#you decide whether that's snot or a highlight

[leghorned]

RAPTUROUS WATCHER - "Look at them all..."

de self-portrait

[charliejrogers]

The Trial of the Chicago 7 (Or, Sorkin’s attempt to show you how nothing has changed in 52 years)

If you know anything about Aaron Sorkin, the much-acclaimed writer/creator of television shows like The West Wing, The Newsroom, you know that subtlety is not his strong suit. So, I was rather hesitant going into his newest film, The Trial of the Chicago 7, the infamous trial of eight gentlemen accused of conspiracy to incite violence/rioting in Chicago during the notorious 1968 DNC riots. Without diving too deep into the history, August 1968 was not Chicago’s finest hour. When the protesters chanted as a warning to the police, “The Whole World Is Watching!”, they weren’t wrong. Years ahead of the 24-hour news cycle, people all across America (and across the world) were glued to the TV watching the Chicago police beat the ever-living snot out of young folks protesting the Democratic Party’s decision to support the ever-controversial war in Vietnam. The film’s subject matter is sure to draw parallels to and resonate strongly with both the protests and civil unrest that took place this past summer following the death of George Floyd and countless other Black folk at the hands of police. So despite it’s appropriate timeliness, I was hesitant to watch this movie because I really wasn’t interested in watching Aaron Sorkin (who not only wrote but directed this film) try to mansplain to me that the trial of the Chicago 7 was all about injustice! Without knowing anything else about the trial beforehand (and I really didn’t), I already knew it’s a famous case of injustice. I wanted to watch the movie to learn about the people, the humans involved, and the nuance of the situation.

The film gets off to a rough start in the nuance department. After an effective montage introducing us to six of the eight members of the Chicago 7 (we’ll get to why there’s that numerical discrepancy), we meet the character who will be the lead prosecutor of the case: a straight-laced, clean-cut lawyer played by Joseph Gordon-Levitt. In an attempt to plant the seed early on that the eponymous trial is a sham, the first real scene of the film sees Gordon-Levitt meeting with Nixon’s newly appointment Attorney General John Mitchell who is pissed off that the prior AG didn’t resign from the office until an hour before Mitchell was confirmed. As retaliation, and in line with history’s understanding of Nixon’s pathologic paranoia, Mitchell decides to re-open the case exploring whether there was any conspiracy to incite riots in Chicago 1968. As JGL explains, this was something which Johnson’s AG as well as prior FBI investigations already decided did was not a viable case. The conversation that ensues is a little too on-the-nose. JGL shares his concerns that he doesn’t believe that the Chicago 7 are actually guilty, but Mitchell tells JGL, “then imagine how impressed I’ll be when you get a conviction.”

Of course, this conversation is largely a Sorkin invention, as is the weird decision to try to humanize the prosecutor played by Gordon-Levitt. I say "weird" because the film doesn’t do anything with it. We don’t get a real sense beyond that initial scene that JGL feels guilt or remorse for being a cog in the Nixon machine. The beginning of the film sets him up to be a similar character to David Schwimmer’s fascinating turn as Robert Kardashian in The People vs. O.J. Simpson. But in the end, it’s clear that Sorkin uses him just as a way in the beginning of the film to provide the thesis statement for the film, as if he were writing this script as a college term paper. This bothers me so much because it makes a late-film surprise appearance by Michael Keaton as Johnson’s AG lose a good deal of its impact. It would have been so much better if we as the audience came to the same revelation about the political origin of the trial at the same time that the defense lawyers did.

Sorkin’s lack of subtlety reared its ugly head in a few key moments that caused me to audibly groan while watching this film. Towards the end of the film, one of the more dramatic defendants, the merry prankster hippie Abbie Hoffman (played very well by Sacha Baron Cohen), is on the stand and is asked a particularly difficult question by the prosecution. He pauses. The prosecution asks what’s taking so long. Hoffman responds in a serious tone that runs opposite of his usual character, “Sorry, I’ve never been on trial for my thoughts before.” The film then slowly fades to black. I half-expected to hear the famous Law & Order “chun-chunn” sound next. That’s how cheesy and self-righteous the scene was.

The film’s ending too, where the defendants read off a list of all the fallen soldiers from Vietnam prior to their sentencing, felt a little too Hollywood to be believable… and indeed it didn’t happen that way. Elsewhere in the film, one of the more “prim and proper” defendants, the young head of the Students for a Democratic Society Thomas Hayden played by Eddie Redmayne, reflexively stands in honor of the judge’s exit as is court custom, forgetting that he and the rest of the defendants agreed not to stand. That’s not the bad part. The bad part comes later when Redmayne’s character travels to someone’s home and the Black maid who answers the door says to him, “I heard you were the only one to stand for the judge,” and then the camera just sorta lingers on her disappointment. We get it! The judge is a bad dude! Let’s move on!

Seriously, let’s move on. For all my griping, this is a very good movie. Those instances where Sorkin’s moral heavy-handedness is plain to see are so glaring because for the most part, the movie does a fantastic job of addressing the film’s (sadly still) politically controversial themes (police brutality, the culpability of protesters in starting riots, systemic racism, etc.) with a good deal of nuance. This mostly happens when Sorkin just sticks to the facts of the case, like when dealing with the whole saga of Bobby Seale, the eighth and only Black man of the Chicago 7. The day before the trial begins, Seale's lawyer required emergent surgery. Seale’s motion to have the trial postponed till he receive proper counsel is denied, as is his request to represent himself. Therefore, on trial without counsel, he frequently interrupts the court arguing about the unconstitutional nature of his trial, until the judge, played to chilling perfection by Frank Langella, becomes fed up with the interruptions and orders that Seale be bound, gagged, and chained to his chair. It’s a crazy powerful and uncomfortable scene, among the most haunting images I’ve seen in cinema. Finally, Seale’s case is determined to be a mistrial, changing the number of defendants from eight to seven. Hence, the Chicago 7.

But, the most inspired sequence of the film comes late in the movie when the defense gets wind of the prosecution’s plan to play a recording from the night of the riots where the prim and proper Tom Hayden can be (arguably) heard urging hundreds of listeners to “let blood flow all over the city.” Tom still believes that he would do well on the witness stand, but his defense lawyer (Mark Rylance as William Kuntsler) insists on showing him why this would be a bad idea. The ensuing scene sees Rylance role play the part of the prosecution cross-examining Hayden while the film intercuts scenes of a flashback of the actual events. the “truth” of that night, significantly muddies the water for this case. It by no means proves that the Chicago 7 are guilty of a conspiracy, but it certainly highlights the more human aspect of their situation. How is one expected to keep their calm when their best friend is beaten? And to what degree are people to be held responsible for decisions made in the heat of the moment?

The movie also has also interesting commentary on who should be the “face” or progressive politics, even today: the well-to-do and respectable Hayden or the in-your-face hippie comedian Hoffman? It’s an interesting question that never seems fully explored or resolved. Sorkin seems to land in the camp that Hayden’s respectability merely maintains status quo whereas Hoffman’s flagrant anti-establishment views is required for real change. But I don’t know how much of that is me just loving Cohen’s performance as Hoffman and finding Redmayne’s Hayden to be (appropriately) insufferably pretentious. Sorkin certainly gives Cohen the better lines.

Overall, this is a movie held up by its two primary strengths: its cast and its film structure. Aside from general inconsistencies of the script’s tone and the notable weakness I mentioned previously about overplaying the political motivation for the trial in the film's first 5 minutes, the film is nearly perfectly structured. We are sort of dropped in medias res into the trial and only get the facts of those few days shown to us in carefully placed flashbacks that help to flesh out the drama of the trial. It helps maintain pacing in what could have been a drag of a legal drama. 

But really, it’s the cast and their performances that sell this movie. Sacha Baron Cohen is the star in my mind, so perfectly cast as Abbie Hoffman, but Frank Langella as the septuagenarian, prejudiced judge of the case is equally powerful. Yahya Abdul-Manteen II as the Black Panther Bobby Seale lends an air of desperate seriousness to the film, Eddie Redmayne shines as that white liberal dude who takes himself way too seriously, and Mark Rylance is wonderful as the courageous lead defense attorney, particularly in scenes dealing with Bobby Seale. While the whole trial weighs on him heavily as the film progresses, his genuine concern for Seale is palpable.

I spent much of this review telling you the things that were odd about this film, and I stand by that. But as I said, those things stand out because this is such a slick production that the cracks become that much more obvious. It largely avoids Sorkin’s penchant for blunt lack of nuance and offers a story that helps to greatly contextualize the very world we live in. It’s interesting that a story that sees ten men (including their lawyers) fail to win a fight against The Man still feels like an inspiring underdog tale. It resonated well with this viewer, especially as the ending makes clear that justice is eventually served. Yet, I recognize this may be a dangerous tale to tell these days, and why I think the movie is so successful is that it gives plenty of sobering evidence to suggest that justice (both then and now) is by no means guaranteed.

***/ (Three and a half out of four stars)

[theolddarkmachine]

Imaginary- Chapter Three

Midoriya Izuku’s life was turned upside by fate.

Eri’s life was turned upside down by circumstance.

And Bakugou Katsuki is about to learn that even imaginary friends need to grow up.

Also on AO3

A/N: Don’t really have a note today, this time change has got me brain dead lol Hope you enjoy :)

*********************************

Three days.

Izuku has three days until he starts his new job at the Noto police department.

