#not musically. like as far as sheer Song goes it’s probably It Was A Shit Show or something but for like. emotion and rarity? I’ve never | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

There are dozens of funny blogs to kill time on Tumblr.

#not musically. like as far as sheer Song goes it’s probably It Was A Shit Show or something but for like. emotion and rarity? I’ve never

fearforthestorm · 6 months

Note

How is 'no children' misrepresented and what is it actually about? <- genuinely curious and likes people ranting about things like this (and only really knows about the 'hand in unlovable hand' line though maybe that's part of the problem(?))

oh god okay so. how much tmg lore do you want because if we want to get into no children we're gonna get into the alpha couple and they've literally been present in the music since the very first tape ever released under the name the mountain goats over 30 years ago. actually yknow what it's 2am I don't want to mess things up I'll just give you this:

that's the backstory that's what no children is about. the song is so named because (paraphrasing a quote) "if there's one thing I know about this couple it's that the world will be better for it if they never have children". and here's the thing is that no children is a REALLY cathartic song I don't fault people for enjoying it and god knows that it's fun to belt at concerts but it is NOT a love song. it is not a song about a relationship that is in any way good or stable or healthy. it is about a couple that are bad for eachother and for everyone around them and should get divorced but are never going to because filing those papers is a few hundred bucks and you can buy a lot of alcohol with that money. please understand that: they aren't a tragic mutually doomed couple who despite that love each other. they are actively dragging the both of them to their graves because they're too far in to turn around now. they've been drinking for decades like it'll fix their problems and it never will and things only ever get angrier and louder and more destructive and worse so they just keep fucking digging the graves they've been digging since the beginning. first rule of holes is stop digging second rule is that once you do you're still in a hole but they're never even gonna get the first one and they sure as hell aren't ever going to acknowledge that they're in a deep deep hole much less would they try to get out. no children is about wanting the worst for yourself and your better half because it's the only way you can see any of it ending. no children is slinging insults across the living room several drinks deep into the evening at the person you married and realising that you fucking mean it when you say you hope it all goes to shit and takes the both of you down with it.

no children isn't the tragic otp. no children says "I hope I lie and tell everyone you were a good wife" and "I hope when you think of me years down the line you can't find one good thing to say / and I hope that if I found the strength to walk out you'd stay the hell out of my way" and it means every goddamn word when it says them. and I know people like "hand in unloveable hand / and I hope you die / I hope we both die" but they ALWAYS use that quote in a "it doesn't matter if we're unloveable because we're hand in hand" kind of way and that's just completely fucking wrong. if you're going to use no children for your blorbos fucking commit to it, they better be a couple that is genuinely entirely going to bury each other alive for the sheer goddamn fact that they would rather die than try to stop digging.

anyway. go listen to Tallahassee (album) because it is genuinely extremely fucking good and no children probably isn't even in my top three songs from that album.

#.lyr #ask #its now almost 3am i hope this is coherent im going to sleep

22 notes · View notes

dapandapod · 3 years

Text

Sing with me

This one is for @jaskierswolf, my last entry for mermay!

Please enjoy some Jaskier x Mer!Valdo with some fairytale feels to it. Thank you a billion to @kuripon for being my beta! (go give her fics a read too, they are amazing)

Here on Ao3. Please enjoy.

Lettenhove is beautiful in spring. Buds breaking into leaves, flowers forcing their way out of the frozen ground, the sky clear and blue. Jaskier loves it, and he wishes he could be out and enjoy it. But here he sits, listening to his tutor going on about the great wars of the continent. He used to be interested, but his new tutor is a right bore. He is never allowed to ask questions, or move about. And Jaskier is nine, he wants to move a lot.

What makes it better though, is the view. The room the tutor claimed for their studies has a view of the bay below. It lies undisturbed, the harbor being built in safer water with far less protruding rocks. If Jaskier focuses really hard, he can hear singing from down there.

He shuts his eyes real hard, ignoring the howling wind, ignoring his whining tutor, and focuses on the splash of waves and rich voices harmonizing along the cliffs, bouncing off the stone. It earns him a slap on the wrists most times he is caught, but it is worth it. Sometimes he sneaks into the classroom after bedtime. He sits down in the alcove in front of the window and opens it. Propped up on his elbows, he looks down below, the height making the underside of his feet tickle, and the wind is blowing gently in his bangs. More than once he falls asleep there, lulled by the singing below and the splashing of waves.

One day he will go down there and meet them. The sirens.

Jaskier gets a new tutor. She is younger, brighter than the last one, and she smells like the sea. Her eyes are the deep grey of angry skies and her smile as soft as seaweed. He likes her a lot. She teaches him to sing, and the lilt of her voice reminds him of those below, those hiding in the crashing waves. She teaches him the ways with a lyre, and she lets him ask every question that pops into his mind.

But something goes wrong. He isn’t sure what happens, but one day after their studies, she kisses his forehead and bids him goodbye. “It was nice knowing you, little Julian,” she whispers, like it is a secret. “Come visit us some time.”

The day after, a stern, thick man takes her place. The man frowns when he sees the lyre, decorated with seashells, but lets him keep it and doesn’t tell his father.

And when night falls, Jaskier creeps back into the classroom. Elbows propped against the window, he sings. He knows their songs now, their words, and he knows she is down there.

Jaskier is thirteen when he braves it for the first time. The climb down there is steep, loose rocks and wet grass under his feet keeping his heart in his throat.

But he wants to meet them before he leaves. He has been accepted to Oxenfurt for his studies, and he is leaving before his fourteenth birthday. He stumbles and falls on his butt, sliding down a few paces before he finds his feet again, scraping his knee. It stings, and the leg of his trousers is ripped, but he keeps going.

It's not until he stands, watching the water churn among the rocks, that Jaskier allows himself to breathe. Small droplets of salt water hit his cheek, his nose, and he blinks. They watch him, as he watches them. Jaskier can see them in the middle of the bay, settled on the rocks sticking out of the water. None look like the other. One's skin is rich gold, another a deep brown. Another is pale white, shimmering like a pearl. Their hair is sticking to their bodies, long and dark. Only two of them seem to favour a shorter hairstyle. Not all of them even have fish tails.

Jaskier takes a tentative step closer to the water, knowing full well he will die if he falls in. Maybe he will die anyway. All of the stories he has been told about sirens end with humans dying.

But they came to him. She kissed his forehead and sang him good night.

