problem many people face." Duorre responded without looking up from their notes. "I don't know, Duo. The whole thing makes me uncomfortable, Diane knows I'd never hurt her. But does anyone else?" Alex's fear crept into his voice, causing a small shake. "For fucks sake Alex, no one will think you're an abuser, it's just a show." Duorre responded as an impatient and aggressive attempt to ease Alex's fears. "Okay, Duo." Alex responded, sounding defeated rather than calmed. "Why couldn't you put Travis or Dan in as the dad?" Alex asked after having already turned around, but before having started on leaving. "They have their own characters. It will make sense later. Besides, can you imagine if I switched you and Travis? The age difference aside, the mere size difference of you two would make it absolutely unbelievable that you'd be afraid of him." Alex nodded at Duorre and continued on his way out of the theatre, obviously unhappy with the answer he'd been given.

Stuck somewhere between three walls, a makeshift bed offered escape to a frustrated young man. The stage had finally been carpeted, more so to move the bed than to soften footsteps. The boy screamed into a pillow, a guttural full forced vocal release. Which was soon followed by a knock at the only door into the room. "Honey, can I come in?" A woman asked meekly from the other side. "Yeah, yeah, come in." The boy responded, cathartic now. The woman opened the door, taking slow steps towards him. Eventually sitting at the edge of the bed, offering the young man safety in her arms. To which he eagerly wrapped himself around her. "He's just no good for you. You need a man who can treat you right." The young man exclaimed, his voice straining from the screaming he'd done only a minute before. "I know, honey, I know." The woman cooed as she stroked his hair. "Travis, what was that?!" Duorre cried out finally. "You need a man who can treat you right? Listen, if you want to change lines, just talk to me." The actors both sat up straight, alarmed at the forcefulness with which Duorre objected. "I'm sorry, Duo. It just kind of slipped out." Travis looked down bashfully. "I kind of liked it, Duo. What say we rewrite the scene a little?" Diane spoke up, reaching one arm to rub Travis' back in an attempt comfort him. "Alright, I'll talk to Dan about it." Duorre got up swiftly, obviously annoyed. They headed to the exit, looking to get outside for fresh air. "Everyone wants to write their own fucking character, but no one wants to write the story." Duorre whispered to themself, assuming they'd gone out of earshot of the actors. "No one wants to be the villain or the damsel in distress." Dan spoke between drags on her cigarette. Offering Duorre a knowing grin. "Everyone wants to be the hero of their own story."

The bedroom looked so much larger when you sat inside it. The shadows of the theatre danced as one of the stage lights flashed, the bulb dying or perhaps not totally plugged in. The shadows kept Travis entranced, aided by Diane's comforting hand on his back. He turned to look at her. She'd been looking at him for a minute now, their eyes meeting as Travis made an attempt to form words. Diane simply shushed him, then inched closer. Travis wasn't sure what was happening at first. The whole thing took him by surprise. His mind races with thoughts of celebration and confusion. He'd never been of much interest to people his own age, not terribly long ago he was just called 'that ugly girl' but now he was making out with one of the most beautiful women he'd ever met. Her lips felt like silk on his, but the pushing of her face onto his set off in him a thousand fireworks. He kissed her back, reaching to wrap his arms around her, wanting to hold tight this moment, not sure if it was even real. "You don't have to hold so tight dear, I'm not going anywhere." Diane said playfully, having finally pulled away. Travis looked at her stunned, not sure if he was unable or simply unwilling to let go of her. "I-...I'm sorry." He pulled his hands back to his sides, looking to the floor bashfully again. "I just... I didn't expect that." Travis spoke with a near whisper. "Oh, honey. You didn't know, I've always liked you." Diane spoke with a saccharine sweetness lost on Travis in his charmed stupor. "Does this mean we're a thing now?" Travis finally mustered up the courage to ask, realizing how childish it sounded only after the last word left his mouth. "Yes, honey. If that's what you want, we're a thing now."

Burning a candle over his desk to write in his journal, the older man sat, scrawling with an increasing ferocity. "That bitch..." His muttering was slightly slurred, intending to sound drunk but coming across more as a weak nervousness. "Honey... What're you doing up so late?" His wife asked having walked in, wiping the sleep from her eyes. "Sorry dear. It's just you know... That asshole from work. Just wanted to get my thoughts down." The older man reassured his tired wife. "Okay dear. Please don't stay up too late. The... Our son has to get up early tomorrow, and I wanted you to take him to work." The wife spoke in a slightly confused manner at first, but quickly regained her steadiness. She turned to leave the room, going back to sleep. The older man, continued writing on his journal swearing under his breath. "Leave me alone, you bitch..." He'd say a few more times, until he finally finished the writing. Sitting there with his creation finally completed he was stunned. Carefully tearing the paper from the journal, reading it over one final time. "Dear... Wife. I would say I'm sorry, but you know as well as I do, this isn't my fault. Since you became pregnant with your son you've been withholding any kind of affection from me. Barely a kiss, or even a hug. That's to say nothing of the complete lack of sex we've had in the last year alone. I, as a man, have needs and you aren't fulfilling them. I can't keep doing this. The kid doesn't even look like me. Goodbye." Having read it aloud to himself he passed the paper over the candle. The letter becoming ash and floating away.

The front row of the theatre had become a kind of second home for Duorre in this time, for watching practice to throw out lines, to rewriting. This was their spot. Having sat through another miserable, confused performance, Duorre felt at a complete loss. "Duo, you didn't give the characters names. How are we supposed to address each other?" Alex asked timidly, blowing at his newly burnt fingertips. "Call each other by your names! I don't know. We'll figure it out later, Alex." Duorre cried out, frustrated and panicking internally. Diane stepped out from stage left, Duorre knew they were going to be chastised. Diane had a calm but powerful presence with the troupe. As she was the one with the longest career, and with the biggest shows under her belt. She knew how she wanted a show to be done. "Duorre, don't you think we should be helping you write this? This is your first show you've written, right? Why not let us, who have more experience, help you with it?" Diane asked, trying her best to be reasonable with the obviously passionate writer. "Well, that's why I'm helping, Diane." Dan called out from the entrance to the relatively small auditorium. "As director and head of this company, everything goes through me. So if Duo needs help, I'll come help." Dan spoke with a forcefulness not unusual for her as she walked closer to the stage. No one dared speak up against her, not wanting to have unnecessary punishment doled out upon them. "But I do like that idea. Let's just use our names. If we figure out something better later, we'll use those. But for familiarities sake, we can use our real names." Dan's words making the ruling iron clad.

Gray walls took over the stage, only three to simulate a cubicle space. The color, lack of space, and dim lighting only served to fuel the oppressive atmosphere. Alex sat at a desk, facing an empty gray wall. "Fucks sake, Alex. You look terrible!" Dan's voice rang out from off stage, entering into the scene with a devious grin and an arrogant saunter. "Yeah Dan. Just having a tough time right now." Alex heaved a sigh to cap off his statement, just before burying his face in his hands. "How about you and I get a drink after work? It'll be my treat." Dan offered with a hearty slap on Alex's back. "Are you sure?" Alex responded meekly, then caught himself before Dan could respond. "Y'know what? Yeah, let's have a drink after work." With this declaration the scene faded to black. The sound of wheels rolling across the wooden floorboards and slight grunts of invisible theatre hands. When the lights came back up the scene was a much dirtier but more comfortable atmosphere. The lighting a softer yellow, with a neon sign for a beer company that went out of business years ago hanging in front of Alex. The beer in front of him sat collecting condensation as Alex chewed at his lip, waiting on Dan who could be heard laughing and telling stories. "And then I told him he could fuck right off. Speaking of which, I gotta get back to my friend. But I'm sure you'll see me around." Dan finally acknowledging Alex's existence approached him with the swagger of a twenty year old man receiving his first dose of validation. "How's it going bud? Diane weighing you down still?" Dan looked up from his drink for the first time since the scene had changed. He simply stared at Dan for a moment. "No, I mean... Not entirely. Travis hates my guts, Diane care more about him than she loves me. I'm expecting Charles to fire me soon enough. Nothing's working out." Alex let out a sigh and took the first sip of his beer, the taste causing him to grimace. "Come with me, I'll show you something." Alex turned to Dan who had reached out his hand. Nervously Alex accepted, and took Dan's hand. Dan moved upstage, his casual clothing serving to hide his actors gender even now. As the actors stood there, basking in the spotlight for a moment before Dan could offer up his monologue. The stage was now being moved in the darkness, the wall being turned around, desk taken out, the whole scene being shifted. "Alex, out here we are men. Diane has never understood that. She wanted you to be something your not. Travis doesn't understand his masculinity, you know how it is with kids these days." Dan began his monologue, looking out to the audience. "We are men, made to conquer. Free to fight, take what we want! She doesn't give you what you want, it's time to find someone who will."

The emptiness of the stage as the set sat in the paint, waiting for a new paint job. Duorre sat staring at the set, journal in hand asking themself questions. "What will a new paint job do for me?" From stage right, Travis walked softly into view, freshly made up for practice. "I often ask myself the same question. Even if I get surgery, will people see me as a man?" Duorre stared at Travis, unsure of how to respond to the strangely vulnerable admission. "I mean, I wonder if anyone even sees me as an adult. I know I'm just eighteen, but the way everyone talks to me, about me, always feels different." Travis continued on, never looking directly at Duorre. "Is it because I'm younger? Is it because I'm inexperienced? Don't i deserve equal treatment?" Travis ended his monologue by sitting at the edge of the stage in front of Duorre, looking at the journal in their hands. "Travis, I wish I knew what to tell you. But I respect you, I care about you." Duorre responded quietly, sounding scared and defeated. Travis finally locked eyes with Duorre, taking a deep breath before asking his final question. "What do you think it means to be a man?"

Fire red lights lit up the stage, the dinner table no longer holding candles, the plates empty, the three people sitting there staring at their plates silently, at first. "Why don't you two ever go out anymore?" Travis asked with a devilish grin. "I think you'd have to ask your mother about that. Right, Diane?" Alex deflected the question with an obvious poison dripping from his every letter. "Well honey, I don't think we really have the time or money. Especially with the way your father likes to go out with his friends from work." Diane snapped back, a quiet confidence empowering her rebuttal. "Well at least someone actually gives a fuck about me when I go out! You don't even kiss me anymore, much less have sex with me. You're lucky I don't go sleep around, many guys in my shoes would've already." All pretense dropped as Alex erupted, slamming his fists onto the table to lead into a short coda before anyone could respond. "Jesus Christ Alex! If you wanted some dumb easy slut to fuck your brains out while I take care of the house and Travis you really should just fucking leave and find her. Travis and I will survive without you." Diane went straight for the jugular with her carefully crafted, yet sloppily executed response. She'd been expecting this argument for weeks, trying her best to prepare mentally for how she'd respond. But the heat of the moment, the overwhelming emotions, and the fact that Travis was there went against everything she had expected. "Um, yeah I think I'll go to my room now. Dinner was good Dia-... Mom." Travis played nervousness badly, obviously excited to have elicited this reaction from the both of them. As he left the room, he turned and grinned at his would be father figure. "You're not even his real mother." Alex finally whispered once Travis had left the room entirely. "Do you really think you're in any position to raise him? What about his 'actual' mother?" Diane responded coldly. Unhappy with the reminder. "Duorre's not coming back, she won't talk to me. You know this already. She chose fame over her family." Alex answered, nearly despondent. Diane went quiet for a moment, before finally retorting. "So a woman has to choose success in her career or success in her love life?"