Just three very short days to get it together, and he’s never felt as close to cracking as he did in that very moment standing in his own backyard with a crying 4-year-old and a metric ton of guilt pushing down on his shoulders.

To say the last four days had tested him would be an understatement of vast proportions.

Each day it had felt as if he’d hit another parental hurdle, each set higher than the last in some universal gag to try and trip him up. And it had all started with that fateful introduction of that damned imaginary friend.

The first day, he’d walked into their living room to see it had been rearranged in a psuedo obstacle course. Couch turned catawampus and pillows tossed across the floor, he’d caught Eri as she was climbing up the tilted coffee table toward the armrest of the sofa.

Kacchan says the floor is lava and we can’t touch it or we’ll burn up, she’d exclaimed as Izuku had inhaled for five and then back out for five.

The second day, after a few failed attempts at calling her down for lunch, Izuku had marched his way to her room to find her walls decorated with stick figure murals. He’d stood there in abject horror as his gaze had tracked across the colorful doodles in which he, Eri and some mysterious blond stick figure seemed to star. Izuku had had to swallow down a strangled sound as he’d tried to mentally calculate how she had managed to get some of the drawings several feet higher than the rest.

Those are Kacchan’s, Eri had said proudly as Izuku had inhaled for ten and then back out for ten.

On the third day, Izuku had run up the stairs in a panic after hearing what sounded suspiciously like an overflowing bathtub. Bubbles had cascaded through the hall from the bathroom where he’d found Eri sitting on the closed toilet, smiling brightly with bubbles perched on top of her head like a curling sundae.

Kacchan says foam parties are the best, she’d said around a giggle as Izuku gave up on counting his inhale, instead waiting until his lungs burned.

He couldn’t be sure, but somewhere between the new art gallery on his walls and Bubblegate, Izuku had started to question whether Kacchan was less of an imaginary friend and more of a devil on Eri’s shoulder. Or maybe just a devil, full stop.

After the last few days, he should have known something was up when it was entirely too quiet. Lost in the mindless gathering of clothes and toys in preparation for Eri’s trip to the zoo and following sleepover with his mother, he hadn’t paid the blissful silence much mind. The peace had settled around Izuku like a comforting hug that had abated the constant burn of an unseen gaze that he’d constantly felt over the last few days.

That much should have been what tipped him off.

At the very least, he should have had the instincts to know nothing good happened when things were so peaceful.

The calm before a storm and all that.

Izuku had gone out into his backyard to ask Eri to come in and check that he had everything she wanted laid out before he attempted to get it all into her backpack, unsuspecting of the fact he would look up to find the 4-year-old standing on the patio’s roof with a bed sheet tied around her neck and a determined look on her face.

Which, led to this exact moment, with Izuku cradling the wailing girl in his arms, trying his best to rearrange his thoughts while also thanking every deity he could think of for letting him get there before she could have decided to test out the bedsheet’s wind resistance on her own.

“Shhh,” he shushes her quietly, squeezing her a little tighter to him and brushing a careful hand over her hair. It grounds him, as he times his breathing to the thoughtful strokes that seem to calm them both.

Moments pass as he continues to sway her, letting the quiet drag of time calm his heart and settle it back down from his throat. Guilt gnaws at the already frayed edges of his nerves as her sniffles press into the collar of his shirt.

His own fear had bled into his tone when he’d seen her on the roof, turning his panic into something sharper that had only seemed to scare her. An ache spreads out over his chest as he thinks about the way she’d started crying at his raised voice as he’d instructed her on how to get down. Izuku hadn’t meant for his words to come out so harsh, but in the moment, all he could feel was the unfiltered dread fed by the thought of every shortcoming he had had as a stand-in parent.

“Eri, what were you thinking?” He asks, trying to tamp down on the residual sternness in his voice as he squats to set her down. Pulling away to look her over, his heart clenches at the way her bottom lip wobbles. With another small sniffle, Eri grabs at a corner of the sheet and unceremoniously rubs away at some of the snot under her nose.

“Kacchan said he’d catch me,” she admits, her voice thick and eyes still watery as she looks up at him.

Of course he did, he thinks bitterly before biting his tongue. Swallowing down a growl of frustration with the copper taste of blood, Izuku lets his mind wander to the notebook sitting on his desk upstairs. The night after Eri had come into his life, he’d taken to the internet to create his own How To Be A Parent For Dummies manual. Filled to the brim with notes, there was one portion in particular that seemed to fit this imaginary friend situation.

Kindness, understanding, and patience.

Three words he has underlined and highlighted at the end of the numerous pages of handwritten notes.

Kindness, understanding, and patience, he repeats like a mantra in between calming breaths.

Kindness, understanding, and patience.

Kindness, understanding, and patience.

Settling his expression into a smile, he gently pulls the sheet corner from his small grasp and uses it to dry her cheeks.

“I’m sure he would have,” Izuku says carefully, searching her face for any sign that she picks up on the false note that colors his voice. “But it’s still very dangerous, even if he would have caught you. You wouldn’t have wanted him to get hurt, would you?”

There’s another loud sniffle as she shakes her head before casting her gaze over Izuku’s shoulder.

“I had her.”

It’s a quick, indignant growl that somehow sounds both distant and close as he feels a shudder roll like thunder down his spine. In spite of himself, he turns his head to cast a glance behind him. A warm breeze rustles his curls as he keeps his stare locked on the space behind him, seeing nothing but the empty yard stretched out to his back.

Searching for something and nothing, he finally turns back to Eri to see that her teary frowned has upturned slightly.

“I’ll tell you what,” Izuku says carefully, ignoring the sudden burn of an unseen stare at the center of his shoulder blades.

“How about you let me know before you and Kaachan start playing from now on, okay? Just so I can make sure neither of you gets hurt.”

Quiet fills the space between them as Eri’s eyes cut back and forth between Izuku and the space behind him, almost as if in silent question. Opening his mouth to say something else, he quickly snaps it shut when she finally stops on him and nods.

“Okay, Daddy Izuku,” she says, her smile finally touching her eyes. It cracks something in his chest and Izuku breathes for what feels like the first time since he’d stepped out into the backyard.

“Alright, you, how about you run up to your room and make sure I have everything for your sleepover, and I’ll be right up,” he says before pulling her in for another hug. Eri’s giggle is bright as he feels her drag her nose over his shoulder and fist her hands in the fabric of his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” she says into his shirt as she hugs him tighter. With a kiss pressed to her hair, Izuku pulls away gently.

“It’s okay, I just worry about you,” he smiles before ruffling her hair. Eri’s laugh is bright as she playfully jerks away from the show of affection.

“Now go on in,” Izuku continues, tilting his chin back toward the house. Grin growing ever wider, Eri runs toward the house with the sheet waving wildly behind her. Several beats pass as he watches her disappear up the stairs toward her room. It isn’t until he’s sure she isn’t coming back that he takes a steadying breath before standing and turning toward the empty yard.

“I don’t know who or what you are,” he says, letting his annoyance color his tone a darker shade. It makes him feel like a fool, speaking out to nothing, and that only makes his next words come out harsher.

“But I will find a way to make you pay if anything happens to Eri.”

Unsurprisingly, he’s met with silence.

***

The words on his phone blur as Izuku continues to scroll through yet another parenting blog, scanning the tags on the posts for anything that might pertain to him and his situation, whatever the hell his situation even is.

Something tells him none of these mommy bloggers are going to have an answer for why he may or may not be randomly hearing what is supposed to be an imaginary friend.

Of course, maybe they could, but since he was scared about what results he might get back if he searches why am I hearing voices, he supposes he’ll never really know.

Sighing loudly to himself, he reaches a hand blindly toward what was surely now a tepid cup of coffee. Sitting up just enough to ensure he doesn’t choke, Izuku takes a quick sip, wincing at the coolness of the liquid that had seemed to have sapped it of its flavor.

With another sigh, Izuku sets the mug back down before dropping his back onto the couch cushions to continue his fruitless venture through the seventeenth Parenting 101 blog he’s found that morning.

Something also tells him this wasn’t what his mom had meant when she’d smiled up at him, patted him gently on the cheek  and said to enjoy some “him” time.

I know that look, sweetie, she’d soothed. It’s like looking in a mirror during your hero phase.

Izuku can’t quite remember if he’d given his poor mother this many problems with his own imaginary friend, but now that he’s been on the receiving end, he makes a mental note to order her a muffin basket.

Maybe this was some kind of karma, he thinks, going back to his search window and clicking the next blog. The title of the first entry seems promising as it exclaims What To Do When Your Kid’s ‘Imaginary Friend’ Is A Troublemaker in loud pink letters.

Scanning his gaze quickly over the words, Izuku makes it about half way through the opening anecdote when his phone starts buzzing loudly in his palm. The suddenness of it causes him to jump as he drops it screen down right in the middle of his face.

“Ow,” he moans, pulling the still vibrating device from off his face and rubbing gently at his nose. It’s only a moment more as he reads the contact name flashing across the screen before he answers.

“Oh good, you’re still alive,” Shinso’s drawl is flat as Izuku presses the phone to his ear. If he was anyone else, he might think Shinso sounds almost disappointed in the fact. Luckily, he isn’t though, and he can catch the faint fondness that lingers in his words.

“Did you think I wouldn’t be?” Izuku slings back without any real bite as he stares up at the ceiling. Drumming his fingers on his stomach, he hears a soft sound caught between a laugh and an exhale on the other end of the line.

