#you would not believe the injustices ive had to sit through with people looking through my backpack when going shopping after school

[popstart]

goddddd whenever i remember julias canon voice is Like That it has me cringe so bad. shes very very obviously supposed to be a valley girl vsco kinda girl but her accent drives me absolutely nuts because its such a poor imitation of the accent😭😭😭and her lingo is sooooo generic. i do not hear like any actual valley girl slang or even californian slang in general. and yeah ok its a show, and its a canadian show no less which has rules on who theyre allowed to hire for their voice actors, but it bugs me and i see zero other people point out how grating it is to listen to julia for 2 seconds. am i the only valley girl fan of total drama in the entire world. am i the only one upset by this

[httpstes]

˚ · . astro observations ll ·˚ ༘

Links to other astrovations: Astro Observations l, Astro Observations lll, Astro Observations IV, Astro Observations V, Astro Observations VI

♡ Scorpio and aries moon/rising are such powerful people istg. Martian moons/risings have a particular flare that is immediately noticeable. It’s in your face and you have to look simply because they are to mesmerising to even think to look away. These people have a blood lust for revenge and will do whatever it takes to get what they want.

♡ Aries moons imo are almost comparable to capricorn moons in a work ethic sense. They work and work and work with such passion and willpower.

♡ Scorpio risings and moons are forever loyal to their loved ones and expect the same in return, they don’t want to waste their time on people who they don’t have a strong emotional connection with, they will be honest and tell you up front if they care for you, truly one of the most protective placements I know.

♡ EVERY SINGLE PERSON IVE HAD A CRUSH ON ARE AQUARIUS MERCURIES. ALL.OF THEM. AND A LOT OF MY FRIENDS THAT I ADMIRE ARE AQUA MERCURIES TOO 😭 Idk man i’m just so attracted to them. They radiate intelligence and power I literally would put the world in ruins for these mfs. All of them and I mean ALL of them are sooo smart, a lot of them are also kinda socially awkward like not only in the way they communicate (sometimes it sounds like they don’t even wanna talk to you but trust me if they wanted to talk to you they would) but in the way they walk around in areas flooded with people 💀 Like i noticed they tend to forget how to walk sometimes in public it’s so cute 😭

♡ Saturn in the 3rd may struggle with communication in some way shape or form unless positively afflicted. These people may also have had strict siblings that put a lot of pressure on them throughout school or they were the strict older sibling 😭

♡ Libra stelliums are such sweet, caring people. My younger sister has this and she’s always looking out for others, taking care of younger kids and sorts out arguments in her friend groups all the time.

♡ Aquarius risings will voice their opinion no matter what other placements they have, their aqua rising always shines through. They speak up against injustice, unfairness (esp mixed with libra placements) and authority. If they don’t understand why the rules are the way they are they won’t sit back and deal with it, they bring attention to it and if not fully change or disregard the rule they at least try to understand why it could benefit others.

♡ I hear a lot that Aquarius risings are stubborn and trust me that’s true, but it is a humanitarian sign and if they know or start to understand why the rules are the way they are and how it can benefit other people, they keep it in place while also bending around the rule for their comfort.

♡ Venus in pisces are dreamers and have a lot of artistic talent, however these people can be deluded by their ideas and fantasies and by falling into their delusions they can unconsciously hurt others whether they realise it or not.

♡ ^ This also goes for Venus-Neptune, because of neptune’s influence if they aren’t grounded enough or fall too deep into their beliefs and concepts of things they can be rigidly stubborn and not believe what others tell them because only they know the "truth". Considering the beauty, compassion and eternal love this placement carries it is a wonderful placement to have but if these people are too detached from reality, they can drive others away and eventually won’t know the truth either.

♡ Mars/moon in taurus mixed with Leo placements will not tolerate any anger or shit from other people. When their friends or loved ones do shitty stuff they can hold it down for a bit but if one of their loved ones truly cross a line these people will explode and never come back to you.

♡ Virgo moons hate being caught or dealing with the consequences of their own actions which is why they like to stick to the rules a lot of the time. Now i wouldn’t say particularly it’s because they like the rules but again would just hate the aftermath of being caught. These people do however like a sense of structure and routine in their lives so having rules in place that aren’t too restricting is good for them.

♡ Cancer and pisces moons can make great friends but if the Cancer moon becomes too clingy or overbearing with their love it can scare the pisces moon away. Unless of of course the pisces moon has strong cancer/moon placements.

♡ As a venus in gemini I attract other venus in gemini and sag venus's like a light attracts moths 😭 I think that other gemini venus's and sag venus' are just so entertaining, i’m never ever bored when with them and i love the way i communicate with these people, the conversation flows so easy for me compared to other venus placements.

♡ I hate the venus in gemini = cheater stereotype. I mean I know half my friends are gemini venus' and they haven’t dated anyone yet simply because they are waiting for 'the one'. They can talk to people but will never get too invested and it normally never leaves the talking stage because gemini venus will realise that the person they’re talking to may not be what they want, also considering that their mind can change a lot on what they are interested in. This doesn’t mean cheater tendencies, sure maybe with some other placements it could indicate that but gemini venus alone is not enough to identify someone as a cheater 😭

♡ Mars in Leo put hard work in for the extrinsic rewards. The recognition and praise that comes during or after the hard work they’ve put in makes them feel appreciated for their efforts. They also put in hard work towards projects that they truly see are worthwhile, projects that they can see can benefit them and make them happy. They want fun, happiness and passion and to get that they will put in the work needed.

♡ i noticed gemini suns tend to be the most set apart in terms of personality. I’ve met a lot of people with the same sun sign but every time I meet a new gemini sun, they each have nothing in common.

♡ water sun + fire moon combo are the perfect example of having a fun tough exterior but once you get to know them you can see their more sensitive side. It’s kind of weird since the moon represents emotions and our subconscious. Maybe these people just project their fire moon more than their water sun stereotypes because they don’t want to fit into that role when really fire moons are some of the most sensitive people you can ever meet.

♡ Jupiter in 6th may have good relationships with their coworkers and most probably enjoy the job that they have or want to have. This placement can also indicate having good health and that sticking to a routine can really benefit you and reward you with things.

♡ Moon in harsh aspect to mercury can signify struggling to communicate your feelings with others and or people can get the wrong idea of what your actually trying to say. With Moon ruling emotions and Mercury ruling our mind/intellect it really proposes the head vs heart scenario. What your mind wants and what your heart wants aren’t in balance and this can cause a lot of confusion and stress to the individual.

♡ Pluto conjunct mercury can easily influence others through communication. People listen to them because pluto conjunct mercury natives speak with power and passion, they’re persuasive and rational and this attracts a lot of followers but a lot of jealousy from others too.

♡ Jupiter in 9th house might like learning about different religions, cultures and languages. These people like to travel and to understand the beliefs of others. They find it interesting as it can help expand their mind too.

♡ Jupiter-Saturn harsh aspects may struggle to believe in themselves and their talents. This can lead to them giving up too quickly or relying on external forces to validate them.

♡ Moon in aquarius literally give no fucks. You could be a close friend of theirs and if you told them you murdered someone, they’d shrug their shoulders. Literally the most non-judgemental people i’ve ever met :D

[jemej3m]

hi i love love love your writing! sorry if people have been asking this but ive been looking for a part three of your lawyer!andrew and neil is on trial for killing his father and I wasnt sure if I missed it or if you haven’t continued it. Just wondering thank you ❤️

well GUEsS WHAT MY FRIEND 

its here!!!

(p1 / p2)

*

Andrew didn’t like to drag things out, but the prosecution did. They always did. It was their only joy in life, especially in appeals: tease every possible fraying strand of a case till they were three weeks into the trial and the jury was dead on their feet. 

And yet, here he was, on the second day of his closing. He’d never made it to a second day: once he’d finished a closing in five minutes. 

Neil had grown progressively more antsy over the three weeks, desperate for a resolution. Every time he was scanned into court, Andrew took his favourite key and slipped it into his pocket. Every time he left to be escorted back to his temporary holding cell in Baltimore’s central policing station, he gave it back for safekeeping. Andrew would hold it, the metal still warm to the touch, the teeth of the key worn with how many times Neil would run the tips of his fingers over it. 

Professionalism, Betsy had warned him. 

But damn it all to hell: Andrew was gone. 

“Mr Minyard, if you would continue where we left off last night?” the judge drawled. Andrew could read people better than books: it wasn’t looking good. This was his last chance.

He stood up, shoved down the strange anger that had simmered beneath his skin every time the prosecution slid their pompous gazes over him, and closed his laptop. His briefcase. Put away his notes and hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his slacks. 

“Your honour,” he said, with as much grace as his perpetually bored tone allowed. “This case is beyond that of my client. That much we can all agree upon.”

He waited for an answer. 

The judge cocked her head. “Yes, Minyard.” 

“It is a gruesome story of a luckless, loveless marriage, made for the sakes of alliances and blood money. Mary Wesninski paid that price with her life, when her husband took his favourite weapon - a cleaver - to her throat. My client was 17 when that happened. He was a minor. A child.” 

He turned to the jury. “Over and over, I have rebutted the prosecution’s solitary and feeble argument that my client is Nathan Wesninski’s son. The very Nathan Wesninski who earned his name, the Butcher, through bloody campaigns and fearmongering. That Nathaniel Wesninski was destined to follow his father’s path and continue his legacy.” 

“If it weren’t for his mother, perhaps he would have,” Andrew said, rocking back on his heels. “Without intervention, there’s no doubt that Nathaniel Wesninski would have been a carbon copy of his predecessor, and just as bloodthirsty. But that man -” he pointed at Neil. “That man is not Nathaniel Wesninski. Not in the way his father wanted him to be.”

“We’ve seen the pictures of my client’s torso. The bullet wounds and gruesome knifings that he earned whilst clawing desperately to free himself from his father’s iron grasp. Worse still: we’ve seen the proof of a tormented childhood, skin torn off by a hot iron, stitches from misplaced butter knives at the dinner table when Junior, seven years old, didn’t sit still enough. A crooked nose, broken three times before he managed to escape.”

He looked to the one woman who he knew would recognise this pain, this trauma. 

“You should have no doubt in your minds that this man here, my client,” Andrew said, voice lowered down. “This man was simply fighting for his life. He was running from his worst nightmare, clawing desperately for freedom when all he’d known was pain, chains and despair. He fought against what his father wished for him, every step of the way. In self-defence, he rid the world a serial killer. A rapist. A man who had committed every atrocity known to humankind. If anything, we should be thanking him.”

The room had gone deathly quiet. 

“Ask yourselves,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Is purging the world of a monster that monstrous of a thing to do?”

He turned back to the judge. 

“My client has served his time. He’s done twice as long as he should have for manslaughter, which is the true nature of this crime. Repeatedly, my client has expressed his willingness to comply with parole measures and prove himself a functioning member of our society. If you have any humanity left within you,” 

He looked over his shoulder at Neil. The man held his gaze, blue eyes so intense that Andrew nearly lost his train of thought. 

“Any humanity at all,” he continued. The judge looked down at him, face blank. “You would grant his mother her dying wish, and finally let this injustice rest.” 

He returned to his desk. “That’s all, your honour.” 

It took her a few moments to clear her throat and call: “Court adjourned.”

Two policemen came and cuffed Neil’s hands behind his back. Andrew had done everything he could: it was out of his hands now. He mightn’t ever see Neil again, if by the afternoon the jury had decided Neil’s pleas were worthless and had him sent him right back to maximum security. 

“Thank you,” the man said, just before he was turned away. “You were amazing.” 

Andrew remained very still until the courtroom was empty. 

Now all he could do was wait.

*

“The ‘dying wish’ thing was intense,” Matt commented around a mouthful of falafel. Dan flicked a crumb off his tie, looking at him with an irritated fondness. Both of them -  Wymack too - had sat in for both days of his closing. Dan because she pretended she had any sense of authority over Andrew, Wymack because he was Andrew’s boss, and Matt because he was fatally friendly and had never missed a closing of any of his coworkers, even Andrew. 

“The whole thing was intense,” Dan grumbled. 

“I bet the sexual tension was off the charts,” Allison called out, kicked up her feet onto her desk as she ignored Renee’s unsubtle shushing. 

Andrew ignored them all. 

“We’re just waiting for the verdict?”

“We’ll be called in when the jury’s ready.” 

“It’s been two days. They’ve dragged this on long enough.” 

The phone on his desk started ringing. He shoved it against his ear and said “What.”

“Mr Minyard? This is Amy Johnston from the Post, I was just wondering if you wanted to comment on the outcome of your most recent case -”

He slammed the phone back down onto the receiver, jolting his coworkers out of their idle chatter. He was going to kill Nicky for letting the press through. His cousin was useless, and the press were even worse: there was no outcome. The jury had been silent for 2 days, and at this rate, it’d probably go into three. 

Wymack texted him. I know you’re still at the office. Go home. 

 Andrew didn’t need to be told twice. 

He careened his ludicrously expensive car into the driveway of his small home. Being a lawyer did have its perks, even if his fellows were curious busybodies and he got attached to impossible cases. He’d crack a better whisky tonight and herald in the news of him impending failure half drunk. 

He was never taking a case like this again. Of course, there was no case quite like Nathaniel Wesninski’s, but the point still remained.  

He unlocked his front door, stepped inside, and immediately stilled. 

The heater was on. 

His briefcase, blazer and tie came off, thrown haphazardly in the general direction of Andrew’s study. When he entered his kitchen, he skidded to a stop. 

“Hi,” Neil said, skin far more bronze without the gaudy orange jumpsuit. Andrew just stared. The man ducked his head down, lacing his fingers behind his back. “I - uh, I got Wymack to call you in sick for the verdict. Wanted to surprise you.” 

“You knew,” Andrew said. “You knew the outcome?”

“Of course,” Neil snorted. “Had to do something with the bloodmoney. Don’t worry, it was only two of them. The rest you had hooked.”

“I don’t know why I’m surprised,” Andrew said flatly. Neil’s grin flashed, but he was clearly way out of his depth here. Free and nervous about it. Here, because he thought that Andrew would be the only one that cared. 

And he did. For the first time, he did. 

The man gestured at his ankle. “18 months parole. It’s a bit heavy but I’ll get used to it with time, I guess.” He rubbed the back of his neck, curls bouncing. “Gotta find somewhere to live, I suppose. Figure out how normal life works. I’m applying for a name change: the first random name generator on Google gave me Josten, so that’s probably what I’ll go with.”

“You’re a disaster,” Andrew managed, fighting every urge not to reach out and comb his fingers through the man’s hair. 

“What else is new?” Neil joked. 

“You said you’d go to law school.”

His eyes widened slightly. “You’re holding me to that?” 

Andrew shrugged. “It’s your life.”

“I suppose you’ll regret taking me on when I end up stealing your cases,” Neil teased, leaning a little closer. 

Andrew reached up and tugged on Neil’s collar. “I don’t believe in regret. But I sure as hell will give you the challenge.”

Neil’s lips quirked up at the side, warping his scars and making Andrew’s chest ache.

“Stay,” Andrew said, softer than he intended. 

And, now that he could choose to, Neil Josten, freshly minted and definitely real, whispered: “Okay.”

*

wow only months later did i finally figure out what i wanted from this 

srry its so short!!

[magioftheseas]

Island mode au after the cast wakes up and learns all the horrible shit that happened and they caused

I actually had a WIP about that. It was from Komaeda’s POV because of course, it was. Rather than make a headcanon post, I’ll give you two snippets of Best Girl Sonia...and Owari. Who’s someone else’s best girl.

Warnings for eating disorders and emetophobia.

Anyway. Previews~

“I think I’m done here,” he says, shutting the file and sorting them back into place. “I’ve already read all that I could—and I can’t just be sitting around for too long. Productivity is important in a place like this, isn’t it? Far more so than in that simulation anyway.”

“Yes, that is true,” Sonia agrees with a sigh. Still on edge, though he suspected there were different reasons for now compared to before. In the corner of his gaze, he sees Kirigiri silently nod. “So you are doing well now, Komaeda-san?”

“As well as I’ll ever be,” Komaeda finally answered, voice low and distant. “But in this situation, that’s hardly saying anything.”

“I... I see.” She nods agreeably. “This situation...has certainly taken us all for a whirl, hasn’t it? I still can’t wrap my head around it. And I still don’t fully know what happened to everyone else back home... If there’s a home to go back to...”

Sonia would have the most to worry about in regards to that common concern. An entire country, in fact. Komaeda wondered if she suffered the most crushing guilt, even when everyone else was suffering so much already. They should be, at least.

It was good, then, that Komaeda hadn’t much to lose in the first place. There’s nothing to mourn save for the SHSLs, for HPA. So there’s nothing to mourn at all. Nothing at all.