A thick white door creaked open, leading into a den of depravity. The dressing room has been the set to many a sexual misadventure. Travis knew this. He'd heard about it all through school. "Uh, knock knock, anyone in there?" He announced himself before actually knocking. "You can come in, dear. Just be sure to close the door behind you." Diane stood with her back turned to Travis, perusing costumes lazily. Travis went to the other side of the room, both nervous and excited. Diane had been one of his heroes in theatre. Her performance in Chicago was what had sold him on being an actor. To be working with his hero, to be friends with her, had been overwhelmingly exciting. "You don't need to be so nervous. I can feel your shaking all the way from here." Diane spoke softly, sweetly easing the frightened man's nerves. "I'm sorry, it's just I've always admired you. You act with such dignity and power. Every character you play is like the star of the show." Travis caught himself before gushing anymore. Diane simply turned to him and smiled. "Thank you, dear. But really, you don't have to be nervous. You're already an accomplished actor yourself." Diane returned to her perusal of costumes before finally picking one out. "Ah shit, you think you could help me with this dress?" Diane looked annoyed at the dress, the zipper quite low on its back. Travis nodded, turning around to offer Diane some privacy as she undressed. "You're gonna have to get used to changing in front of people. This is just part of show business." Diane remarked, almost condescending with her teasing. Travis sighed and turned around to look at Diane, her form an image of beauty directly from his dreams. "Like what you see?" Diane smirked and raised an eyebrow as she caught the young mans newfound attentiveness. Travis, knowing what she intended, made his move. Holding her from behind, dragging his hands from her hips to her breasts to her stomach, a soft sensual exploration of a dream. "Let's get those clothes off of you too." Diane turned to face Travis, slowly pulling his shirt over his head. "Oh... Uh.... Dan's been holding my HRT, so uh... I'm sorry." Travis covered his chest binder with hands, cowering in shame. Diane undeterred wrapped her arms around the young man. "What for baby?" Diane whispered into Travis's ear as she reached to remove the binder. Travis finally understood the situation, feeling a surge of confidence filling him he kissed her. The meeting of lips, hands, bodies. This skin on skin consecration, a prayer to lust given shape. Travis whispered small prayers to himself, giving thanks for his luck.

Another bedroom scene, highlighting Travis who sat on the bed. Harsh yellow light focused directly on him, as he stared at his feet. "Fuck him anyway." Travis would exclaim before hearing a soft knock at his door. "Come in." Travis said with a soft sigh. Diane opened the door, pausing for a moment fighting a smile as she stared at the young man, before approaching him. "I know you don't care for him, but he is your father." Diane tried to be comforting but her tone conveyed more of a subtle agreement with him. "He treats you like shit, you need a real man. A man who'll treat you right." Travis spoke angrily, still staring at his feet. "A man like you, is that what you mean?" Diane asked, finally revealing that devious, knowing smile. "Well yeah! I mean you're closer to my age than you are his!" Travis stammered slightly at first, growing more confident as the sentence dragged on. "I'm still your step mom, Travis." Diane said softly, with a small sigh as she moved to hold him. "But you don't have to be."

The lights dimmed to a full blackout, and the scene change would be minor but somehow even more important. Alex sat on the bed now as the spotlight directed all attention to him. Dan would rise up behind him, grabbing onto Alex's shoulders with a smile of afterglow on his face. "That was great." Dan spoke with a comforted confidence. "We can't keep doing this. Diane will find out." Alex spoke sharply, capping off his reminder with a defeated sigh. "I thought you were leaving her. What does it matter if she knows then?" The words shot out of Dan's mouth like bullets. "Even if I do, what happens to Travis? He's old enough to be on his own. But if given the choice, he'll obviously stay with her." Alex lamented before hiding his face in his hands. "Do you love me, Alex?" Dan stood over Alex now, looking down at him. "You need to make a choice. I don't want to spend the rest of my life waiting on you." Dan crossed his arms, turning away from Alex to face the audience. "I know, you're right. I'm just scared. What do I tell her? Oh honey, sorry it turns out I'm not actually abusive. I was just gay and in denial! Do you really think that would make anything better?" Alex pleaded with Dan, hoping to find answers if not empathy. "We are men. We take what we want. Whoever stands in our way be damned." Dan responded bitterly. "Show her who the man of the house is."

Once again lounging in the front row with a journal and pencil, Duorre scribbled out notes. Line after line, the pain would only add to the beauty they kept chanting. "Knock knock!" A loud, boisterous voice rang out from the entrance. A tall figure walked in, a soft gray cardigan layered over a white v-neck, down to light gray chinos, to a fairly simple pair of loafers bearing a designer branding. "Well, hello! I am Keith Weiderlander! And you must be Dan, I believe you spoke to my assistant." Duorre stood fully straight, frozen in place with a mixture of confusion and fear. "Uh, no. I'm actually Duorre, the lead writer for the show. Dan should be here soon, though." Keith eyed up Duorre, taking stock of them with a piercing gaze. "I could've sworn the writer was queer in some way. But whatever, fake it until you make it, right?" Keith laughed heartily, to which Duorre laughed timidly, only trying to play along. "Hello, Mr. Weiderlander! Sorry I'm a little late. the traffic was awful!" Dan stood at the entrance to the auditorium, a strange look of nervousness on her face. "Well, well, two surprises! I was under the impression the director was a man." Duorre and Dan both subtly flinched at this comment. "Do you want to run me through what it's about so I can see if this is worth my time and money?" Keith proceeded to sit right next to Duorre, looking over their notes, as Dan shuffled her way over to the both of them, standing to Keith's other side, trying to talk about her vision for the play. "Well, you see, Duo came up with this great idea of connecting all of these awful people through their societal problems directly affecting them. I really came in to help focus on women's issues and give them an understanding of the real problems women face." Keith simply nodded, muttering little uh huhs to urge her explanation along. "So like Diane's character is a young woman trapped in a shitty marriage with an abusive, in the closet gay man. Travis is trying to understand what it means to be a man when he hates his role model. Alex is coming to terms with being a gay man trapped in a heterosexual marriage. Where my character is his secret lover and rival. My character, being a man, explores the more toxic mindsets of men." Keith simply looked at Duorre, waiting a moment before asking. "And what character are you playing?" Duorre looked at their notes, uncomfortable with the attention Keith was giving them. "I'm playing Travis' biological mother. A woman who left her family to seek fame in writing." Keith took a few excruciating moments to digest all of the information he was given before finally letting out a loud boisterous laugh. "I love how you're playing with all the gender roles by putting people in the opposite gendered characters!" Duorre's face turned a bright shade of red, their embarassment painfully obvious. "Yeah... Duo and I are still working out the kinks for his character." Dan said rigidly, Duorre stared at her in disbelief for a minute before standing. "Excuse me, I need to go, but it was lovely meeting you, Keith." Duorre spoke near robotically, shaking the man's hand before rushing out of the theatre. "He's a cute one. Should definitely keep that one around." Keith spoke snidely with a lustful grin. "Yeah. Um, so did you want to talk about funding now or later?" Dan asked with a mixture of nervousness and annoyance. "I'll be in touch about that. Just be sure to check your email."

Sitting in front of the mirror, Travis examined himself with growing disdain. His body feels like a prison, keeping him from being truly himself. "I'm coming in." Dan announced before opening the door to the dressing room. Upon realizing that it was only Travis in the room, Dan let out a small, tired sigh. "When are you going to let me get my HRT?" Travis asked angrily, not looking towards Dan. "After the show, kid. I can't have you getting all hormonal in the middle of the show." Dan responded with equal annoyance. Travis stood and pushed past her to leave the room, huffing and on the verge of tears. Dan went to look over the costumes, seeing what needed washing, fitting, or replacing. "You really shouldn't be withholding that from him, y'know." Duorre spoke quietly, leaning against the doorframe of the now fully opened door. "Duo, you know as well as I do he's unstable. Besides... This company needs more femme presenting folks." Duorre's eyes lit up at Dan's comment. "Oh for fucks sake Danielle, you fucking misgender me in front of that producer douchebag, you're forcing Travis to keep living with constant dysphoria so you don't have to feel like the only strong woman, and what about Alex or Diane?" Duorre exploded with an unusual anger, their voice carrying well through the building. "I'm sorry, okay? I just want to be able to get this show off the ground. We all have to make some sacrifices." Dan muttered in an ashamed response. "What are you sacrificing? I apparently have to live up to your ideal of feminine life experience to write female characters, all the while you torture Travis and me for our gender presentations. And what, you're too scared of Diane to ask her to sacrifice anything? Alex is probably just your fucking whipping boy, right? So what the fuck are you sacrificing?" Duorre's rage continued, in that moment looking like a ten foot tall monster, rather than the tiny, wispy writer. "Duo, I am simply trying to make spaces for women like me. For women who don't fit in to the exact mold that society has set up for us, powerful, successful, and strong women." Dan finally having found her footing in the fight, stood as an equal to Duorre now. "Diane has lived in such a performative manner, for the entertainment of the patriarchy that she's pretty much a lost cause. Alex is on the cusp of recognizing his own toxic masculinity and privilege. Travis is the only one I can actually save."

Days after the blowout between Duorre and Dan would be quiet. The two focus on working separately. Until the day Alex finally sat down with Duorre. "You know she just wants what's best for everyone." Alex spoke softly, meek in his demeanor. "She doesn't get to decide what's best for people." Duorre responded in between scribbling more lines into their notes. Alex sighed before continuing on nervously. "Duo, she's taught me so much. I am becoming a better person, I'm finally becoming someone I can like. Please, just hear her out." Duorre finally looked at Alex, frustration mounting in their chest, before finally dissipating. "Okay, Alex. I'll do it for you." With the begrudging acceptance of the truce, Alex left Duorre to find Dan. The two would show up only minutes later, Dan looking similarly angsty about the entire situation. "We don't have to like each other. But we do have to work together, okay?" Dan's voice felt like a boulder landing on Duorre's chest. "Give Travis his hormones, and we will." Duorre responded calmly, their voice still burning with rage. "After the show, okay?" Dan looked at Duorre, extending her hand as a means to close the deal. Duorre shook on it, still quite upset but not seeing any other options. "Let's just write my character then."

Curtains closed, spotlight on, and from between them Duorre would enter, the spotlight focused on them. "You know I wanted to go my own way. Wanted to be like Joan Jett, or even more so Joan of Arc. Go to war with the men who'd hold me back." With this introduction, the curtains began to open, Duorre ran stage left as the lighting filled the stage which now showcased a living room. Alex sat on a couch, facing the audience. "Hey Diane, what're we doing for dinner?" He asked lazily, turning to lay down. "I wasn't expecting you to be home. I figured you'd be off with Dan." Diane's words cut into Alex, but his fatigue disallowed him a physical reaction. Instead, he simply sighed and covered his face with his arm. When a knock came from off stage. "Travis, can you get that?" Alex would yell to his equally off-stage son. Upon being called, Travis would walk on stage, talking with Duorre. "It's mom! She's back."

Black out to quick transition, the cast now sat around an empty dinner table. "I didn't expect to see you again, Duo." Alex spoke with an icy tone, refusing to look at the woman. "You know I needed my own freedom, Alex. I couldn't simply be you're stay at home housewife. Besides, Travis looks like he's grown into a strong, healthy adult!" Duorre affectionately motioned to her son. "Have you met Diane before, mom?" Travis would ask excitedly, feeling a mixture of happiness and overwhelming nervousness about the whole situation. "Oh no, actually, I haven't. Diane, is it? It's lovely to meet you!" The two women would exchange pleasantries as a phone was heard ringing. "Sorry, that's me. It might be work." Alex explained before walking towards the audience, Dan coming in from the wing of the stage. "I'm tired of all waiting for you to be ready, Alex. It's now or never." Dan would say exhaustedly into the phone. "Dan, you know it's not that simple. I have a wife and child. I can't just start over with you! That takes planning and work!" Alex would plead, looking around nervously as he did. "No, this is it, Alex. I can't keep waiting on you. I'm leaving the state, I want you to come with me." Dan spoke more calmly now, firm in his stance. "You'll have to go without me, Dan. I love you, but it's just too fast." Alex would respond, sounding absolutely defeated. "You're going to regret this." Dan screamed before hanging up on Alex. With his call finished, he returned to the dining room, and his shoulders dropped in depression. "Who was that, dear?" Diane asked, half heartedly. "Work, they want me to do overtime." Alex responded, his voice quaking with pain and fatigue. "Oh, Duorre and I were just talking about going out with Travis somewhere, like a family excursion."