“I’m not sure what I thought since I haven’t heard from you since you left,” Shinso hums. Guilt, sharp and ragged, once again shoots through Izuku’s chest for the second time that day as he sits up.

“I’m sorry—” he starts, pushing the words around the stone that’s forming in his throat.

“It’s a joke, Green,” Shinso cuts him off, “you’re busy, I get that. New dad, no manual, I get it.”

His words pull a small laugh from Izuku though the ache remains, pushing dully at the confines of his chest and up at his throat in an attempt to choke him. Rubbing his nose again, Izuku coughs to loosen the suffocating ball.

“Can’t believe you’ve learned how to tell a joke since I left,” he teases with a rasp as he reaches for his subpar coffee.

“Clearly not well enough if you didn’t get it,” Shinso chuckles low, the sounds of it caught up in his infamous drawl. “How’s my favorite partner been?”

Rolling his eyes at the question, Izuku takes another sip of the cold coffee. It’s disgusting at this point, but it does do something for the knot pressing at the base of his throat.

“I’ve been better,” he replies truthfully around his wince as he drops his mug back onto the deep colored wood of his coffee table.

Shinso is one of the few people he feels truly comfortable being honest with. Having been paired together at the police academy, they’d been through their fair share of misunderstandings, only to come out on the other side with an appreciation and understanding of each other.

Opposites in many ways, they had both shared the same heroic ideals, born from the same desire to make the world a better place.

Granted, Shinso’s came with the hard plated armor of a rather large chip that he kept carefully balanced on his shoulder, but Izuku couldn’t quite blame him for that.

After all, he was sure he’d also be a bit abrasive if he’d heard throughout his whole life that he’d only ever turn out like his criminal father.

“Not you, Green,” Shinso scoffs, shaking Izuku of his reverie.  “Jeez, I mean Eri.”

His answering laugh is loud, breaking through the guilt stacked up against his sternum as he pushes himself up off the couch.

Shinso had been the only other person that Eri had taken to, though Izuku suspects it had been more out of necessity in the beginning. The purple haired man had been a veritable cornerstone in beginning. No matter the day or time, Shinso had helped out whenever he could, and eventually, he’d won her over.

Uncle Shinso, Eri had taken to calling him.

By the time they left, he wasn’t sure who had ended up crying more.

After a mindless lap around the living room, Izuku leans down to pick up a discarded toy. It’s the fuzzy purple people eater that Eri had excitedly named Shinso, a fact that draws a smile along his face.

“She’s doing great, Shinso,” he says fondly, making his way to the designated toy corner and dropping the stuffed animal into the box that sits there.

“She seems to like her daycare, and she really likes being near mom. She’s got an imaginary friend now.”

Izuku prattles, as if reading off a checklist, as he continues to tidy up the room aimlessly.

“That imaginary friend giving you trouble?” Shinso cuts in during a pause in his musings, voice carefully thoughtful.

“How could you tell?” Izuku asks sarcastically, leaning down to grab another toy. The toy’s eyes stare up at him, it’s smile a wide grin that feels almost taunting as he moves it to the toy box.

“Call it intuition,” Shinso laughs, causing Izuku to roll his eyes once more as the toy thuds quietly where he drops it in the pile.

“And maybe a bit of experience. I remember giving my mom hell when I had an imaginary friend.”

“Mom made it sound a bit like I may have too,” Izuku replies as he sweeps the living room with one last look before making his way to the coffee table and grabbing his coffee cup.

“Which makes me wonder if this is some kind of karma.”

The musing earns him a loud snort.

“This too, shall pass,” Shinso states sagely before his voice goes soft around its edges. “It isn’t necessarily a bad thing, Izuku. She’s finally acting a bit more like a kid.”

Humming, more to himself than anything, Izuku swallows down one last sip of the unsavory liquid.

“I know,” he finally sighs after coming up from the mug’s rim.

And it’s true.

In the past week, Eri has acted more like a kid than she had in the few months they’d been a family. She was smiling more, and laughing more, and she had a twinkle in her eye that had been missing since they’d carried her out of that metallic shipping container.

For the first time since that fateful day, Eri had the look of a child, and he’s happy about that.

That, of course, didn’t stop the constant dark shadow clinging to the edges of his thoughts that constantly whispered over and over that maybe he was still out of his depth.

“I just—” Izuku starts, making his way towards the kitchen. He pauses in his words, before sighing. “I just worry, is all.”

“I know you do,” Shinso says quietly, almost apologetically, as if he has anything to apologize for. “But you’re doing great, Green. Really.”

Stepping up to the kitchen sink, Izuku dumps what’s left of his coffee into the sink and turns the water on. Filling the mug slightly, he swirls it around, watching as the water goes murky as it catches the coffee still clinging to the porcelain.

“Thanks, Shinso,” he replies, dumping the water down the sink before setting the cup down on its metal bottom.

About to turn away, a sudden glint of sunlight through the kitchen window catches his attention.

Just outside the gate to their front yard, is a man.

Sunlight catches in his hair, touching it with gold as it spikes up in cool disarray like some kind of exploding halo. It softens his features, which are twisted in a scowl as he looks up towards the house. Even from this distance, Izuku can see the pinched line between his eyebrows, as if he has something on his mind.

Shinso’s voice is distant as Izuku continues to watch him gaze at the house as he shoves his hands deep into his pockets. The motion pushes his shoulders back, almost as if he’s waiting for some kind of altercation.

His scowl seems to deepen the longer he stares, and for a fleeting moment, he looks almost dangerous.

A burn in his chest reminds him to breathe as he watches the stranger slowly track his gaze from the upper windows of his home down to the kitchen one.

An all too familiar chill dances along his spine as the stranger’s gaze captures his own.

“Izuku?” His name pulls him back by the throat. Shaking his head quickly as if to shake the vestiges of the unknown man’s stare, he turns quickly on his heel and makes his way to the front door.

“Can I call you back?” Izuku says as an answer, ignoring the confused sound Shinso makes in the back of his throat.

“Everything alright?” His friend asks, equal parts curious and worried.

“Yeah, just gotta check something out,” he says, rushing the words as he pushes his feet into his shoes.

“Alright, talk to you later then,” Shinso sounds bewildered as Izuku hangs up.

Throwing open the door, he steps out into the sunlight. Blinded momentarily by its sudden brightness, Izuku raises a hand to shield his eyes from the glare.

“Hey!” He calls out, gaze searching the sidewalk only to find that the stranger is already gone.

*****************************

[lvehui]

late night thoughts - hong jisoo

genre: this was so fluffy but so angsty??? like???

In which Y/N wonders if she and Joshua will last.

(inspired by that one meme that's like, "hey do you like me?" and the guy responds, "honey, we're married" and the other meme that's like, "you like me?" and the guy, who is literally proposing, says, "take a wild guess.")

this one is for anyone who constantly brings themselves down.

word count: basically 1.9k. could've been more if i added more to the imagery than like, the emotion of the piece (which is heavy, by the way). i'll edit it to make it better later.

After binge-watching all three seasons of Stranger Things and sharing an entire tub of Neapolitan ice cream --- which was probably very unhealthy, by the way--- Y/N and Joshua finally decided to slip under a cozy, warm blanket and call it night, right where they were on the couch. Their bedroom was only a few feet away from them, but they both had been too comfortable being in each other's arms to even consider sleeping in it.

With his right arm wrapped around Y/N's waist, he had pulled her into his chest and buried his face into the crook of her neck. It wasn't long before her boyfriend fell asleep in that position, leaving Y/N alone in her thoughts.

As cliche as it sounded, she wondered how she had gotten so lucky, meeting the love of her life in a coffee shop. If she hadn't decided to make a detour from her usual route to work and fetch a double-shot espresso to wake herself up, things would be different. Joshua would've been swept off his feet by another girl and Y/N would've been having another one-night stand with her insatiable ex-boyfriend. Yet, there she was, at home in Joshua's loving embrace, and honestly, she didn't know where she'd be without him.

Despite not wanting to think about it, she often imagined her unimaginable life without Joshua. Sure, their relationship made her feel more than complete, but the likelihood of him losing interest in her, falling out of love with her, and eventually leaving her overshadowed all the good. Before she knew it, she was breaking her own heart, like the anxious and overwhelmed baby she was.

"Hey, love?" she whispered.

Joshua moved a little before he hummed, "Yeah?"

"Do you still like me?" Her fingers twiddled as she waited for a response, already feeling awkward and dumb for asking such a question.

Another hum. "Take a wild guess." He was probably talking with his eyes closed because she sensed sleepiness in his answer. "Y/N, look at us right now. We're spooning on this small ass couch, we eat from the same spoon, and live together. On top of that, I don't think I can go a day without kissing you all over. If I wasn't such a broke Millenial, you'd have a ring on your finger by now."

A shade of pink spread across her cheeks, then all over her entire body. But then that fuzzy feeling was set aside by insecurity. "Really?"

"Really," Joshua easily replied. "Do you doubt me?"

The answer was yes, but it didn't pass her rosy lips.

"Y/N," he murmured, quietly, but not quietly enough to stifle the natural sweetness in his voice. "What's wrong?"

Subconsciously, her body scooted further into his lean frame. Even though there was no gap between the couple and Joshua wasn't going anywhere any time soon, Y/N needed to be closer to put herself at ease. (Or at least she'd try.)

"Nothing, really," she quickly lied, attempting to cover up her abysmal mood. Then she joked, "Maybe it's just the lactose getting to me?"