He won’t believe it.

One siren dives beneath the surface, her tail green and red. He waits for her to approach, and when she is close enough, he recognizes her. Her eyes are still the color of angry skies and her smile is still as soft as seaweed. She greets him with warmth, and bids him sit.

They sing together, and it takes all of his concentration to remember the words. It’s been years, after all, but he falls back into it easily enough. The others join them after a while, their curiosity peaked by a boy by the sea, learning their language. Those with legs come sit with him, and he blushes at their nakedness when their bodies are revealed.

That summer, for every night he is able, he sneaks down to the bay. He learns their names and their singsong way of talking. When he tells her about the lyre, how he has it hidden from his father, she is delighted. She teaches him more about music than any tutor he has ever had ever, and her way of telling stories is like poetry.

When fall comes and Jaskier is put in a carriage to Oxenfurt, he doesn’t cry. He has needled from his mother and older sister that they have the song there too. It may be in a different form, but he has sworn to her to bring it home to them.

Jaskier is seventeen when he meets Valdo Marx.

That boy is like no other in Oxenfurt. He is wild, rude, funny and absolutely beautiful. He sprays himself with thick and expensive perfume, but Jaskier smells it on him anyway.

The sea.

Valdo's hair is thick and dark, just like theirs. Jaskier watches him in the lazy hours in the morning when they sit in the library. If a ray of sun hits him just right, there is a vague shimmer to his skin.

Jaskier knows.

And he is besotted.

But approaching Valdo Marx is harder than anything he has ever done. Their ways of singing are much alike, and Valdo takes great offence at that. Where Jaskier tries a tentative smile, Valdo sneers. Scoffs, mocks and pushes him away.

Jaskier doesn’t understand it, but he accepts it. If their rivalry is all he can get, he will take it. So it's song duels, poetry battles, drinking games, anything to get his attention. Valdo keeps the act up, but sometimes when they part, Jaskier thinks he can see the hint of a smile.

The water near Oxenfurt is so very unlike the water at home. It is calmer, for one, and the water is so very clear.. Jaskier likes to go down there in the early mornings. He avoids the harbor as it is a busy and dangerous place at times, and these nights he wants peace.

He longs for them. His friends. People call him songbird, but no, that’s not it. Jaskier follows the beach and when the weather allows he takes his shoes off. At home it was dangerous to step into the water, but here the waves lap at his feet, hiding them under a thin layer of sand. It is harder to find a good place to sit, so he is far from town when he reaches his chosen spot. He leans back against a tree, watching the sun slowly rise above the water. Gulls cry over him and dive into the water for breakfast.

Jaskier likes to sing here.

Not as he does in school, nowhere near that. Here he sings in their language, far from prying ears. No one sings with him, but that is alright. It’s been years since he went back there. He probably won’t ever go back there again.

His father is not a kind man.

Jaskier sings his sorrows away. It feels like he is calling to them, a lonely cry over the waves, asking for someone, anyone to join him. It would be nice if Valdo sang with him. Maybe, if he is patient, he will win him over.

Things change when Jaskier gets in a fight. He didn’t mean to, he is shit at fighting and the sight of blood makes his head spin, but here they are. And he is losing too.

A fist slams into his ribs, making him bend awkwardly around the pain. Jaskier grunts, but straightens up, or at least he tries to. His feet are kicked from under him, and next thing he knows, feet are raining down on him.

They kick his hip, his already aching ribs, his shoulder, his fingers.

Jaskier doesn’t see Valdo in the tavern. Doesn’t notice those ocean eyes on him, his silence and his observance.

Only when the blows stop, and Valdo is taking a swing at the offender does he notice. Turns out Valdo is bad at fighting too, and they run from the pub together, bruised and swearing. They stop in an alley, hidden far enough away from the street, catching their breath. Only when they are sure they are not being pursued does the laughing start. More like giggling, actually. Neither is completely sober, adrenaline rushing through their veins, and the sheer absurdity of it all has them hiccuping and wheezing, leaning against the wall for support.

“Why the fuck would you pick a fight with that guy?!” Valdo wheezes, wiping tears from his cheeks. “He was huge!”

"He was being an asshole!” Jaskier defends himself, but he agrees. Maybe not his brightest idea. They sink down against the wall, catching their breath. The ground is a little muddy, but his trousers are already dirty, so it doesn’t matter.

When they sit side by side, Jaskier watches Valdo’s profile in the semi-darkness. He doesn’t usually get to see him up close, and with the light spilling from a window somewhere above them. Valdo is beautiful. And in this low light, Jaskier can see the hint of scales again. He knows Valdo is probably wearing a glamour, so he isn’t supposed to be able to see it. Valdo looks back at him, eyes still glittering with humour.

“What?” He asks.

“Thank you. For helping me.”

Valdo looks at him searchingly for a long moment. Then he nods, as if he has made up his mind.

“You are welcome.”

They sit in silence for another few moments, letting the buzz of Oxenfurt nightlife surround them. Jaskier is looking up over the rooftops, trying to see the stars, when Valdo speaks again.

“You know what I am, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“You sing like we do.”

“I do.”

“Why?”

Now it is Jaskier who turns his head and finds Valdo watching him. He blinks fast a few times, trying to chase away the flutters that rise in him.

“One of my tutors came from the sea. My father didn’t like her, so she didn't stay, but we found each other again. She taught me songs and words and stories.”

Jaskier can’t tear his eyes away, watching Valdo watching him.

It is a strange sensation, having Valdo’s attention like this.

“Is this why you keep going to the water to sing?” Valdo asks, surprising him. It must show on his face, because he smiles gently at him, and Jaskier feels like he could melt.

“I hear you sometimes. When I’m out swimming.”

Jaskier has to swallow hard before he can reply. He would love to see Valdo in the water. He remembers how graceful they are back home, how they moved in the water, strong muscles playing under the skin.

“It is,” Jaskier confirms when he has himself under control. “I miss them.”

“I don’t know where my family is,” Valdo says after a while. “I left to come here. But I will find them again. Some day.”

Jaskier stares at his boots for a moment. He wants to ask, he wants to ask so badly. He is a little afraid to do it, seeing that they just got on speaking terms.

“Would you uh…”

Valdo is still watching him as if he is trying to figure him out.

“Would you sing with me some time?”

There. He said it.

Valdo opens his mouth. Closes it. Tilts his head.