Brick walls painted with graffiti, highlighted by occasionally flickering street lamps. The stage had become an urban sprawl, the city the first true escape for the newly made trio. Travis walked a step or two behind the women, eagerly sharing stories with each other. "How could I have known?" Travis would ask aloud as the lights zeroed in on him. "Through such destruction comes beauty as pure as yours." Travis took this moment to take the front and center position of the stage, preparing his monologue. "These feelings, something I'd never experienced before, is this what it means to love? There's never been a beauty like hers, a voice so delicate and pure. How was I to resist temptation such as this?" Travis would end his monologue by dropping his head as the lights came up, filling the stage once more. "Hey Travis. Hurry up, I don't want you getting lost now." Diane would call out, snapping Travis out of his romantic daydreams. "Of course, sorry, Diane." Travis would finally catch up with the two, Duorre studying both of them quietly before breaking the newfound silence. "Didn't realize you two were on a first name basis. That's really nice. I guess you're closer in age than we are, though." Duorre laughed, inviting the other two to laugh along with her. "I guess we just have a mutual respect of one another." Diane finally said, avoiding Duorre's gaze. "I'm glad, I always knew Travis would grow up strong and independent." Duorre responded affectionately nodding to Travis. "I guess I had to be." Travis's harsh response took them both off guard. "I mean, dad never talked to me. Not in any meaningful way. You never kept in touch, and so I just had to learn." The trio went silent upon Travis's revelation. Diane opened her mouth to speak up when her phone rang. "Oh, excuse me, I'll catch up with both of you." Now Diane took the spotlight, answering her phone shakily as Dan stood just a step outside of the curtains, still offstage but visible. "Diane?" Dan's voice sounding surprisingly calm. "Yes, who is this?" Diane's fear grew exponentially as she responded, her hands trembling as her eyes widened. "Don't worry about who I am, I just need you to know something." Diane went silent, her eyes glossing over as she stared out over the audience. "Okay, thank you." She'd finally responded, having been fully informed, to which she calmly turned back to the group. "What was that about, Diane?" Duorre asked, looking for any kind of an easier topic to latch onto. "Alex and I are done."

The empty seats of the theatre looked like an ocean for Duorre, who was looking simply to lose themselves in something other than stress. Duorre slumped into their usual seat, front row stage left. Finally, they pull out their journal to start writing when a loud objection rang through. "Duorre!" It was Dan, holding her script, shaking it angrily as she approached them. "Are you fucking serious? You're character is some kind of villain for being a strong, independent woman? Do you even know how misogynistic that is?" Dan screamed in Duorre's face, before throwing the script at them. "I'm not villainizing her, Dan. She made her decisions, she's just as responsible for them as anyone else." Duorre responded calmly, tired of the argument already. "So the other woman is grooming a kid, yours is a deadbeat, the only good character here is mine!" Dan continued shouting, her face growing redder by the second. "Alex and Travis are innocent in your eyes?" Duorre responded quizzically. "I swear Duorre, I'll fucking ruin you. You are just another misogynistic guy in this shitty industry."

Curtains open to reveal the kitchen once more. The lighting gives a solemn atmosphere, as Duorre and Alex sit across the table from one another. Neither looked at the other, instead silently staring at the table. "We've gotta talk about Travis." Duorre would finally speak up. "He's an adult. It's not like we really have to have a custody battle." Alex retorted with a surprising viciousness. "But where's he going to stay? You can't afford this place on your own, and I'm always on tour..." Duorre responded, leaving space for a final suggestion. "You think he wants to stay with Diane?" Alex finally asked, beginning to stand up. "Do you really think that's a good choice?" With his hands shaking, he stood, still staring at the table. Unsure of what his next move would be, to lash out or walk away. "I think she's a healthier role model than you or I, Alex." Duorre would finally respond, doing her best to be diplomatic. "Because I'm gay and you're a starving artist? I hadn't realized you'd become so conservative in your old age!" Alex fired off, his rage building with every response. "It's not about us. It's about where he'd be happiest and have the most stable home life." Duorre pleaded with him, doing her best to be comforting. "Fuck you." Alex responded, taking this chance to leave the room as Diane entered in. "How'd it go?" Diane asked, a small quiver in her voice. "About as well as you'd expect. But it looks like he's not fighting us." Duorre answered with a near robotic tone. "I'm taking Travis and we're going to the hotel then. Until we can figure out something else." Diane turned to walk away, not expecting any kind of resistance from Duorre. "Just make sure he doesn't get hurt, okay?"

Mirrors covered in foundation and costumes with makeup stains, the dressing room of the theatre full of dirty laundry. Dan stood in front of the mirror, applying eyeliner. Diane's voice would find its way in through the closed door. "I'm coming in!" Dan turned for a second before continuing with her makeup routine. Diane opened the door, seeing only Dan she offered a silent greeting before setting her purse down and settling in at the other station. "Diane, I wanted to get your opinion on something." Dan asked, still casually working through her makeup, going for a naturally masculine look. "Do you think this plays a bit misogynistic?" Diane paused her own makeup routine, thinking of a response. "I don't know, I think it's just a play. You're looking too much into it." Dan would put down her lipstick, turning to Diane. "Duorre's making all of the female characters look evil, though." Diane would continue on nonchalantly with her makeup. "Dan, I really don't read any part that doesn't involve me. I don't care all that much." Dan slammed her fists against the counter, holding all of the makeup. "You're really going to just roll over and let a man write this trash about women? What kind of woman are you?" Diane stopped her routine to look at Dan now, still calm but obviously annoyed. "You're the one that told us to treat Duorre as a non-binary person, whatever that is. You were the one that promised you'd keep them in line. This is your responsibility, I'm just doing my job. Besides that Travis kid has a lot of potential."

The lights shone on the dining room scene once more. Alex and Diane are sitting at opposite ends of the table now. "I should've told you." Alex would mutter, angry and defeated. "I always knew." Diane responded coldly. "You never got hard with me, I figured for the longest time it was my body. But when you started spending all this time with Dan, I knew." Her methodic response shook Alex to his core as he started to weep. "I'm so sorry. I just... I didn't know." Alex finally managed to blubber out. "I'm just glad you won't be taking it out on Travis anymore." Diane stared daggers at him now. The accusation hung heavy in the air. "What are you talking about?" Alex responded, shocked but slowly becoming enraged. "You've always pushed him to be the man you couldn't be." Diane smirked, confident in her argument. "I wanted him to be better than me. I never meant to hurt him. He's got so much goddamn potential."

The stage set for a dining room scene, all the lights on, Duorre and Dan both looking up to the actors in stage, from the pit. "Does everyone understand how we're handling this finale?" Duorre asked with a nervous forcefulness. "Everyone dies or is miserable, right?" Dan responded, obviously annoyed. "No, it's not that simple, Dan!" Duorre cried out. "Does anyone have a happy ending?" Travis asked, stepping closer to the front of the stage. "This isn't the end. That's the point. Your life doesn't simply end because no one's watching." Duorre countered, uncharacteristically defensive. "Duorre, are you saying there's room for a sequel?" Dan asked, not even bothering to hide her contempt. "I don't know. I just think these characters have a life of their own, y'know?" Duorre responded, feeling more cornered all the time. "Either way, we've gotta impress that producer, right? So we just have to put on the best show we can." Diane chimed in apathetically. "I'm glad someone gets it." Dan cheered, finally cracking a smile. "Let's go study the script some more." Alex muttered quietly, ushering Travis to follow him. As the two men left, they could hear Dan loudly scolding Duorre. "She's a bit much, don't you think?" Travis spoke calmly, ending his question with a soft chuckle. "She's actually really caring. It's just that she wants the best for everyone." Alex responded, letting out a soft sigh. "You and Diane seem to get along well." Alex's words stopped Travis in his tracks immediately, causing him to tense up, ready to fight. "Yeah, so what?" Alex turned back to Travis before looking forward again to speak. "I used to hook up with her when I was first starting out with this group, too." Alex let out a small hurt laugh. "She was this big star, and she gave me attention and affection that no one else gave me." Alex now finally turned fully to face Travis, seeing his guarded posture didn't help him feel any better. "We're leaving together after this show. She told me so." Travis finally muttered. "I am just telling you to be careful, kid. You're a talented actor, and trans folk need more representation, I think you fit the bill perfectly." Alex would put a hand on Travis's shoulder, an act of peace. "You're not my fucking dad dude. Back off." Travis lashed out, pushing Alex's hand away before stomping away. "I just don't want you to get hurt like I did."

Curtains were rising for the premiere. Everyone was excited and nervous. Potential producers and other beneficiaries in attendance, as Dan would remind everyone. Every scene starts a little too quiet or too loud, and the set changes getting mixed up. Candles in bedrooms, graffitied brick walls in a bar. The show dragged on, and everyone involved recognizing the disaster and becoming more afraid every time they left the stage. "How are we fucking up this badly? We've been practicing for months!" Duorre cried out on the verge of a panic attack. The final scene had started, the climax of the entire show. When the lights went out with a large bang. "What was that?" Someone cried out, panicking in the darkness. "Sounds like one of the bulbs pop and blew a fuse." Another audience member answered as everyone started filing out of the theatre. Duorre looked for the cast, finding Dan first. "You have to understand, this was a freak accident!" Dan begged Keith, who was looking rightly annoyed. "Dan, did everyone get out okay? Is someone checking the fuse box?" Duorre asked, the panic setting in fully now. "Yeah yeah, Duo. Everything's fine." Dan shooed them away trying to focus on bartering a second chance with the producer. Duorre turned away, frustrated and worried, searching the small crowd for their cast mates. "Hey! Duo! Over here!" Travis called out, sounding excited but a little shaken up. "Guess the show wasn't meant to be, huh?" Travis asked, trying to lighten the mood as Diane and Alex stared at the theatre silently. "I guess not dude. I'm just glad no one got hurt." Duorre responded, letting out a long tired breath. "Alright folks, good news bad news time!" Dan announced, stepping into the small gathering. "Good news, no more drama. Y'all don't have to deal with me or Duorre anymore. Bad news, the shows not getting a second chance. I don't know what any of us are gonna do."

The day after the premiere felt abnormally quiet, solemn even. Everyone was packing up costumes, makeup, saying goodbyes. Duorre took to their normal seat in the audience one last time. "So that's it, huh?" Duorre asked no one before silently sobbing. Dan sat down next to Duorre, looking straight ahead while addressing them. "I'm sorry this didn't work out. I really am. Maybe we can work together again in the future, " Dan spoke almost robotically, still cracks in her voice revealed her anguish. "I don't think so." Duorre whispered in response, no longer crying. "I gave Travis his needles. Just like you wanted." Dan responded, her voice had become dry ice now. "You should'nt have taken them away in the first place. Travis is eighteen now! Let him make his own god damn decisions." Duorre lashed out, tears forming in their eyes once again. "I have to take care of everyone in this group. And sometimes that means doing the hard things." Dan responded with a sigh, before standing turning to leave. "Don't speak to me of responsibility. You couldn't even finish the play." With those final words, Dan walked away, passing Travis on her way out. Travis now replaced her in the seat next to Duorre. "This whole thing sucks." Travis mumbled, slumping into the chair. Before Duorre could respond, Alex had sat next to Travis. "She's gone now." Was all he could muster, his posture rigid, and his eyes full of fear and anger. "Who? Dan?" Duorre asked, not understanding what was happening. "No. Diane." Travis fell out of his seat he'd slid down too far. Upon standing, he simply turned and left, without a word. "She dumped him." Alex muttered, his voice shaking with anger. "What he's too old now that he's legal?" Duorre asked with a wry smirk. "No, she wants a real penis. At least, that's what she told him." Alex finally spoke normally before standing up. "I gotta go find him. He's not handling this well." He walked out of the theatre as Diane appeared from the shadows of the stage. "You're a real asshole Duorre." Her words came out in near hisses. "Why lead on Travis like that? What do you gain from this?" Duorre asked pointedly, to which Diane flinched, avoiding their gaze. "I loved him. I didn't mean to. I wanted to help him discover his true self. I didn't mean to let it get this far. I have to make him hate me so that he won't come back." Diane spoke with a vulnerability that sounded foreign in her voice. "He's such a beautiful person. I didn't mean to hurt him." She'd hung her head as she slowly walked past Duorre. "Why Alex then?" Duorre asked coldly as she stood in their blindspot. "I thought I could help him open up. Maybe save him from Dan." She looked up, eyeing Duorre for a brief moment before leaving the theatre. Leaving Duorre sitting alone once again.