“It’s rough on everyone,” Komaeda finds himself saying, and it isn’t as striking as it should be that he’s quoting Hinata from before. But it’s a generic comment to make. Hinata may be generic but he doesn’t own it. “Well, it can’t be helped regardless. There’s little to do but to recover and move on. We could just end it, of course, but—”

“But that won’t do any good at all.” Sonia cuts in immediately, stern enough that it was like she regained a bit of herself from the simulation after all. “We’d really do the world an injustice, especially to Naegi-san and the others who risked so much in helping us despite what we did. So don’t think that way, Komaeda-san.”

Her hands were curled into taut fists, shaking even as she kept them down by her sides. Still, Komaeda wouldn’t have to look at her face to know her expression would match the severity of her tone, with zero room for compromise. And yet, that wall still crumbled, that exhaustion creeping back ad she sighed heavily with a hitch in her breath, shaking as she rubbed her temple.

“We mustn’t think that way,” she repeats, and despite the returned tiredness, that tone doesn’t waver. “Do you understand, Komaeda-san?”

“I do.” He’s not lying. He puts the files back in place without another word, but before he leaves, he nods towards her, “Best regards, Sonia-san.”

Something pained does flicker through her expression before morphing into surprise. Thankfully, she doesn’t call for him as he exits. She stays silent. It’s easier that way for both of them.

--

Hanamura and that person are nowhere in sight. But Owari wolfs down that food like it had done the world wrong. She’s thinner than he remembers. Skeletal like himself to the point he wonders if this is a nightmare—this shouldn’t be Owari-san...

Even with everything stuffed down her throat, she swallows and stumbles to get more and that’s when Komaeda can’t help but call out, “Aah, Owari-san, you’ll most definitely get sick.”

She belched, rubbing at her mouth with a groan and steadying herself on the table before turning to Komaeda with a glare. One that falters almost instantly as she rubs at her arm with that same exhaustion he’d seen in Sonia. “Too late for that, Komaeda. I woke up sick and starving.”

She holds up her hand when he approaches her, shaking her head. “Don’t get too close. I’ve already thrown up on two nurses and Naoki.”

“Eh... You mean Naegi-kun?” Owari shrugs but nods distantly. Komaeda can’t help but smile, chuckling. “Well, you were close, Owari-san.”

“Mmgh.” He’s not sure if he heard it, but he saw the twist in her expression, the way her arm pressed to her stomach and it’s then he noticed the bandages on her arm, how haphazardly done they were as though they were wrapped by someone inexperienced and impatient. Giving the circumstances, he understands immediately.

“Owari-san... You’re supposed to be in your room. With an IV to recover from what happened.” Komaeda clicked his tongue, calm tone hardening with a harsh edge. “You’re endangering yourself greatly with these stunts. You could die—”

“I was hungry.” She growled, looking away from him stubbornly. “It’s just not enough. People don’t get that—even old man Nidai got angry but I can’t just... I can’t...” Owari let out a retching sound, slapping her hand over her mouth and shaking, groaning. “Aw, fuck. Dammit. Not now. Not in front of this fucking guy, of all people—”

It’s been rough on everyone. Some of us are bound to be more broken than the others.

Owari used to always insist he eat more. Was forceful about it, in fact. Even if she hit him too hard in trying to cajole him, he always appreciated that aspect of her. But he always had his suspicions about it as well—Hinata had probably known more to it, but he never asked—

...well. It wasn’t something he was meant to know either way. Owari-san was a dear classmate like the others, and even she was utterly crushed by the aftereffects of what they had done not just to the world but to themselves. His bandaged wrist itched. It itched badly.

“I’m going to get someone,” He says blankly, and Owari snapped to him with a vicious glare.

“Don’t,” she snarled. “Don’t you dare, Komaeda, I’ll kill you—”

“Will you?” he asks plainly, shaking his head. “I don’t really believe that you’re capable, Owari-san. Certainly not in that state.”

[intelligent-zombie]

Of fistfights and fathers

Summary: Alfred’s parenting skills are put to the test

Word Count: 1042

Warnings: lgbt slur, fisticuffs

Notes: hi i don’t think ive ever posted a fic before god help me here we go

Bruce’s right hand is resting in a bowl of ice water. His left hand is being gently seen to, fresh gauze pressed down firmly to staunch the bleeding. The dirty strip of torn shirt he used as a temporary bandage lies on the table in front of him. It feels like evidence of a crime.

It’s too quiet. 

“Do you have a clean shirt to wear tomorrow?”

“I’m suspended.” 

“Do you have a clean shirt?”

He won’t meet his eyes, he can’t. Thomas Wayne has been in his grave barely a year and his son’s fists are bloodied in a schoolyard scrap. Not for the first time. Or the second. Definitely not the last.

“I do,” he mumbles.

“Bruce, look at me.”

He won’t. He studies the kitchen light on the water, the ice cubes jostling each other above his skin. He pulls his hand out the water, flexing cold fingers. Alfred hands him a soft towel, which he gladly buries his freezing hand in.

“Do you have a good reason?”

Reason, yes. Good? He isn’t sure.

“No.”

“So… your classes are that boring? You just hit him for fun?”

“No-” he hisses at the sting of alcohol on raw knuckles. 

“Then why?” Alfred presses.

But he’s not angry, he’s just sitting there, holding Bruce’s hand. 

“He called Jeremy a faggot,” he says it quietly, eyes unfocusing. 

He sees it, Derek’s laughter, his stupid pointy chin, narrow little mocking eyes- the mistake was hitting bone. Punching him, however- not a mistake.

“Calls him. Different things, all the time.”

Bruce speaks to a drop of water on the table, rather than look Alfred in the eye.

“He has two dads,” Bruce explains. “Derek said he should give me one, since he has two.”

Silence. It’s too quiet and it aches, worse than his hand, worse than anything. 

“Jeremy told him to shut up-”

‘Shut your fat stupid face, Derek!’

“And then he shoved him.”

Derek doesn’t let up on the barrage of insults, uses slurs as crude weapons. 

“He wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t let him get up.”

Jeremy, muddy and crying, and there’s just enough rain to hide the fact that Bruce is crying too. He won’t let them see that. He’ll never let them see that. 

“And then you hit him?”

“No,” Bruce shakes his head. He wiggles his fingers as Alfred expertly wraps bandages around his knuckles. “I mean. It just… it went wrong, really fast.”

“It usually does.” 

Soft tone, soft touch, and Bruce wishes Alfred would just yell. Putting it in words to him is harder. An angry scolding and being sent to a quiet room to be alone, that would be so much easier. 

“I told him to never touch Jeremy again.”

“Or?”

“Or I’d make him stop.”

There’s more to it than a physical threat. He knows what Derek’s afraid of, and it’s his father. A man who thinks violence alone is strength. 

“I’ll win, you’ll run away. And everyone will know you’re a coward.”

So the first swing isn’t his, which makes him feel more than a little justified when he plants his fist in Derek’s stupid face. There’s a spray of blood, a sickening squish, and Derek gets a botched nose job. 

And Bruce is right. The “fight” lasts just under a minute. And Derek runs. Derek runs like hell is behind him, and maybe it is, because the young Master Bruce has never felt so angry, never heard this roaring in his ears, never wanted to take someone apart and show them their own broken pieces.

So Derek runs. And maybe nobody sees, but Bruce had promised him, so he believes it. Everyone will know.

Alfred has been choosing his words carefully, but he’s spinning wheels now, and there’s no roadmap for this, no one to tell him this is the start of something, a spark, a seed, a dark beginning. There are two ghosts in his head, but they’re both silent. 

“Next time-”

“Next time?” Bruce stares at him, incredulous. 

“Next time you’re squaring off with a bully,” Alfred amends. “Don’t punch him in the face with your bare fists.”

“You’re supposed to tell me not to hit anyone at all,” Bruce can’t believe it.

 Alfred is violating the ancient code of grown-up-people. They wield time-outs and stern talking-to’s. They’re not supposed to be agreeable. 

“Right,” Alfred nods sternly. “Don’t hit anyone at all. But if you do-”

He pats the boy's bandaged hand, gentle, but it draws Bruce’s attention back to a throbbing hand. 

“Soft tissue, Master Bruce,” Alfred suggests. “Always soft tissue, never the skull.”

It’s solid advice. It doesn’t necessarily feel like the appropriate advice, but it’s practical.

“Are you trying to get me expelled?”

“I don’t know,” Alfred sighs, rubbing his temples. “There’s this new trend everyone’s talking about- homeschooling.”

“You want me to stop going to school?”

“Do you want to keep going?”

Bruce is learning: Alfred has an infuriating habit of believing in free will. Questions get answered with questions. There’s an expectation that you think, you don’t wait to be told what to do.

“Jeremy will still be there,” Bruce insists. “All my friends.”

Alfred looks away for a moment, eyes closed, trying not to betray a feeling. Not to be too proud, not too proud of this boy with bloodied knuckles, because ithis is not the kind of behavior you condone. Right? But damn he is proud and what’s he going to do? Hide it? Fat chance of that. He couldn’t hide it if he tried.

“Come here,” he reaches an arm out, beckoning, scooping Bruce into a hug. A small face burrows in his shoulder, anything but weak but he still seems so small, and Alfred holds him as tightly as he can. 

Then the tears come, and one day Alfred will realize it’s the last time Bruce lets himself cry. Maybe he forgets how. But today there’s no stopping it, the dam isn’t just breaking, it’s exploding, and there’s a year of pain and grief and anger spilling out in hot and stinging tears.

“Never stop,” Alfred leans back to look at Bruce. “We’ll never stop looking out for the Jeremy’s. And for the Derek’s, when they come around. When they need us.”

He holds him. There’s a soft rain outside, pattering on the tall windows of the manor. Speckled light filters through, dances on mahogany furniture, dances on oil portraits, refractions that make Thomas and Martha Wayne look like they’re crying. 

“Alright?”

“Alright.”

It’s not the moment, it’s not like the boy wakes the next morning and presents Alfred with a diorama on vigilantism. But there never is the moment; it’s not one singular defining event, it’s not death, it’s not a reaction to one crime, to one injustice, one terrible night. 

It’s a habit. It’s just a habit of standing in between people, refusing to be the bystander. It’s the habit of saying no, no more, this stops now. Of getting back up, no matter what. And never stopping. 

[hunterguyveriv]

My issues on Wonder Woman 1984 after my first viewing of it.

I saw Wonder Woman 1984 a few days ago and now that I have had time to collect my thoughts on my initial viewing I do have some issues with the movie. It was an okay movie, I will admit it is not a perfect movie. NO MOVIE - regardless if it is a DC/Marvel/Star Trek/Star Wars/ or even a Kaiju movie is perfect. For me, this movie I will give it a generous 5.8 out of 10.

It had its good spots, loved the dynamic between Steve and Diana again. He like in the first movie seemed to ground her and make her realize the hard truths of the world. I even loved how she helped him through his sensory overload of being a World War-I soldier brought into the modern age for the movie.

I loved that even Hans Zimmer even returned for the movie when he had retired from doing scores. I guess Warner-Brothers & DC were desperate after the Joss Whedon debacle of hiring Danny Elfman for Justice League.

I even liked the post credit scene in which it literally canonized Lynda Carter’s Wonder Woman by making her character an Amazon in the DCEU. But now that they made them Amazons in the same universe, they need to capitalize on this before it becomes too late. Diana and Asteria need to interact with each other now! That way we can have an official Lynda Carter passing the torch on to Gal Gadot. But DCEU hasn’t been known to capitalize on things. This is still the DCEU right? 

I understand with the uncertainty of Henry Cavill returning as Superman and Ben Affleck not wanting to return as Batman, the urgency to have a face of the DCEU. But this movie felt nothing like Gal Gadot becoming the face of the DCEU, and thus my MAIN issue with the movie.

For it t be an effective sequel for the DCEU it needs to mesh with all the other movies prior to Aquaman - Man of Steel, Batman v Superman, Wonder Woman, Suicide Squad(?... never seen it), and Justice League. This move which is a sequel to Wonder Woman does nothing to congeal the movies together leading up to the current version of Justice League. This movie ignores 2 key scenes from 2 different movies. 

Think back to when the Trinity first gathered in Batman v Superman. Diana says aloud to both Superman & Batman:

"I've killed things from other worlds before." 

and most of all this line from Joss Whedon's Justice League where they argue about bringing Superman back:

"I never heard of you until Luthor lured you out by stealing a picture of your dead boyfriend. You shut yourself down for a century, so lets not talk about me moving on." 

This movie ignores both lines and doesn't add to the lore. I understand Ares was a God so is considered another worldly being, but she said "THINGS" implying multiples. This movie did not add to that line. It also blatantly IGNORED Bruce's statement. 

Think of it, if she "Shut herself down" as stated, then she wouldn't be as active in saving people in WW84. To the contrary every single person she saved in the movie would be dead. 

When heroes typically "shut down" they either turn down the path Bruce did for BvS or just don't get involved with the affairs of as suggested by her body language prior to getting off the plane in BvS.

Hell even in Justice League, when she pops Bruce's shoulder back in to place she even admits what? She hasn't been doing her job in being a protector because of the death Steve Trevor nearly a century prior. Go watch the movies people, the evidence for this issue is there. I understand this may be a ret-con, but it is a poorly done ret-con. And with such escalation, how is it there was no mention of such escalation in BvS or Justice League? Or was it magically erased from nearly EVERYONE’s minds?

My second issue is Kristen Wiig as Cheetah. I loved her as Barbara Minerva for the first part of the movie. Where she was the pathetic loser that no one even fathomed giving attention to who envied the first person to give her attention. She played that part of the character phenomenally. 

But her decent into Cheetah however I didn't believe it. Especially with how fast she mastered her speed and strength. It took Diana years to master her prowess, hell it even took Clark years to master all he was capable of and he is still doing so apparently albeit behind the scenes Post-Justice League because of what Jor-El told him " to keep testing your limits."

I will admit her not wanting to "renounce her wish" is on par to the Minerva of Injustice 2 who would rather embrace her curse. So I can definitely see Kristen Wiig returning in future movies, but she needs to get better at being a villainess in my opinion. I will say I can't blame Barbara for not wanting to renounce her wish, if I were in the same situation of wanting to be like someone I envied or become something like my favorite Superhero (look to my handle) I would do so and embrace it.

My other issue with Minerva is the design of Cheetah. 

I did NOT like design. It looked and felt flat, incomplete, lazily done and completely CGI. Why did they feel they had do her completely CGI? I mean they could have done prosthetic make up for most of Cheetah's scenes and used CGI for the more extravagant parts of the final fight scene. And before ANYONE says prosthetic makeup isn't capable of such feats. Take a look at these Humanoid Cat-People from both Star Trek IV and V 

The Caitians in Starfleet Uniforms were from Star Trek IV which came out in 1986 and the Cat-Lady from Star Trek V which came out in 1989. We could have easily gotten a believable Cheetah that looked like her Injustice 2 

 and comic book counterparts but instead we got what we got. And don’t get me started on Minerva being blonde and not a ginger LIKE her comic book counterpart and Injustice 2 counterparts.

Well these are my issues on the movie from my first viewing of the movie that stuck out the most. I am sure there are more, but I have to sit down and watch it again. But I don't see myself doing so any time soon due to work priorities.

[goodticklebrain]

Q&A August: Kate Powers of the Redeeming Time Project

Q&A August continues! I first met Kate Powers at the opening reception of the 2016 Shakespeare Theatre Association conference.  It was my very first STA conference and I was, needless to say, SUPER NERVOUS about suddenly being in a huge room with hundreds of top-notch Shakespeare experts, artists, administrators, and educators. I felt very much like an impostor and interloper: after all, I was just drawing these stupid little comics, while these people were making Shakespeare come to life, and were changing lives in the process.

I had heard of Kate’s phenomenal work with Rehabilitation Through the Arts at Sing Sing Correctional Facility, so I was already suitably intimidated when I was first introduced to her. However, she took one look at my name tag, said “Oh my god, you’re HER”, and then seized me by the arm and proceeded to lead me around the reception, introducing me to all manner of Shakespearean theatre luminaries and instantly incorporating me into the STA community. And that’s pretty much Kate in a nutshell for you: welcoming and supportive, absurdly generous with her time and energy, and never hesitating to help lift people up in any way she can. Over the past several years she has become a wonderful resource, correspondent, and friend, and I’m so excited to share her with you now.

Take it away, Kate!

1.  Who are you? Why Shakespeare?

I am a director, a text nerd, a prison theatre maker. I saw my first production of Shakespeare before anyone had a chance to tell me that this was going to be good for me, or that these people talk funny.  I was eight.  The play was in a park downtown; we had a picnic and a can of mosquito spray standing by as we watched Petruchio arrive (on a motorcycle, wearing leopard-print hot pants, as it happened) to wed Katharine.  I am sure that I missed a lot, but I had a great time.