“Do you know what it means to sing together?”

Jaskier shakes his head. He doesn’t. But it always meant a lot to him, and Valdo holds a special place in his heart. He wonders how their voices would sound together.

“It means belonging. Is this what you are asking of me? To belong?”

Oh.

Oh, that puts warmth in Jaskiers heart. To have found belonging with his people in the waves, to be accepted, chosen and loved.

And it flusters him greatly that he is now asking the same of Valdo.

Because he is, he realizes. He would like that very much.

“If you’d like. Some day. I’m not asking for it now. I just… I would love to see you in the water sometime.”

Valdo doesn’t reply. He stands up, dusts off his trousers.

“We’ll see. Maybe.”

Then he stretches out a hand to help Jaskier up.

Valdo's hand in his is soft, warm, firm. When they are both on their feet, Valdo doesn’t let go of his hand immediately.

“I think I can see what they saw in you,” Valdo says slowly. Jaskier doesn’t really understand what he means, but he loves it all the same. They make their way slowly across town, following the ebb and flow of its inhabitants. Valdo is still holding his hand.

It takes months, years for Jaskier to see Valdo swim. His tail shares the color of seaweed, scales sparkling in the evening sun when he breaches the surface. Jaskier watches from the bay, far away from prying eyes. Valdo is every bit as magnificent as he thought he would be. Their journey here was long. A tentative friendship growing and growing. They still have their rivalry, are still at each other's throats most of the time.

But tonight, when Valdo offers to bring him to the sea, Jaskier know that too is about to change. Jaskier is wading out into the water, and Valdo swims to meet him. When the water comes to his chest, Valdo wraps his arms around him. It is cold, but Valdo pulls him in close and pushes their foreheads together.

“Will you sing with me?” Valdo asks, stealing Jaskier's breath away.

“Yes.”

#mermay #mermay 2021 #valskier #valdo x jaskier #mer!valdo #sirens #the witcher #the witcher au #julian alfred pankratz #oxenfurt #lettenhove #dapanda writes #i am so tired #i don't know how to tag anymore

36 notes · View notes

crystalkleure · 3 years

Photo

Haha hey remember that post I made awhile back, speculating on what a bad idea it might be to fuse dead things in the godless Frankenstein fossil machine

Meet White. He is a reanimated corpse. Two of them, actually. Or more like 1.5. [And I whipped up this half-assed partial reference sheet in one night instead of sleeping, so don’t look too hard at the chickenscratch lineart and visible guidelines, and kindly ignore the total lack of shading as well as any other messy jankiness.]

White is a product of me wondering not only about what happens if you NecroFuse a human with a Pokemon, but also what happens if you make it even worse and specifically fuse that human with a Pokemon capable of mega evolution. Because canon seems to imply that mega evolving is at best deeply uncomfortable -- and at worst outright agonizing -- for whatever creature is going through it.

Character Lore under the cut. Lots of text:

White is one of actually multiple undead guys who got mashed together with bits of dead Pokemon. They’re science experiments, so they've got the dex numbers of the Pokemon they're spliced with tattooed on the backs of their necks, and those numbers were treated as their names In The Evil Science Lab.

In his Original Life, White [and some of his buddies] got gored to death by some escaped Horrible Fucking Monsters that were accidentally [...and then not-so-accidentally] created via Two Pokemon At Once In A Fossil Resurrection Machine, because hey, it is SUPER easy to think you got Just One Thing's Bones from an excavation dig but then later you realize that Some Of Those Bones were from something TOTALLY different that just died in the same place. It happens. So, some Fossil Scientist People accidentally resurrected an Abomination, realized they fucked up pretty fast...and then started wondering if they REALLY fucked up or if this is Cool, Actually. And then the team of Science People split into two Morality Factions, with one half being like “This is unethical as shit, we need to make sure this doesn't happen again because it's not natural so who knows how this poor fucked up creature is suffering” and the other, cooler half being like “WE NEED TO DO THIS AGAIN RIGHT NOW BECAUSE SCIENCE. IMAGINE THE POSSIBILITIES HOLY SHIT.”

Cooler group splits off from the Horrified Group With Morals, and they promptly use their Science Knowledge to Construct More Machines and Make More Monsters. Doesn't take too long for them to realize, however, that Abomination Pokemon are stupidly hard to control, because not only are they suffering, their masters obviously don't care for their wellbeing, so Revolt Inevitably Occurs and they escape to wreak havoc upon the nearest congregation of townspeople. They promptly maul some people to death at a nearby local rock concert, scientists chase after them to clean up the mess, realize “Oh Shit, Manslaughter Charges Impending”, and then realize...

Science Guy 1: “...Hey, what happens if you put a dead person in the fossil machine?”

Science Guy 2: “Hey, people probably listen better than Pokemon. We can, like, TALK to people.”

Science Guy 3: “Lads, I got a stellar idea just now. And we got plenty of Dead Guys to start with right here! Great way to hide the bodies too, probably.”

This goes approximately as well as you would expect, and precisely as ethically. A smashing success!

However, because they Fucking Died, the reanimated Newly-Monsterized dudes do not remember shit about who they were pre-resurrection. They're not technically even the same people, they’re more like clones. They've been remade. So, all they know now is Science Lab Life, and they have no initial attachment to eachother aside from "that other guy is also a Science Experiment Person just like me, so Same Hat @ Labrat Neighbour ig", in spite of several having been friends or even family prior to death. They also just...don’t know/remember things in general. They are fresh blank slates. And to a morally-bankrupt team of scientists, that’s perfect! They can train these guys to behave however they please!

...However, people might be People Instead Of Animals, meaning they can be Reasoned With And Manipulated And Coerced far better than animals due to their far better communication abilities with the Science People, but...there is Still A Problem in the sense that Holy Shit, A Person Can Only Take So Much. You can only treat someone as "Experiment [number]" for so long, blatantly putting no value on their life outside of The Value Of Scientific Research, in spite of literally basically needing to raise them like a normal child due to the Lack Of Memories issue. Eventually they're not gonna be able to take that anymore and they are gonna Fucking Leave, too. And they’re gonna be much harder to track down than the rampaging Pokemon were. Impossible, actually, once they’ve ripped out their tracking chips.

So then there's just these monster dudes, who don't actually know what they are because they weren't ever told anything more than necessary to get them to cooperate with Tests And Experiments, just Escaped Into Civilization and having NO idea how Anything works. Fun! Especially considering how, at first glance, these just look like Normal Dudes. Their monster bits either aren't apparent or just look like funky body modifications.