The final day of the load out had wrapped up, vans left with equipment. The only people still at the theatre a ghastly cast of would be stars. They sat in the theatre space, one last time, Dan opening up a bottle of champagne. "I bought this to celebrate the premiere, but now I guess it's more to commisserate." Dan announced as she poured herself a glass, passing the bottle to Diane. "I'm sure we'll work together again soon. One bad show isn't the end of a career." Diane reassured everyone, including herself. "I mean, Dan and I have some plans for the future." Alex spoke softly as usual. "Yeah, I guess I'm going to try to get back in school." Travis said, grabbing the bottle and pouring himself a glass. "This is a one-time thing, kid. Don't get used to it." Dan warned Travis. "Has anyone seen Duorre?" Travis asked, looking to change the topic. "I swear I saw them around here somewhere. Maybe they're packing up some more costumes." Diane remarked, not terribly interested in finding them. "I'll go get them, this is for all of us." Alex spoke with a nurturing softness. As he began to walk away, Travis followed him. Silently, they walked through the halls. Finally, finding the writer sitting slouched over in the dressing room. "Duo, you okay?" Travis asked as he approached. The scene now fully coming into view as Travis can now see the gun laying atop the script, which was bound with a red ribbon. "I couldn't even do this. What good am I?" Duorre asked, crying softly onto the barrel of the gun. "Do what? Duorre, what's going on?" Alex asked now, his stoic facade finally giving way to obvious worry. "I wrote this for you. For all of you. And when the ending came, I didn't know what to do. I don't want to hurt you. I want you to grow, to be better. But maybe I'm the one who needs to be better." Duorre finally pulled their head up, turning to look at the two men. "How arrogant I must be to tell you that you're only human. How shameful of me to write this atrocious script. I just hate seeing you hurt yourselves like this." Alex and Travis exchanged glances, neither quite sure how to respond. "This was to be my admission of love. To all of you. This was my labor of love for you. But I fucked it up. I couldn't find a resolution. I couldn't make an end. Because I don't want this love to end." Duorre sighed, still crying, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Take it. Burn it." Duorre said, handing the script to the men. Travis took it, not entirely understanding but scared regardless. "Go. Now!" Duorre snapped, the two men jumped at the sudden yelling before slowly walking out, neither really sure what to do. "I can't change them. What kind of love is it that I'd want to control them. What right do I have to criticize their choices, their lives. Perhaps, with a bullet I'll finally find some recognition." Duorre spoke to the gun, the tears coming faster now that the men had left. "But what kind of love would hurt them like this? What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to fucking do?"

[dprsdprs]

I was listening to Paul Simon’s Hearts and Bones album recently, for the first time in many years – the first time, really, since I was a young teenager. I bought it when it came out in 1983 and listened to it over and over. But hearing it again, and particularly listening to the title track, I was struck by a question: how did I take this back then? What did it mean to me, and why did it mean so much?

So: the title song is a beautifully worn-down response to a relationship at its end, a mix of nostalgic glimpses of happier times and a weary, bruised sense of life in the aftermath of some cathartic break-up. Listening to it as a young teenager, still a virgin and almost wholly inexperienced in such emotions, I wonder if I didn’t think this is how I want to feel. I wanted the happiness, but in a retrospective way (because then it’s done and dusted and safe); and I wanted the melancholy because it just seemed so grown-up and sophisticated and suave. I wanted, as an old joke has it, to skip the marriage and go straight to the divorce. After all – and I am hardly the first person to point this out – there is a complex sort of joy in sadness.

But can this be right? Surely what people want is to be happy. Whole philosophies (I’m looking at you, utilitarianism) rest on the premise that more happiness is always and everywhere a good thing. There is a Global Happiness Index, measuring how happy people are (Denmark tops the league). Bhutan even has a Gross National Happiness Commission, with the power to review government policy decisions and allocate resources.

It’s good to be happy sometimes, of course. Yet the strange truth is that we don’t wish to be happy all the time. If we did, more of us would be happy – it’s not as if we in the affluent West lack tools or means to gratify ourselves. Sometimes we are sad because we have cause, and sometimes we are sad because – consciously or unconsciously – we want to be. Perhaps there’s a sense in which emotional variety is better than monotony, even if the monotone is a happy one. But there’s more to it than that, I think. We value sadness in ways that make happiness look a bit simple-minded. Sadness inspires great art in a way that grinningly eating ice cream in your underpants cannot. In his essay ‘Atrabilious Reflections upon Melancholy’ (1823), Hartley Coleridge (son of Samuel Taylor) praised melancholy as a more refined state of mind than happiness. ‘Melancholy can scarce exist in an undegraded spirit – it cannot exist in a mere animal’ is how he put it:Melancholy is the only Muse. She is Thalia and Melpomene. She inspired Milton and Michael Angelo, and Swift and Hogarth. All men of genius are melancholy – and none more so than those whose genius is comic. Men (those I mean who are not mere animals) may be divided, according to the kind of their melancholy, into three great classes. Those who seek for the infinite, in contradistinction to the finite – those who seek for the infinite in the finite – and those who seek to degrade the finite by a comparison with the infinite. The first class comprehends philosophers and religionists; the second, poets, lovers, conquerors, misers, stockjobbers, & c.; and the third comprises satirists, comedians, jokers of all kinds, man-haters, and womanhaters, Epicures, and bon-vivants in general.Melancholy, Coleridge is arguing, is more dignified than happiness. I suspect this is a sense that most people have – that joy is, at root, a kind of idiot pleasure, the idiom of the lobotomy, a balloon just waiting to be popped. Sorrow is somehow more grown-up, because less illusioned. It feels more sincere, more authentic. As she prepared to write Adam Bede (1859), George Eliot copied the following from Thomas Carlyle’s Life of Oliver Cromwell into her notebook: ‘The quantity of sorrow he has, does it not mean withal the quantity of sympathy he has, the quantity of faculty and victory he shall yet have? Our sorrow is the inverted image of our nobleness.’Because it has some of the colouring of nobility, sadness is also, perhaps, more beautiful than happiness. Philip Larkin’s ‘Money’ (1973) ends:I listen to money singing. It’s like looking down From long French windows at a provincial town, The slums, the canal, the churches ornate and mad In the evening sun. It is intensely sad.It Is Intensely Sad would be a pretty good title for a study of Larkin’s verse as a whole. Of course, one reaction to this poem would be to say: ‘Wait just a minute, Phil: you don’t actually mean “it is intensely sad”. You mean “I am intensely sad”. The street, the church, the whole provincial town is doing just fine, thank you, and has no responsibility for your mournfulness, looking down from your long French windows.’ Such a reaction would not diminish Larkin’s achievement, either, for this is indeed the whole point of his poetry: to write, not about the slums, the canal or the church, but about the elegance of melancholy.Why on earth should melancholy be elegant – or attractive in any other way? On the face of it, it ought to be precisely the sort of thing that evolution breeds out of the race, a prime target for sexual deselection. What female would want to mate with a miserable partner when she could have a happy, smiling one instead? Put like that, of course, the question looks a little ridiculous; as if we’d really prefer to pair off with SpongeBob SquarePants instead of Morrissey. But why? Why would you rather spend time with the latter than the former?If depression is a foul miasma wreathing the brain, elegant sadness is more like a peacock’s tail, coloured in blue-gentian and rich marine greensIt was Charles Darwin, in The Expression of the Emotions in Man and Animals (1872), who noted that sadness manifested the same way in all cultures. For something so ubiquitous, it is tempting to venture an evolutionary explanation. Alas, the anthropological and evolutionary work in this area has focused almost entirely upon depression, which is not quite what we are talking about here. I can tell you with rather grim authority that the difference between elegant ennui and the black dog is like the difference between pleasant intoxication and typhus. Many evolutionary theories have been proposed for depression’s adaptive value, but no one has, so far as I am aware, tried to claim that it is enjoyable.If depression is a foul miasma wreathing the brain, elegant sadness is more like a peacock’s tail, coloured in blue-gentian and rich marine greens. Is it also universal? To this question, anthropology offers no definitive answer. Yet the condition certainly manifests itself in a suggestive array of cultures. It is the sadness to which the Japanese phrase mono no aware gestures (物の哀れ, literally ‘the beautiful sorrow of things’). It is the haunted simplicity of those musical traditions that spread from Africa into the New World as the Blues. It’s the mixture of strength, energy, pity and melancholy that Claude Lévi-Strauss found in Brazil, encapsulated in the title of his book about his travels there Tristes Tropiques (1955). It’s the insight of Vergil’s Aeneas, as he looks back over his troubled life and forward to troubles yet to some: sunt lacrimae rerum; there are tears in everything, said not mournfully nor hopelessly but as a paradoxical statement about the beauty of the world (Aeneid 1:462).It would be possible, of course, to construct a ‘cost benefit analysis’ of the sorts of sadness I am describing here. We might suggest that it is a signal that the individual in question has the strength, leisure and sensitivity to indulge in being sad. Saying so invokes what evolutionary scientists call ‘the handicap principle’, a hypothesis first framed by the Israeli evolutionary biologist Amotz Zahavi in 1975. The idea is that extravagant traits such as the highland deer’s massive antlers or the peacock’s tail are useful because they are so ostentatiously expensive, manifestly inconveniencing the owner. They are a way of saying: I’m so strong, my genes are so desirable, that I can afford to schlep about with this manifest – and, by the way, beautiful – disadvantage attached to my body.Sadness, according to this model, is a kind of conspicuous consumption. It takes more muscles to frown than smile, and maybe that’s the point. It signals ones capacity to squander a resource precisely by squandering it. Any fool can live and be happy. It takes greater strength to live and be sad.All the same, this analysis loses the most important aspect of this emotion; not that it costs, but that it is beautiful. Happy can be pretty, but some species of sad have access to beauties that happy can never know.

[demonsandco]

I just saw you don't have anything with Barbatos, this is a crime /j /lh

So could I please request A, C, D, F, K, M, P, V and W from the smut alphabet with him? I know it's a lot, so please feel free to just pick the ones you want to do if it's too much!! I love your writing by the way, thank you for sharing it with us and I hope you have a wonderful day💖

Aaa thank you! I’m glad you enjoy my stuff!! I’m still a little unsure on how I want to portray Barb (considering he has such little screen time smh), but you cannot tell me this man isn’t secretly a slut (affectionate)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

As with everything, Barbatos’ first instinct after sex is to take care of his partner in any way he can. He’ll want to run them a bath, get them something to drink, and if it’s not too late he may even offer to make them a light snack, all the while completely ignoring his own needs. He wants to feel useful and productive, unused to properly relaxing or taking a break. Even if his muscles feel like jelly and his legs tremble with every step, he’ll still focus all his energy on serving them. Luckily, with how exhausted he tends to feel right after sex, it’s not too hard for them to convince him to just cuddle up and rest for once, their encouragement being more than enough to convince him to indulge for once.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

As much as Barb isn’t a fan of messiness, there's something about cumming on his partner that he finds immensely pleasing, being able to claim them in a primal way, without having to worry about lasting marks. He especially loves cumming all over their hands, watching it drip down to their wrists. He has no shame in cleaning it up for them, either, bringing their dirtied hands to his mouth and running his tongue over their palms, diligently sucking each finger clean individually, all while making direct eye contact with a lewd look on his face.

(cont under the cut)

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

With how intensely private Barbatos is, the fact that he has an active sex life, or experience in general, could be a dirty secret on it’s own. Many believe that he’s married to his job, and even those that are close to him, rarely hear about the more private partners of his life. It’s not that he purposefully keeps his relationship a secret, but rather he just tends to blend into the background and he hardly ever feels the need to talk about himself. The amount of passion he has in the bedroom is surprising to say the least, considering how he carries himself in public.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Barbatos greatly enjoys stress positions, especially ones that involve restraints. His favorite would have to be kneeling, legs spread with his ankles tied to his thighs and his hands tied behind his back, forcing his spine to arch and leaving him exposed and helpless to his partner’s every whim. He knows that it’s rather out of the ordinary, and he definitely doesn’t expect every night with his partner to involve something like that, but he can’t help but crave the thrill that comes with that position, unable to move and not having to think, only having to hold still and letting them use his body as they wish.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Unsurprisingly, one of Barb's favorite kinks is bondage, either with ropes or delicate ribbons. It’s cathartic in a way, both tying up his partner and being restrained himself. He finds himself drawn to intricate knot patterns especially, enjoying the artistry and skill that comes with it. He could spend hours restraining them in an artful manner without getting tired of it. He’s even more fond of having them do the same to him, knowing that they put time and effort into learning different patterns for him, not being able to do anything but hold still as their hands slide over his body in such an intimate way. Every shift of his muscles or hitch of his breath causes the bonds to bite into his skin, pressing tightly in his most sensitive areas.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Despite having a fairly high libido, it’s actually incredibly difficult to turn Barbatos on without being outright sexual. He has an impressive amount of control, especially when he’s working, and no amount of flirtatious touches or whispered promises are enough to shatter his composure. If his partner really wants to have an effect on him, they need to be bold and direct.