After a student matinee of my production of Measure for Measure at the Kansas City Rep in 2005, a girl asked at the post-show discussion, with great urgency, if Isabel was going to marry the Duke.  When I directed The Winter’s Tale at American Shakespeare Center, I spoke to a lady in the audience who was seeing her first-ever Shakespeare play.  She asked me if I had updated the language or if someone else had done it for me.  She was stunned when I told her that we had not changed a word.  “It’s crystal clear,” she exclaimed.  I am all about smashing up the cultural church of Shakespeare and starting the Shakespeare block party.

2.  What moment(s) in Shakespeare always make you laugh?

It’s cheap, but it is textually supported cheap. I laugh every time an actor playing Malvolio reads the letter, “If this fall into thy hand, revolve,” takes a beat, contemplates, and then turns in a circle. It’s not actually what the letter writer means (it means “consider,” essentially), but it doesn’t matter. I think you have written a strip about revolving Malvolios, (Mya interjects: I have!)  and I would like someone to start a band called the Revolving Malvolios.

3.  What's a favorite Shakespearean performance anecdote?

I would probably have to go with Squirrel Butt Romeo.

Mya interjects: Kate is, of course, referring to the immortal anecdote that led to the creation of this comic:

4.  What's one of the more unusual Shakespearean interpretations you've either seen or would like to see?

I saw a Czech language production of Hamlet while I was in grad. school. The host at my B&B in Prague strongly discouraged me from going. I think he thought I would be upset when it wasn’t in English. I told him it was okay, that I was fairly familiar with the story. They cast Claudio much younger than I had previously seen. The late king’s much younger brother. He read like an older brother to Hamlet in some ways, and also, he was HOT. I suddenly understood “The king doth wake tonight and takes his rouse, / Keeps wassail and the swaggering upspring reels,” much more clearly, and I also could see the appeal, the sexy appeal, the temptation, the need to believe, for Gertrude.

The interpretation that I have seen far too often is the leather-clad Hamlet wielding an AK-47. Just. Don’t.

Mya interjects: OK, I have definitely seen leather-clad Hamlets, but Hamlet wielding an AK-47? What is that??

5. What passages from Shakespeare have stayed with you?

“It is required you do awake your faith” and “Let be” are perpetually in the front of my consciousness.

Mya interjects: I totally forgot about “Let be”. Is there a more powerful two-word quote in all of Shakespeare?

Right now I hear Sir Thomas More’s “mountainish inhumanity” speech to the rioting mob loudly and insistently:

“Grant them removed, and grant that this your noise Hath chid down all the majesty of England; Imagine that you see the wretched strangers, Their babies at their backs and their poor luggage, Plodding to th’ports and coasts for transportation, And that you sit as kings in your desires, Authority quite silent by your brawl, And you in ruff of your opinions clothed; What had you got? I’ll tell you. You had taught How insolence and strong hand should prevail, How order should be quelled; and by this pattern Not one of you should live an aged man, For other ruffians, as their fancies wrought, With self same hand, self reasons, and self right, Would shark on you, and men like ravenous fishes Would feed on one another.”

6. What Shakespeare plays have changed for you?

Which ones haven’t?

7. What Shakespearean character or characters do you identify the most with?

I pretty much am Beatrice, with a dash of Paulina. Very smart, very punny, often wielding my words as a weapon, tenacious, determined, protective of those around me, and also afraid of getting hurt, yet determined to speak, to name injustice when I see it. “I care not. It is an heretic that makes the fire.”

8. Where can we find out more about you? Are there any projects/events you would like us to check out?

I am the founder of the Redeeming Time Project. Our name comes from Hal’s speech in I Henry IV, “I’ll so offend to make offense a skill / Redeeming time when men think least I will.” We make theatre with men incarcerated in two Minnesota state prisons. I started doing this work over a decade ago with Rehabilitation Through the Arts in New York state.  We believe human beings are born inherently good, and we teach critical life skills (such as empathy, critical thinking, communication skills, teamwork, conflict resolution, goal setting, delayed gratification) through making theatre together. At Sing Sing Correctional Facility in 2016, while we were rehearsing Twelfth Night, one of the men said, “Shakespeare gave me words for emotions I didn’t know I had.”

The act of imagination required to play a character can become the spark of compassion that leads to empathy. One can learn empathy through the effort of performing a play, because one must ask, “What is it like to be this character? What is it like to walk in his shoes?” Through rehearsal room disagreements about the interpretation of a scene, or a line, one can learn to tolerate not just different points of view but also ambiguity itself. This newly acquired tolerance and wider understanding of human behavior helps cultivate patience and perspective.

Shakespeare teaches us what it means to be human, in all the nobility as well as all the depravity that it can entail. Again and again, he asks us, “What does it mean to be alive? How should we act? Who am I? What do I love?” Redeeming Time makes Shakespeare accessible to all, restores a voice to the silenced and voiceless, and explores the full complexity of the human condition.

Incarcerated individuals who study and perform Shakespeare challenge. They develop a passion for learning. They explore the full complexity of humanity through Shakespeare, reassessing their past and current choices, as well as their future options, as they do so. Although RTP will work with material written by other playwrights and authors, Shakespeare will always be the firm ground on which we stand.

(Back to Mya) Thanks so much to Kate for taking the time to answer my questions. You can find out more about Kate and her excellent work here:

plainKate.com

The Redeeming Time Project

@_plainkate_ on Twitter

Plus, you can hear Kate on several episodes of the Reduced Shakespeare Company Podcast:

Episode 346: Theatre in Prison

Episode 398: ‘Salesman’ Behind Bars

Episode 498: Year of Shakespeare

Episode 532: Shakespeare and Trump (also featuring yours truly)

Episode 580: Redeeming Time Project

COMING THURSDAY: A fellow Michigander who just happens to be one of my personal Shakespearean superheroes!

[themoonandotherslikeit]

Something More Than What I Had- Epilogue

Epilogue - Corinthians

“Let all that you do be done in love.” 1 Corinthians 16:14

The light stung Castiel’s eyes as he came to. He could almost hear Dean’s voice echoing in his head. “Don’t go into the light, Detective. We still have so much more to do.” He smiled to himself, wincing from a morphine headache. He was alive. Maybe there was an angel looking after him after all. 

“Shit, he’s coming to.” 

Castiel squinted as the colors around the room slowly started to make a more defined picture. Sam Winchester leaned over Castiel’s bedside, blocking some of the fluorescent lights that were screaming at him. “How are you feeling?” Sam asked him gently. The kid looked like a goddamn wreck, his hair messy and pushed back with one of Eileen’s stretchy fabric headbands. His eyes had deep circles from lack of sleep, and his shoulders were weighed down, slumping from some invisible force that seemed to push them down, but despite all of that, he was smiling. 

“Rookie.” He smiled up at the tall Winchester. Even with the sleeplessness heavy on Sam’s lids, his eyes were kind. “What happened?” 

Sam’s face faltered, his dimples disappearing back into his cheeks. “I uh… you were shot, Cas.” 

“What?” Castiel frowned, his eyebrows furrowing. He could feel the skin wrinkle on his forehead. His mind was fuzzy; it was a thick blanket of snow, cotton in his ears, screaming underwater. “I don’t…” He tried to sit up, but his body felt heavy, like his legs were weighed down. Perhaps the nurses gave him too much morphine. 

“Hey, just lay back,” Sam said, placing his hand on Cas’ chest to slowly lower his torso back to his bed. “Don’t push anything. Maybe I should get your nurse.”

“Sam,” he said, gripping his partner’s shirt in his hand. “What happened?” He could see Dean’s smile burned into his retinas, but he seemed far away, distant. 

Sam sucked in his bottom lip to stop it from trembling. He composed himself, trying to find the words. “You and Dean… He was shot and you jumped in after him. Fuck, you laid right over him.” 

“He was shot?” Castiel dug at the cotton, at the water inside of his mind, desperate to grab onto anything solid. 

“Yeah,” Sam said softly. 

The heart monitor next to Castiel started beeping angrily, fast and loud. The door swung open and a nurse in a set of deep maroon scrubs came through. “Mr. Novak, are you feeling okay?”

He was shot and you jumped in after him.

Don’t cry for me, okay?

“I can’t.. he can’t. Oh god.” He was hyperventilating, his heart threatening to rip right out of his chest. He held it, clawing to get to it, to let it out of its cage. He couldn’t take it anymore. It was too much. Too much.

“Mr. Novak, can you hear me?”

“Cas?” Sam asked, alarmed. 

“No, no, no,” Castiel gasped. 

“Mr. Novak, I’m going to give you something to relax, okay?” She pulled a syringe out of her scrubs and injected it into his IV tube. It was seconds before Castiel drifted right to sleep. 

Later

Castiel was alone when he finally woke up. His mouth was dry and his eyes were heavy. He tried to sit up, but it was hard. His body still felt weighed down. 

He rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times. The curtains were drawn, and he couldn’t tell day from night. He ran his tongue over his lips, but everything was so goddamn dry like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together. 

He remembered Sam being there, but it was foggy, like a dream. He tried to grasp it, to remember, but it was all so far away. After some work he managed to pull himself up to a seated position - well, mostly seated. He wasn’t straight up, he didn’t have enough pillows. He grabbed at the string behind him to click on his lamp. It illuminated the room in a low, orange glow. 

“Ya like sunsets, Detective?”

“Why?” Castiel asked, raising an eyebrow at Dean. 

“Just makin’ notes.” 

“Notes for what?” 

Dean shrugged, his lips pursed in a smirk. “Birthdays, anniversaries, you know, romantic shit.” 

“Dean Winchester is a romantic? I wouldn’t have guessed.” 

“Don’t tell Sammy, he won’t ever let me live it down,” he said, lacing his fingers with Castiel’s. 

“I suppose it can be our secret.” 

“Good. Secrets make things exciting. Sexy. Don’t you think?”

Castiel clamped his eyes shut, still seeing spots in his vision from staring directly into the bulb as it clicked on. He squinted, looking around the room for any sign that he hadn’t dreamed Sam up. That he hadn’t dreamed it all up. 

There was a pillow and blanket stuffed in one of the chairs and several discarded coffee cups in the garbage. The real kicker, though, was a white envelope next to his bed. 

Castiel reached for the envelope, stretching over the bed railing. He grabbed it in a huff and held it in his fingers. It clearly had been folded and transported in Sam’s pocket. It was crinkled at the edge, and the pencil on the front was smudged, but he could still read it clearly. Detective Castiel Novak. He sucked in his breath, considering tossing the letter away for good. He ran his fingers over the scrawl, his heart aching, and he made a split second decision to rip open the envelope. There was no time to waste, not anymore. He flattened out the page. Dean’s handwriting met him like an old friend. 

He always thought that love letters were a thing of the past. Who would write him one? He wasn't Lady Windemere waiting or her lover to write back, he was a man. He was a grisly, angry, closed off smoker who couldn’t let love in, even if it broke down his door. He wasn’t the person who received love letters, but still, he had two dozen in his coat pocket somewhere. Still, he had one there in his fingers. Dean Winchester was the only person who found him charming and sweet, to him, Castiel was worthy. He just hated that it took him so long to realize it. 

Hello Sweetheart,

I asked Sammy to give this to you if you came to the trial. I know that was hard to do. I didn’t want you to see me like that... in chains, detailing out all that I’ve done. I didn’t want you to see me like that, because I know it’d hurt you. Selfishly, though, I wanted to look out and see you there. You said it was over, Cas, and I heard you loud and clear. You never loved me, but I love you. So you deserve to know the truth. The big, the bad, and the ugly. 

Growing up, Mom told me that angels watched over me. Me and Sammy. The whole house. We were safe, because of the angels. Then she died. My mom was my hero, and losing her changed everything. I watched my father spiral. He grabbed Sammy and I in the middle of the night, put us in the back seat of the Impala, and drove. I never saw that house again. 

When I was old enough to make a phone call, I started looking around. I needed to know if her killer was found. I needed justice, something more than what I had. There was nothing to gain. It was a cold case, and there were no leads. 

The angels were taken from me, Cas, and so were the police. There was no one to help me. No one except for me to protect Sam. How was I supposed to deal with that? So I started to pray. I was angry. I didn’t understand how a good person could die and a bad one could go free. It wasn’t fair. 

My mom had this Bible. She used to read me stories from it before bed, so when everything was falling apart, and when I had nowhere to turn to… I pulled out her Bible, and I read. I read the whole damn thing, Cas. That’s a big ass book, with some really small text, but it had a lot to say. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for. Maybe someone to blame for it all. All the bad in the world. It couldn’t be God, because I don’t think he’s around anymore. I don’t think he has been for a long time. He left the angels in charge, and they fucked up. They dropped the ball. 

I kept looking, outside of the Bible, anywhere really. Then I read about Raguel. He’s an Archangel, the Archangel of Justice. He fights injustice caused by sin so people can live in harmony with God and with each other. Well, I figured that he wasn't around either. He shit the bed, you know? It’s not your fault people have been getting away, Cas. Not yours or Sammy’s. There are no more angels, don’t you get it? I had to step in. I had to do Raguel’s job. 

It was what I thought was right. There’s a fine line between good and evil, and sitting here in a concrete room, well I guess I’m really starting to realize that I’ve been dancing that line. I know you think I’m all bad, and I can’t blame you. I didn’t exactly talk through my thought process with you. I tried to explain it with the Bible verses and the letters, but it wasn’t enough. I was a coward. I fucked everything up. 

When my dad was sick and dying, I confronted him about Mom. She was going to leave him. He was a sick bastard, and turns out I wasn’t the only one that he used as a punching bag. She was going to leave, and if he couldn’t have her, no one could. So he set her room on fire. He was wasted, and he killed her. 

I didn’t go in that room planning to kill him, one of the nurses left the morphine out, I saw it, and I just snapped. The next time they gave him a dose he was gone. He passed peacefully in his sleep. It wasn’t even half of what he deserved. 

For a long time, I didn’t think there was anything that felt better than revenge, but I was wrong, Cas. You. Being with you felt better. I felt more worthy at your side than I ever did in my entire life. I wasn’t lying when I said that your forgiveness was all I needed. I saw life in your eyes, a life that I never thought I’d have. I saw the fucking suburbs, cookouts, antiques… fucking whatever. Hell, maybe even a cat? I don’t know, Cas. If you wanted it, I’d probably say yes. I wanted that apple pie life for the first time when I met you.

You see, I believe that in this life we are only allowed one love. One big love. One great love. Just one. I doubt that I am yours, in fact, I hope I’m not. I ruined it, just like I ruin everything, but I think you should know that you’re mine. You’re my one. When I close my eyes, you’re what I see. You and those damn blue eyes. You’re mine, Cas. I know you don’t want me, but maybe if you’re reading this, then maybe you do. There’s no place for me in your life now, but I wanted to say thank you. Thank you for the pieces you already gave me. 

All I wanted was to make you happy, to do the right thing. Guess I’m not too good at that, but maybe I’ll get another shot in another life. You know, sometimes I can see it. I know the Bible doesn’t believe in reincarnation, but fuck, it sounds nice. Doesn’t it? A do-over. I think I’d like that for us. 

I had a dream the other night, Cas. It felt so fucking real. I was in Hell, chained up. I was being tortured and everything seemed so fucking glum. Then there was this light. The demons were screaming, because damn it they hadn’t seen any kind of light in centuries- maybe ever. Then the light was blocked by a big beautiful set of wings. It was you, Cas. You grabbed me and you raised me from perdition. You wrapped your arms around me and flew me the fuck out of there. You thought I was worthy, even just for that second, and I woke up gasping. I wish it was real, but I know there aren’t any second chances. 

Not for a guy like me.

Dean 

The letter fell to the floor. It was more than what he wanted. More than he could’ve asked for. It was the answer, the truth. He needed to find his phone to call Sam. He looked around the room and found a plastic bag of his effects on a table against the wall. He was alone and fuck it if he was going to wait for a nurse. He felt fine, and he swung his legs over the side of the bed to get up and grab his cellphone. 

His feet touched the cold floor; he could feel it through the socks the hospital had provided. Slide proof socks were required against the tile floor. He was in pain, but he was able to stand tall. He walked the short distance and grabbed the plastic bag, pulling it open. His blood soaked clothes had been shoved in, and he had to dig around to find his cell phone. The letters were bloody, speckled with red. He pulled out his phone and dialed Sam.

At least that was what was supposed to happen. 

He tried to move his legs to the side of the bed, but nothing happened. “Shit, I must be out of it.” Castiel rubbed his face before focusing again. Nothing. He pulled the blanket off of his legs, exposing the bare skin and yellow hospital socks. He focused on his feet. Move. Nothing happened. Wiggle your toes. Nothing. He leaned forward and pinched his thigh as hard as he could. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. 

Months later

Learning to live without the functioning lower half of his body was a long running struggle for Castiel. The doctors were optimistic that he would get some feeling back, but that optimism had yet to be fruitful. He learned how to move himself from the bed to his chair, then from his chair to the toilet. It was all so much harder than he would’ve ever imagined. Getting dressed was a chore. Life was a chore. 