They've also got Science Things in them and they Don't Know What The Fuck Those Things Even Are. They've just got these little Devices in/on their chests, and they were never informed of the exact functions of them because there's no reason to explain to the experiment What Is Happening, just that the experiment needs to Hold Still and Cooperate and Now Do This, Now Do This, Now Do That, Good Job That's Enough For Today, etc.

Those devices contain both key stones and mega stones.

If you were a Mad Pokemon Scientist, you would most certainly be interested in the mega evolution phenomenon. What would YOU do if some of your Undead Fusion Experiments happened to be spliced with bits of Pokemon known to be capable of mega evolving? You’d kill two birds with one enigmatic set of stones, that’s what you’d do. Your Frankenstein Experiments can even TALK to you and tell you exactly what they are experiencing when you run tests on them! It’s perfect!

So, if a rock-bearing monster’s heart rate goes too high, part of the little device, which is a barrier between one type of rock and the other, opens up and Exposes One Rock To The Other Rock. Which exposes the monster to the Rock Energy Reaction. The greater the stress, the higher the dose. And I’m sure you can see the snowball effect that’s gonna create, at least the first time or two.

They were INTENDED to eventually be made to Physically Fight With Eachother to gauge the effects of The Rocks™️ when the Guys With The Rocks are under Stress and need to Do Some Self-Defense. The Science Squad was basically trying to suss out the Actual Purpose of mega evolution. Because mega evolution is weird -- it puts ENORMOUS stress on the body of whatever is undergoing it, so the hypothesis was that its true power is probably drawn out best via a perceived life-threatening situation, like it’s a type of hysterical strength, because what else would cause a need for that kind of ability. And aren’t ethics a bit overrated?

So, there’s our premise. White is just wandering around without any particular purpose outside of never ever going back to Science Hell, and he has no clue what the funny little doohickey buried in his chest does until it activates one day and absolutely fucks him up [...as well as everyone around him. Mega Absol radiate an Aura Of Sheer Terror that can literally scare people with weak hearts to death if they’re not careful.]

And now, some Miscellaneous Character Info:

The bit about Lots Of Death happening at a rock concert specifically was important. White was actually the vocalist of the band that was playing. He doesn’t remember that now, but he still loves music and has the same strong vocal cords. And THAT is important because White is partially an Absol now and Absol naturally learns Perish Song. These Fusion Monsters are absolutely capable of using Pokemon moves, though whether they’re aware of this is a different matter entirely. Imagine what happens when they end up tapping into those abilities accidentally.

That band was a relatively-unknown little local band. White was by no means anywhere near famous. Very few people even realized he was gone, and most of the ones who would have noticed also ended up Equally Unalive.

That black stuff between the belts on White’s arms is mesh. Like, stocking mesh. It gets Ripped The Fuck Apart when he goes Mega Mode and his arm fur gets Extra Spiky. Hence one stocking being a bit tattered in that reference pic. He frequently has to replace those things, they are fragile.

“How did White get his name if he doesn’t remember his original name and didn’t have a real name in the lab” I am glad you asked! Post-escape, he eventually encountered a situation where someone asked him what his name was, he bluntly told them “I don’t have one. I am #359.”, they said “Well That Is Not A Name, I need something proper to call you”, and he was just...Super Apathetic. So, the other person picked out the name “White” just based on the fact that White’s hair is white, and he just shrugged and rolled with it.

As you can see in my Incredibly Quick And Rough Sketches, the backs of White’s shirts are open to accommodate that huge amount of fur that bristles out into false wings when he goes Mega Mode. Because his Actual Normal Hair is relatively long and overlaps with that fur, it blends in with his Actual Normal Hair and doesn’t look too odd [when it’s down]. Probably mostly because nobody’s expecting it to be anything OTHER than Perfectly Normal Hair That Just Happens To Be Very Long.

White does not particularly like violence. White does not want to beat you up. He will, though, without a bit of hesitation, if there’s some logical reason he feels like it’s the most practical course of action. Being essentially raised by Cold, Emotionally-Sterile Scientists With No Care For The Wellbeing Other Living Beings uh, tends to affect a guy a little bit. White has a bit of an internal dilemma regarding “It would be efficient for me to just Harm This Other Person to defuse the current situation, because attempting nonviolence will be overall more risky somehow” vs. “Holy shit it feels bad when I hurt people. Why does it feel bad when I hurt people. Is it...SUPPOSED to feel bad when I hurt people?? No one ever felt bad for hurting me.” He Figures Out How Empathy Works Eventually. He is a good guy at heart. He is a Monotone Snarker, but not actually Cold or Malicious at all.

If an Absol can do it, White can probably do it. He has incredibly keen senses and a STRONG ability to Detect Impending Doom. He has exactly the amount of Supernatural Absol Powers you would expect. He is also stupidly physically strong, way more so than he appears to be.

White can’t punch people. Look at the fist he’s making in the pic, he’s doing it wrong. If you punch someone like that, you WILL break your own thumb. That’s not a Revving Up To Sock Someone pose, he’s just tense. He’s using his thumb as a buffer between his long-ass Sharp As Fuck claws and the flesh of his palm. If White tries to punch anybody, or just makes a proper fist at all, he will impale his own hand on his nails. Like, all the way through. He CAN slash straight through things like metal and bone with those claws, though.

White...is unsettling. Completely accidentally, and unknowingly. He just radiates an Aura Of Intimidation [...or Pressure], even when not in Mega Mode, that scales depending on his mood. Just being near him tends to put people and Pokemon on edge. Thus, he’s generally avoided.

The latter point is especially unfortunate, because White’s preferred method of Socializing and Bonding is to just kind of quietly hang out in the same room as whoever he is trying to Socialize and Bond with. He just wants to, like...chill out Near A Buddy and watch a movie and share a bag of chips or something. His social skills are predictably not good.