Joshua removed his left hand from Y/N's waist and brought it to her long, black hair, gently pushing some of it behind her ear. "Perhaps," he mused, entertaining the possibility, even though he saw right through her. There was a slight pause, in which he simply stroked her hair, before adding, "Or maybe its something else and you're just afraid to tell me?"

"Maybe it is," she mumbled, a tiny, defeated pout following. "But it isn't a big deal." Then, "I mean, it is, to me, but like... you know, it shouldn't be a big deal, and my mind is just going into overdrive for reasons that I don't want to tell you because I don't want to scare you off and---"

"Hey, hey, hey," Joshua told her. "This isn't me telling you that your feelings aren't valid, but slow down, calm down, and look at me. Please."

Y/N shifted her weight and turned to face her boyfriend, whose expression was full of seriousness and concern. It made her question what she looked like in his eyes, not just then, but every day. (And also, was it messed up of her to think about how ethereally beautiful he was in these circumstances?)

"I just... I was just thinking about how great life is with you, and how much I cherish you, and how absolutely devastated I'd be if we broke up," Y/N revealed in a low voice.

For a brief moment, a mix of surprise and sadness flashed across Joshua's face, until his brows furrowed in confusion. "You think I want to break up with you?"

She shook her head and waved her hands, furiously. "N-no! No, I don't! And I never want to break up with you," Y/N promised him, reassuringly. Once she collected a few short breaths, that same insecure feeling returned to her. "...but you could always want to."

"Want to what?"

His question caused Y/N to avoid his eyes. "You might not want to break up with me now... You might love me now... But that can always change, is what I mean," she explained, feeling stupider by the minute. "Like, you see people fall in and out of love all the time. They think that they're going to want each other forever until they don't. They lose interest in one another. They fall for someone else. They realize that the person they're with isn't the one."

She continued, "And I'm not saying any of that is wrong. I rather break things off than stay with someone because I've invested so much of my life in being with them. So if you ever wanted to leave me because you're unhappy, then I'd support it."

And suddenly, tears began to prick the corners of her eyes. "But even though I'd support it, it'd break my heart, you know? And I was just thinking about how likely it would be for you to break up with me because I'm lacking in so many areas." A snot-nose laugh came out of her mouth. "Like the common sense department, the talent department, the humor department... and especially the beauty department."

Gingerly, she pinched the sleeve of his hoodie and restrained herself from breaking down. "I guess I'm just wondering when you're going to come to your senses and be done with me."

Silence hung in the air, distancing the two even though they practically shared the same air. Y/N's eyes focused on Joshua's chest, boring into the gray material. It was then she realized that maybe, in her heart of hearts, she wanted Joshua to come to his senses because he deserved a better girl than her.

Joshua slid his arm out from under her, so he could bring both of their hands together, with his over hers. With a firm, yet tender squeeze, he admitted, "I've thought about you leaving me before, as well as whether or not we're meant to last."

Her widened eyes could meet his. Genuine surprise and curiosity were written all over her delicate features. "You have?"

"More or less." A sad smile graced his face, highlighted by the moonlight seeping through the cracks of their window. "If I had a list of irrational fears, that one would be number one."

Joshua's genuineness caused her to look down at his chest again, not knowing how to feel about his response. On one hand, it made her feel shy and giddy, but on the other, it made her ashamed for being worried.

"You should be more scared of spiders or something," is all she said. "Don't waste your biggest fear on me."

"It's not a waste," he replied, shaking his head. "It keeps me going. It's the reason why I strive to be the best boyfriend. Just because I have you, doesn't mean I can't lose you, so I've vowed to treat every day of our relationship like it could be the last."

He continued, filling up the empty spaces within their conversation. "And It's true that people fall out of love. That's why break-ups and divorce exist," he told her. "So I get why you're working yourself up about the possibilities. It's because of the very fact that the chance of things going wrong exists."

Her boyfriend was right--- even though their relationship was going well, Y/N had allowed herself to become overwhelmed by her self-insecurities and the sheer possibility of breaking up.

She felt herself begin to crack. "I'm sorry."

"No, don't apologize!" he told her, coming off more upset than he meant to. After a moment, he simply sighed, before using one hand to cradle her pale, tear-stained cheek. "Everyone gets scared. Everyone overthinks. You're not the only one, okay? It's natural."

His thumb wiped away one of her dewy teardrops while small hiccups bubbled in her chest. "I can't blame you for doing any of those things, because I do them too," he told her. "But if we allow our worries to consume us, then we'd be self-sabotaging ourselves, not able to enjoy the moment because we're too busy thinking about the future mess-ups, you know?"

She nodded.

"Mess ups will come, but as long as our love is strong, they will go," he reassured her. "And I know our love is strong. I know we can do anything. And I know that I aim to spend the rest of my life with you, despite any obstacle we may encounter, and nothing is going to stop me from doing that."

Joshua tilted her chin upward so that he could see her entire face. "That being said... I'm wholeheartedly willing to take those chances because I love you, and everything about you, from the way you snort when you laugh, to the way you cry every time someone dies in an anime."

"Hey!" One of her tiny fists weakly hit his shoulder in embarrassment, but his comment made sent a not-so-subtle shade of pink to her cheeks. She tried to appear mad by scrunching her eyebrows together, to no avail. "Asshole."

"Seriously," Joshua said. "I love you. You're all I see." He took her hand, the one he had been holding for the longest time, and put it over the upper right side of his chest. His heartbeat wasn't rapid, but it was steadily pounding away, letting go of its inhibitions. "I want us to be together..."

"Forever," she finished, clearing her face of snot and salty tears. A smile peeked through her sweater paws. "Yeah... I know."

Finally, the bitter cold that had been cast throughout the air was thawed by the warmth of their hearts. It was soon after their conversation that they had fallen asleep, both of them this time, with Y/N snuggled in Joshua's arms, right where she was supposed to be.

She knew that there were no guarantees and there was the possibility of things going wrong, and hell, her insecurities would always be there, but that night, she fell asleep to utter feeling of being loved, basking in the present, but dreaming of the beautiful future ahead of them.

[shipmistress9]

“Shouldn’t you be with him/her?” for hicceretstrid?

Oooohhh, now this was a fun prompt, thank you a lot, anon! 😁

HTTYD – Hicretstrid – Modern AU – T-rated

. o O o .

Not A Bad Day

“All right, this calls for a celebration,” Dagur exclaimed, and pulled Hiccup in one of his trademark hugs. “Tonight, we’ll go out! Scott and I can show you the best places to meet people. Oh, this will be awesome!”

Chuckling with slight embarrassment, Hiccup retreated and rubbed his arm.

“Yeah, congratulations, coz. It was about time though. Nobody believed you to be straight anyway.” Scott’s grin was, as always, a little patronising as he stepped next to Dagur and placed a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder, but today, Hiccup didn’t really care.

Coming out as bisexual had been a daunting prospect, but in the end, all his worries had been for nothing. Because Scott was right, nobody had really been surprised; his dad had accepted the news with a shrug and a nod, his mum had been supportive as ever, and his friends had congratulated him for making up his mind and picking up the courage. Even Gobber, his employer at the workshop who’d, of course, heard the news from his dad, had clapped him on the shoulder with a huge grin on his face.

“Very true. Certainly not me,” Dagur sing-songed in reply to Scott’s ribbing, which made his boyfriend roll his eyes. “Okay, let’s see. How about we all head home to change and we pick you up in about two hours?”

Hiccup agreed, and before he really knew how the time had flown by so fast, he found himself at a club he’d never been to before, surrounded by people and, for once, couldn’t imagine feeling any better. Who would have thought that admitting to his sexuality could be so liberating? Sure, the acceptance from his friends and family were a big part of that, and he was still nervous at first. But before long, he was moving through the crowd without hesitation, smiling at men and women alike and basking in the fact that nobody thought him weird for doing so.

He was just taking a break, sipping a fruity cocktail at the bar, when he saw her. She was gorgeous in her skin-tight red dress, silken golden hair falling down over most of her back, and her blue eyes seemed to sparkle with the club’s stroboscopic light. And she headed right in his direction.

“Five caipirinhas,” she ordered. Then she paused, threw a scrutinising look at Hiccup’s drink, then turned back toward the barkeeper. “Or wait. Four caipis, and one of these.” She leaned against the bar, waiting, and Hiccup thought he might just as well try his luck and talk to her.

“Hi. Are you coming here often?”

The blonde looked at him, her eyebrows raised and pink lips stretched into a faint smirk. “Really?”

Hiccup shrugged, a little hesitant, but wasn’t yet ready to give up. “Well, I wouldn’t know. It’s the first time I’m here. But I like it.”

For a moment, the blonde kept looking at him as if he had a funny nose, but then she broke and giggled. “Yeah,” she said, smiling more genuine now. “I like it here too.” She threw him a look, her gleaming eyes almost tangible on his body. “And I’m glad you found your way here as well,” she added, winking suggestively.

With his courage boosted by her reaction, Hiccup kept chatting with her. He learned that her name was Astrid, that she had a dog named Stormfly she adored, that, like him, she loved to draw but never had the patience to actually finish anything, and that she liked to have sex. A lot of it. And judging by the way she looked at him, Hiccup wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d tried to mount him right then and there. He wouldn’t have minded either.

When her ordered drinks arrived, she even almost looked disappointed. Hiccup thought about offering to help her carry them to her friends, but she turned out to be more than capable of doing so all by herself. And even though he was disappointed that his excuse to spend more time with her wouldn’t work, Hiccup had to admit that he found her strength rather sexy.