He was shot in the spine and all of his movement over Dean assured that he would never walk again. The only reason he was able to stay awake during his injury was the pure adrenaline that pumped through his veins. His life as he knew it was over. 

The city gave him a medal for his heroism, and he threw it in the garbage. That wasn’t the reward that he wanted. 

He did manage to get a street level apartment with a ramp (score) and a brand new roommate. 

“I don’t want your help, seriously.” 

“I know, Cranky. Jesus, but don’t yell at me when you drop the remote or something,” Charlie said, her hands up in the air. “I’ll be in my room watching Star Wars. Don’t bug me unless you’re going to cosplay. There’s no room for half-assed behavior in this house!” She whipped her cape around her as she entered her bedroom. 

He wheeled himself to the window. He had been in the hospital for a month. He’d had several surgeries to try to correct his condition. Castiel had a complete spinal cord injury. There was no going back from that. It was late September by the time he left the rehab hospital. 

Sam and Eileen visited him frequently. Sam was a surprisingly good cook, and he liked to come over and commandeer Castiel’s kitchen. Charlie never minded, while Sam cooked, she’d sit with her feet resting on Castiel’s thigh. She was always touching him, like she expected him to fly away. He kept reminding her that it was much harder for him to run away from her now. She didn’t find his paralysis jokes funny, but he thought they were the only way to move forward, at least that’s what the self help books that were always lying around his doctor’s office said. 

His legs weren’t the only piece of himself that he was missing, though. He missed Dean, even though he’d never admit it out loud. No one talked about him, but his absence was like a breeze. It was always there, gently tugging at him. He hadn’t gone to visit, because it was too damn hard. He didn’t want to face the truth until he was more stable. He wasn’t sure if he ever would be, but there was no rush.  

After the shooting, Sam and Eileen tied the knot. Life was too fleeting. It could end in a second, as they’d quickly learned. They went to the courthouse and made it official. Castiel was the witness. It was one of his approved outings from his therapy. The nurse that came with him cheered and cried behind him. It was insufferable, but the rookie looked happy. They were a little short on happy then, so Castiel smiled, despite how badly it hurt. He had to take what he could get, even if it included throwing rice and eating copious amounts of cream cheese mints. 

He was the first to learn about Eileen's pregnancy. “You’re like a brother to me, Cas. You’re my family. I wanted you to know.” As the seasons changed, she got larger. The happy accident clearly took place before the shooting, but losing a brother gave Sam a little perspective. There was no time to wait. 

When little Hailey was born, Castiel didn’t go to the hospital. He couldn’t be there. There were too many memories. Especially knowing that he had been there sleeping, sedated, when Dean was rolled out of the emergency room. He didn’t even get to say goodbye. 

Castiel lost weight and most of his clothes fit him loosely, but Krystal still smiled at him widely and pulled him into a hug when he met her for coffee. 

“You look amazing Detective!”

“Please, call me Castiel.” 

“Of course.” She blushed. “Castiel.” She settled back into her seat across from him. She looked different outside of the club. She wore a sweater and her hair was back in a braid. “Thank you for meeting me.”

“I was surprised you called.” 

“I wanted to… well I wanted to talk to Dean, but…” 

“Of course.” Castiel cut her off. 

“I know what he did was terrible, Castiel. I don’t condone killing, but Trixie was my friend. He saved all of us. He was a good man.” Krystal held her coffee in her hands, steam traveling up to her face. “I wish this had ended better for him. For you. I can’t thank you two enough for what you’ve done for me.”

“I’m sure he’d be happy to hear that. He told me that you came to see him before the trial. He was proud that you got out of your situation.” Castiel offered her a smile, but looking at her hurt. It hurt worse than the phantom aches in his legs. When he looked at her, he saw Dean. “I apologize, but I have to go.” He sat some cash down on the table and backed out in his chair. 

“Castiel!” She called after him. He turned to look at her, over his shoulder. “I could tell.” 

“Tell what?”

“He was in love with you. I could see it from a mile away.” 

“So could I,” Castiel agreed, quietly. “It was nice seeing you again, Krystal.” 

“You, too.” 

A knock came at the door, and Castiel didn’t bother looking. He was watching the first few flakes of snow sprinkle the city with white. “Come in.” 

“Hey,” Sam said as he poked his head in. “You ready to go?”

Castiel watched the snow dance around the streets through the window. It made him think of Dean. Everything made him think of Dean.

“Take that off,” Dean instructed. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Take what off?”

“Your coat. I know this place is small, but we do have heat, ya know.”

“Of course.” Castiel removed his coat and hung it on the rack next to the door. 

“Now the shoes.” 

“Shoes?”

“They’re wet and covered with snow.” 

The last day of snow he remembered was the day he had told Dean he loved him. 

Castiel was going to go visit Dean for the first time since the shooting and everything was different now. 

“Don’t forget to pack warm, it’s outside.” 

“I know it’s outside,” Castiel snapped before sighing. He rubbed his face. It wasn’t Sam’s fault. “Sorry, kid.” 

“It’s okay,” Sam said, walking to his old partner. He rested his hand on Castiel’s shoulder and squeezed. 

Castiel's heart ached in his chest. He wanted so desperately for everything to be different, but it wasn’t. It would always be this way. “Do I look okay?” He asked Sam, self conscious. 

“Very dapper,” Sam said, offering a dimple-filled smile. “Not that it matters what you wear,” he added gently, just as a reminder, as if Castiel could ever forget.

He wore a pair of slacks and a plaid button up, his shoulders held up his blue suspenders, even though he didn’t need them anymore, and a blue tie hung around his neck. 

“Detective, you should only ever wear blue. Blue or nothing at all.”  

He felt silly trying to look good. Not like Dean is going to care, he thought sadly, but yet he made sure his pants were flattened and his feet were properly placed facing forward. “Did you make sure they have wheelchair access?” 

“I did. I spoke to the grounds keeper, and they assured me that we would have no problems.” 

“Great.” Cas smiled, letting out a breath. “Hey, Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you mind grabbing something for me?”

“Sure.” 

“There’s an envelope on my desk in the bedroom.”

“Got it,” Sam said after disappearing into Castiel's room. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

It seemed frivolous, considering everything, but Castiel had decided to write Dean back. It was all he’d been begging Castiel the entire time he was imprisoned. He considered, as he wrote it, how things could’ve been different if he’d written it months before. It was pointless, though, because he hadn’t. 

He’d penned out everything he wanted to say, some parts a few different times. The paper was sprinkled with salty droplets of water, but there was no use trying to throw the pages away and start over. Every draft had them. 

Sam handed him the envelope in the car, and Castiel examined it one last time before they arrived. His wheelchair was folded in the back of the car, and he sat strapped into the passenger seat. He ran his fingers along the words. It wasn't enough, but it was all he had. 

Dear Dean,

I’m sorry I didn’t say it before. I’m sorry for a lot of things that I’ll never be able to say to you. I’m sorry that I didn’t try to help you when you needed me. I’m sorry that my love for you was so easily pushed away. I lied that day in the jail. I lied to you and worst of all, I lied to myself. 

Castiel had worked on the letter from the day he came home from the hospital, when he stopped sulking, and when he realized that there was no fucking point of being able to stand if Dean wasn’t there to knock him off his feet. It was pathetic, but it was true. 

This isn’t easy for me to write, I hope you know that. I’m not soft. I’m not some Victorian girl pining after a man, wishing for a love letter. I don’t do these kinds of things, but, nonetheless, you should know the truth. 

He pictured giving Dean the letter a thousand times. He pictured every way he’d be able to, every chance he could’ve had, and he pictured the reality. 

He could see himself handing Dean the letter in the rain. He wouldn’t read it, just pull Castiel to him. “Detective, I don’t need to read it. I already know what you said.” Then they’d kiss. They always knew how to do that. He could see himself giving it to Dean on the steps of the courthouse when the court finally agreed that he was wrongly accused. He’d stand on the steps, thin and beautiful, his freckled face turned up to the sky to take in the sun. He’d take it and read it right there, before ripping it up. “Cas, it doesn’t matter what happened in the past. It’s over. There’s no sense in living in it.” But mostly, he pictured himself wheeling himself through the snow, like he would do after the hour long drive they were taking. He would wheel himself through the snow, toward a polished piece of marble. He’d touch Dean’s name and the day of the shooting, and he’d set the letter in the snow. He’d say he was sorry, even though he was only saying it to himself, the stone, and the snow. 

I’ve never told anyone those three words before. Never. I was choosy. I’d seen people fall apart in relationships. I didn’t want that to be me. I was married to my job, and I liked it that way. I had no friends, besides Charlie, and my life was a train on a constant track, looping circle after circle. But with you? It was easy. It was obvious. You made me happy. I didn’t have to think about it. I thought I had the answer to all of my problems and all I wanted to do was tell you about it. I’ve never had that before. So, it’s safe to say that I didn’t handle things well. I apologize for that. 

Sam turned the car into the parking lot. Everything was blanketed in snow. The world was white, and it made the stone exteriors look magical. Everything seemed quiet, muted. Castiel was left to his thoughts as Sam put on his gloves to retrieve Castiel’s wheelchair. 

I read your letter. If that wasn’t clear at this point. I liked what you said about reincarnation. Do you think we will get another chance? Maybe somewhere else in time? I’d like that, Dean. I’d like to meet you again. I liked your dream. It was sweet and funny, though I don’t expect you intended it to be humorous. Do you really think that I’d be the angel in that scenario? I’ve got to tell you that was charming. You’re very charming, Dean Winchester. I wouldn’t raise you from perdition. It’d be you; you’d raise me. I was in Hell before I met you. My life had no meaning. I was mindless, following the life that was laid out to me, doing only what I was told. I never questioned anything, but with you I questioned so many things. I’m still questioning them, and I’m afraid that I won’t ever get the answers that I’m looking for. 

The air was cold. It stung Castiel’s cheeks as Sam pushed him through the powder-like snow, over the gravel and up to the iron gates. Dean was back there, and knowing that gave Castiel more chills than the winter air did. He sucked in his breath, and Sam leaned down to look at him. “It’s not too late to turn back,” he reminded Castiel through an exhale of white fog. 

He knew that. Of course he did. They could turn back and get coffee and he could pretend like everything wasn’t broken. He could pretend, but there was no life in denial. He’d been avoiding facing the pain inside of him for too long, and he never would  be able to heal until he took that step. Metaphorically of course. He gripped the arm rests on his chair and shook his head. His eyelashes were speckled with snow. “Let’s go. I’m ready, Rook. Don’t let me overthink it.”

“You got it, Novak,” Sam said with a smile. He opened the iron gate, and it groaned in response. 

I want to let you know that I got hurt. I know you saw the blood, but it’s a little worse than that. I can’ t move my legs. Paralyzed. Isn’t that the way it goes? Now I can’t run away from my problems. Not yet, at least. I have to learn to get faster in the chair. Maybe I can get the kind that they use at the Special Olympics to play basketball. Those are fast, right? Charlie hates it when I make paralysis jokes, but it feels good to laugh. When I lost you, I never thought I’d laugh again. I think you’d laugh, though. You always laughed at my jokes, even when you shouldn’t have. Maybe that’s what love is. I don’t know. I’m still learning. I think I’ll spend the rest of my life learning.

Sam went through the motions. He pushed Castiel when he couldn’t push himself, and helped dry off his wheels so it wouldn’t rust. They made small talk with the other people they encountered, even though Castiel couldn’t bring any words to his mouth. It was too dry. His heart was pounding in his chest. All he could see in his mind's eye was the stone. Sometimes it had killer scrawled over it in blood red paint. Sometimes it was bare. No flowers. No footprints in the snow. He wasn’t sure what was worse. 

“Wait here,” Sam said, wheeling him into the courtyard. It was in the snow. There was a little bench and a table covered in snow. It was completely gated in. 

“I’ll be here,” Castiel said helplessly. 

I’m sorry about your mom, Dean. I really am. I wish you would’ve told me more about her. Sam said it was hard for you, that you never really got over it. I’m sorry that I didn’t notice. I never had a family until you and Sam. He’s really taken me in, you’d be so proud of him. He’s like the younger brother I never wanted, in the best possible way. I’ll take care of the kid. I know that’s what you’d want. 

Dean, I’m just sorry. I know I can’t say it enough. There will never be enough time. Never enough words in the world. I just wish I could’ve had the time when it was there for the grabbing, but instead I’m writing this letter. It doesn’t sound as good as yours. I’m not a writer. I analyze things. I find clues. I always thought I’d be the one to solve the cases, become Captain someday when Singer retired, but the last year has proven something very important to me. 

A door against the back wall opened. Castiel squinted into the snow, the wind blowing around just enough to obscure the figures coming out of the door. 

A guard held onto his arms behind his back as he lead him out. “You’ve got twenty minutes.” 

“Thank you,” a voice echoed off the stone in the courtyard. A click and a jingle released his arms. He turned to face Castiel, and his face softened. He frowned, his nose crinkling as he seemed to examine the wheelchair, then his eyes met Castiel’s, and he smiled. The bright smile that Cas loved so much. 

Nothing ever turns out the way we expect it to, but I guess that’s okay. All relationships have problems, right?

“Hello, Detective.” 

Love, 

Castiel Novak 

“Hello, Dean.” 

Read the full fic on AO3

Masterlist

Art Tumblr Masterpost  

Art on AO3

Art by @cryptomoon​

[ty-talks-comics]

Best of DC: Week of November 6th, 2019

Best of this Week: Legion of Doom #35 (Justice League #35) - Scott Snyder, James Tynion IV, Francis Manapul, HI-FI and Tom Napolitano

Doom is Here.

The Justice League is in shambles after the explosive events of the last issue which saw Starman’s death, The Anti-Monitor being coaxed back to his mother’s side and Hawgirl’s hubris leading to Perpetua regaining her lost power. Just when victory seemed at hand, it was ripped away in an instance and everything that Lex Luthor had planned and fought for was finally coming to fruition. We’ve all been wondering why the Symbol of Doom had been appearing above the skies of the DC Universe and now we know. Doom is winning.

This issue picks back up with the League still reeling from what just happened. Superman is defiant in the face of defeat, but the Starman of the Justice Society tells him that since the connection between him and the other Starmen is gone, then Will Payton the Starman of Earth-0, must have been killed in the battle. This leads Jarro to surmise that everything in Starman’s vision is coming true, that The Last Great Disaster was still coming. Kamandi sits in utter defeat, thinking of his world, the likely result of that disaster.

This is especially distressing for him because he had so much hope going into the time travel fight. He comes from such a horrible world where anthropomorphic animals are in a constant war with each other. He thought that everything was hopeless until Wonder Woman convinced him that e timeline was worth fighting for. It’s almost because of him that all of the other Leagues were brought together and given hope, so knowing that things didn’t go exactly according to plan is probably crushing him.

The Leagues that managed to get back to Earth-0 are unaware of what happened out in Space and don’t know that the Anti-Monitor took over the body that he had begun to share with his brothers, the Monitor and the World Forger. Superman thinks that they’ll still be able to get their help as they still have the pieces of The Totality (The macguffin that would have saved the universe), but Batman rationalizes that whatever happened out there must have been absolutely dire. As they go to check on Miss Martian and the other Titans, they find that she’s had a massive psychic wave wash over her because of the Symbol of Doom. Raven feels it too as all of the universes negative emotions are dragged to the surface and amplified. It’s not only this Earth and this universe that can see it. 

It’s all of them. 

Francis Manapul does an amazing job of capturing the scale and danger of Perpetua’s victory by stretching the Symbol of Doom across six vertical panels showing the other heroes of the world looking up at the sky. Batwoman in Gotham, Black Canary and Green Arrow in Seattle, The Marvels in Philadelphia, Swamp Thing and Detective Chimp in Louisiana, CATMAN IN TANZANIA and the Rocket Red Brigade in St. Petersburg all look toward the sky and see that Doom is coming for them all. Each of these panels are colored in Manapul’s almost airbrush-y style. They’re vibrant, but still give off that feeling of bad tidings. 

All of this is absolutely terrifying because there are so many villains and criminals active in the DC Universe. We’ve been seeing the result of Lex’s different offerings over the course of the various stories and while some like Jason Todd’s supervillain team are innocuous, others like Mr. Freeze have been committing absolute terrors in Gotham. Doom is seeping its way into the hearts of the people and they absolutely love it. Heck, this book even starts with a guy holding a sign in front of the Hall of Justice saying “Luthor was Right.”

It doesn’t stop there as it can be seen from Darkseid’s Ghost Sector, Oa, Barbatos’ prison in the Dark Multiverse, the Crime Syndicate’s Earth-3 (even though all of them are supposed to be dead) and even the World Orrery in the center of the Multiverse. The power of Doom itself stretches far and wide and one world gets an unfortunate taste of it. We are then transported to Earth-19, the Gotham by Gaslight Universe, as Bruce Wayne and Inspector Gordon look up to the sky, seeing the Symbol of Doom and Perpetua herself. 