#DO YOU LIKE MY TOTALLY NORMAL GUY #HE SUFFERS #He's pretty though and that's what actually matters here right #I need to draw the other Totally Normal Guys sometime too. White is Part Of A Set.#Pokemon #CK's art #OCs #I have Long Pointy Fingernails myself can you tell

12 notes · View notes

retrievablememories · 4 years

Text

date night | mark

title: date night pairing: mark x black!reader genre: fluff, non!idol au request: “I was wondering if you could do something about a first date with mark (and black reader). I don’t really care what the date is, you can choose” word count: 2.9k warnings: none that i can think of except some cursing a/n: iu’s “friday” is a very cute song and i think it could fit with this. on another note, tumblr & my computer hate me and erased the changes i made to this twice, so if there are errors bare with me...i’ll fix them later

“Do you think this outfit is okay?” you ask your friend over FaceTime, scanning the camera across your form so she can see what you’re wearing. “I don’t know. It’s just the fair, right? So it shouldn’t be anything too fancy...but…”

“Girl, it’s more than okay. Knowing Mark, he’ll like literally anything you wear. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

You hold the phone back up to your face again, giving your friend a skeptical look. “You better be telling the truth. You’re the one who arranged all this!”

“I didn’t arrange shit, I just gave Mark a little nudge in the right direction! You should thank me, he might've never asked you out on his own, the poor boy.” Your friend lies back on her bed and reminisces on her matchmaking skills, clearly pleased with her work this time—even though neither of you have any idea if the date will go well. Well, she already has her mind made up, but you can be a little harder to convince.

You hope it goes well, anyway. You really do like Mark, and you want things to work out with him tonight. You’ve never hung out with him alone before; it’s always been with a group of your friends, and your conversations with him were usually carried by the help of your friend’s interjections or Haechan’s jokes.

For a while, you just figured that Mark was shy around new people, but he soon warmed up to your other friends who he hadn’t known before. But he still struggled to have a decent conversation with you.

You didn’t understand any of it at first. You even thought that maybe he didn’t like you and was just terrible at hiding it. But after your friend got tired of seeing you angst over him, she let you in on what was really happening—he had a crush on you, too.

Now, you’re here—about to have your first date with Mark Lee and completely nervous about it, to say the least. You sigh at your friend’s smug expression.

“I’d hardly call what you did a nudge, but alright. Whatever you say, best friend.”

You know Mark and Haechan’s apartment complex is not far from yours, and yet it still catches you by surprise when you hear the knock on your front door. “Oh Lord, that’s probably him, I have to go!!” Your friend barely gets to say goodbye before you’ve ended the call. You scramble to grab your things and give yourself another once-over in your mirror before hurrying down the hall to open the door.

You stop at the door for a few moments and try to relax, attempting to make it seem like you weren’t rushing. Then you open the door to Mark standing on the other side.

“Hi Mark,” you say as naturally as possible, even though you’re practically jumping on the inside. He’s so handsome and cute that it’s unbelievable, even just standing there with his hands in his pockets, looking bashful and equally eager.

“Hi Y/N. You look really pretty today...I mean, you look pretty everyday, but today you’re especially, uh—a-adorable.”

“Thank you.” Your face is hot from his compliments, and you’re glad that he can’t tell past your brown skin. You step outside and lock the apartment door after you, turning to him with your heart beating wildly in your chest. “Are you ready?”

“Born ready,” he replies.

The place where the fair is being held is only a couple of streets over from where you live, so you both had already decided to walk there while planning the details of the date. You’re thankful it’s a nice summer night, not too hot or cold, though you’re both wearing jackets; it’s at the point of the season where the night starts getting chilly.

You and Mark make small talk on the way there, talking about casual stuff like what you did this week and what TV shows you watched the other night. He seems less nervous about talking to you than he is when you’re in a group with the others, but you can tell there is still some anxious energy around him.

Which doesn't really bother you, because you feel the same way and would rather be nervous together than anxious alone.

You can tell you’ve reached the fairgrounds when you start seeing more people gathered around and hear the loud festival music and screams of excitement; there’s already a considerable line to get in.

“Looks like we’ll be here for a minute,” you say, turning to Mark, though you aren’t really upset about it.

“That’s okay, I can be your entertainment until we get in.”

“Oh really? What are you gonna do, The Amazing Mark?”

“Whoa! That actually has a nice ring to it.”

“I know, right? Maybe you could use it as your performer name...so, Mr. Lee, how are you gonna impress me tonight?”

Mark decides to come up with a little freestyle rap on the spot, and you giggle at his enthusiasm. When he’s done, you give him a round of applause.

“Maybe you should be a rapper, you’re actually really good, you know.”

Mark feigns shock, pretending to be offended, and you laugh more. “Did you think I wouldn’t be?”

“Well, you—” You’re interrupted when someone behind you clears their throat loudly—the line has already moved up and you didn’t notice it. You grab Mark’s arm and pull him along with you. You decide to keep your hand there, looping your arms together. Mark blushes at that, a bashful smile on his face though he tries to hide it, not wanting to seem inexperienced.

When you finally get your tickets and go in, you and Mark debate over which rides to try first. You convince him to ride the huge looping rollercoaster, though he’s more than a little apprehensive about it. You can practically see the sweatdrops gathering on his forehead.

“Are you sure? If we get on the most exciting ride right away, the rest will seem boring…” He chuckles, scratching the back of his neck.

“I’m sure! But, you don’t have to get on if you’re too scared.” You tease him, letting go of his arm and walking towards the ride by yourself. “You can stay here!”

“No way—I-I’m not scared! You’re not leaving me behind,” Mark catches up with you as you go over to the ride and you smirk to yourself, glad that your reverse psychology worked.

You and Mark end up going on most of the rides the fair has to offer. You laugh at him once you both get off the rollercoaster, his hair windswept and sticking up in different directions. The ferris wheel makes you a bit dizzy, especially when you reach the very top, but Mark distracts you from the height by pointing out how pink the sky looks from this angle. The sun is close to setting, and its shining rays make Mark’s hair and eyes look like they’ve been set ablaze with warm, brown light. He looks back at you, and you abruptly bring your gaze up to the pink sky, pretending as if you weren’t staring at him the whole time.

Even the merry-go-round is fun with Mark pretending like he’s in the middle of a classic Western, riding his noble steed and playing the part of a brave, handsome cowboy.

You eventually take a food break when you get hungry, and you’re secretly thankful for the pause; your head’s spinning with how many rides you’ve been on. You don’t know the last time you’ve had this much fun at a fair, though, and you’re grateful for the change in your usual routine.

While you’re walking around the fairgrounds, you spot one of those ring toss games where you have to hit a certain number of bottles to win a prize. Mark notices your interest.

“Do you wanna play?” he asks.