“It was nice meeting you, Hiccup,” she said, her pretty blue eyes gleaming. “I hope you’ll come here more often now.”

She left, and Hiccup followed her with his eyes, but quickly lost sight of her in the crowd. There was a tiny spark of disappointment that they hadn’t talked more. But she obviously was here with friends. And even though Hiccup would have liked to get in touch with new people, he wasn’t that desperate that he would get obtrusive. She hadn’t invited him to accompany her, and that was okay.

Contemplating whether to get another drink or not, he decided against it and got up. He didn’t want to get drunk, after all. Making his way over to the dance floor, he suddenly felt as if he’d run into a literal mountain.

“Oh, hey, sorry, man,” the mountain said, turning to see who stood behind him. “I didn’t mean to run into anyone. Seriously, not having eyes in the back of your head is such a design flaw, don’t you think?”

But Hiccup wasn’t capable of answering. In front of him stood the most stunning guy he’d ever seen. He was tall, taller even than Hiccup with his 6’1’’, and nearly twice as broad, the sight of his muscled chest and arms making Hiccup swallow. His black hair, which he wore long and was bound at his back, looked as if it was made of silk, and Hiccup was just dying to touch it, to feel whether it really was as soft as it looked. The guy’s most prominent feature was his broad chin though, highlighted even by a couple of tattooed lines, and with his large nose, bushy eyebrows, and a pair of warm brown eyes, Hiccup actually couldn’t find any design flaws in him whatsoever.

“Uh,” he mumbled, unable to find any words to answer.

“Hey, you okay?” the guy asked. “You look dizzy if I may say so.”

Hiccup wanted to kick himself. “Uh, I’m fine,” he said, forcefully pulling himself together. Drooling in front of this guy certainly wouldn’t do him any good.

“Great,” the guy commented cheerfully, then gave Hiccup a closer look. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. Are you new here?” he asked with genuine interest.

Hiccup couldn’t help but chuckle at the guy using the same approach he’d used before too. “Actually, I am. I’ve never before been to a club like this. Just, you know… came out today,” he shrugged, a little self-consciously. Certainly, that was too much information to share with someone he didn’t even know the name of?

“Oh, that’s great! So, you’re not only new here but also to the whole scene? Must be a little daunting, eh?” The guy let his eyes wander around over the crowd as if looking for something – or someone – then nodded. “Were you just going anywhere? Else, how about we chat a little? Maybe we can even get a spot over there on the sofas. I assure you, they are as clean as they can be – I know the guy who owns this club. Oh, I’m Eret by the way.”

A little overwhelmed, Hiccup followed the guy, Eret, to the mentioned sofas. “I’m Hiccup,” he replied, fully expecting the usual disbelieving question after people heard his name. But Eret just gave him a crooked smile. “Hiccup, eh? Ah, I’ve heard weirder names. So, you only came out today? Tell me about it. That is, only if you want to. If I’m getting too nosy just tell me. It’s cool. I don’t want to push you, am just curious.”

Still a little dazed, Hiccup answered all questions Eret asked, and happily so. Talking about all his struggles and the confusion felt good, and Eret’s honest interest made it even easier. In addition, Hiccup found himself more and more drawn to this guy, and if he didn’t fail completely at interpreting body language, the interest was mutual. Part of it certainly was that Eret didn’t seem to know about personal space. Or was it just that he came that close to Hiccup because he’d noticed his interest? Hiccup might not have gone out tonight with the intention to hook up with anyone, but in Eret’s case, he also wouldn’t mind changing his plans.

Except that his change of plans got changed again by an unexpected source.

“Ah, there you are,” suddenly a mildly familiar voice exclaimed, and before Hiccup knew what had happened, a whirlwind of red fabric and golden hair was draped across Eret’s lap. “I almost thought you’d left without me.”

Eret chuckled. “I wouldn’t dare, love. I was just talking to Hiccup here. He’s new, you know?”

Astrid turned as if she only now noticed that Eret wasn’t alone, and her lips stretched into a wide grin when she recognised Hiccup. “Well, hi there again.”

Hiccup, however, could only stare. Was this supposed to be a joke? His throat went dry as he watched the two interact; the way Eret’s hand was curled around Astrid’s waist, how sure she settled on his lap, and how they both craned their necks in an obviously familiar motion to kiss each other. No, there was no doubt that these two were more than just friends.

Hiccup really should have known better. What had he been thinking?

His eyes drifted from one to the other and back again, head whirling. What had happened? Had they played some cruel game on him, both fake-hitting on him just to make fun of him? It certainly seemed that way, especially when Astrid threw him a cheeky look over her shoulder, then turned back toward her boyfriend. Her lips were at his ears as she whispered something, then Eret glanced in Hiccup’s direction and grinned.

Gods, he felt like an idiot.

Desperately wishing for a hole to open up in the ground and swallow him whole, Hiccup got up on his feet and made an awkward stumbling step backwards before turning around and looking for the exit. Why, oh why, had he followed Snot’s and Dagur’s suggestion to go out? The day had been so good, why had he needed to ruin it by making a fool of himself?

As if in a trance, he stumbled away from the happy couple. Through the crowd of dancing bodies, past laughing and drinking people. He just wanted to get away. Honestly, what had he been thinking? That he would go out and through some miracle not just one but two incredibly alluring people would hit on him? When usually, he barely got more than a dismissive glance in passing? Gods, he’d been so stupid. They were probably laughing about him right now. Haha, what a great joke. As if…

Hiccup hadn’t even known the club had a backdoor exit that led into an outdoor area, but suddenly he found himself under a clear and star-lit night sky. It was cool outside, the chill of the past weeks not yet gone. It meant that there weren’t many people out here, which was good. Hiccup walked away from the door and slumped against a wall. What was he doing here? He should be at home, drawing more dragons or maybe cuddling with his cat Toothless. He shouldn’t be here, trying to connect to other people. He’d never been good at doing so; why should that have changed now? Taking a few deep breaths, he forced himself to calm down. He ought to leave. If Dagur and Scott wanted to stay then that was fine, he could always call a cab. He just wanted to get away, and all that kept him from doing so was the fact that, in order to leave – and to let Scott know he was leaving – he had to go back inside. And even with how ample the club was, he dreaded the idea of running into either Astrid or Eret again – or even worse, both. So he stayed where he was, unwilling to go back inside, even as the cold winter air made him shiver.

He stayed until a broad figure appeared and leaned against the wall next to him. He didn’t say anything and didn’t come conspicuously close, which, from the little he’d gotten to know about Eret, certainly was remarkable.

“Shouldn’t you be with your girlfriend?” Hiccup eventually asked, not in the mood for more taunting or even pity. Right now, he just wanted to be alone.

“Heh… no, I think being out here is far more sensible,” Eret said cheerfully. Hiccup just grunted. A part of him wanted to ask why that was. Had his girlfriend been annoyed with him for flirting with someone else? That would have been quite the double standard. But in the end, he didn’t care enough to ask.

But Eret seemed to interpret his silence differently. “Unless you would have prefered her company instead of mine. But usually, people find her a little scary at first, so we figured me talking to you would be the better choice.”

Despite himself, an amused little laugh escaped Hiccup. The picture of the muscled mountain of a guy and the slender blonde didn’t exactly support the idea of her being the scary one. But then, from the little he’d learned about them both tonight, Eret appeared to be more the big teddy bear type of guy while the only word to describe Astrid that came to his mind was Valkyrie. So, maybe, she was the scarier one after all.

There were a few minutes of silence before Eret eventually sighed. “Okay, listen… I don’t know how things came across to you just now so I’ll just be blunt. Yes, Astrid is my girlfriend. But I wasn’t cheating on her when I hit on you, and neither was she when she hit on you. We have a fairly relaxed and open relationship; we love each other to pieces, but we don’t own each other.”

Almost despite his will, Hiccup looked up at that. “What is that even supposed to mean?”

“Well… it means that both my and her hitting on you was genuine? I didn’t even know she’d already met you.”

Hiccup still felt like none of Eret’s words made any sense. “So what… am I supposed to choose or something?” Even just saying that felt ridiculous. There were these two gorgeous and stunning people who were both interested in him and he was to pick one? Yeah, good joke. If he told Scott about it, his cousin might just die of laughter.

Eret though shook his head. “No, not necessarily. I mean, you could if you wanted? But we actually more thought of both meeting you?”

He sounded serious, not as if he was joking at all, Hiccup mused. A dream. Yeah, that was the only sensible explanation. He was dreaming, because honestly, this was too good to be true. “What? As in, let’s have a fun little threesome, you, me, and your girlfriend?” It sounded ridiculous in his own ears, but Eret didn’t seem to think so.

“If that’s what you’re interested in, then that would be an option,” he shrugged. “An alternative would be to… well, to meet and talk. Simply getting to know each other.”

“What?” No, this was no dream. Bewildered, Hiccup glanced around, halfway expecting a team of Candid Camera to appear. Because, honestly, this was too crazy to come up with it all by himself.

“Look, Astrid and I are open for alternatives. We’ve had shared bedmates before and it was fun. But in the over six years we know each other now, it never happened that we were both truly interested in the same person. Not until today. So I apologise if this offer comes across as too blunt, but… yeah, we’d like to get to know you better. If you say no, that’s cool. But… yeah.”