The scene is painted in a beautiful purple hue and heavy inks. Everything feels utterly dark, not only because of the setting, but also because of the panic on the people's faces. They scream that they’ve gone man, that the world is ending. Perpetua condemns the world for being so primitive because of the heavy fog of industry and their lean towards Justice. Batman himself tries to call for help, but the signal is blocked. Perpetua takes notice of him and chastises him for his choices, and uses her power to begin the destruction of the world. Batman realizes the end is near and reveals the knowledge of the Multiverse to Gordon, who responds by asking what the hell can they do against her and Batman replies they’ll do what they can, a hero to the end.

Perpetua crashes her staff into Earth-19, sending a shockwave through the planet that cracks it apart with fire and thunder. Starting out with one wide shot panel of Perpetua towering over the city and slowly pulling in to the terror of the citizens running away, we can feel the fear and terror on the people’s faces. Even as Batman tries to save a frantic child amidst the utter destruction, we know that there is truly nothing he can do as Perpetua announces that there are now only Fifty-One Earths. It’s heartbreaking as it all ends with a distorted, yellow panel of Perpetua’s evil eyes. 

Meanwhile, Hawkgirl and Shayne (the child of Hawkgirl and Martian Manhunter) drift in the emptiness of space. Hawkgirl’s still suffering from her injuries at the hands of Lex Luthor, a result of her thinking that she would be able to get revenge for the death of J’onn J’onzz, but unfortunately allowing him to get the drop on her, causing the entire plan to go awry. There’s still a small bit of hope as Hawkgirl and Shayne manage to reach Batman on the Javelin’s comms. Batman warns them that they need to escape as quickly as they can as they won’t stay hidden for long. The warning rings true as Perpetua allows Luthor to hit the Javelin, stranding them in space and finally giving Luthor the reigns to attack the League head on. 

This issue was absolutely fantastic from start to finish. While I have criticized The Batman Who Laughs for being an OP character that always wins, that has always come with the caveat that he’s just another Batman and has plans on top of plans. Perpetua and Luthor are different because it is shown that there is a small chance that they can fail. The last issue planted that idea in our minds with Hawkgirl being the linchpin to their defeat, but her hubris allowed Doom to win. Perpetua took advantage and is now showing what happens to those that aren’t on her side.

I love tales on a cosmic scale and this book is building to bigger and better things, not only in one universe, but all of them. Perpetua is doing something similar to what Crisis on Infinite Earths did back in the 80s and is bringing together all of the different universes and systematically destroying them to make way for something better in her image. It’s not just the normal universes that are affected either, it’s the Dark Multiverse as well and if things are to be believed, the Tales from the Dark Multiverse books could be what makes Scott Snyder’s Justice League the center point for the next big Crisis.

Francis Manapul is pulling heavy duty with his work in this issue as everything looked amazing. The heroes looked like they were in utter defeat, designs were amazing as always and Perpetua looked absolutely threatening. She’s such an ethereal being with dark, dark shadows that have just a small splash of color in them. Her eyes are piercing and you can almost get the feeling that she can snap you out of existence at any moment. She’s a wonderful new addition to DCs cast of Cosmic characters and Manapul does an excellent job of portraying as a grand threat.

This run of Justice League and the stories that surround it, much like Dark Knights: Metal, are exactly what I’ve been looking for in comics. I love it when villains have their way and get their wins in. What makes this even better is that Perpetua and Apex Lex are absolutely compelling villains that make good, smart use of the situations that they find themselves in. Lex Luthor is finally achieving things that he tried back in the Villains United days, the Injustice Gang days and every other time he tried to achieve global domination, but failed. With the help of his new evil Cosmic mother, short of an evil alternate universe Batman, there is nothing that can stop them.

Doom is Here. Doom is Winning.

[ash-overthinking]

Where You’ve Been (13RW, Zach&Alex missing scene)

Fandom:

13 Reasons Why (TV show)

Characters/Pairing:

Zach Dempsey & Alex Standall (canon compliant/pre-slash)

Summary:

-"I wanna talk to Alex. Okay, look, I brought him something." -"What? 'Oh happy birthday Alex, here's a photo book of you in a coma'?" -"He told you about that?"

Sometime in the days before Alex's birthday party, Zach finds him struggling, a little book of graphic pictures in his lap.

Tags of Consequence: 

Missing scene; angst; references to canon suicide attempt and implied canon suicidality and depression; canon disabled character; pre-slash/gen.

Word Count:

2008

Read it on AO3

  Alex wasn’t entirely sure what he’d been thinking asking for the pictures. Maybe it was about trying to fill in the gaps, to see matter within the spaces of blurring and blankness. There was something about knowing his body had been put through so much shit, tests and operations and stitches and more than he could even begin to keep in his head, and totally without him, that left horror like a rock growing into his stomach and ribs. So, he wanted to know. Alex kept thinking if he learned enough, maybe he could recover the map to how his pieces were meant to fit. Maybe he could feel like he belonged here, in this body and mind and life.

  He hadn’t quite been glad Tyler took the pictures, really he didn’t care one way or the other, but- maybe he was kind of grateful?

  At least the other boy didn’t try to argue with Alex about seeing them, about what he was and wasn’t ready for. He didn’t even question or dispute when Alex asked if he could get them printed, taking Alex’s fumbled preface about screen-time and migraines at face value. Alex really fucking liked that about Tyler.

  Still. It probably wasn’t the healthiest choice?

  The pictures were in a little book now, one of those old-school photo albums with fake leather and vinyl, unlabeled and with a dozen empty pages. Alex could fill the latter of his own accord if he wanted to see his progress like Tyler had suggested, to watch the ghastly scars fade and disappear under his hair. Like a baby book, he could note the stupid little milestones he’d had to reach all over- waking up like being reborn; his first word post-coma; lifting his fucking head; taking a goddamn step. There were probably pictures of it all, but Alex would sooner burn or bury them than arrange them in some pseudo triumphant order.  

  The graphic journey back to his body imbued Alex with more heartbreak and revulsion than the pictures of him in the coma ever did. Memories he had but didn’t necessarily want, all an ode to his greatest failing.

  Most of the time he could try not to think about it. The moments of quiet devastation didn’t need talked about and there were even days he could appreciate things like second chances. If nothing else, he could distract himself with ways to be useful or at least become it. He gave himself wholly to that cause. If he was going to be here than he would damn well find a way to make the burden of his existence worth its while to all the people around him. Maybe eventually he could even believe himself that he was worth it.

  So, sure, ignorance was the opposite of bliss; but maybe there was a difference between abstract knowing and staring his own near-death in its face.

  All Alex knew was that the pictures drew him in, and in and in until he was locked inside a silence he couldn’t really breathe through, with all his senses disappearing.

  How could he do this to himself? Why couldn’t he have done it right?

  Hate surged like it always did, for this stupid fucking world with its stupid fucking people and its stupid fucking injustice and fucking him, Alex Standall, fuckup extraudinaire, at the boiling center. There were angry tears on his face and his bad hand curled around the photo album and his good hand in his hair, nails in his scalp just above the scar.

  He heard the creak of the door too late.

  “Hey- woah. Alex, what’s going on? What’s-” and Zach had cut himself off with a noise like nothing Alex had ever heard from him before as Alex’s stupid, broken grip tried to move to close the book and instead only managed to knock it from his lap so it landed, still open, inches from Zach’s feet.

  Frustration and humiliation reared, and Alex didn’t mean to yell; but he did anyway, curses exploding from that ugly place inside his chest.

  Zach didn’t respond, and the vitriol died about as quickly as it had come, even if the tears did not, still randomly tracking down his cheeks while he fought to focus on his friend. There would be time to dwell on all the ways he had ruined all the best things in his life later. For now, there was Zach.

  How one guy could look both so steady and so shaken, Alex would never know.

  “Alex, where the hell did you get this?” Zach asked finally.

  The quiet anger in his voice promptly put Alex right back on the defensive.

  “That’s not any any of your fucking business,” he heard himself snarl, the high pitch of a whine right beneath the words. Pathetic.

  Alex thought, barely there, that lately he made Hannah sound downright chill and self assured, and the inherent snipe at his once best friend brought him right back to earth, his stomach cramping and churning.

  How was it that someone like him had beaten the odds to live so many times in the last five months while someone like Hannah-

  No. He couldn’t keep going there.

  “Where the hell did you get these?” Zach asked roughly.

  Alex sighed and adjusted himself to sit back against his pillows, looking at his friend directly.

  “Can we not do this right now dude?”

  “Uh, no. We can’t… not do this right now. Dude.”

  Alex stared at him for a beat before succumbing to a tired snort of laughter. Zach huffed a little, the hint of a smile at the corner of one lip, but then it all faded away again. He bent to pick up the book with Alex watching carefully, his heart in his throat.

  Zach leafed through a few pages, then closed it with a sharp exhale. Alex thought he saw a shiver go through his friend and dropped his eyes to his sweatpants, guilt ebbing back to him, the rush of cold into his veins like saline through an IV.

  Zach paced for a minute then dropped restlessly onto the edge of Alex’s bed.

  “Who the fuck-,” he paused, took a breath, started again. “How did you get these?”

  “...I can’t tell you.”

  Zach turned to face him and Alex met his eyes. He could feel his hand tremor on his leg, all his muscles reacting to the continued distress. His body was always betraying him.

  “You really fucking can. Is this related to that target bullshit?”

  “No,” Alex reassured him, calming a little more with the opportunity to tell a helpful truth. “I swear.”

  “Yeah? How can you do that if you can’t tell me?”

  Alex groaned and sagged back against his bed but kept his eyes sideways on Zach.

  “If I do, you’ve got to be chill about it.”

  “Nah. Can’t promise that,” Zach retorted.

  Alex glared and Zach looked right back, determined, unaffected.

  “Okay, well, you have to promise you won’t go after the person.”

  Zach opened his mouth, very clearly to object, so Alex continued right along.

  “Seriously. I’m a big boy, Dempsey. I asked for the pictures. It’s my own fault.”

  Zach’s face twisted and smoothed back.

  “It was fucking Tyler, right?”

  Alex knew Zach well enough by now, if only just, to recognize the curl of his lip and tightening of his jaw. The darkness of his eyes. There was disgust, anger, frustration- and fear.

  The last softened Alex’s resolve.

  “He didn’t mean anything by it. I asked to see after he told me about taking them, man. I asked to see them, and I asked him to print them.”

  Zach nodded, but he was clearly unmoved.

  “I knew that creep was coming to the hospital so often for a reason. He’s not even your friend, Alex.”

  “He kind of is.”

  Zach snorted derisively and stood again, this time just standing over Alex in a way that made Alex want to roll his eyes, and also just stare up at him for awhile because holy shit, who gave him the right to look that much like a fucking tree?  

  “Alex, that creep is not your friend. A friend doesn’t take pictures of you when you’re inches from death. Especially without permission. And then, he just shows you? Gives you an album of prints?”

  “I asked to see them,” Alex protested again, his voice starting to crack. “I asked for the prints.”

  “And he gave them to you, man,” Zach said loudly. “The fact that he fucking took them in the first place…”

  “Photography is just what Tyler does,” Alex rationalized back to him, but it sounded dumb and half-hearted now.

  Zach stared at him, like he could hear in the words how Alex’s energy had fallen away, like he could see the whole heap of self-flagellation and emptiness Alex kept shoving back and throwing a blanket over as if to hide and disguise its shape. Alex wondered dimly how he could in turn almost see these things register with Zach, cut into him, and then disappear behind the wall he kept in his own mind.

  “Man, screw that. It’s fucked up. These first ones, Alex? They’re from just a few days after. You were still bleeding. We still had no idea if you were going to die. You had machines helping you breathe. Even if you didn’t fucking die, the doctors kept saying that you might never wake up.”

  “I know,” Alex told him lowly, eyes burning.

  Zach shot him a wounded look then shook his head and turned away.

  “And you’re still doing this to yourself? Alex, who does this help?”

  “I don’t know, me?” tossed out. Nothing words. Empty sarcasm.

  Zach’s scoff was like a weight on his chest. Alex wanted to scream, but he was so fucking drained already.

  “Nobody wants to talk really. And nobody wants to tell me things. It’s like I’m still barely a person to everyone.”

  Zach looked back at him, long and hard, and Alex’s good shoulder pulled up automatically, as though the defensive half-shrug could temper his words.

  “Alex…” Zach blew out a hard breath. “You’re a person, okay?”

  “I know.”

  “Did looking at the pictures help?”

  “I don't know,” Alex muttered. “Maybe.”

  “It didn’t look like it,” Zach countered, his voice more gentle now.

  “Yeah, well. That’s my own shit.”

  “Right,” Zach said, “Sure.” But when Alex looked at him, his jaw was tight and working. “Maybe you want to keep your distance from him, though?”

  Alex sighed.

  “I’m not ditching Tyler, Zach. He was there for me a lot, too. Anyways, it’s not like we see each other that much. He’s busy a lot with that guy, Cyrus or whatever. And between school and PT and Jess and you and my five thousand other appointments…”

  Zach smiled.

  “We do keep you pretty busy. Speaking of which, I’m totally in for your birthday party.”

  “Oh yeah? Those fuckheads you hang around are cool with that?”

  Zach ignored the jibe and laid down flat on his back across Alex’s bed, the weight of his head on Alex’s fucked up knee heavy and warm and welcome.

  “Don’t keep looking for things that will hurt you, okay?”

  “I’m not,” Alex tried to say, but he wasn’t sure either of them could believe it.

  “I mean it. You’re doing really great. You don’t want to screw over your progress for this shit that’s happening. Even if you think you do, the rest of us don’t, man. Just… take care of yourself.”

  “I would if I could. Broken dick, remember?”

   Zach laughed loudly.

  “Fuck you, Standall. You know what I meant.”

  “You know, that’s a good point,” Alex told him. “If I’m the one getting fucked, that’s actually still pretty doable.”

  Zach shook his head, but he was grinning.

  “You know, they said personality changes were to be expected after, but listen to you now. Same old Alex. Almost, anyway.”

  “I guess,” Alex agreed, the cold in his chest again. “Almost.”

[artificialqueens]

Dragometry Circa 1979 ~ Hobnob

AN: Ive been doing very successful things in 6th form and I’m a very successful student. As such i dropped english lit and took art instead. my passion for writing left me, but came back when i was looking at my dog sleep. He looked soft and i thought if he can do it, so can i. My friend mentioned in art how she ate a shroom once, and she forgot who she was for a bit and had a panic attack. I thought that sounded wicked and I wanted to embody that in this fic. Thanks Sarah

~Hobnob

Chi Chi dipped her hands in her pockets and turned them inside out. Alas, there was no cash to be found. Only some dead flies and a used condom.

Just her luck. She had no way of paying the rent and it was due in tomorrow! She continued to walk down the streets of Camden disappointedly.

Just then her train of thought was broken by the local newsboy.

“Extra extra! Read all about it! Daily mail halfa shilling!” Little Bendela yelled in his school uniform.

Chi Chi approached him but in a non predatory way because she didn’t mess around with little kids like that.

“What’s in the news today little boy?” She asked, spitting on the floor.

“Im 26 ma'am” He answered in a cockney tone, his little red cheeks growing hot with rage.

“You’ll use no such tone with me boy!” Chi Chi said slapping the twat. “I’ll have a paper please.”

Little boy Bendelacreme sobbed and handed over the paper. Chi Chi opened it up and could barely believe what she was seeing.

“Blimey! A battle of the bands today with a cash prize of 100,000 quid!!” She exclaimed dropping into a perfect split in joy.

“Oo aye right you are mista! Down at the old theatre where all those donkeys were found!” Bendela added.

An idea formed in Chi Chi’s mind. The amount of rent she had to pay happened to be exactly 100,000 pounds conveniently enough.

“You know what? I’m going to enter!”

Ben began bursting into laughter as his little round face lit up with glee. “Oho thats a gaff if i ever did hear one! Everyone knows ur tone deaf miss Devayne, ever since you exploded that donkey.” He chuckled, wiping away a salty tear.

“Shut the fuck up.” Chi Chi said, slapping the cunt again to put him in his place. “You’ll speak when told to boy.”

“Even if you wanted to enta miss Devayne, yous need three or more band members. You know, like the Beatles and such.” Ben said whilst on the floor in agony clasping his face.

“Three or more members hm?” She said, scratching her stubble. “Fancy joining my band?”

“No can do, i gots to sell all these papers or my mum won’t let me in the house. Good luck miss.” He responded, already halfway down the street in fear of getting another beating. Silly silly little boy.

“UR MUMS A FILTHY SKETT GET BACK HERE.” Chi Chi shouted at him as he ran. It was no use. He was gone faster than Lance Armstrong on steroids.