“Hmm, maybe…” you say, your eyes drifting along the wall of prizes they have. One of them is an adorable stuffed dog with its little red tongue hanging out, and you immediately fall for it. You turn to Mark with your eyes shining. “Hey, Mark…”

He laughs, already one step ahead of you. “I’ll try it, then.”

In the end, Mark only gets the ring around 2 bottles. You giggle all the while, watching him give his best throws and still miss.

“Hmm, that was just a warm-up round,” Mark insists once the game ends and he still hasn’t made any more wins. He cracks his knuckles and does an exaggerated stretch. “Check this out.”

“Oh, if you say so…” You smile as you watch him go for another round. The employee manning the game gives him a half skeptical, half amused look but lets him have another try. Unfortunately, the results are the same—he manages to get rings around two of the bottles while the rest remain untouched.

You walk up to Mark and pat him on the back once the game is over, and he gives you a sheepish smile in return. “Sorry, Y/N...I tried.” He turns back to the employee. “What kind of prize can I get with that?”

They pick a small keychain off the wall and hold it up. It’s a tiny replica of your city, with the name of it written in blocky, fun letters. “Pretty much this.”

“I’ll take it.” You hold your hand out for it and the employee passes it over. You give them a smile in return and look back at Mark, holding the keychain safely in your palm. “Let’s go! I don’t think we’ve tried the Tilt-a-Whirl yet...”

You and Mark don’t leave the festival until well after dark, and it’s a half hour to 10 when you check your phone. Even though it’s so late already, you’re still buzzing with energy and ready to hop to the next best thing. Mark seems to feel the same way, talking excitedly about all the things you saw and did at the fair.

His eyes sparkle with excitement, and it’s like his sheer elation transfers to you. Sometimes you wonder how he can manage to still be so childlike, but it’s endearing. The keychain sits safely in your purse, attached to your key ring where you clipped it immediately after getting it.

“I hope you enjoyed yourself today...even though I couldn’t get the stuffed dog you wanted.” Mark bites his lip.

You shake your head. “No, I had so much fun, that doesn’t matter! Really. Anyway, it’s not everyday you can go on a million rides in a night.”

“Forreal. Actually, I think might have permanent vertigo after this...”

You pause as a few drops of water hit your skin. They seemingly come out of nowhere, and it’s hard to tell if the sky is cloudy or not from the cover of night. But as more start hitting your skin, there’s no doubt about it—it’s rain.

“It’s raining,” you gasp, and you barely have time to say anything else before the droplets start coming down harder. “Shit, my hair!”

To your surprise, Mark sheds his jacket and holds it over your head, pulling you closer. “We should make a run for it before it gets worse.”

“Where are we gonna go? Everything’s closed at this time of night,” you ask, but Mark is already pulling you along with him, and you can only speed up your pace to catch up.

“Whatever shelter we can find!”

Just like he predicted, the rain turns into a downpour and the water quickly permeates into your clothes, making you sticky and a little cold. You scream but keep running, not wanting the alternative of standing there and getting even more drenched.

You and Mark find a nearby coffee shop that’s still open and duck into it, shaking off as much rain as you can. You’re a little too soaked for it to be effective, but you’ll dry off eventually. One of the workers gives you both a weary look from behind the counter, and you know they’ll probably have a time cleaning the water up later.

You and Mark stand at the front counter and order your drinks, then take turns laughing at each other’s reflections in the counter’s metal surface. Your hair managed to avoid the worst of the water thanks to Mark’s noble move, but his own strands are plastered to his head. You nervously brush a few of them away from his forehead, saving him from the slow drips of water that keep falling in his eyes.

“You good?” you ask. You want to feel sorry for him, but you can’t stop yourself from cracking a grin at how cute and disheveled he looks. Like a soggy puppy.

“I’m fine,” he says, taking your hand that was just in his hair. “It’s just a little water...we can stay here until it stops raining, anyway. Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m alright.” You nod in agreement, not knowing quite what to say—you’re a little distracted by his hand holding yours. When you get your drinks, he lets go of you to take both cups, and you’re momentarily disappointed by the lack of contact.

You go to sit down at a small table near the window. It offers a clear view of the rain still pattering on the roads, and you watch cars kick up puddles of water as they drive past.

“That was kinda fun,” you say after taking a sip of your drink. You give a pleasant sigh at the feeling of the drink warming you up on the inside. “I mean, not so much the ‘getting soaked’ part...but the whole thing sorta reminds me of those romcoms.”

Mark cringes and laughs. “Are you into those kinda movies?

“It’s not a crime! They’re cute sometimes.”

“Is that a roundabout way of saying you want to be kissed in the rain? ‘Cause like, I-I’m up for it if you are,” Mark’s attempt at flirting is made unintentionally hilarious by him stammering midway, and you hide your face in your hands.

“Oh my God,” you groan. “You are really something else.”

Thankfully, the rain lets up just as the coffee shop starts closing up. You and Mark dispose of your cups and walk back outside, heading towards your apartment complex. You’re surprised at how much rain came down in such a small amount of time—the sidewalks and streets are completely waterlogged, and some of the water soaks into your shoes as you walk through the puddles. It’s still sprinkling a bit, but that’s better than being drenched.

The walk back is pleasantly quiet, the both of you finally having burned off the last of your remaining energy. You’re soon back at your apartment—maybe more quickly than you wanted to be—and standing in front of your door. You step away to look at Mark, pressing your back against the apartment door.

“So, I guess this is it?” You’re suddenly nervous again, unsure how the date is going to end—or how it should end. Will there be a kiss? Will he want to see you again? You’re sure he had a good time with you, but self-doubt can be a cruel mistress.

“I guess so,” Mark echoes. “Um, I—well, uh…” He seems like he wants to say something, but he gets a little stuck on the words.

“Maybe we should stop being so nervous around each other,” you blurt out, feeling your skin warm with embarrassment. Mark nods, scuffing his shoes along the floor.

“It’d probably be less awkward,” he admits, throwing you a nervous glance.

You shrug, trying to seem more nonchalant than you feel. “I enjoyed myself, though. And, y-you know, I definitely wouldn’t mind going on another one…if you’re up for it?” You look at Mark from below your eyelashes, and he meets your eyes too, a cute grin spreading across his lips.

“Of course! Y-yeah, absolutely, we can text each other about it.”