For a minute, Hiccup was speechless. “Wh-what exactly are you even saying here?”

“He’s asking you for a date,” came Astrid’s blunt voice from the entrance to the club. “Even though he’s not really good at it.” She threw her boyfriend a half-teasing-half-loving look. “So I’ll take over now before we all freeze to death. Damn, it’s fucking cold. So yeah, what we want to ask is whether you’d agree to go on a date with us. Because you’re damn cute and funny, and we’d both like to know you better. How about pizza at Carlo’s, tomorrow evening?”

Hiccup was still stunned, but a slight spark of hope began to rise inside him. He looked from one to the other, saw the warm and friendly smile in Eret’s eyes and the teasing sparkle in Astrid’s, and nodded. “I’d be down for that,” he replied, smiling shyly. “Just promise not to sneak any pineapple on my pizza, because that’s just gross!”

Both Eret and Astrid burst out laughing, and a moment later, Hiccup joined in. Maybe, this day wasn’t a complete disaster after all.

[kae-karo]

Hi I used to be into the phandom so much but fell out in like??? 2017??? Maybe??? Has anything big happened at all? Has anyone died/caught on fire ( ;) )??

oh dear god where do i begin??? well fortunately both our lads are still alive. let me just start with saying 2018 has been like. probably the best year for dnp to date? i’ll try to go in some kind of order here but bear with me i’ll touch on a bit of 2017 stuff and then go into 2018 for ya

so first of all i’m not sure when you left the phandom in 2017 but the lads moved out of their previous flat in april of last year (x) (april-ish it was def before they posted the vid)

also our dear lil dani snot on fire is no longer not on fire (x) so uhh is he on fire now ig? i mean yeah that’s arguably true

*insert phil’s badaladala sound bc on the scale of Significant Things i don’t think anything else massive happened*

day one of demon month, we got this amazing vid from phil wherein viewers (aka dan) picked his outfits n he looked like a snacc and a half (would’ve been 2 snaccs if he’d embraced the quiff sooner but that’s getting ahead of things) (x)

!!!! then a week or so later dan posted his vid ‘daniel and depression’ where he opened up abt his struggle with depression (x) which was imo the start of him just being more open about himself in general. he also started working with young minds (a mental health org for young people in the uk) and shortly thereafter with prince william’s program to help prevent cyberbullying

then! on the day love was invented! dnp released their board game, truth bombs (x - yeah i linked the second vid and not the first, and wot) which u can buy if you’d like but it’s a lot of fun (x)

then these idiots did a conjoined jumper baking challenge and didn’t fucking wear shirts under the jumper like what dumb gays idk (x) but it was real funny and Good Content

then early nov dnp announced the interactive introverts tour (x) and then uhhh it happened (like 80+ shows??? in a ton of countries???) (x) and they’re releasing the filming of it along with some bonus content like a director’s commentary and u can preorder it (x)

also pinof 9 happened which as a legacy phan u know is always a Thing but this year it was especially a Thing so i recommend catching up (x, and the bloops - x)

and phew okay that’s the majority of 2017 Important Events but before i go on to 2018 i’ll just recap a few important events from dapg (basically just some gamingmas stuff):

wherein dan smacked phil in the face

and phil crushed the presents but dan helped him up

where phil pretended not to remember gamingmas was happening, leading to the most iconic simultaneous heart eyes howell/love eyes lester to date

dnp singing baby it’s cold outside together whilst playing yasuhati

iconic pinof 9 moment

dnp play charades but it’s phil’s turn, and he’s touchy

the not my arms challenge!!! playing mario kart

okay! and before anyone starts yelling i know there’s more but god if i put every iconic thing in this post would break there’s Too Much so let’s hop into 2018 bc it’s gonna be a long one

first i cannot believe dan fucking gave phil a philussy cake and phil’s parents asked phil what it meant jfc dan (x)

THE EARRING!!! dan’s first selfie with the lil hoop and it never leaves and we love it (x)

phil is just trying to take a selfie and dan ruins it (x) spoiler alert: phil gets him back in colorado (x)

okay big sigh two large events happen in march: the first, dan’s ‘trying to live my truth’ vid (x) it basically dan saying ‘i’m still figuring things out but i want to be more authentic and true to myself, and also authenticity is important for some people to feel happy in life’ vid that a lot of people hyperfixated on the end line of, where he said he would go ‘laugh at a joke with a chocolate bar and...something else in my mouth’ which people assumed meant a dick and therefore it was a subtle coming out vid, dan did a liveshow afterward (x) wherein he said that wasn’t the point of the vid and people got mad at him for ‘backtracking’ (if u want more of my Opinions on this feel free to check em out - x)

the second v v big event happened at the end of march when phil posted this iconic selfie that would be the downfall of the fringe (x) this has been titled the quiffening by some

shortly after that he began styling his hair in a quiff permanently which was probably the best decision he’s made since responding to one of his obsessed fans back in 2009

quick detour dan’s proud of his hubby (x) for winning fortnite and ‘fuxkung’ is now what ‘fucking’ autocorrects to in my phone

we also had dan releasing his merch (x) which is basically all black and themed around the eclipse logo and ‘don’t talk to me’, though he just released the exist line for world mental health day which has his quote ‘have the courage to exist’. he’s also mentioned possibly wanting to do more creative things like wide-necked or asymmetrical shirts dan just do a fashion line pls oh and he mentioned in a recent ls he might do an internet support group mug sometime soon

and then,,,,,pigeonfest. we watched. five hours. of phil livestreaming their patio. and literally nothing happened bc someone was like down on the street feeding pigeons so there weren’t even any pigeons for like 90% of the liveshow. but he literally didn’t talk it was just five hours of their patio and we all watched it. we all just watched it like the whipped phannies we are (x)

and then we got a brief but overwhelming dose of,,,,,,something from the easter baking vid (x) phil was hopped up on sugar and also confidence from his quiff and probably smth else as well

everything just blows up from there we have giving the people what they want (x) where, in preparation for ii (for which the underlying theme was ‘giving people what they want’), dnp reacted to pinof 1, swapped clothes, did the ‘yoga challenge’, recreated ditl manchester, ‘got a dog’, and made phil say fuck. honestly it shook the entire phandom to its core at the time but like. i’m less shooketh now? it’s sort of just fallen by the wayside in terms of how unpredictable dnp have been this year

then phil drops week in the life of dnp shortly thereafter which is just very very domestic even for them and their ditl style vids??? (x) phil filming dan in bed being one of the big demon highlights at the time

it’s right around this time too that insta stories start and my god it just goes jfc like i don’t even have the mental capacity to recall all the Iconic ones but i recommend checking out this playlist (x) which has all the ii tour stories goddamn there were a lot though they really put out that content didn’t they

in early may we get phil talking about why he changed his emo hair (x) and arguably the first official vid of the casual rebrand - phil’s more open and genuinely vulnerable about his fears about making a change to his hair, and i don’t think we’ve ever seen him that open before. the vids don’t stop being open though, with what dnp text each other (x) giving us coop and doop along with other iconic stories, dnp basically sitting on top of each other in that and other gaming vids on the tour bus, phil being very open abt his attraction to men (x) and the iconic final google feud vid with way too much of a specific kind of Energy (x) (ofc again there are More Vids but i don’t have the time/mental capacity to recap them all so i’m pickin the Big Ones)

monochrome mates (x)

phew okay so the tour in general as well - like if u don’t mind spoilers, i did a big ol analysis of what that was all about (x) but one of many many highlights is dan calling he and phil “best friends and soulmates” 

finally finally finally after months of waiting we also get some phil merch! (x) plant and animal themed, and he even released a lion plushie which sold out like instantly and he claimed he’d do more of but we have yet to see that. he says he’s got more ideas for other merch as well

now okay fast forward to october after the tour’s over bc i think the insta stories and the analysis cover it but then. then. then we get the pizza mukbang (x) thirty three minutes of dnp being more open and honest and casual than literally they’ve ever been on camera maybe ever, and i’m including liveshows in this statement. no holds barred, authentic vulnerable dnp. a religious experience

end of october spooky week hits us and i think the key vid to call out here is the creepy mind of phil lester bc i think it was another open honest authentic vid (x) where they talked a lot, casual domestic w.e got some insight into phil’s mind it was v good

and then they carve pumpkins jfc which was an experience (x) there were a lot of innuendos but also one of the first years they didn’t do a halloween baking in a while (though they have hinted at possibly doing christmas baking) idk i’m fully overwhelmed at this point lmao like a Lot happened this year

phew okay and Then just yesterday philly dropped his vid on why he went to (the) hospital (x) idk soz that’s a british thing i think like we say ‘the’ anyway. which i’ve been talking abt quite a lot lately but it was another very open and honest vid in which he expressed a lot of vulnerability and fear and perceived flaws and it was just a quality like. open vid.

jfc okay hope that helps obviously there’s a lot i didn’t mention, but this should at least get you caught up on some of the big stuff!! and while i’m at it have a few more Important Gifs from this year

a very important moment of communication whilst on tour, deciding whether or not they’re okay with doing a ‘third wheel’ pose

dan flinging himself off the chair in anger whilst playing getting over it

nose boop from phil’s instagram explore pages vid

subsequent nose boop from the extreme tetris vid

and a cheek boop from the overcooked 2 vid

dan pulling phil’s hand off the mouse in fear during spooky week, swamp simulator (shrek slender)

touchy!dan during pizza mukbang

oh god. okay. again, this is not everything, just a big list of some big events over the past year-ish. i’m sure i’ve missed some important stuff but i think i covered most of it! hope this helps ya get caught up dear!