The easiest way to do so is to follow him somewhere private, like an empty hallway or the kitchen, and be physical. Grab his hips and press up against his back, pin him against a wall or counter with their thigh between his legs, or pull him down for a kiss while tugging on his hair. They need to be quick, taking too much time will make him rush back to work and ruin their element of surprise, but the sudden affection is enough to steal his breath and leave him aching for more. Once they’ve managed to break his control, though, they’d better be prepared to not get much sleep that night, because he’ll be eager to follow through with their advances the moment he finishes his work for the day.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Barbatos tends to prefer a slower, passionate pace, every movement calculated and controlled to bring a specific amount of pleasure to his partner. It isn’t often that he has time to spare, so when he does, he wants to savor every moment he gets to spend with them, taking his time with their body and indulging his greedy side. He loves how desperate it makes them, his movements so slow that it’s practically torture, highly pleasurable, but just barely not enough to cum. He’ll drag on the moment for as long as he can, because he knows it’ll be a while before he can do it again.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Barbatos is naturally very quiet, his voice soft and soothing. He doesn’t speak much during sex, and when he does, his words are barely more than a whisper. At first, he’s completely silent, purposefully stifling his noises out of embarrassment, but even when he lets go, he never really gets loud. Most of his noises sound like gasps, and even his rarely heard moans are extremely breathy and desperate, much higher in tone than his regular voice. He has a habit of trying to muffle himself if he feels he’s getting too noisy, hiding his face in bed sheets or pillows and biting into the material, or bringing his hands up to his face to bite his knuckles, attempting to regain control of his voice.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Unlike most demons, Barbatos’ horns are actually very sensitive, to the point where the slightest touch is enough to send shivers down his spine. The little skeletal appendages function more like feelers or antennae, rather than weapons. While he’s distracted, they often move without him realising, shifting with his emotions and acting as an easy way for his partner to tell when he’s really enjoying something.

His tail isn’t anywhere near as sensitive, but it’s certainly a fun addition to the bedroom. He has very precise control of it, being able to move both tips independently with precision. It basically self lubricates, too, having a strange wet, almost gloopy and slippery texture, without ever leaving behind any residue to clean up. He’d be more than happy to use it on his partner, or himself, and show them exactly how skilled he is in controlling its movements.

[myaimistrue]

del myaimistrue’s underrated destiel fic recs! (part 1)

these are all fics i’ve read and realllllllly enjoyed, and they’re all ones that i don't often see people discussing on here. bc of that they all either have less than 10k hits OR were published pre-2015 OR both. i hope you all like them, and if you do, please consider giving the authors some love and leaving a comment saying so. we fic writers live off that kinda stuff :)

list under the cut, organized by word count!

I Know! Straight Out of a Telenovela, Right? by @credentiast

quick 800ish word meta joke about y yo a ti. so sweet and domestic and lovely. i read this right after it was uploaded and have gone back to read it multiple times since then. always makes me smile!

strap the wing to me by a_good_soldier (aka @s11e17)

as i’m sure we all know, basically everything a_good_soldier writes is wonderful. this little 1.9k bit of sweetness is one of my personal favorites of theirs, and is sorely underrated. a bit of conversation between dean and cas about how much cas loves him. nothing like holy devotion to a human man!

The First Thing There Is by bendingsignposts

cas seals off dean's memories as part of the effort to stop michael, and amnesiac dean immediately realizes that cas loves him. 5k of really sweet, in-character moments and a healthy dose of humor.

Eyes Like the Texas Sky by RogueTranslator

do you hate john winchester? do you want to read about dean’s queer awakening and how that relates to his love of cowboys? do you love sweet stories about finding love and acceptance in places you didn’t expect? this 5.6k fic is for you! dean tells cas the story of the first guy he ever had feelings for, and boy is it sweet and heart-wrenching and wonderful.

Nothing Equals the Splendor by RurouniHime

7.8k fic in which 15x20 was all part of a djinn dream. perhaps my all-time favorite finale fix-it (which is why it’s on this list despite having like 12k hits shhh) featuring full-powered angelic cas blowing out all the lights in the bunker when he and dean have sex. beautifully written and so sweet. and the sequel is also great--highly recommended as well

Telemetry by scifive

DEAN STUDIES FIC!!! 9k set during the first seven episodes of season 4 that actually addresses and deals with dean’s ptsd and trauma from hell. dean’s voice is absolutely perfectly in-character. also it’s pre-relationship destiel but the moment with them at the very end is so tender and lovely.

the pie isn’t a metaphor (it’s just pie) by noviembre

9.3k post-canon fic in which dean and cas get comfortable with their relationship and bake some pies together. it’s a very soft little story that features dean being head over heels and cas being beautifully sarcastic.

Talk Therapy by shara

9.3k of dean figuring out what he wants from cas and how to be in a relationship with him. sex-focused, but intentional about what details are shared so it feels very natural and sweet. cas is so steadfast as dean tries to unlearn what he’s been taught his whole life.

it’s such a mystery (the way you know me) by fleeceframe

another memory loss fic, except it’s cas this time! 10k words about cas getting hit with a temporary memory loss spell and his rediscovery of love and friendship. straight up this one made me cry happy tears. fleeceframe writes beautiful stuff, and this one is no different--the language is just gorgeous.

killing time by orestespdf

11.2k post-canon fic. it’s kind of a day in the life of dean and cas in the lake house they’ve made their home that doubles as a cas character study. very cathartic and romantic.

Kingdom Come by ahurston

17.3k cas comes back from the empty fic featuring a road trip and lots of cas introspection. dean and cas’s interactions are so so so in-character the entire time, and the final moments of the story are absolutely perfect. one of my personal favorite fix-its.

a certain light by flightagain

24.3k au in which cas works at a gas-n-sip and dean’s a customer that comes in a lot, with a supernatural twist! this story is so gorgeous and gentle, and dean and cas’s relationship is portrayed beautifully. if you’re a cas fan, this story is his from pov and nails it in a way that i think is really hard to do in an au. 

Peace And Good Luck to All Men by KismetJeska

31.3k human au in which dean is anna’s boyfriend she brings home for christmas, and he and cas immediately click. i am not a big au person, especially when it comes to angel characters, but this fic is so genuinely in character and still hilarious. also a long time fandom classic.

Everybody Needs the Light by opal_bullets

46.5k words of another banger by opal_bullets of poet dean fic fame! actually i might like this one just a little better which should tell how great this one is. it takes place pre-series. dean stops at an old motel in minnesota that cas is running, and something strange is going on… this fic has one of the most interesting conclusions i’ve read in a spn fic and there is such a cool atmosphere to the whole piece. highly recommended if you’re a fan of mysteries and/or supernatural’s angelic dynamics and/or pre-series dean.

Smells Like Roses by orphan_account :(

53.8k words. an absolute classic. seriously, if you haven’t read this, ESPECIALLY if you’re a dean girl, it’s a must-read. set in season 5, dean has a vivid djinn dream of an entire life he spends married in domestic bliss with cas. when he gets pulled out of it, he struggles to readjust and focus on the coming apocalypse. dean is so in-character and so heart-breaking. def a dean thesis fic with a healthy side of destiel sweetness.

The Hanged Man by ellispark

87.6k words. PARK RANGER CAS. literally need i say more?? if that alone hasn’t sold you, the story is that he finds dean out in the woods after someone has tried to kill him, and the mystery unfolds from there as the two of them grow closer. the plot is really interesting and in-character despite being an au. also, if non-verbal dean is something you like/find interesting, you will really love this fic. absolutely worth the read and frankly deserves more hits!

[vina-writes]

Ten Favorite Drarry Fic Recs

I’ve reached a bit of a follower milestone, and I thought, why not celebrate? I’m happy! This is an incredible feeling that I honestly can’t fully articulate in writing. Knowing someone enjoyed my work and presence enough that they’d want to be notified if I posted again just makes me squeal and want to hug everyone from joy!! Thank you to anyone who has ever left me kudos, a comment, a tag, a note, an emoji, a tag emoji!! I am endlessly grateful to you all for this support and kindness.

Now, since it’s party time, I’ve compiled a personal list of my ten favorite Drarry fics to share the love. This is by no means a stamp of quality (as there are thousands of brilliant fics out there) and neither is it a guarantee that these are everyone’s cup of tea. But they are certainly my cup of tea— my whole buffet honestly.

I chose fics that made me feel deeply. Fics that made me cry, laugh, throw my phone, squeal and wiggle and dance at the end. These (mostly) weren’t fics which answered deep philosophical questions. They were fics which instead showed me love and adventure, joys and betrayals, misunderstandings and occasionally unbelievable (but appreciated) levels of smut (you know who you are). These are stories I read to be entertained, entranced, delighted, and happy. These are stories that made me feel in love.

In honor of that (and of my Canva addiction) I’ve made little banners for each. I hope they do some justice to these works. I’ve tried to capture the feeling of each fic in just one image. Without further ado, read on to find out exactly what my guilty pleasure (as if Drarry isn’t enough) is:

The Songbirds of Avebury Manor by Tessa Crowley [E, 18k] 

Summary: Harry Potter presents as alpha at fifteen, and it is supposed to change his life for the better. Instead, it leads him to a beautiful noble omega he cannot have, a political plot he cannot escape, and a threat on his life.

This story. Oh my stars, this story. What can I even say to properly express how I feel about it? This is the Romeo and Juliet, the Pride and Prejudice, the Hades and Persephone of Drarry. Reading this made me feel like an unwedded Victorian lass waiting for her Prince Charming. It’s a wonderful Historical AU that throws around power dynamics and questions of who is worthy of love, freedom, and respect despite them. This is a brilliant portrait of deep romantic love. Harry’s dedication to Draco is all-encompassing, beautiful, intense, intimate— earth shattering, really. The way they fall in love despite class and situation made me want to cry and write poetry. This is a true fairytale romance.

The Pirate and the Prince by @nerdherderette​, maniacani [E, 49k]

Summary: Draco can't believe that fate and circumstance have made him a stowaway on the Master of Death's ship. He doesn't know what's worse: the dread pirate's legendary vendetta against the aristocracy, or the fact that his captor is the most infuriating yet irrefutably fascinating man Draco has ever met.

The moment I started this story I knew it was going to be an instant favorite. It’s swashbuckling, debonair yet disheveled, dangerous, fun, adventurous— everything you could desire from a romance on the high seas! Though they come from very different backgrounds, this Draco and Harry are a power couple to the core. Their romance is once again beautiful, intense, and dedicated, but this time it’s mixed with a healthy dose of self-exploration and mutual acceptance. But apart from romance this fic holds delicious secrecy and identity issues, an astounding knowledge of sailing ships, plenty of piratey shenanigans, some heart-wrenching found family dynamics, a cursing parrot, and a glorious angst with a happy ending finale! 

Soup-pocalypse and the Great Curry Cataclysm by SquadOfCats [E, 104k]

Summary: Eleven years after the war, Draco Malfoy leads a quiet, boring, and perfectly respectable life, thanks very much. Or, at least he does, until a sudden and very unexpected veela awakening causes him to throw soup all over Harry Potter in the middle of the Ministry cafeteria.

What can I say about Soup-pocalypse? It will lure you in with tales of Veelas and romance, and then it will kidnap you and throw you in cooking class and therapy. You’ll come out wondering what just happened and how two days have passed. There will, of course, be Veelas and romance aplenty, but it will be a caring romance, a familial romance, a supportive and kind and nurturing romance. This story feels like family, good cooking, sunny days, the deep heartbreak of change, and through all of it, the truth of a real and solid partnership. This is the humorous yet angst-ridden tale of two idiots learning to love as adults, and then in turn learning to face the world together.

you’ve got the antidote for me by Kandakickass [M, 20k]

Summary: When Harry Potter unintentionally severs their soulbond before it can fully form, Draco Malfoy resigns himself to a slow death and decides not to burden Harry with a soulmate he's made it very clear he doesn't want.