Even Bendelacreme being a little batty crease couldn’t dampen her mood at this point. She was ready to win that battle of the bands with a total bop of a song.

She would create the next Oasis, the next Blur, the next Smashmouth.

But first she needed bandmates…

Just then she spotted Britney Spears vouging down the street looking like a complete plebb. It was better than nothing.

“Oi Britney! Yeah get over here!”

“My names Derrick” the blonde said, making her way over.

“Want to be in my band?”

“Lol Sure”

Disgusting. She was perfect. She wasn’t visibly on any heroin, and had shopping bags from tesco, so she wasn’t on benefits either.

“Sick, you’re going to play synth.”

“Like fuck i am.” Derrick said, embroiled with rage. “I was classically trained on the guitar.”

Chi Chi raised her mighty hand in slapping formation to Derrick. She needed to be taught some manners.

“YOULL PLAY syNTH WANKSTAIN.”

Derrick nodded before snatching the paper for herself. There it was. Right next to the article about the Piers Morgan donkey scandal. In big bold comic sans spelt ‘Battle of the bands.’

“Fat chance of us entering with two members.” Derrick roared.

“I’m working on it ffs get off my back.” Chi Chi screamed.

Just then she felt her tummy rumble. It was a deep and low rumble, akin to that of a barking dog, or even perhaps even a bin lorry driving by in the early hours of the morning.

Yes, Chi cHi was hungry. But she didn’t have any money. She spent her last paycheck on a lotto ticket.

“Let’s discuss this over a hearty Nando’s shall we?” she said, slapping Derrick on her manly toned back. “You’re paying.”

Derrick threw the paper to the floor. “I can’t pay. I spent all my money on Xanax and Tesco’s. All i got is a quid.”

She was right. A quid isn’t Nando’s money. Its Pick and Mix money at best. She’d just have to think of something fast.

“Lets beg like in oliver twist.” Chi Chi suggested. Derrick seemed to agree, but maybe that was because she threatened to beat her up earlier.

Just then Chi Chi set her eyes on someone walking down the street. Quick as a monkeynut with a jackhammer she made her way over to the individual and held out her hands.

“Please sir, can i ave’ some more?” Chi Chi said sadly, some eye infection goo coming out of her eyes instead of tears.

The individual looked confused for a moment, then got a ladle of porridge from her handbag and dropped it wetly into her hands.

“What the fuck it this. I didn’t want porridge did i, I wanted some money or something.”

“Oh sorry lol” the stranger offered taking back the porridge for later. “I don’t own any money at the moment. Teresa May and all.”

Chi Chi nodded agreeingly. “In that case do you want to join our band?”

The stranger nodded and sealed the deal with a wicked fistbump.

“My names Naysha Lopez. Synth extrordanair.”

“Your going to be on synth.”

“Well yes i just said-”

Chi Chi slapped her hard in the face in a fit of fury. Her word was law. She was the big dog.

“Aight we’re ready to rock. Let’s go back to my place.”

Derrick and Naysha nodded, getting into her 2003 Volkswagen that Chi Chi won in a game of chess.

The van was full of hippy shit. Fuckugly tie dye shirts, 42 vinyl albums of the Stone Roses, and a massive bong full of old weedwater.

“First we need to get our looks right.” Derrick suggested, taking out a large pair of scissors and hacking at her hair.

“And what we’re going to play.” Naysha added, beating out a mad eurobeat synth solo.

“Lads.” Chi Chi stopped them both, raising her hands. “Its not about how you look or sound.” She said sincerely, patting Derrick on the shoulder. “It’s about how much acid you take.”

She took out a small plastic bag with three tabs of acid, passing them out. They each popped the paper on their tongues and felt it dissolve.

“Alright now we’ve done that we should really figure out what we’re going to play.” Naysha said, picking the synth back up.

“How about we theme the song around the hardships of love.” Derrick said, sitting on a beanbag surrounded by her own hair.

“We-lets…lets wait like…half an hour. you’ll have better ideas.” Chi Chi added, taking a massive rip out of the dirty bong.

Half an hour later after hotboxing the camper van Chi Chi looked at her Casio sports watch.

“Oh dude the battle of the bands is in half an hour.”

“Shiit” Derrick said, her jaw hanging slack. “So what about if we came out on the stage in-in like picture this. We come out in geometrical shape costumes.”

“Yeah like Dragometry.” Naysha added, unable to move her head.

“Oh yeah meta..” Derrick nodded, writing it down, except the pen she was using was a cheese string and there was no paper.

“I have some old Capri Sun multi pack boxes in the back, let’s go out completely naked covered in those.” Chi Chi said, snapping her fingers.

Everyone clapped for the sheer excellence of that very notion. Around ten minutes later they were all naked and covered in Capri Sun boxes.

“Oh man.” Derrick said poking Nayshas body that was now unconscious on the floor. “Nayshas passed out and the battle of the bands is in like 20 minutes.”

“Yeah just like…” Chi Chi rubbed her finger over Derricks mouth in a shushing motion. “Just like i saw in um…nature shows, you pour water in their mouths and they’re fine…so…”

Derrick nodded taking a half empty Capri Sun and pouring it into Nayshas mouth. It began to bubble as Naysha hacked and coughed it out.

“Aaah there she is. Party animal.” Chi Chi laughed. “Alright let’s write a song.”

“I was thinking, we sing about the shapes we are, and sing about societal struggles and riots in london and an unfair corrupt justice system.” Naysha said swallowing the gargled Capri Sun and getting off the floor.

“I’m liking the first bit, like shapes and shit.” Chi Chi said, igniting the engine of the car and speeding away. “Were probably ready i think lets go perform.”

“You just hit a little boy selling papers back there.”

“Nah dude ur tripping.” Chin Chin said turning on the windshield whispers to get the blood off.

When they finally arrived after driving down the A38 the battle of the bands was underway. The entrance was bustling with people eager to see the peformances.

As the trio made their way through the crowd they got some funny looks, but maybe because they were wearing cardboard boxes and were sticky from Capri Sun juice.

Once they got to the bouncer he stopped them from getting through with a grunt.

“Oi leds, restricted area, bands only.” He said in a thick nothern tone.

“Oh? Haven’t you heard?” Chi Chi spoke confidently, her eyes facing different directions due to all the acid. “We’re the new band on the block!”

The bouncer simply shook his head.

“Oive never seen yous before. Whatre you’re names?”

They all pondered for a second before Naysha snapped her fingers.

“We’re Dragometry, the geometric power trio unsatisfied with social injustice.” She said proudly burping halfway through her sentence.

The bouncer looked stunned for a moment before nodding. “Meta…” he said letting them all through.

When they got inside they could scope out the competition. It seems the entirety of Camdens music scene had gathered to win that 100,000 quid.

As they made their way inwards they were stopped by a group of angry looking new yorkers.

“Oh looky here lads, what do we gots.” One of them said, cracking their knuckles.

“Looks likea buncha whimps to me!” Another one said snickering.

Naysha burst out in tears. Chi Chi had to do something for the credibility of her band!

“We’re only the greatest musicians since Cher Loyd.” She retorted with her quick drug induced whit. “Who are you?”

The three new Yorkers struck a dynamic pose and exclaimed in unison.

“We are Street Meats! Betty, Bob and Thorgy!!!”

“Gay.” Derrick said, picking some broccoli out of her teeth.

“Alright well, later lads.” Chi Chi said, pushing past the entitled fuckers. Bloody Americans.

“Not so fast!!” Bob said, grabbing her by the shoulders. “This is our turf, see? And we don’t take too kindly to people trying to get our 100,00 dollars!”

“Fuck i left the engine on.” Chi Chi said, turning to Naysha.

“We have a little bet to propose.” Thorgy said, taking out a hostage from her guitar case. “Win and we’ll leave forever. Loose…and we’ll kill this hostage.”

Derrick poked the hostage in the belly and scratched her stubble in consideration.

“Mmmmmm” She said, thinking hard. “…N-…..n…..hmmmmm. No.”

“Oh?” Acid betty said chuckling manically. “Did we forget to mention the hostage happens to be…THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND?”

“SHIIIT” Chi Chi bawled, sobbing into her hands.

“C-challenge accepted.” Naysha said, her eyes beginning to well up. “Don’t worry your majesty…we’ll get you out of this…” she said holding the queens wrinkled hands.

“Oi thanks lads.” The queen responded. Adjusting the crown on her head.

Just like that Thorgy stuffed her back in his guitar case and threw it into the coat room.

“Good luck ladies.” Bob chuckled, fist bumping Acid Betty as they walked away.

Things had just gotten serious. Now the common wealth was in their hands. Chi Chi felt sick.

“What are we going to do?” Derrick cried. His hands were shaking.

She took a deep breath and stood up straight, adjusting her cardboard box.

“I’ll tell you exactly what we’re going to do. We’re going to win this fucking battle of the bands, and then we’re going to be knighted by the queen of England, thats what we’re going to do.” Chi Chi said in a confident voice.

With newfound confidence the trio patted each-other on their naked sweaty backs. The first band had just begun to play. Les Chicken Wings they called themselves.

They were pretty sick ngl. A bit like The Clash but with cross dressers.

“BUY OUR VYNIL IN THE BACK.” The lead vocalist screamed once the band finished up. Chi Chi turned around and there stood Little boy Bendelacreme selling vinyls!

“Oh shit what happened to you.” She asked, grimacing at his horribly mangled body.

“I was left disfigured when you ran me over earlier. Would you like to buy a vinyl?” He said, holding out a disk in his bloodied hands.

Chi Chi flicked a shilling in his direction and took one.

“Lighten up miss Chi Chi! You look awful nervous.”

“I suppose you could say that.” She admitted, looking at the floor and shuffling her feet.

“Wotts wrong?”

“Well i managed to get a band together but instead of practicing we went back to my van and took acid so now we’re wearing cardboard boxes and we don’t have a song to perform, and if we fuck up the queen of England dies.”

“Hmmm, i think i saw this on an episode of friends once!” Ben said cheerily, his broken bones making a crunching noise as he smiled. “Joey told Chandler to believe in himself, and everything turned out aight.”

Chi Chi nodded. “Yeah.” She said under her breath.

She just needed to believe in herself. She had the music in her. If she didn’t give up she’d win the battle of the bands for sure.

“Thats right Chi Chi, believe in yourself.” A mystery voice said. She looked up.

Bloody hell! It was the Beatles! Here to perform for the whole of Camden!

“John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison, Ringo Starr, What are you doing here?” She said excitedly.

“We’re here to tell you to never give up.” John said in a liverpoolian accent.

“Yeah, you can do it.” Ringo said, smiling.

“Thanks the Beatles! I won’t let you down!”

“Yeah, its like we say in Yellow Submarine, “Rah, rah, ah, ah, ah, roma, roma, ma. Gaga, ooh, la, la… want your bad romance.” Paul added, patting Chi Chi on the shoulder.

“Now go out there and sing! Sing like the commonwealth depends on it!” George said inspiringly.

Chi Chi was ready. She heard somebody call them to the stage. Grabbing her synth she felt her fingers trembling.

Showtime.

She looked at her bandmates.

Derrick was holding the synth upside down.

Nayshas costume had fallen off do she was completely naked.

They were ready.

They each played the opening chords and leaned into the microphones.

“We are the girls of Dragometry. All shapes and sizes are what we bring” Each of them sang in harmony, feeling the rhythm and LSD run through their veins.

“Rectangle girls of the world” they yelled, feeling their metaphorical oats.

“Around every girl, in a circle I run You can be square, hon, but don’t be a nun” Naysha said into the mic, shining like the star she was.

“We just wanna celebrate. No matter the size, no matter the shape!”

The rest of the performance went pretty stellar in Chi Chis opinion. She came up with a particularly good line about being a bumblebee, and Derrick was bopping out like it was nobodies business.

The performance concluded.

Silence filled the room.

There was a moments pause as the audience was stunned. It was as if the spirit of Freddy Mercury had possessed them all on stage and caused them to create the single most amazing tune in the world.

“You guys suck wang!!” A member of the audience shouted, as the crowd began to boo.

What?

The booing continued. How could that be? They created a total bop!

“Hey look! Their music killed John Lennon!” Another audience member yelled.

Chi Chi looked over to a very dead John foaming at the mouth twitching on the floor.

“They killed a member of the Beatles. Kill them! Blood for blood!!!” The crowd yelled, throwing empty bottles at Kopparberg at the trio.

They dodged the bottles and swiftly ran backstage and sighed together.

“I don’t get it. I thought that went well.” Chi Chi said sadly, throwing her cardboard box to the ground in defeat.

“I thought my stepford wife line was sick.” Derrick said sadly.

“I did too! And that circle thing Naysha said was totally tubular.” Chi Chi agreed.

They all sat down on the floor waiting for their inevitable demise. The audience would find a way backstage and shank them all to death for sure. Plus the Queen of England was probably going to die, and they lost the bet against Street Meats.

Soon enough they all heard banging on the door and angry yells. This was the end.

“It was good doing acid with the two of you.” Chi Chi said, holding both their hands.

“Yeah, thanks for seeing past the fact i look like Britney spears.” Derrick replied, squeezing her hand.

“And thanks for saving me earlier when i was passed out.” Naysha smiled sadly, still fully naked.

They all sat together and accepted their fate.

Just before they were mobbed by angry fans, a woman appeared in front of them.

Jesus! It was Debby Harry!

“Hey buckos” she said lighting a ciggy.

“Blondie? What are you doing here?” Chi Chi gasped, standing up in shock.

“I’m here to tell you to never give up fuckheads. That performance out there was absolutely shocking, but you still have a chance at saving the Queen.”

They all looked at their feet sadly.

“It’s no use world famous singer Debby Harry, if we go out there, we’ll be killed.” Naysha cried, wiping away some eye infection goo.

Debby slapped her hard in the face.

“You know. I used to go out on stage off my tits on LSD, stumbling around, saying nonsense about bumblebees. But i never gave up. Soon i moved on to singing about hearts of glass and it was lit. Everybody loved it.” Debby said with wisdom and a knowing look.

“Get out there and give them an encore they’ll never bloody forget!!”

Filled with newfound confidence the trio cheered and high fived. Blondie had given them the courage to go back out there.

They got back on stage and Chi Chi grabbed a mic.

“There they are!!” An angry hipster yelled.

“Kill them!” Another roared.

“Wait wait.” Chi Chi hushed them, raising her hands. “You see those people over there?” She continued, pointing over to Street Meats who were leaning against the wall eating mini sausage rolls.

“They have the Queen of England in their guitar case!!” Naysha said as Street Meats started to look panicked. “They said they would kill her if we didn’t win!”

The crowds attention turned from Dragometry to Bob Acid and Thorgy. They circled the guitar case slowly.

“Look- we can explain.” Bob began, backing away.

But it was too late. They unzipped the case and the Queen fell out. She got up and looked around.

“Wait a minute…” an audience member said, leaning in to examine her face. “This isn’t the Queen!!!”

Muttering and mumbles erupted in the room as somebody moved forward and pulled off the queens wig and crown.

“Jesus christ!! It’s Bono!!”

Bono escaped through the door like a startled deer into the woods. Fuck.

“Nobody cares about Bono. GET DRAGOMETRY!!”

Another bottle was thrown at Chi Chi, then another. The last thing she remembered was Paul McCartney hitting her directly in the forehead with a bottle of Carling.

Then complete blackness.

-

A few hours pass.

She feels comfort under her heavy body.

And a sharp pain in her forehead.

As Chi Chi opens her eyes she’s greeted to Little boy Bendelacreme in a well lit room with white walls.

“Ben??” She says weakly. “Where am i?”

“Ayup miss Devayne! Your in hospital. Bottle got you in the head i say. Right in the noggin.”

Chi Chi was confused. She turned her head and saw the three remaining Beatles standing over her bed looking apologetic.

“Yeah, sorry Chi Chi, we shouldn’t of lashed out like that.” Ringo said, his massive nose drooping with sadness.

“But i killed John.” Chi Chi said sadly.

“Nah, it was a drug overdose. Nothing to do with you at all!”

They all laughed together in unison. What a funny coincidence!

But Chi Chi couldn’t hear the laugh of her two best friends, Derrick and Naysha. She frowned again, rubbing her forehead. She feared the worst

“Where are my bandmates?” She asked, almost scared to get a response.

Bendelacreme took of his hat and held it to his chest, looking down to the floor.

“No idea I’m afraid.” George admitted, shrugging his shoulders. “Maybe they…managed to escape.”

Chi Chi liked that idea…but no. Her friends were gone. Probably trampled to death. She felt a great gap in her heart where her two best friends in the world used to be.

But for now, she was just grateful to be alive in a warm hospital bed, knowing that the Queen of England was completely safe.

She remembered what Naysha said at the end of their number.

Thank you, thank you.

Be different.

love yourself.

Love yourself.