[chickenscript]

or, you vent and the rottmnt turtles comfort you

Michelangelo (you did a bad thing):

- you...you messed up.

- you said some things you really didn’t mean. it was just one of those days for you; everything was going wrong and you had the worst temper when it was pushed. so, when mikey popped into your room without telling you, you snapped. you wanted time alone and he was impeding on that. 

- you told him off for coming without notice, this was your room. your space. permission needed to be asked before someone just barged in like they owned the place.

- he tried to say he wanted to surprise you. april told him you weren’t looking so happy that day but that just made the burning under your skin hotter.

- you didn’t like people being in your business or talking about you behind your back, and you tell him just that. and then to flat out leave.

- he does.

- and now, after pummeling your frustration out on your uncle's old punching bag, you’re plagued by mike’s hurt face as it pops into your mind. 

- some days, you wish you could slug yourself for acting so rashly when you were mad. how could you just go off on someone as soft as mike?

- you beat yourself up about it for the rest of the night until you get up and decide you need a walk. a long one. when you come back home, you hear a rattle from the fire escape on the side of your building. you go to investigate and there’s undeniable sniffling coming from up there.

- on the third story escape, there’s a huddled little figure.

- your heart pangs.

- “Mike?” you call. they freeze up, but start climbing down.

- the turtle slips along on the rungs and the ladder to the escape gets flung down- getting stuck half way. mike is hanging upside down from it with an expression that makes you ache all over.

- he looks like he was crying and might again.

- he asks if he ever did anything wrong- if he wasn’t a good friend, and you shake your head. reaching for his face, but then hesitating. this was your fault.

- he loosely grabs your wrists and guides your hands where they were headed, like a child seeking an anchor for comfort. 

- you sigh.

- you were the one who wasn’t acting like a friend, and you were sorry. so. sorry.

- he gets his legs loose from the ladder and vaults down so you two can hug it out as mikey reminds you that all was forgiven. you were just having a bad day.

- you say that doesn’t excuse you but he shakes his head.

- you apologized and that’s that.

- only real friends apologize and take responsibility for their own mistakes.

- you hold him tighter and don’t say anything back this time.

- god, you had it good.

- and you really owed it to the both of you to make some hot, forgiving chocolate to settle all this stress.

Donatello:

- you fucked up part of an experiment of his.

- it set a fire and you two scrambled around like headless chickens putting it out. (the two fire extinguisher he nabbed the other day were in the most forgettable place)

- guilt pitted in your stomach. he spent months on that and you blew it up with one wrong, stupid move. you knew you weren’t smart enough to be allowed to help with stuff that required something more than a clumsy set of hands. as he’s busy coughing on some smoke, you slip out of the lab.

- you were so bad at doing things right.

- you just ruined someone’s hard work. someone who worked day in and day out on things he was feeling particularly passionate about. he gave a chunk of himself to every one of his projects and there was always a glitter in his eyes and the way he talked about them.

- you kept berating yourself over it as don found you in a wispy hallway.

- he’s covered in soot, like you, and touches your shoulder.

- you flinch and can’t dare meet his eyes.

- he asks you what’s wrong, as he snaps up his goggles - they left rings around his eyes that the soot hadn’t got to -, and you say you’re sorry.

- sorry for fucking everything up.

- you don’t expect him to give a lengthy sigh; you think he might agree and ban you from any future experiments or projects, but that’s more harsh of an image than don could be painted in. his personality was indifferent within reason.

- it was an accident, he insists, and squeezes your shoulder in an attempt of comfort. it was a small gesture, but not coming from don.

- he could move on, rebuild. he couldn’t just hang himself up on one failure. like you told him once.

- you feel the knotting anxiety in your stomach stop squirming a bit, your eyes flicker to your shoes, then your clenching hands.

- ...

- you’re still sorry-

- he knows.

Leonardo:

- you feel like you're falling a part.

- one of the people who was supposed to be your friend, intimidated by the challenge, ditched you in the middle of a fight with some ornery street thugs looking to pinch some wallets for easy money.

- they said they weren't built for that type of shit. which included sticking it out with a friend.

- you are rage. 

- you feel every little prick of it burning bright in your chest, but you also feel the sting of betrayal. 

- you'd known them since grade school, how could they do this to you? someone who was supposed to stick by you through thick and thin. you refuse to answer their calls when the fight is over and make a point to block their number on the way home. you've got a bruising cut on your cheek but it's nothing compared to the tear your friend gashed onto your heart.

- you basically kick the front door to your apartment down and slam it shut again. your uncle would've been pissed if he were here. but probably more pissed about your friend once you told him.

- jigsaw- your dog - wants to comfort you, and snuffles at you're hand as you dump yourself onto the couch.

- you're fuming with all sorts of emotions and your body didn't really know how to cope.

- so you you shout, raw and angry, and then start crying. not the bawl your eyes out type, the my-eyes-won't-stop type. and they’re not sad tears, just more angry. and they burn your eyes and blaze trails down your cheeks.

- leo finds you like that.

- he asks you what happened as soon as he sets foot in the den. bounding over to sit next to you. you stubbornly wipe away tears and snot, and give a curt explanation. it's full of cusses.

- leo looks angry too now but more concerned about your face and whether you're injured anywhere else.

- you assure him you're not - the other guy looks way worse - and your chest aches.

- you're just disappointed.

- leo offers a hug and you accept. it feels so nice. having someone actually be there when you needed them and not running away to leave you for dead. as dramatic as that may sound.

- when you pull away, he sighs with an awkward smile. he admitted he wasn’t good at this, comforting people.

- you laugh and say he wasn’t doing a bad job. you certainly didn't feel too bad anymore.

- besides, you never knew what you were doing half the time either when you tried to help people.

Raphael:

- inexplicably hollow.

- that’s how you feel. you don’t even know why, or rather, you forget until you look at your phone innocently resting on your dresser.

- that’s right. your uncle bailed on you. he said he was gonna make it to your big game today, but then he was no show. your team won, sure, but it didn’t feel like as epic a last victory as it should have because the man who practically raise you, bailed. or well, he was never turned up in the first place.

- he wasn’t home either when you got there and you should have known before you even had to set foot through the door.

- there’s a note on the kitchenette island that says he was put on the roster for overtime and couldn’t get out of it, but you knew if he cared half as much as he used, if he was the same person as he used to be.

- back when he drove through traffic like a maniac to get you to a talent show, made tickets to see the Lion King happen and practically hijack a van he only paid half priced for to get you both to Disneyland for the first time - then he would have made it.

- no matter what.

- you were trying so hard at school, so hard to keep things in your life balanced so you could have the turtles to look forward to some days and your uncle on the nights he was home. but your uncle, he didn’t seem like he was returning that effort with his own anymore.

- he just didn’t seem like he was...there.

- even when he was, things didn’t feel the same like years before.

- you both just felt too tired, rundown.

- that's what you tell raph on your roof, sitting on his shoulder.

- but then he tells you there's no way your uncle could just stop caring. everything you just told raph highlighted how much your uncle did for and meant to you. 

- no way could someone just drop all the love they had for someone over nothing. maybe it's just that times are different, they changed and they're still changing. just look at where you are now- nothing like when you little, right?

- you stare at your dangling feet and the busted up cleats on them, and you remember that...your uncle, he's still there.

- whenever you talked to him, the first thing he would ask is how your day went. even if his was shitty. he was still there. barely, but still there. and you missed him, but he was there.

- and so were you friends.

- everybody was there.

- you were still there.

- you’re still here.

- it’s okay.

- you’re okay.

- you just have to fight the emptiness when it comes.

- you hug raph, and mumble your thanks as you struggle not to cry into his neck.

- he pats your back and gives a smile, snaggletooth poking out, "No problem pal- that's what friends are for."

- you can't hold back the water works at that point, and raph doesn't mind.

- this is what friends are for.

[drtanstravels]

We were back in Bangkok, Thailand again from Tuesday, March 5 until Monday, March 11 so Anna could give five separate talks at the 2019 APAO Congress. Regular readers of this blog would know that we frequent Thailand quite often. In fact, we were only in Bangkok about eight weeks ago and I’m going to be in Phuket, Thailand once more at the end of the month, so to read more about the convivial chaos that constitutes staying in Bangkok for a week, just take a look at one of the previous posts based there, most of which are from the past two and a half years. This time, however, instead of a massive rant detailing each day, I’m just going to write about a few HIGHLIGHTS accompanied by a bunch of photos.

We were staying at the Pullman Grande Sukhumvit, right near Sukhumvit MRT, Asok BTS, and just a few doors down from the notorious Soi Cowboy, as well as Soi 23 so, despite the fact that Anna was going to be exceptionally busy for the bulk of our time there, I wasn’t short of options for travel or entertainment. The hotel itself was really nice, but they allowed smoking in the rooms so every time we opened the door we were greeted by a waft of the aroma of stale cigarettes.