He's never been selfless before, but for Harry, he can try.

Right then. On to the angstiest story I’ve ever read and truly enjoyed. Not just enjoyed, adored! Worshipped! Come back to time and again whenever I needed a good cry! Here is the beauty of it: this fic is deeply painful and heartbreaking, yet it steers clear of emotions like disgust and discomfort. Never once was it disturbing— only sorrowful, in the purest and most heart-wrenching way. Yet despite the pain strung throughout the majority of it, this fic left me feeling relieved and rejuvenated, the way one feels after crying their heart out over something simple. It’s an emotional release that does not leave you broken.

On the Last Day of Our World by Sansa [E, 84k]

Summary: During a detention, Harry and Draco get locked in a strange room together overnight. When they escape the next morning, they discover they are alone. Love, angst and adventure abound as they struggle to survive in an empty world.

Truly one of my favorite takes on canon divergence. Truly. This is an exploration of isolation and the joys and comforts that come with it. It is the power couple Drarry to rule them all— a Draco and Harry so strongly connected, in love, and attuned to one another that the world could fall at their feet. This story leaves you on the edge of your seat until the very bitter end— one of those where the second things are briefly peaceful the world goes up in a new set of flames. Those of you who daydream about a partnership that needs no others, two souls who are each other’s family, friend, and future, and would gladly abandon everything to spend eternity alone together: this is for you.

The Arc of the Pendulum by brummel [E, 30k]

Summary: After his father casts a mysterious curse on Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy is forced to try to make things right.

Yes. YES. YES!!! The Beauty and the Beast take you didn’t know you needed! Still canon-compliant to an extent, this is realistic and raw and incredible. Draco makes the choice to help Harry here, and the vulnerability of their interactions while Harry struggles with the curse is everything you could hope it to be. There’s a distinct fairytale atmosphere in this fic— both of them confined together, finding support and comfort in one another while struggling through the effects of the curse, and falling in love along the way. I could write sonnets about the ending using my tears for ink, but they shan’t be revealed here.

Picking Up Pieces by Tessa Crowley [E, 43k]

Summary of Part One: Fifteen years after the War, Draco is a social recluse and award winning author. Harry is an auror who works too hard, ensuring his old war wounds never heal. They meet at a masque ball, unaware of each other's identities. In another situation, it would have been love at first sight. But for them, it would never be so simple.

Picking Up Pieces deserves no introduction, but if you haven’t read it yet, please find a blanket, and cup of tea, and a quiet place to read, cry, and recover. I sobbed my little heart out through the entire second half— the tears were really never ending. How does it end up on a reclist by a fluff lover like me? The answer is similar to Antidote— though this story broke me apart, it was never twisted nor ugly, never disturbing. It was an incredibly touching tale of redemption, forgiveness, human nature, and recompense. The writing does put you through the emotional wringer, but it leaves you relieved and whole. I would lay down my life for this Draco. He truly needs to be protected and loved at all costs. Even though I’m usually careful when recommending heavy stories, I would encourage everyone to read this— it made me feel new, it made me feel like I’d spent an hour crying in the shower, but most of all, it really did make me happy.

Two Trees by LakeWitch [E, 36k]

Summary (shortened): In his Eighth year at Hogwarts, part of Draco Malfoy's probation is to see a Mind Healer once a week. Another part, unfortunately, is having to take Muggle Studies.

It wouldn't be so bad, really, if it weren't for the mandatory outing—a 'field trip'—booked at a Muggle lakeside retreat for the better part of five days. [...] Draco is determined to get it all over with as painlessly as possible. He'll keep his head down, and stay out of everyone's way. That is, until Pansy tells him—at the very last moment—that she's schemed to have Draco stay in the same room with Potter for the whole trip.

Just the two of them... in one room.

This is the comfort fic of all comfort fics. It feels like camping, like sitting by a lake in the sun, like marshmallows over a fire and sparks against a starry sky, and cool, feather-soft hotel sheets. Draco is dealing with several different anxieties here, but the brilliant setting and easy plot turn them into a cathartic read. This is a fic about young love and the ability to build bonds on trips. It made me remember my first crushes and the feeling of getting breakfast in a hotel lobby. There’s cuddling, there’s love, there’s some highly emo Draco (both warranted and unwarranted), and there’s a truckload of nature. Go read it!

Your Place Or Mine? by @l0vegl0wsinthedark​ [E, 26k]

Summary: "This person is so much harder to hate. And I’m supposed to hate Malfoy. How the fuck else am I supposed to limit this to just sex?" 

At first I was like, “Damn, Harry,” but then I was all, “Damn Harry!” but then I went, “DAMN Harry!” (interspersed with a lot of whistling and cursing). I could have slapped him, and you will want to. This is another Draco that deserves endless love and hot chocolate, with a Harry that deserves a good smack. I think about this fic weekly, and not just because it’s endlessly hot— although it is scorching hot, like how do you even write something that hot type of hot. Draco’s pining and Harry’s stupidity makes for the angstiest yet most satisfying friends-with-benefits-but-really-there’s-more combination, and the climax (pun intended) and resulting spill of emotions is everything anyone could hope for. Ten out of ten.

The Courting by the Pureblood Who Only Has Five Milligrams of Romantic Intelligence and Thinks He’s Real Smooth by @cibeewastaken​ [T, 19k]

Summary (shortened): Draco could grab Potter and shove him into a stall before proceeding to suck his soul out of his dick, but secretly, deep down, in the part of Draco that he will never admit to anyone, he is (everyone pauses to shudder) a romantic. Potter is not someone Draco wants a one-off with. Potter is — Draco’s beloved!

So Draco decides to boldly go where no one has gone before: to put himself through scrutiny; their friends’ teasing and pranks; unsound romantic advice from a house-elf; wearing pretty clothes; all to try and win Potter’s heart through courtship...

This thing of beauty is exactly as hilarious as it sounds. However, it is so much more than the endless laughs (although there are many). It is sweet, tender, touching, and filled with glorious pining and misunderstandings. Inside you’ll find extravagant (the word was literally invented for Cibee’s Draco) outfits, confusing customs, a blanket that brought me to tears, one badass house-elf, one very confused beloved, absolutely no fornication (wink), and one hopelessly smitten pureblood. Be warned, this fic is actually three “What the fuck, Draco?”s in a trenchcoat. I read it when I want to laugh, facepalm, and submerge myself in the adorable stupidity that is Draco Malfoy in love. It is well worth your time and is sure to bring a smile to your face.

With this final fic we conclude my list on a happy note! It’s long, it’s tedious, and I had a spanking good time writing it. I hope these bring some joy or happy tears to your day.

Love, Vina 

[dragonzzilla]

Why Are Monsters Relatable?

Ishiro Honda: “Monsters are tragic beings. They are born too tall, too strong, too heavy. They are not evil by choice. That is their tragedy … After several stories such as this, people end up having a kind of affection for the monsters. They end up caring about them.”

It seems to be a perennial question among monster fans. Why do we relate to the likes of Godzilla, a 300 foot tall fire-breathing dinosaur that regularly destroys cities? Is it because the destruction of models hearkens back to a simpler time, when we were young and full of play and felt like giants among our toys? I can’t deny that reading. Yet how many of us were inspired to do that because of Godzilla? What was it about Godzilla that appealed to our child brains, and moreover why does he remain in our hearts still? It can't just be the spectacle; my subconscious is a graveyard of loud and explosive movies, yet Godzilla endures, solid as bedrock. There must be something there, beneath the noisy trappings; some fundamental quality that allows Godzilla to resonate with us, 70 years after his debut.

Speaking for myself, the reason I relate to monsters is because I'm a monster. Not the kind that destroys cities, but someone who is always going to be treated as something other than human. I'm queer and neurodivergent, and for some people that's reason enough to write me off. I'm not like them, and I never will be.

Being different in our society is incredibly alienating. You don't feel the things you're told are 'normal' to feel; likewise, you care about things that you're told you shouldn't. You grow up in a system that doesn't care about you, that puts the onus on you, and tries to hammer and beat you into a more convenient shape. You're constantly reminded of your deviancy. So you learn shame. You start to internalize the hate. You start believing you are grotesque like everyone says, even though it's not your fault. I certainly didn't ask to be made this way. I have trouble communicating and making connections with people; I’ve been the subject of ridicule from my peers; and I often feel helpless.

So is it any wonder why someone like me would gravitate towards these monsters, who keep to themselves, feel utterly alone, and only lash out when thrust into a world that doesn’t understand them? Godzilla, Kong, Rodan, they’re only monsters by virtue of being strange; our system simply isn’t built with them in mind. But these creatures usually live peacefully, until the world forces them to change--and that change is often violent.

But unlike us, monsters are powerful. When change is forced upon them, they respond in kind, striking back against a cruel and ignorant world--smashing the symbols we’ve come to see as monolithic, screaming bloody defiance, as if proclaiming to the world, “I am here!” And that’s cathartic for someone who feels powerless. It’s a power fantasy through and through, even though the stories of these monsters often end in tragedy. Yet the tragedy is essential. When these monsters die, it’s not a triumph of good over evil; it’s framed as terrible and stupid and preventable. It’s an admission that the Other can and should exist, but the world as it currently exists is hostile to it, and it’s something that has to change if we’re to avoid further misery.

I love monsters because I see myself in them, far more than I ever did Batman or Superman or Spider-Man. They’re ugly and maligned, like me, for reasons outside of their control, like me. As Guillermo del Toro once said: “Monsters are the patron saints of our imperfections.”

… that it’s wrapped in the spectacle of fire-breathing dinosaurs and giant monkeys beating the snot out of each other is just the icing on the cake.

[pndnj]

Cathartic- Yellow Metal Lyrics

Heres where I am with the lyrics, I referenced @25Goldenn on twitter for some of it that I couldn’t comprehend. 

*music*

0:23

Dark matter, like painted splatters, they fit better, the old saying, the way it goes, better the devil you do then you don’t know. I hit pedals and switch levers, my heart metal, I can't settle, im part trouble, they are not subtle. I fuck good so fuck cuddles, burst bubbles the thrist levels at new heights, i down doubles, and got baked til I felt high, my face puzzled, felt muddled, far strung and your floors woodent, the thought might but the fit wouldn’t. A fortnight

0:46 - 1:00

And I thought right, it’s all bark and no bite, I’m Tony Stark still embarking on a dream, took a bit of time to take darkness from the team. Seen what I saw. Heartless on the sleeve. Tried to burn my wings, so I put them in a piece on my chest , at peace no rest.

1:00-1:15

Flipped this on it’s head. Rip the script up now, flip it don’t pretend, slipping shit again, Fakers all around me, I’ve been living in pretense. Fake friends won’t make amends. There’s no need, these mean comments control the scenes. Attentionseekers, the spine is weakened

1:15-1:24

This family needs, what a family needs, and the planet bleeds, the damaged trees. It’s never leaving til we ascend so fuck the fence, and until they stop killing colour it’s fuck the feds.

1:22 - 1:44

You must be off it, I mean it, you know you ain’t never get with the judging and I used to dread growing my beard too long, never felt I belonged, but it's really long like a minute I ain’t looking to no mans for the limits, They’re feeling timid, I’m telling them who they mimic, why they don't look like a clinic …. Why they don't get no women, Still, we’re just fucking girls, Lost in the wrong world, Jurassic, now to this vermin

1:41-  1: 50

Kicking the game I’m serving, these losers are never learning, my fire is forever burning, adding it to my fuel, seems like I’m always focused on never becoming you, These locals that rob us feeling … was for a reason.

1:52-2:02

I’m seeing my new beginnings, watch out this loser’s winning, and no water is too deep to swim in Like I’m about to see a killing, I’m all the way that and living, flawless and feeling lawless, the prison now to the gimmicks, my vision is set to something,

2:03-:2:20

I’m watching you bitches plummet, no matches here for my cunning, you rappers are feeling done in, switching your genre, running and Running your jaw, stunting, pulling at straws, something  I think you’re a poor effort, deaf and tone deaf and I ain’t treat you separate. Living, I’m in my element, riding it like a … never lose me to fentanyl, scared when I take a benadryl. Keeping it green in general

2:20- 2:46

Think that you remain irrelevant. Look at yourself with reverence, hoping to always elevate. Celibate of these thoughts, killing themselves with sedatives. In comparison to eminem, you’re feeling feminine. Impolitically correct, still dropping on my dick. And I never gave a fuck about what they say abt my shit, I’ve been moving things in my mind like it’s this mountain dew Memories have made me wonder if one day I’m after you. What’s the purpose that you do, is what you're hoping that they learn, i’d like to say i’m done but it’s getting up on my nerves

2:46 -2:55

I’m looking at my life, saying what do I deserve. It’s hard to say I know when I’m walking through the dirt. Talking while you’re nothing I can see for what it’s worth. I’m tired of feeling hurt and I’ve tried enough but nothing works.