[honeygrey]

A Twisted Hero’s Journey (SW meta)

I’m not the best when it comes to writing metas, but i was watching something on netflix and this popped into my head

“All hero’s journeys begin with the hero at rest in their home culture.

So one particular stage is the call to adventure. An outsider figure comes and calls them to adventure—says, “Come on, Luke. You’ve got to go do something now and help this girl.”

He embarks on a journey into the unknown, a run that’s usually much more crowded with the supernatural.

The hero is tested in these strange surroundings, and has to pass various trials in order to continue. Within that realm he meets various mentors and also various companion figures, who become sort of an entourage that he travels around with.

Typically he then has a near death experience-type adventure, where he plunges down into some kind of abyss.

But the hero survives this moment and achieves perhaps new knowledge or a treasure as a reward, and then he flees, pursued by the enemy.

From which he arises transformed, capable of fulfilling the quest on which he started out.

There’s one final test, and that is often a moment of life or death. The hero has to use all the knowledge he’s gained up until this far to come through that and succeed.

The end result, is a new world, a new status quo that comes into being.” (Myths and Monsters, season 1: episode 1)

Why the first 2 movies placed such importance on the burning temple scene, is because it’s the true beginning. This trilogy is the third Skywalker trilogy—father, son, grandson…but this time it has two heroes. Rey the traditional hero, and Ben follows the same path...except with a twist. 

With Rey’s journey—each step if easily adapted. She leaves her life on Jakku to bring BB8 back to the Resistance, and meets Han and Chewie along the way like Luke did in the original trilogy. Around the same time, she discovers her connection to the force, and runs into Kylo Ren. After escaping her cell, she find Han and the others in time to watch her first mentor die (think Obi-wan dying in front of Luke in ep iv). She battles an injured Kylo Ren and survives, fleeing the first order with Finn and Chewie. In TLJ she finds her new mentor, Luke, after finally accepting her force abilities and Anakin’s lightsaber. From here, she travels to Kylo Ren, deciding that Luke was wrong about Ben Solo ever being “light.” By trusting him, Kylo Ren/Ben and Rey defeat Snoke like Vader with Palpatine, and bring about a new world…maybe not one she understands or wants, but none the less, “a new order.”

As a side note: I don’t consider Luke Rey’s second master, because she never really learns anything from him, beside “reach out and feel the force.” She never internalizes anything else he says regarding jedi, believing the light side is the only way to use the force--despite acting just as emotionally as kylo ren at points (i.e. attacking luke with her staff from behind)

Ben Solo’s story is much darker. It starts with him fully indoctrinated in the Jedi lifestyle—his uncle and mother, who he probably spent more time with than Han, where legends and leaders. They decided to train him, which would lead to Snoke discovering and calling out to Ben. The destruction of the temple lead Ben to joining Snoke (who would want to have a sit-down conversation with parents who abandoned and lied to you, as well as someone who just tried to murder you in your sleep?). With the fo, he has to learn how to use the dark side, and live up to snoke’s expectations and quests (like killing other jedis and force church people). Personally, I believe the Knights of Ren are something that existed before Ben turning into Kylo Ren, and he quickly rose through their ranks as someone who was highly skilled and force sensitive—this gives him his own crew of storm troopers to command as he carries out snokes missions (finding Lor San Tekka to find Luke). Unlike Rey who overcomes Kylo Ren in battle, he is met with failure (yoda: “the greatest teacher, failure is”), and Snoke makes sure he knows after he flees starkiller with Hux and Phasma. This loss makes him act bolder, more reckless (tfa he begs snoke to be given a chance to prove himself; tlj he stands up to snoke…twice!), and also presents the whole force-bond thing. He begins to connect with Rey, and discovers someone who is willing to listen to him (his treasure, like Rey and the lightsaber). Because of this connection, he finds the conviction to kill snoke by becoming sneakier, smarter (more sith like, but with more noble/grey intentions).

In my previous post, I made a few predictions about episode ix…but I’m going to alter them a little bit with the realization that this next movie, but run through the cycle a second expedited time.

· There’s a time lapse, to establish renperor’s new order (head canon: ben solo is really good with children, but terrible with other adults); rey is used to life among the resistance, and deepening her tie with the force, but doesn’t open a jedi academy (they’re in the middle of a bloody war!)

· Hux tells him, they learned about something the resistance plans on attacking, mentioning Rey (“the girl who killed Snoke”) to manipulate Kylo Ren in going himself (because he has to pretend he wants revenge on the person who killed the former leader, and also because [whether rey reciprocates or not] he has reylo feels).

· The resistance hears about their movements and is confused, so they travel to the planet, too, including rey in the millennium falcon.

· There, Hux stages a coup, ordering the stormtroopers to murder Kylo Ren to make it look like the Resistance did it, but he’s able to defend himself, and flees with his life, but injured. He might meet up with the Knights of Ren here, or Luke’s other ex-jedis.

· Eventually he comes in contact with Rey again. She’s disappointed in him, but not enough to let him die. Also Chewie and him need a better reunion and hash it out.  

· He never becomes light, but learns to accept both sides—he also becomes her mentor in utilizing the dark side.

· At the end of the movie, they show up together and aid the Resistance/New Republic, in bringing down the First Order. Him leading the attack (sith=offense, jedi=defense). Although it feels repetitive, I would love it if it showed the resistance trying to attack him, not knowing where his loyalties lie.

Ultimately, Ben shouldn’t die—it sends a bad message, “the only way to redeem yourself is to sacrifice your life and die. Become a martyr.” Instead, like Karl Doenitz (the guy who became president of germany after hitler died), be punished for his complicit crimes, but not sentenced to death, and living out the rest of his life in relative obscurity following his release. This would be a change from Han and Luke receiving medals to Ben Solo willingly accepting his sentence. It would also be a bittersweet moment for leia (I don’t want them to kill her off, but write her character into an off-screen role—they had multiple opportunities to kill her in tlj and doing it off-screen would be an injustice to the character and carrie fisher) and rey, who believe in ben again, just to be separated. 

[notsoguiltykpop]

I would love to read a ghost's Yoongi or maybe JK POV but that level of angst would probably shatter my heart. (I would read, enjoy and love it anyway lol) - 🍑

I feel like you probably didn’t want this, but here you go~

The Ghost in Apartment 1403 drabble from Jungkook and Yoongi’s point of view

Jungkook slid the door to Namjoon’s hospital room open slowly. Yoongi had gotten a phone call almost as soon as they had set foot in the building, giving him some time alone with Namjoon. It was always weird visiting him like this, seeing the IV stuck in his arm, hearing the whirring of the machines and the beep-beeping of the heart monitor. Jungkook didn’t think he’d ever get used to it.

He hoped he wouldn’t have to. 

He knew it was stupid to keep hoping that Namjoon would one day open his eyes and life would return to the way it had been. The doctors had been very clear that that was highly unlikely, and that even if Namjoon did wake up one day, he probably wouldn’t be the same person he had known. People didn’t often recover from this sort of thing, Jungkook knew that. 

“Hey, Namjoon.” He said as he pulled a chair over so he could sit by Namjoon’s bed, it had become something he didn’t even think about anymore over the last five months. “It’s me, Jungkook. I’m here just like I always am every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Are you sick of me yet?” He paused as though waiting for a response. 

“That girl–the one that knew us in highschool that I don’t remember taking a math class with? She showed up at the studio today, I think she must have missed you. I showed her around, she’s really nice and kind of cute. I still can’t believe you never mentioned her.” Another pause. 

“You and Yoongi must have fought over her. That’s why she said she and Yoongi have a complicated relationship, right? She picked you over him, so maybe that’s why you never talked about her. I’m surprised we never run into her here, though. She clearly cares about you, so she must visit.”

“Anyway, enough about her. Work has been crazy busy recently. Yoongi and I have been picking up as many jobs as we can, but we can’t keep up. And I think Yoongi still blames himself for what happened, thinks if he hadn’t lost his temper with you that you somehow wouldn’t have gotten hit by that car. He doesn’t talk about it much, but I can tell. But don’t worry about us, Namjoon. We’re managing. It’d just be easier if you were here.”

Jungkook looked down at his hands for a moment before reaching over and holding Namjoon’s limp one; he read online that was supposed to help. “You’ll get through this. You have to.” 

It was then that Jungkook thought, for just a second, that Namjoon’s hand slowly and slightly gripped his own. 

Three weeks later, there was no improvement. Jungkook had wasted no time in calling a nurse, and the next thing he knew he was shoved out into the hall as a doctor hurried in and tests were done. He wasn’t technically family, so couldn’t over hear anything to do with Namjoon’s medical records. Taehyung came to wait with he and Yoongi only for the three of them to be told hours later that it probably didn’t mean anything. 

“They’re going to monitor him closely. There was a spike in brain activity, but he still isn’t responding to his name or acting on command.” Namjoon’s sister had told them. “The best thing we can do is keep visiting him and talking to him like we have been, and not jump to any conclusions.”

Yoongi visited him one late night after a fight with Jungkook. He couldn’t believe how naive Jungkook could be sometimes. To have let a complete stranger into Namjoon’s office, to believe such a stupid lie like they knew each other in high school… Though, maybe that was on Yoongi, too. You hadn’t been the only one to lie to Jungkook that night. 

Yoongi had known perfectly well what an impact his words had on Jungkook. Ever since they first met, when Jungkook was still an awkward middle schooler and Yoongi was going through his angsty-punk phase, Jungkook had always taken his older friends’ words to heart. Yoongi knew this, knew that if he said it was true that Jungkook likely wouldn’t even question it, and he had lied to his face.

Yoongi wasn’t sure why he couldn’t bare to speak the truth that night. Maybe it was because while talking to you, Jungkook had looked the closest to happy that he had been in a while. What was the harm in letting him think you were an old friend?

And he had known you in middle school, so you weren’t just some stranger. Back then, you were sweet, cried easily, and the only time you made a fuss about anything was when you were standing up for someone else, even for Yoongi one time. You couldn’t stand injustice. You didn’t have a malicious bone in your body back then, so how bad could you be?

But a lot could change in the years that you hadn’t seen each other. Yoongi certainly had. It hadn’t taken him long to realize that people would crush anyone they thought they could get away with, so Yoongi had made himself as prickly as possible to make it clear to the world that he wasn’t someone to mess with. In the process, he had pushed people away and closed himself off. It was something Namjoon was always lecturing him about, saying that he should be kinder, give people the benefit of a doubt sometimes. 

“Hey Namjoon, it’s Yoongi.” He said as he dragged a chair over to sit by Namjoon. “Namjoon, I…I can’t do this.” He said as he propped his elbows on the bed and sunk his head into his hands. “I’ve been trying so hard to look out for them, I have. But Taehyung has been MIA for the last three weeks, he’s been ignoring Jungkook and my texts and calls. The only reason we know he’s okay is because Jimin ran into his mother at the grocery store. She said being around us is just too hard for him right now. I guess I get that.” Yoongi took a shaky breath. “I think he and Jungkook fought about something before he cut us out, I don’t know about what, though. You’ve always been better at sorting out that kind of thing than me. They talk to you. 

“I just make things worse. Like tonight, when I should have been telling Jungkook that everything would be fine, that we’d figure it out somehow, what did I do? I blamed him. Oh, by the way, your album has been leaked onto the internet under a different name, and it’s my fault. None of this would have happened if I’d been honest with Jungkook. But I was just trying to protect him, Namjoon. That’s all. I didn’t know.” Yoongi gritted his teeth, he needed to pull himself together. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Namjoon.” 

Yoongi’s phone started ringing, and he was about to send it to voicemail when he saw who it was. 

“Jungkook.” He said, bringing the phone up to his ear.

“Yoongi, it’s me.” He recognized your voice instantly. “Look, Jungkook is here–in my apartment, I mean. He’s drunk, and I don’t think he knows which way is up let alone where he lives. Can you come get him?” 

After retrieving Jungkook from your apartment–he still couldn’t believe you were living where Namjoon used to, it took your stalking to a whole other level–Jungkook suggested getting something to eat. He still seemed a little on the tipsy side, but at least he could walk on his own. 

Yoongi stopped right before they entered the restaurant, looking down at his shoes. “Jungkook.” He said, and the younger turned around, tilting his head to one side and raising an eyebrow quizzically. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m sorry.” Yoongi said. He had asked himself what Namjoon would say he should do, and the answer was simple: apologize. “It wasn’t your fault, not at all. I never should have said it was. If anyone is to blame, it’s me.”

Jungkook studied him for a moment. “If you want to point fingers, it’s her fault the songs leaked, not yours or mine.” Jungkook said. “But that isn’t the only thing you’re saying sorry for, is it?” 

That was the unnerving thing about Jungkook; he could read Yoongi even when he was sure there was nothing to give away what he was thinking or feeling. “Sometimes I still wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t lost my temper with him that morning.” Yoongi said quietly, still not looking directly at Jungkook.

“And I’ll probably always wonder if she would have gotten those files if I hadn’t literally unlocked Namjoon’s door for her.” Jungkook slung an arm around Yoongi, something that had always mildly annoyed the elder. It was a reminder that Jungkook was a good head taller than him, and wasn’t something Yoongi appreciated. “But we can’t beat ourselves up over ‘what if’s.’ We’re doing our best, and you know what? I think Namjoon would be proud of us.”

Yoongi nodded. Jungkook was right, they were both doing their best in the situation, and that was what counted. That was what Namjoon would have cared about, and there was nothing more that they could do. 

“Let’s get some lamb skewers, I’m starving.” Yoongi said, ducking out from under Jungkooks arm and heading for the door to the restaurant. “You’re paying, by the way.” 

“Hah, no way. You owe me.” Jungkook snorted, sending a text to Taehyung to meet them there. Maybe he’d show up, or maybe he wouldn’t, but it had been too long since the three of them had seen each other outside of a club or the hospital. If there was one thing Jungkook was sure of, it was that Namjoon would want them to be happy, and that was what Jungkook wanted to be that night.

[noctomania]

makin moves

well not quite yet. but i do have an appointment to view a new apartment! idk how its gonna pan out, i know very little about the current occupants and such but what i do know is: they like a quiet house (amen), they are older which doesnt mean all that much but perhaps it means they will be tired like me, and they seem easy to communicate with. They have also managed to keep several plants alive while also having a cat so these are good signs of responsible adulting.

SooOOooo ill be going to take a look on sunday afternoon. i probably shouldnt even be mentioning it because im slightly superstitious and tend to believe that things dont work out because i talk/think too much about them ahead of decision making but realistically its just life playing out the way it would anyway. this is something ive been looking forward to for several months now and this is just the beginning! my lease isnt up until end of aug but i been tryin to ensure this move ends up being one of the smoothest i have ever experienced bc after years of pretty much just me moving myself i think i deserve that much - to not have the same amount of stress even if it ends up being the same amount of work anyway.

also low key hoping that the universe has gotten its negative energy out through the amount of rejections and non-responses ive already experienced since begining my search, and that now it's my time to win. It would be a novel concept for me to find and secure a place even a month out for once. Dont talk to me about last minute shit until you have to move an apartment's worth of furniture and belongings practically by yourself within a week. just dont. (im being only slightly dramatic bc i have felt no vindication for being an adult and that is just injustice but ill be ok)

also feel sliiiiightly guilty bc while im all like please give me this room etc etc at the same time i know, i KNOW, if i were to find an affordable studio or 1bed room that i would drop these people in an instant and pretend i never spoke to them. like i wanna be alone again so fuckin bad but its just not financially realistic. Mentally emotionally totally realistic and probably healthy, but financially...nah no devil gonna buy my soul today i been lookin. def not mad about the place im going to see tho.

its within awesome walkin distance to work, has laundry on site, i would have an extra lil office space bc the bedroom kinda smol, the utilities are really affordable, and i would be living with guys again for only the second time in my life. the first time i lived with guys was absolutely wonderful, some of the best roommates ive ever had. it does cost more than i pay now but still well within my budget and without taking on more roommates.

what worries me a lot about this whole process is my mental state, which hasnt been the best lately and a lot of that is due to my current roommates. i worry about making a bad decision out of desperation to get away from my current roommates. because my current roommates every month at least one of them will be late on rent (this has been goin on for like 6months straight now), and/or utilities (which i pay up front) dont take care of their chores (ex: the one i charge of cleanin the kitchen has not once even swept the kitchen floor...until now! and she swept it into a big pile that is still just sitting there next to the trash...) and more generally a bunch of lil things adding up to my discomfort. just to not feel like the stress of "well whos gonna be late his month" at the end of every month seems like a novel concept to me now.

if these guys accept me i dont know that ill be able to contain myself. ill be so tempted to tell off my current roommates and just not give a single fuck about anything. im tired of comin back to an apartment that smells like bo, to various strangers comin in and out, to tumbleweeds of hair trailing across the apartment, to people gettin upset that someone is cleaning before 11am, to food and belongings disappearing. im so ready to go i cant even act cavalier, cannot be actin aloof right now imma be on my knees beggin these men please let me live there save me from the worst roommates ive ever had.

anyway thats what i been gettin giddy about lately. this whole process always is such a rollercoaster tho. get real high on excitement for a potential then real low when they reject me bc obviously its personal lol but also i hate having to feel like i have to start from scratch. anyway yall can pray for me but pretty sure god doesnt listen to requests involving this lil heathen but do your damnest if it makes ya feel better. imma keep sweating for now.