“Great!” You clasp your hands together, racking your brain for something else to say. Lucky for you, Mark helps you out by asking,

“Can I....kiss you?”

Your breath hitches and you look at him with wide eyes. “Y-yes.”

Mark steps closer to you and his hand goes to your waist. You’re almost afraid you’re going to melt from all the different emotions you’re feeling, but you try to keep a steady expression as his face moves closer to yours. When he kisses you, his lips are gentle and sweet, like him.

You both smile shyly when you pull away, until you finally remember you’re standing outside your apartment door and need to unlock it. “Ah, right…” You unlock the door and step inside, looking back at Mark once you do. “I’ll see you later, okay?” You give him a small wave, and he returns it.

“See you.”

You allow yourself to let out the breath you were holding once you get to your bedroom. You want to throw yourself on the bed, but your clothes are still wet, so you opt for screaming into a nearby pillow. After dancing around the room for a moment or two, you dig into your purse so you can text your friend, and your hand bumps into your key ring.

You pull it out and look at the little keychain again, holding it carefully between your fingers and studying its design. It’s tiny, but it’s cute and wonderful and it reminds you of Mark, making little butterflies rise up in your stomach. It’s perfect.

145 notes · View notes

jcmorrigan · 3 years

Note

Blakeworther headcanons. I don't have a specific theme or anything in mind. Go ham

Go ham, you say?

GO HAM, YOU SAY?

Sorry not sorry but this is about to become mega cringe time. Because I do *have* a specific set of headcanons preloaded but it is not at ALL what you asked for

I love crossovers, and I want to import the Bastard Trio into my current crossover hell fic. So I was kind of playing with their dynamic in my mind, and one of the ways I test out character dynamics is to send them on little imaginary missions to other crossover worlds in my mind. Now, I’m in the midst of watching a playthrough of Skyward Sword, which I have heretofore not experienced. And I’m not exactly finished with it. But for some mental warm-ups, I was thinking, “Okay. SkSw is the other big fandom I’m trying, and it’s as far from the G4 as you can get, so what if you put three sci-fi guys in a high fantasy setting and watched them go? What if they had to take Link’s journey, except their goal is most certainly not to save anything because they’re swaggering murderers? What would happen then?”

This...is that story. But only up through the part where I watched (the first of the Silent Realms). Maybe a part II later if I keep doing this?

-To blend in, our boys have gotten themselves some Loftwings. While Vincent’s and Victor’s look like ordinary giant shoebills...oh. Oh, dear. Albert...how did you manage to turn it into a Dream Eater so fast? Its beak is white, its feathers are black, it has no eyes and people are STARING.

-Albert refuses to discard or fix the Dream Eater Loftwing. It’s going to be his steed for this entire quest. Joy.

-NOBODY played fair when they had to race against Groose. They teamed up to knock him off his bird and it’s a miracle he survived. Especially since he wasn’t supposed to survive that.

-Like I said, I have no idea what their endgame goal is here because they’re certainly not trying to stop Demise. Or are they? Because they befriend Ghirahim right the heck away and it’s entirely possible they’re like “We’re from the future, this guy will shatter you, you deserve better, please leave Demise in the ground and join our team”

-And when I say they befriend Ghirahim right away I mean ESPECIALLY ALBERT

-Victor loves shopping at the bazaar because he can play-flirt with Peatrice and she’ll flirt right back. Meanwhile if the fortune teller attempts to reel in Vincent ONE MORE TIME there will be blood.

-Vincent Edgeworth is forcibly removed from the Skyloft bazaar

-Victor is the only person who remotely likes Fi, probably because she’s quite visibly supposed to be an AI and he is quite visibly part robot.

-They hit the ground and get going!

-Oh no. Kikwis. They hate Kikwis so much.

-The one that’s up in the tree, the three of them debate how to most quickly get down. Vincent: “We don’t bother and just say we did.” Victor: “If we threw a rock at it, it would fall out.” Albert: “I think we should set the whole tree on fire.”

-They get into the first dungeon, and you know that one segment where you have to vine-swing and the motion controls are so unforgiving? Vincent fell off those vines like twelve times and Victor and Albert lost their shit

-They get the beetle and now that thing’s a Dream Eater, too. Albert please stop doing this

-Back at Skyloft, doing sidequests is their least favorite thing. They do not give a SHIT about Gratitude Crystals if they don’t have to do so. The missing girl’s mom comes up to tell her problems and Vincent just goes “This affects me how?”. The brother says his sister went missing and Victor’s just like “We’ll take care of it!” and as soon as he’s out of earshot “Let’s not take care of it.” Cawlin hands them the love letter to deliver to Karane or Phoeni, Albert rips it in half in front of Cawlin, Cawlin starts bawling, Victor just goes “Actually I kinda wanted to do that one and see if we could start romance drama”

-Into Eldin Province and Mogmas are...only slightly less aggravating than Kikwis

-VINCENT ALMOST EXPLODES WHEN HE LEARNS THE KEY TO THE NEXT DUNGEON IS SPLIT IN PIECES AND HE HAS TO DIG IN THE DIRT FOR IT

-So then there’s that one passage in the valley where if you don’t just book it, your clothes will catch on fire. They blaze through it, and Fi determines that they’ve sustained no damage, which is good, because if they’d been exposed a moment longer, then surely one of them would be naked. Victor, hearing this, promptly tosses some personal item of his back into the high-heat area; “Oops. I dropped it. Go get it, Vincent.” Albert: “YES! GO GET IT, VINCENT!”

-It is only sheer willpower and Victor’s physical restraint that keeps Vincent from beating Ledd to a pulp.

-They actually kinda like hanging around the sacred springs, though. They’re tranquil places. A good way to just...not have to deal with all that noise. They can sit by the water quietly for a while, just watching it ripple.

-And back to business! They enter Lanayru, discover that the Time Crystals can revert this desert into a technological paradise and...yeah, it was way, WAY better in the past than it is now. They poke around some of the tech, taking notes for later in case they can reverse-engineer any of it.

-Dream Eater Beetle has been replaced by a brand-new shiny Hook Beetle! Albert, please don’t turn this one into a - GOD DAMMIT ALBERT. HOW ARE YOU EVEN DOING THIS WITH INANIMATE OBJECTS.

-They get in such a fight about how to place the generator switches. Victor is trying his best but he’s SURE they don’t arrange the way the other two are trying to tell him they arrange

-Every time they pass Ghirahim they stop to chat with him about how the demon uprising is going, also aren’t heroines just so freaking annoying? Zelda, Vanora, why are they always getting in the way?