2:55-3:40

I’m racking up excuses while I’m slacking off on work. Chit chatting is the usual, talking to this clerk, i beg you don’t include me. I might write it on my shirt so everytime they see me, the oldest know to swerve. SWERVE Life is potent, bits of fucked shit… till they took notice weren’t  no hocus pocus, it was hard work that got me heard so i put in the graph like google maps but the whole earth

… around my door mat, taking over like the drones, rolling dirt up in miles like the water, and exploding like Annas hematoma. Don't need to see a slammer to know that I don't want to go man

I’m a showman. I’m just focused on the drama… like i’ve got my own insurance, show myself the pain, like i boxed it in the frame, if we’re about to talk greatness im great, the way you have to say my name like beyonce

“Say my name”

4:00-4:46

Just a bum with a cigarette, sun coming up, all my thoughts on the internet. Feeling deep, I’m just bored with the silhouette single sec,  get fucked up for the thrill of it . killer streak playing Pacman. Like I came from the Philippines vanilla bean still a thing for the thrill of scene,

Theres a beam, UFO, Leave it well alone  I aint moving, stood still on the peloton, telephone and its always on the dial tone,  it's been a while since i’ve smiled at a milestone, seen a big pile in my mind stone, me against the world on my Jack Jones, Like I’m John Jones, With pictures in the condo, far from John Doe, in the ___, like I'm Johnny Bravo, got pravado, with a small dick sitting in golados, feeling far gone, cuz that last hit was the good shit, was that stay lit

4:48-5:02

You can never take my shit come and get me. On the top floor,  cloud 9, fading, never bailing, felt amazing, inhaling, til my lungs two guns blazing. Overcome all the stunts that I pulled. A suit of just skin and then wool

5:02- 5:17

This life doesn’t give you no armour, a lot of myself can harm ya. I swear on what’s good, that I’m here till they take me. I pray that I’m wrinkled, at least over 80, and start moving like a ruler, ?damaged? Like a computer going fast, bars from the jeweler, bring the songs to the beach in hopes of finding tuna

5:18-5:36

…

5:36- 6:16

Grab a bat, lose my rag. Couple things got me mad, a couple people got me wrong and now I’m changing up the swag. Coming in and stealing it, I might take the whole bag. Feeling undefeated, I’m a beast with a reason, and imma lead the whole pack. Fearless like I’m Caesar, I’m just waiting for a chance to fill it up with diesel, and all I've been achieving is clocking miles in its region, moving like a legion.

Promise that I made to myself an allegiance. Do you still believe I’m a fool for ever leaving, staring at the ceiling, can never put a cap on achieving. I’m just here for the rap, then I’m leaving.

I’ve had about enough of being my own enemy, it’s time I grew up,  a long way from 17. Always went against the grain, struggles in my life. Got some things to say when I stand up on a mike.

6:16-6:32

I ain’t dropping this for fame, I need this time, like therapy, it’s just to keep me sane. The truth is on my medicine, can’t put that on your plate.

Speeding into everything, bout time I fixed the brakes. Don’t say I can’t communicate , you know I conversate with you in several different ways. And I know you know it’s references, looking at your face.

6:33- 6:53

Can’t justify mistakes, like every man that made them, seems I ain't  the one to blame. Lying to myself, only had so much to gain, so now I’m switching up the plate, see if that affects the place, im at on most days

I ain’t going with the usual so they looking at me strange. Confused, I can feel it all,  I’m here to make a change. It’s cold at 3am outside, I’m walking with the dog, thanking god that you don’t talk at all, my mind is switching off

6:54-7:12

Driving down to find myself, cuz I’ve been getting lost, lived this selfless life and found I can give a toss. Lessons that I’ve learned I’ve tried teaching to myself. What I’ve learnt from certain people is that they’re better than myself.

So I surround myself with real ones, and you feel the plastic melt. Like burning toy soldiers that used to go up on the shelf. Recycle the ideas, conveying on the belt

7:14-7:29

.. circus, always hurting the way we felt? Embarrassed that we dreamt of bigger things and letting go of notions till we feel them in cement

Tired of only hoping, we feel broken men. Cuz the gravity is weight and has kept us to the ground, see the only people speaking with favors in their mouths

7:46-7:58

Got killer rhymes… no fillers, like godzilla, eating clouds cuz my smokes thicker, throat licker, my dope sicker, bringing people their hope like im the pope slicker,  i hope you’re getting the point cuz i walk quicker

I thought my city was shit bcs I want bigger like my zipper couldn’t zip up fed up with the…my love is fickle.. Residual age has a primitive face

I see demise for your limited ways, Left it to simmer, simmer away…a fake glimmer in the haze

8:09-8:11

Feeling trapped this industry is a cage

8:34-8:50

Nobody’s speaking the truth, I’m offended by the State. Look at the state of the news, I’ve decided the argument, reciting my views, while they’ve been sat in their chairs, I’m feeling pressure to choose.

Standing here as one man, how can I do half when you’re half the person I am. If it wasn’t in your life, you didn’t choose it. It’s the funny thing about music. It’s the pain and beauty of it.

8:52-9:11

Don’t give a fuck what my suit is, it looks good so I wear it, better than the shoot that People’s wearing, changing the whole narrative for these basics and scarcity

Been facing the racists from back when i were a kiddie .born up in in 93’. been living in Bradford City..kicked me out of the schools, they had a problem with me hitting the kids that would call me p*** still sitting in the classroom chilling, and i'm angry now that I’m older I see they treat us different

9:12-9:25

got me thinking I’m the problem cuz they never dealt with those issues.

20 years later I’m still in the same boat, tryna treat me like my grandpa, say I came up off the boat. Came to tell you what I stand for, man I think you’re shit, a joke. How can I be civil, when they got me by the throat

9:25-9:35

Pushing my feelings down, you ain’t got it like them

‘Boy your skin is so light’, ok motherfucker take my name up on a flight. Try to convince immigration that your bloodline’s half white.

9:35-9:45

I don’t know how that’s acceptable, when life is more susceptible to perception, be the death of them. I’ve been looking at the sky saying where’s that day of reckoning, you had your prophets right when they say that you would speak to them.

9:45-9:55

I need justice in this life and I trust that it’s my fight, cuz when I’m writing it feels right to have them focused on the facts again. Focused on the rap again, hoping for the change, gunna put this on the map again

9:55-10:16

Writing in all caps again, the pain, it goes through me so I write the letter. All the shit that could have brought me but made me better.

I’m at home with a pain in my soul , yeh rap… cuz you know I was too real to contest it, my time was invested. Now I look at the industry, I see it infested, looking like kids who would write on nesquik.

10:17-10:29

My name ain’t on the list unless they label it ethnic.

I ain’t never gave a fuck about these jokers and jesters. Ain’t no answers for these things, so just save us the questions, man allowed of violence, cuz my silence is deafening, your opinion stinks, somebody get him a breath mint.

10:30- 10:42

Start to understand why they think that I’m threatening, I move in certain ways, couldn’t slow me with ketamine Now they all wanna hear me, got a table at letterman. Direction changed, like I changed up the lettering. Don’t believe the age ,bcs I move like a veteran.

10:42 - 10:47

Raised on the benefit for whose benefit, they’ll never learn shit, man, if the shoe fits.

…no words coming out when you open your mouth

And to be honest, it’s insulting, offensive to my wounds that have been salting. Tryna ask me questions that they know I never answer. I’d rather sit online and reply to the fan art

11:00-11:06

Fuck a sports car, coming through when i rapped

tell you what I like, farm life and the tractor

11:06- 11:17

Fake life, 'sup online, suck a fat one. You don’t wanna buy into that, none of that son. Sitting in the garden 98’ in the Datsun,  seen some hot summers but I still remember that sun.

*music*

11:51- 12:34

I make millions off of my pain, cause I know a few millions still living that way

Dealing with the hurt, they should know cause they don’t deserve it, it hit deep cause i hit the nerve. Only way that the sheep learn if the street firm, in my ways I don’t wanna change, everything just stay the same

Who you tryna convince you understand, cant maintain, let the lights dim some,  get the Chow Mein, flex, get the tape, right up at night

Why these men be nice to my face, be nice,  i ain’t tryna be a gangsta ruins my vibe

Rather be low-key and on my phone. Never need the trophy or the show piece

Never show peace in a North Face fleece. Show kids this like i wrote my flip

Cause the sign might fit till the start i’m sick

12:37-13:05

Now you see where I come from, the world don’t. Only achievement in this life is the Jordans. Committing petty crimes out of boredom, we can’t afford them. So I stole it, need a rolex

Go make sense, get yourself a job, It’s a poor man’s game tryna sit and pray to god, he ain’t sorting out your problems, gotta sort them out yourself

Used to tell us fables, now I’m writing them myself, Cause we raw like animals we all just need some help

Cathartic, I’m an artist, trying to put my heart in

Felt double crossed like Leo in Departed

13:05- 13:27

For the knowledge i’m not charging see I got it all free

But my hunger kept me starving like i’m feening for the feed

I just Need a reason to see me bleeding for my creed. Trick you with the words like I keep em up my sleeve. Picking where I fit, I see me sitting with the queen

I ain’t doing it unless you’re used to saying please

Let me flow a bit, before I sting 'em with the bees, They tryna kill us with disease

(Music)

13:34- 14:12

Why does it feel like they had the same notebook and the same four looks

Like the rain won't touch on their face, so sus when they lie don’t trust not a minor

Please no fuss, I just move through the game like must

Something in the way i adjust till i stick, Free falling like the ship, free fall till i bust

Remember 21 brother gave no fucks. Trying to project when they give them looks

In the projects, in the objects us

In my own way, never gave me love, shoulda never started this, broken hearted kid

Dried up the feeling till I stole the lid

Don’t wanna relish in the fame but I can’t resist

14:46-14:58

I like the way we feel, I like the way, I like the way

Ain’t no mistake, i am a being

I ain’t tryna be a leader, been selling out since Jesus

All my rhymes are for the readers, between the lines, like Father time, I fuck Mother Nature

14:58-15:40

That’s what they get, the connotations. Tell 'em I lived a life, and then I lived a life of adjacent? like its…. and played it patient.

Alone on my own spaceship, always tryna find greatness, still defying lines, but I’m fighting in my prime.

Shining light like Kylo while imma kill it all the time. Aging like I’m wine

Asian in my face, but still my race you can’t define. Focused on defiance, imma fight it while it’s life.