[gildedalchemist]

1 - 100

Well then! I actually have some downtime so im doing this. Post was from a while ago but i saved it for when I have time. I’m not gonna answer a number of these fully bc thats TOO much sharing, but I’ll answer as many as i can.

1. What is you middle name?not answering this one

2. How old are you?24

3. When is your birthday?August 25th

4. What is your zodiac sign?Virgo

5. What is your favorite color?Royal Purple, though I like many shades of lighter purples nowadays

6. What’s your lucky number?Yup, 2. If not 2, then 8.

7. Do you have any pets?I have a family dog at home, hes a labradoodle named Sebastian

8. Where are you from?Southern California

9. How tall are you?I like to think I’m 6 feet tall, but im just short of that I think

10. What shoe size are you?11 US Mens, which i think is 14 in womens? I forget the conversion, and it’s damn near impossible to find anything in my size in that department.

11. How many pairs of shoes do you own?enough that I’ve lost count

12. What was your last dream about?hanging out with @the-senor-sperm​, Xavier

13. What talents do you have?I don’t believe in talent. Nobody starts good at anything, it’s all skills that must be trained and maintained.

14. Are you psychic in any way?I have very good gut reactions when I first meet people, generally. It has almost never steered me wrong, especially when it comes to my personal safety. If someone is not to be trusted, I generally know pretty quickly.

15. Favorite song?I’m not sure right now, I’ve been introduced to a lot of new music in the last year and I have a hard time choosing.

16. Favorite movie?Clue!

17. Who would be your ideal partner?Someone who challenges me to be the person I want to be. Someone I can trust with my thoughts and feelings. Someone I can spend my time with and be okay when all else is crumbling. Someone I love. Someone who would sit up with me while I’m deliriously I’ll, and make sure I’m drinking water, and eating, particularly microwave cup ramen. ;P

18. Do you want children?I dunno. I used to. I used to feel like I wanted to prove I could be a better parent, but I don’t feel that need, nor do I want that to be my reason anymore. I just want to live and be happy with my partner. Whatever happens after that, will be decided when the time comes.

19. Do you want a church wedding?Oof. I dunno. The thought is nice but I don’t know if the church would be cool with the wedding I’d wanna have ówò;;;  

20. Are you religious?Not really at the moment. I want to believe in something, but that something has no form for me right now.

21. Have you ever been to the hospital?Yes, I’ve even had surgery! (on my sinuses, im fine now!)

22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law?Not really

23. Have you ever met any celebrities?Nope, unless you count internet celebrities, which I dont really. I met Arin Hanson before I knew who he even was.

24. Baths or showers?Showers

25. What color socks are you wearing?white

26. Have you ever been famous?lmao nope

27. Would you like to be a big celebrity?No, i don’t like that kind of pressure

28. What type of music do you like?little bit of everything, though i do quite like electronic stuff

29. Have you ever been skinny dipping?nope, but if i ever have my own pool and could do so without peeking neighbors, i’d consider it.

30. How many pillows do you sleep with?2 usually, but i only have 1 right now because reasons

31. What position do you usually sleep in?either on my side if the bed is real soft, or on my stomach.

32. How big is your house?its pretty decently sized, but I’m living in a dorm right now and not at my parents house

33. What do you typically have for breakfast?nothing

34. Have you ever fired a gun?Yes. I wasnt a fan. I didnt like how easy it is to just point and kill, and i especially hate that people think having that power is a right that should be protected like it is.

35. Have you ever tried archery?yes i have. I enjoyed it from a skill aspect

36. Favorite clean word?spaghetti. its real fun to say

37. Favorite swear word?i like saying chucklefuck

38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep?about 40 hours. I’ve never done 2 consecutive all nighters. at that point, i start to pass out when i blink.

39. Do you have any scars?Yes, I have one on my shoulder and lower back from the same injury, one on my knee and shin from unrelated incidents, and scars on my hands, face, and shoulders from injuries and acne over the years

40. Have you ever had a secret admirer?If I did, they kept it a pretty good secret. Or not. I am quite oblivious in that regard. Its hard when you just assumed for years that youre unloveable.

41. Are you a good liar?I used to be but not much anymore

42. Are you a good judge of character?Almost always

43. Can you do any other accents other than your own?Nope, it is embarassing for me to even try

44. Do you have a strong accent?people say they dont notice an accent from me until i say certain words, like dude, or awesome.

45. What is your favorite accent?New Zealand accents are a hoot

46. What is your personality type?Timid, but caring

47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing?honestly not sure. most of my stuff isnt that expensive. by original cost probably a cashmere sweater, but I bought it at a thrift shop. 

48. Can you curl your tongue?yes

49. Are you an innie or an outie?innie

50. Left or right handed?right

51. Are you scared of spiders?somewhat, but I dont react as badly as I used to at the sight of them. only if they touch me.

52. Favorite food?spaghetti? pizza? Xaviers cooking? hard to say

53. Favorite foreign food?sushi!

54. Are you a clean or messy person?clean in many ways, except for my room

55. Most used phrased?“aww, gay.”

56. Most used word?at this point, probably “fuck”

57. How long does it take for you to get ready?if im in a hurry, minutes, if im not, hours.

58. Do you have much of an ego?I can, but i’m working on it. I dont think I do though.

59. Do you suck or bite lollipops?Bite

60. Do you talk to yourself?Usually, mostly to walk myself through things

61. Do you sing to yourself?Rarely

62. Are you a good singer?I think i’m better than i used to be, but im not great

63. Biggest Fear?Losing my best friends. I lost one in a very bad way, I cant stand the thought of losing more.

64. Are you a gossip?Once i got to university I became one, but I didnt used to be. Thats just kinda the environment I’m in. I feel like if i didnt people wouldnt trust me as much or even at all.

65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen?i dunno, im not sure what constitutes “dramatic”

66. Do you like long or short hair?on me, Long. I cant stand how ive looked with short hair anymore. On other people I have no preference.

67. Can you name all 50 states of America?Fuck no lmao

68. Favorite school subject?Chemistry, after that Psych or English

69. Extrovert or Introvert?Extrovert with anxiety that makes me present like an introvert, i think is what ive settled on

70. Have you ever been scuba diving?nope

71. What makes you nervous?So many things oh my god

72. Are you scared of the dark?Yes

73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes?I do for some people but it is seen as inappropriate to others, and in some cases makes people think im trying to be superior, so I try not to anymore unless asked. Its not my place, unless they want to be corrected.

74. Are you ticklish?Don’t fuckin touch me. I am but I’ll bite.

75. Have you ever started a rumor?No. I had too many false rumors started about me, I wouldnt do that to someone else unless it was true and people needed to know the truth.

76. Have you ever been in a position of authority?Sort of? I’ve been in classrooms and worked with kids, so i’ve been in situations where they answer to me, but I’ve never really been the main figure head so I’d say no overall.

77. Have you ever drank underage?yes

78. Have you ever done drugs?yes

79. Who was your first real crush?Honestly? I dont even know anymore. I know I had some, but what counts as “real”? I’d guess the one that lead to my first relationship. that was in 2011.

80. How many piercings do you have?none

81. Can you roll your Rs?“nope

82. How fast can you type?pretty fast

83. How fast can you run?I can run pretty fast but only for short bursts now.

84. What color is your hair?brown

85. What color is your eyes?blue-green

86. What are you allergic to?a variety of weeds, trees, grasses, molds, and dust mites

87. Do you keep a journal?not physically. what i post online and in recordable formats count as my journal, so i may look back on what ive said.

88. What do your parents do?my mom is a housewife, my dad works in law

89. Do you like your age?y...yes?? what does this even mean?

90. What makes you angry?injustice and unfairness

91. Do you like your own name?Not my full name, I like my first name’s shortening, so thats why i go by Matt

92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they?Only John. To honor his memory, and all that he did for me. He set me on the path to become who I am.

93. Do you want a boy a girl for a child?I want my kid to decide that for themself, if I ever have one.

94. What are you strengths?Tenacity

95. What are your weaknesses?Cowardice

96. How did you get your name?My dad named me after his best friend first, then his karate instructor for middle

97. Were your ancestors royalty?not to my knowledge

98. Do you have any scars?wasnt this #39?

99. Color of your bedspread?light blue

100. Color of your room?the one at home is sort of yellowish i think. the room i’m in right now is white.

[musicalevangeline-blog]

Blog Post #8

29My responses to the appendix interview and my mom’s answers

• If you think of a few recent purchases what were the main factors that influenced your purchase? Usually my purchases are out of necessity or spontaneity. It’s either something I need, or something I want in the spur of the moment. Usually price.

• What was your last music-related purchase? I bought a concert ticket to see one of my favorite singers with my best friend. I bought a Pink Floyd T-shirt that I found in the boys section at JCPenney’s and it was five dollars

• What were the main reasons/motivations behind the purchase? It’s a person I really love and admire and I haven’t been to an actual concert in years, so like why not? It was five dollars and it had Pink Floyd on it

• What kind of music do you like? I like a lot of music, I can even stand country music sometimes. Mostly, I like slow sad sounding music, or music that makes me feel something. Music I like.... I like pretty much everything except hard core rap and country music. Specifically I like rock n roll and hip hop dance music

• How do you consume music—i.e., how do you buy it/ when do you watch/listen to it/where do you watch/ listen to it? I usually listen to spotify whenever i’m using my laptop, or if im listening on my phone I listen to the music ive purchased through google play. In the car I listen to CDs or the radio. I mostly listen to it on the radio at home in the car or on my iPhone via Pandora or iTunes

• What are your opinions on the current music industry as a whole? I feel like there are a lot of people who don’t get the recognition they deserve, and some people who get recognition they don’t deserve. This can really be said for just about any industry though. What does that mean? (evie gives brief explaination) Well, I don’t know any of them personally...

• How much of an influence would your favorite musicians have on you as a person? I think a lot of my favorite artists have shaped who I am, and I draw a lot from the music I listen to in terms of i dont know, personality and the way I deal with things. None. Although when Chester benigton killed himself that really pissed me off because his music had a lot of influence on overcoming obstacles and then he offs himself. That was lame. But really they can take a stand for whatever and unless they are complete bigot assholes I’ll still listen to their music.

• How about on your purchases? I want to support these people, so yeah I’m going to buy their stuff if I can afford it, especially up and coming artists that I really want to see succeed. Also, maybe they influence my purchases on things like clothes and stuff.  No.

• Do you consider social responsibility and/or ethical considerations when making purchases of products/ services in the area of music? There are some artists that while I enjoy their music, I don’t agree with actions they take or how they feel about certain topics. I’m less likely to purchase anything related to an artist who’s actions I don’t agree with, and here I think I’m mostly talking about people like Chris Brown who literally is an abuser and takes what he wants whenever he wants it and is literally just an awful person. No.

• Can you think of ways that musicians/bands currently engage in socially responsible behavior? There’s a lot going on in the world, and a lot of issues that need representation and awareness in order to get anything done, and music and artists are a great way to send these messages. Even just being openly supportive of a cause, or donating money to a cause can really bring awareness. When they preach about politics during their concerts instead of singing or when they bring kids up on stage that really enjoy their music during concerts and cater to their fans that’s a good one.

• Do any recent examples of socially responsible behavior within the music industry come to mind? Taylor Swift and her suing the guy who sexually assaulted her for a dollar, not to get any money but to call to action this kind of thing that happens all the time and shouldn’t be normalized. She also donated a large sum to sexual assault survivors and historically has donated a lot to disaster relief funds and fans who need help financially. In 2015 she donated $50,000 to a fan who was diagnosed with Leukemia. It’s because of Swift that GoFundMe had to raise the amount a person is allowed to donate at a time. Hearing about some musicians donating lots of money to a specific causes.  My favorite is Jon Bon Jovi and how he has a restaurant that caters to the hungry and the homeless.

• Have you considered aspects of socially responsible behavior when you have attended live music events? Historically, not really. However the only concert i’ve been to in the last five years was to see the Wallflowers. In the past I’ve seen some bands live that now I don’t think I’d really want to see again. Not always, but at least sometimes you can tell a lot about an artist or band by their fans, and some of the music I used to listen to in lets say middle school, definitely have views a lot different from what I know now. No.

• Have you engaged in socially responsible behavior at live music events? No. Yes. (evie: care to elaborate?) Sitting down so people can see behind me saying please when walking through the crowd. Saying excuse me.

• How would you define a socially responsible musician? I think I remember reading an article about an artist who stopped a show after seeing a fan in the audience having a panic attack, and made sure to get this fan help before continuing (after some research, this artist was Harry Styles) and there have been other instances like this (Drake stops concert to call out groping, Linkin Park also stops show to help a fan, etc.). I think this is what it means to be socially responsible. There’s a lot that’s going on in a crowd at a show, and for an artist to call out a bad situation really shows that. A musician that shows social responsibility to me it is defined as a musician that preaches love and community and is involved and good fundraising for programs that help society, like Bon Jovi. I think he is a prime example of what a musician that shows social responsibility.

• Do you think it is important for them to act in a socially responsible way? Yes. It shows that a person cares about their fans, and not just the money they make off of them, and in this age if you’re neutral in situations of injustice, you’re on the side of the oppressor. Yes.

• Would you be more likely to buy an album/attend a concert of an artist that you perceive to be engaged in socially responsible behavior? Yes. Yes.

• Have you attended a live event due to the socially responsible aspect of the event? No. Yes but only because I was working (she’s a stage-hand).

• How would you compare the role that social responsibility plays in everyday consumption decisions to music consumption decisions? People look for brands that are socially responsible in a lot of their purchases. Whether a brand tests on animals, or companies that are tied to a charity. I know I tend to shop at target, one because I love target, and two because I know they have a partnership with St. Jude Children’s Hospital and having that knowledge makes me feel even better when shopping there. There are also stores and other places I refuse to shop at, such as Goodwill because of their inaction to help people, despite their claims otherwise. (Goodwill had a thing going where when purchasing goods you could round up to the nearest dollar, and the extra few cents would be donated to veterans. No money was ever donated and goodwill managers are frequently seen refusing to provide clothing to homeless people (including veterans) despite claiming they would clothe any homless person who came to the store.) For younger people I say that is a big factor but for my age not so much. (evie: I told her what I put for my answer) Yes, those are good examples. I definitely agree with that.

2.) Anyone can say anything to get attention, but it’s action and reaction that determine real intentions. Like I said earlier in my interview answers, Goodwill for example claims to be a place of donation, yet the Goodwill CEO makes $729,000 annually and their employees don’t make a living wage. An they aren’t the only company that makes promises like this and don’t follow through. I think it’s important for artists, while preaching a certain message, uphold the ideals that they are setting. And there are a lot of artists that do a lot of good. Thom Yorke for example, and Bon Jovi like my mom mentioned. Thom Yorke engages in eco-friendly events and lives eco-friendly so you know he’s not just doing these things for publicity. Unlike Thom Yorke and many others, there are many people who will preach the importance of donating to charity but run these multi-million dollar empires without contributing a dime to anything worthwhile that has the potential to change the world. This doesn’t just apply to musicians either, there are a lot of rich people in the spot light that don’t do anything or don’t do enough. The article states: “Music is a powerful vehicle through which tastes and values are understood, and social groups and subcultures are formed.” While I completely agree with. A lot of the music I listen to reflects what I believe and who I am, and where my values align. I find that people who share my same music interests tend to have a lot of the same views as I do, not always but a significant amount of time. A lot of music I listened to when I was younger, I didn’t really understand, and I see that some of the people that listen to that kind of music now are people I tend to not want to associate with, as I don’t want to associate with that music anymore either.

I think the video by Lin Manuel Miranda where he wrote a song and had a bunch of other Latin American artists come together to raise money was a great example of an artist being authentic in promoting something. This project was close to him, as someone who’s parents immigrated from Puerto Rico, and this wasn’t the only action he took in support of the relief fund for Puerto Rico. He promoted this charity on talk shows, visited Puerto Rico, brought Hamilton to Puerto Rico and provided a way to allow impoverished people to see his show, and has donated around 2.5 million towards this cause and other causes through his words and his work. Not only this, but he continues to raise money for other causes, such as March for our Lives (Starting with his collaborative song with Ben Platt). Since LMM’s rise to fame, he has never stopped giving back to the community and working for equality across every issue.

I currently don’t have an example of the opposite, where an artist doesn’t meet up to their claims, but will try to think of one before class.