Anyway, our first full day involved Anna attending and speaking at the congress while I just traveled to nearby areas of the city to have a look at a few shops that interested me until it was time to come back, get changed, and meet up for dinner with some of Anna’s colleagues, our friends, Rosa and Roberto from Spain, and some other attendees of the congress at a really good Thai restaurant. I spent the bulk of the time drinking beers and chatting with Roberto, often amused at his reactions to some reasonably spicy local dishes, all the while everyone else did the necessary networking that happens at dinners like this, until it was time to head to a bar for more drinks. The dinner and drinks had been organised by one of Anna’s Singapore colleagues and a lot of Singaporeans don’t tend to do things by halves when they are entertaining foreign guests, even when they themselves are also visitors. Case in point, we were going to be having drinks at CRU Champagne Bar, a relatively exclusive rooftop bar in Centara Grand at Centralworld, where all of the doctors would be pouring from magnums of G.M. Mumm, while I stuck to the only beer they had, Leffe Royale, a strong Belgian ale that cost ‎฿1290 (US$40.80) for a 750ml (25.36 fl. oz.) bottle. Good thing we weren’t paying, but it did lead us to HIGHLIGHT #1: CRU Champagne Bar has a strict dress code for entrance to the top level which, among other rules, forbids people from wearing thongs/flip flops/slippers. A Chinese tourist wanted to enter and she met every other aspect of the dress code, however, she was wearing what looked like a pair of thongs one would purchase from a discount store, adorned with plastic jewels. Security wouldn’t let her in, but she wasn’t perturbed. “They’re real diamonds, very expensive, wah!” she screamed over and over again, but the security guard figured nobody would glue diamonds that large to a two-dollar pair of slippers and refused her entry. I considered suggesting that she borrow a lighter off somebody to prove the “diamonds” wouldn’t melt, or even better, try cutting a hole in the glass balcony with them, but in the end she gave up, relegated to the second-top floor, which really wasn’t that much different. In fact, Anna and myself probably spent more time on that level with some of Anna’s friends that also couldn’t get upstairs due to their attire. Anyway, here’s how it looked:

A tower across from our bar

Another area near the tower

A laser show in the sky coming from our bar

Token panoramic shot

At least they had one beer…

The next couple of days involved Anna giving talks while I just looked around different parts of the city, just entertaining myself, then attending conference dinners in the evening. On the Wednesday evening this involved going to the Seafood Market & Restaurant, a place with the slogan “If it swims, we have it” and this is where we experienced HIGHLIGHT #2: This place is absolutely enormous and they have a lot of live seafood, some of it on ice and some of it in tanks. The premise is that you choose the seafood you want and how you’d like it cooked and it is brought to your table. At one stage we were all sitting around with a few beers when I saw a giant lobster trying to escape from the container in which it was being kept. I pointed it out to Anna and she came to the conclusion that we had to get some photos of them. Anna first wanted a picture of her hand next to one of the lobsters for some perspective, followed by her standing with them, however, between shots a nearby fish flipped up in the air, scaring the bejesus out of Anna and causing her to emit a rather loud scream that got the attention of pretty much everyone in the restaurant. She tried her best not to laugh too much for the second photo, but it was a little difficult:

Who knows what could’ve happened if one had escaped

Trying to keep it together after a bit of a fright

On Friday night, the plan was to meet up with my old mate Tim Howard, a friend I grew up with who lives in Bangkok, yet is almost never around when I’m in town, a similar problem he faces with me whenever he visits Singapore. I met up with him and some of his co-workers in a really small bar and we had a couple of beers before going to the Ratchada Night Market, also known as the Train Market. When we arrived we went in through some dodgy back entrance and got ourselves some great seats early in one of the many bars before a huge Friday night crowd arrived. The beers were going down quite well and Anna eventually joined us, but neither her nor myself had eaten yet besides a small plate of pad thai, however, Tim and his colleagues had had a few burritos earlier, which leads us to HIGHLIGHT #3: No, this highlight wouldn’t be the tourists who made their children piss into plastic Coke bottles because they were too tight to pay ฿3 (US$0.10) to use the public toilets. It was the food, but for amusing reasons. To begin with, I love eating mala, a super-spicy Sichuan food out of China. Yes, it’s hot, but I can handle chili pretty well, plus I love the numbness mala gives your mouth while still burning a little. Some more about mala:

Mala sauce is a popular oily, spicy, and numbing Chinese sauce which consists of Sichuanese peppercorn, chili pepper and various spices simmered with oil.

Regarded as a regional dish for Chongqing cuisine and Sichuan cuisine, it has become one of the most popular sauces in Chinese cuisine and spawned many regional variants.

The term málà is a combination of two Chinese characters: “numbing” (麻) and “spicy (picant)” (辣), referring to the feeling in the mouth after eating the sauce.

The precise origins of the dish are unclear, but many sources attribute its development to night markets in Chongqing that targeted pier workers in the 19th to 20th century. The strong flavour and thick layer of oil helps preserve foods and removes the unpopular smells of the cheap foods, such as solidified blood, beef stomach and kidney, which were usually served to pier workers.

Anna and I had decided to grab a bite to eat while the others remained drinking at our table in the bar so naturally I was kind of excited when I found mala crocodile skewers. I purchased one, Anna didn’t want any, and began to eat, but before long it occurred to me that I had forgotten one vital point — Any time we eat Sichuan food, whether it is hot pot or just meat dishes piled with chilis, we’re generally in an air-conditioned restaurant, not outdoors in a crowded market with the temperature still well above 30°C (86°F). After finishing my skewer I could feel my head getting warmer and warmer and before long I was sweating profusely and with diluted pupils due to a combination of the spiciness and the environment in which I was consuming it, my face resembling that of someone who had just experienced some kind of religious epiphany. I’m not kidding!

The view from our prime real estate in the bar at the market

Oooh, yeah!

Is anyone else feeling warm or is it just me?

Help me, Jesus.

It would take a while for my sweating to decrease, yet we’d only just begun eating. There was a stall nearby our table that specialised in ribs, but these weren’t any old ribs, these looked more like the spine of some animal, probably a buffalo or something, served in a bowl with a sauce consisting predominately of chopped green chilis. They were available in several sizes and if you got the large ones, as some families were doing, you received what amounted to a tripod of backbones, the tip of which was at about eye-level. We ordered a small portion, still a substantial amount of vertebrae, as well as some vegetables, donned our plastic gloves and began gnawing away. I got a little too into it, my perspiring face soon greasy with bits of fat hanging from it and meat stuck between my teeth. It didn’t help that the gloves were a little small for my massive hands, my busted pinkie tearing one of the loves as I put it on. Still, the ribs were great and I was determined to finish as much as I could, however, I accidentally inhaled a piece of chili up the back of my sinus, leading to a sneezing fit that continued for about 10 minutes, with Anna starting out laughing hysterically before getting genuinely concerned for my wellbeing. The sneezing eventually ceased, we finished the ribs, and made our way back to the bar, me covered in a combination of sweat, grease, fat, and snot. A look at those ribs:

I don’t think we’ll get the large portion

This is more like it

A closeup

Is it fat? Snot? Who knows!

A surgeon at work

Getting through these ribs is thirsty work!

Mission accomplished

Anna was free on Saturday so we did a bit of shopping, but she was exhausted that night, although I wasn’t so I headed around to the Clubhouse, a sports bar I love, and ended up watching Scotland lose to Wales in the Six Nations rugby with two Welsh guys, one whom was celebrating his 47th birthday, the other celebrating his divorce. These were two of the most British guys you could imagine, eating nachos with a knife and fork, that sort of thing, and it was a hilarious night, but as I was walking home, part of the footpath collapsed and I ended up rolling an ankle and sprained my wrist, as well as quite badly injuring my thumb in the process of catching myself. The thumb is actually still quite painful now.

The plan for Sunday was to meet up again with Tim and his wife for dinner. That morning Anna saw a report on Al Jazeera about a Thai stencil artist called Headache Stencil, Thailand’s equivalent of Banksy. A little bit more about Headache Stencil:

Headache Stencil is a pseudonymous Thailand-born street artist and political activist. Dubbed Thailand’s version of the British graffiti artist Banksy, Headache Stencil is known for his satirical graffiti art depicting the military officials of Thailand who took power in 2004.

Headache’s works first appeared on the streets of Bangkok and Chiang Mai in 2014. He became more widely known in January 2018 with his graffiti of the Thai junta No. 2 Prawit Wongsuwan’s face inside an alarm clock, a jab at the lack of financial transparency by the generals, who was struggling to explain his collection of undeclared luxury watches. In March 2018, he was in the spotlight for his graffiti of a black panther crying tears of blood, a reference to the case of a Thai construction magnate who was later charged with poaching one of the protected cats during an illegal safari hunt in a national park. In September 2018, he depicted Thai junta chief Prayut Chan-o-cha as “a lucky cat” with a paw raised to rake in money.

His nickname “Headache” alludes to the pain he hopes to inflict on the mighty.

This leads us to HIGHLIGHT #4: A Headache Stencil exhibition, the final highlight of this trip. His latest exhibition, Thailand Casino, was being held at WTF Gallery, right near where we were having dinner. If you want to know more about the exhibition or the art itself, it’s probably best to take a look at the link, but here is what we saw there when we limped on over:

The exhibition was really interesting, dinner was a fun night, especially meeting Tim’s wife and son for the first time, and the fun continued afterward at an awesome little bar called The Iron Fairies.

As always, we had a blast again in Bangkok. It was great to finally get to meet you, Nuth, and apologies to all the old friends and students that I wasn’t able to meet up with on this occasion, but we’ll try our best to next time we’re in town, which probably won’t be all that far in the future.

Bangkok… Again! We were back in Bangkok, Thailand again from Tuesday, March 5 until Monday, March 11 so Anna could give five separate talks at the…