Started something sick and on my mind is what’s next, just became a dad so now I’m taking all the cheques. Better know I’m staying and paying like it’s debt. Imma get it done, if it’s taking all my breath, sweat, and down I ain’t messing around til I’m the best

Speaking in full sentences, shoulda thought about a strategy before you went at the stratosphere about this… rings around Saturn, this ain’t a battle, I’m sat, I’m here

15:40-16:22

Catch me doing magic, hired and sounding tragic I think you could use practice and until that you get the blacklist and pull like a … actress? Fooling them like a catfish, schooling like a legend, happy to be the reference, fusing like iridescence, leaving them all guessing, leaking out of my brain like a pipe I aint fixing, shining like a star you can see it from a distance

Aint many of me around p*** I’m just different Certain stages to this level aint here because fame is to the devil fuck a label, imma do this from the ghetto, clean up like Im Dettol

I’m the man to put a bet on, sight smart like a weapon,  this is my kind of setting, i write the world I’m sat in, while these others live on hype, i see them fight in how they type, the fruit is ripe for the taking, i think i might

16:22-16:57

Let me take you away from here, Let me take you away from here, Let me take you away from here

16:58- 17:47

Eccentric things are mentioned like a kid stuck in detention tryna escape im just spitting what is written on the next page, spitting image of my dad in his young days

Born sinner when i’m livid i say fucks sake

Don’t worry i’m too cunning with no plumbing, the waterworks, i sung something that resonates, i thought it first like giving birth to the parrot perch

They see me do it and they know it works

Don’t know what’s worse: the way that you live your life or the way that you write a verse

You’ll be nervous, you don’t deserve it we’ll scratch the surface ill leave a crater, lift the dirt up to find the hurting

Can’t know for certain nothing is guaranteed, tryna be a better person than the world deserves to see cuz i see a lot of sharks still swimming in the sea

Cease and arrest what’s the reason.. And these the kinda kids we bringing up next

Distorted reality, all they needed was family, too hard to face, to see what the damage is

17:47

*i don’t wanna be, i don’t wanna be, a part of this, no, i don’t wanna be, i don’t wanna be, a part of this, *

18:04-18:38

Sometimes they ask the questions too deep to form a sentence, to disform, is this the norm, is this the sentence i feel defenseless i played the setlist, and all my sweat blood and tears, forgot to mention feeling lost, going off into different sections i feel like love wrecked it

If it’s not a drug why am i waiting for the next fix, affected, i cant believe that you left this

I guess I leave for the best wish, moving on like im fine for the lectures

We see it all from spectrums, cuz if we’re falling down we can fall down together

Staircase to heaven, mirror down the middle like 11, resentment on one side it won’t settle

18:38- 19:14

Mind fried but taking sense, they aint got a sense of themselves in the rich ends

Need to spell it out for them.. Made for them so witness

I know you feel afflicted but you always love it with me while im laughing at you, ya think you’re laughing with me

I try to (i love you) but im grown so they don’t fit me, my body thrown from the new to this old city so Im sick of sitting on my own, feeling so shitty, i’ve been on roads where its cold and the snow hitting

Its okay to be yourself, sit and talking to myself

I’ve been walking for the longest, just need a little rest, know i ain’t the strongest, I can feel it in my chest, talking about my feelings and of me, they get the best

19:14-19:59

They aint leaving, seeing breathing in my breath

Till death do us part is just seeded in my heart, like a work of art

Never winning,im just scared

Cant begin from the start, do i play a part in the rhythm of the night

I guess i’m onto something cuz the dark is feeling right

Every cloud got a lining, put my own miles  in, like moralis, figured that they’re jealous, that they could just never tell us to change because the weather never made me question whether or not i’m not that level

Got rid of all the bullshit sitting in my way, most of them are full of shit i see it every day

I do hearing the same things that i do, maybe that shits hitting like haiku

How much do you pay for them to hype you

Recycle your flaws but they aint like new, leaving and conceded and full of diesel like engines that need a cleaning, the ending will be revealing. Even though we ain’t raising the facts, now we been facing.

20:01-20:52

The cactus with spikes, needing spaces. Different faces, the same story. A full body like straight body direct to your system.

Could never tell 'em we missed’ em. Not even with the thoughts, we gift them. Cuz they just take advantage, guess we are caught in a system.

My soul pouring out details of borrowed time, had enough of a fill, this is for sorrow time. I’m seeing visions of Heaven, I seen the severed line, between the gospel they speak and when theyre telling lies.

Remember telling a friend of mine, you’d sent of mine, identified like a 3rd eye. Got a habit of knowing now where the dirt lies. So benign. I ain’t sober after 9, so I fuck their minds. Why you flipping out, see another

Try to rep it from the city, fuck a chiller crew, repping for the nittys, trying to keep us down, raised on the social, don’t want to let us out of the system. Me, I insist we assist them, me alone putting shifts til I lift them

20:53-21:12

I know it’s hard, that’s why I like it, I’m fit to fight it, I’m from the North, I’m backing Tyson, it’s been decided, don’t see no light. They needing guiding, just redefining, realizing, I’m realigning, in full finance, they stay silenced.

Can’t be louder, I’m juiced up with no powder. I fix shit like a slick spanner. Gone green like Bruce Banner. So free Gaza on my banner

21:12-21:51

The real McCoy, I ain’t nothing to toy with, signifying peace like a Japanese Koi Fish. How did this happen, we’re moving backwards in our timeline, killing us with cyanide, Right up for the freedom 'til we transform like Ironhide

This is bout my feelings, the way that I move affects the fate that I’m sealing. Can’t say nothing, with that something being on the page, kept inside the pen like the bars that have been kept caged. See I always had a plan, since I was young, we had nothing man

Now it’s been a few years since I ain’t seen the fam, on foreign lands. Bout to climb Everest in the avalanche. Right into the riddles as soon as you were born. Never asking the question cuz it’s the norm. See I’m in a questionin’ session

21:52-22:03

Like the manner got a method to teaching a lesson, listen to MF Doom, he taught me like Ra’s Al Ghul. Felt like living in Gotham, the people were rotten. Still we play cartoons so it’s never forgotten.

22:03-22:15

Chilling at the top but we came from the bottom. Writing and jottin for them life by, spotting the difference

*Dreams, was growing out of me, sun promising that tomorrow it will rise, time playing games with my mind, I swear it will pass us by

Train goes on the tracks, smoke, I’m tired to hide my thoughts, so blinded in flames, Don’t know where we’re going, I have no way of knowing, only see what’s in my head

Can’t we wait a minute, so we can savour this, It’s on my brain again, these days, It on my brain again these days”

23:10-23:46

They’re hating on Palestine ways, The oh no Palace playing Prince on the Steinway, Sending out mind waves, stop them like crimewaves, Freedom fighter, Yellow Metal is my name

Like vipers, I see the sly ones, the snake that’s called Biden, none of them abiding what they might put in writing

We should be used to it by now, say whatever for the vote and then just choose another route, say they’d never kill another unless that brother’s skin is brown

I’m just telling you the facts, if you can’t take it, the truth naked, to bare bones and my thoughts lately, spitting politics.. Done ain’t it, Shit just gets me vexed, and now I’m sitting that I think of it

23:45-23:59

Feeling on the brink of it, whatever it is, Figure out some shit at least it feels that way

talk about my feelings and I don’t feel so strange, finding solace, that’s a promise, in Metropolis but being honest, can’t write a sonnet, without some pain

24:00-24:40

Can’t fade away, away so we can savour this, been on my brain again these days

Can't find a way to be so you can savour this, been on my brain these days

Singing the song for another, singing a song for another

[celestialnocturnes]

a message to my youth (reply 1988 thought dump)

warning: this isn't meant to be a coherent review or commentary on reply 1988. i literally just finished the kdrama a few moments ago and i want to preserve what i'm feeling through this entry. this is only a cathartic attempt to show how the kdrama had impacted me in so many ways. also, spoilers!

--

to the things that are already gone. to a time that has already passed, i want to say a belated farewell. goodbye, my youth.

watching a kdrama wasn't in my top priorities this year, but things that used to be a part of you would demand to be revisited sometimes. i'm glad that i did, and i'm thankful that it was reply 1988.

taking a nostalgic look at the year 1988, this kdrama tells about the story of five families in a humble block in ssangmun, seoul. for someone born 12 years after the setting, the plot is something strange, a history lesson in the lens of simple households. for someone in the limbo between careless youth and adulting, and someone born in an asian family, this kdrama will feel like home.

culturally speaking, reply 1988 was a beautiful exposition of how asian households run. what got me hooked to continue the drama was the endless saga of giving dishes to neighbors in the first episode. funnily enough, all families ended up having a feast of each house's dinner on their tables.

from a mouthwatering display of korean side dishes, to the trends of 1988 korea (back when jyp himself was a hit lolz jk), to the endless neighborhood gossips, to the flawed and conservative views on politics, and to the tight-knitted family dynamics — one would find this hilarious and relatable, informative even.

reply 1988 was a lot of things, but its casts hold a special place in my heart. the gang had so much love between them and it was so beautiful to see a pure friendship evolve through the years. i wish i could still have loud dinners and drunken nights with my friends when we get into our careers. I would love that.

sung deok sun, the optimistic figure in the group, was a ray of sunshine to me even as a viewer. i love deok sun because her spirits were never faltered by her failures and her status in life. my personality is sooo far from deok sun's, but she was relatable to me when she said she didn't know what to do in her life. she doesn't have a dream, i have a lot of them. even so, the uncertainty is there. i guess we all figure things out in the end. deok sun became a flight crew and was able to earn money for the family. i can't wait to figure out my own path, too.

dong ryong, being deoksun's self-proclaimed soulmate faced the same journey. despite not getting into a prestigious university, it's amazing how he was able to establish his own restaurant and even expand branches! makes you really think that not everything in life can be solved by good grades. honestly, i wish i have his street smarts and wisdom. what a powerful person i would be, then.

jung hwan was the man of few words in the group. he showed his affections not through words, but through his actions (and teases for deok sun). his love language would definitely be acts of service! i love jung hwan. he was a good son, brother, and friend. i aspire to have the kindness that he has. but oh dear heavens i would kill just to see how his love life would unfold had he faced the courage to confess to deok sun. i mean, come on! just be straightforward! they would honestly make a good pair, the ray of sunshine girl and the cold guy.

choi taek, the professional go-gamer, was the baby of the group. like jung hwan, he was a man of few words, except that taek was actually shy. his growth through the series was perhaps the most apparent. his innocent image was eventually changed by the way he picked up curse words from the gang, to his smoking, and to his openness of affection for his family and later on, deok sun. also, his character made me fall in love with park bo gum and his smile!

before i go to the next two characters that i associate myself with, i would also like to comment on the household parents of the block. the fathers here have different personalities, but their identities as providers of the house defined the way they act. they keep a tough act and may be distant to their children, but the love is there even though they don't really know much about the household.

and the mothers, oh dear, the mothers. my mom is not a working entity, but i've seen her struggle through the years. i think her burdens are even heavier than that of my dad's. the way this kdrama portrayed the stories of the mothers touched my heart so much that i couldn't stop my tears. never underestimate a woman's strength, i tell you.

from these figures, i learned so much about adulting and marriage. our parents miss their parents, too. our parents would always worry about us, no matter how old we are. our parents are trying to keep everything together, so they put up a tough front. our parents' wishes are devoted to their children. our parents just want the best life for us. not only us are growing old, but our parents, too. our parents want our attention, too. our parents do not have the perfect marriage, but they would do anything for their children. our parents love us deeply.

okay, here goes my reflection in the kdrama — sun woo and sung bora. initially, i was planning to write an entry only about bora, but i realized that i am in many ways alike to sun woo as well. both characters are the eldest children of the family and they face a lot of pressure in their respective families. both characters sacrificed their dreams because they are limited to what their families can afford. sung bora took math education despite her dreams as a prosecutor. sun woo took medicine because that was what his mom wanted. as for me, i chose a course that would promise a stable salary. i dreamed to work in the field of science or writing, but both paths have unstable pays in this country. i do not come from a well-off family, so i have to set my dreams aside.

bora and i do not share the same personality. hers was aggressive and frank, mine was the opposite. even so, i found a piece of my soul in her character because she was steadfast in her goals and was very understanding of her family's situation. she was the cream of the crop in the siblings, the only one who became a student in the premier university, the talk of the neighborhood. she had strong political stances that made her own parents almost disown her, but she was never sorry for it. when it comes to little things, bora had so much privacy over her things that she would get mad at the slightest unauthorized touch of it. oh dear, if that wasn't me.

sun woo, on the other hand, was nearing my male counterpart. he cares so much about his mom and his sister that he hated the thought of the former working. he was the model student, the one with the straight a's, and the one who acts professionally even with the internal turmoil of emotions. he never opposed his mother's wishes and he loved his sister dearly. he would always hold his feelings in, but gets weak in the arms of a loved one. based on his upbringing and firm values, you would also see how he respects women. i love it.

these two never worked out at first because they prioritized their dreams above romance, but i'm so, so happy that they got together in the end.

reply 1988 was perhaps one of the best slice of life shows that i've ever seen. i wish i had watched this when i was younger, because it would teach you so much about family, love, dreams, friendship, and growing up. the pacing would feel kind of slow because of its movie-length episodes, but i swear it was worth it.

to the youth that i was, thank you for building the youth that i am.

to the youth that i am, enjoy the uncertainty and strive to be a better version of yourself.

to the youth that will be, may you never lose the spark inside your heart no matter how old you are.

i will hear your reply in time.

most ardently,

grace