-Victor of course tries to put the verbal moves on Impa. At this point Vincent and Albert know he just does this for fun, he’s faithful to the two of them, but still, they gotta do the obligatory eyeroll and groan

-”Yes, Victor. She’s very pretty. We’re gay, not blind”

-Vincent actually enjoys playing the Goddess Harp, surprisingly. He can just zone into the music.

-The Imprisoned gets out and hoo boy, they’re really not supposed to be DEFEATING evil just yet but Albert wants to cut off some TOES (and this ends up yielding them knowledge about the Isle of Songs so it’s all good)

-Scrapper annoys them all and visibly offends Victor.

-Vincent likes to use the bellows from the Eldin dungeon to blow away anyone who tries to rope him into a sidequest. Albert then goes “I’ve just realized the potential we have!” and tries to blow people off the edge of Skyloft.

-They hate the remlits until they find out that the remlits go feral at night and now they love the remlits but only after dark

-Into the Thunderhead for the Isle of Songs. And YET AGAIN WE CANNOT AGREE ON HOW TO SOLVE THE PUZZLE THAT LETS US INSIDE

-Down to Faron’s realm to get to the Silent Realm. Once they’re in there and have learned about the guardians...

-Vincent: “Now we have to be CAREFUL and QUICK or else the guardians will expel us immediately, maybe even kill us.” Victor: “You might want to tell him that.” Vincent: “Wh - ALBERT NO”

-Albert is investigating a dormant guardian close-up and decides “I want to take one of these home.”

-Vincent: “NO, Albert, we can’t...hmmmm. Actually, we could probably weaponize them...” Victor: “CAN WE NOT?”

-And then cue them risking life and limb not to get what they even came here for but to pick up AS MANY DARK RELICS AS THEY CAN CARRY

And that’s as far as I’ve watched in SkSw so far. Not sure whether or not I’ll keep using it as a Blakeworther ground, but there, have the AU you *never* wanted

#vincent edgeworth #victor blake #albert krueger #SKYWARD SWORD AU #i still wanna do more stuff of them with the wham army #and ghirahim is wham army af

7 notes · View notes

smilepal · 3 years

Note

👹🍊 🏀 🐟 ❤ :3c

Character ask meme for @billlybutcher ☺️

👹--How does you OC act around different people and how does their personality change to match the environment they’re in? How do they act with: friends, family, strangers, children or their lover(s)?

Hiro's personality/how he comes off is very dependent on who he's around. He takes pride in being adaptable to most situations, and being able to keep up a mask, or have people perceive him a certain way. It's easy to act--put on a show, let people see what you want them to see. This, in combination with a lack of fear, and the ability to be charming, at least with his mouth shut--has allowed him to bullshit his way out of situations he maybe shouldn't have been able to. If it seems like you're supposed to be there, and you know what you're doing, you can usually get away with quite a bit? He's quick to put on a front around strangers, depending on what he wants from them. Clients will usually perceive him as someone who's there to get the job done, quickly and without a whole lot of bullshit. He's to the point, often to the extent of being a bit abrupt/and wants to get the whole ordeal over with so he can get paid. If he wants something/is off-work though, he can be pretty charming--especially in the right context/if someone's caught his eye. He's still pretty direct in that regard, albeit less abrasive. He still has a mouth on him though, and that never changes much.

With friends he tends to let his guard down a bit, if they're very close to him--and with family as well. He still holds back a bit though, and it's something he still struggles with sometimes even if he has gotten better over time. Close friends/family are treated to a rare glimpse of a softer side, one that is strangely sentimental, and remembers the tiny details about people--a favorite flower, or song they like--stuff that makes them happy. He's a little hesitant around children, and honestly they scare him a bit. They're small, and have so much energy, and are just all over the place and he's the one to look back at their guardians for help. Despite this, he tries to be nice to them and makes a genuine effort not to seem too scary, and just hopes that none of them think he makes a good role model--something he hasn't been entirely successful with. With his lovers/people who've managed to get beyond the initial instinct to keep people at a distance (at least emotionally) he's a very dedicated, loyal partner. He might not always know how to convey something verbally, or get tripped up and have it come out less gracefully than he'd like, but he's not afraid to show affection through actions and gestures, and is always trying to find new ways to do so--whether that's spending quality time with them, or finding out how to cook their favorite meal for them.

🍊--Does your OC have any triggers? Why do these things trigger them? What are they like when triggered and how do they calm down after?

Hiro has a couple, not that he'd ever be forthcoming about that to others, or honestly, to himself. He's very reliant on his senses, and being deprived of any of them is something that deeply unsettles him/can push him into a spiral if it goes too far--the sense of being unmoored or untethered is enough to make him panic, especially if it's deliberate. He...doesn't do great with feeling helpless, and being cut off from his senses just amplifies that. Even in day-to-day life, he doesn't like complete silence. Being alone with his thoughts is something he genuinely tries to avoid, and dead silence exacerbates it. He tries to maintain at least some small level of background noise--usually the bustle of Night City/ambient sounds are enough, but if he's at home or driving, he likes to have the radio on in the background or music playing quietly.

In general, Hiro rarely lets his guard down, always keeping an eye out, both for his own safety and for others--and if someone manages to take him by surprise, even if it's on accident, he usually doesn't respond great. At the very best, he's fairly defensive or prickly/and if they're not someone he cares about maintaining a relationship with/if was done maliciously there could be a fight. His fight or flight response is strong, and it's just determined by how much he values a relationship. If there's a way out, he'll take it rather than risk an argument, but if pushed far enough, he'd snap at someone, loved one or not. That would usually take deliberate goading on their part though--usually by prying into his business more closely than he'd like or trying to get answers out of him he isn't comfortable giving.

Hiro takes a while to calm down/wind himself down after. He responds pretty strongly, and tries to remove himself from the situation as fast as possible. Typically if it’s really bad, he’s not going to want to talk about it and might just disappear for a bit—he’ll either get on his bike and go for a ride, or go clubbing/dancing. If it’s bad, and he feels like he can’t be around people, he might go spar with a training bag, and try to get some of his agitation out that way. Most of his coping skills are typically very physical—and all things considered, usually fairly healthy outlets. He tries to wear himself out enough that he doesn’t have to think very hard, or just surround himself with so much noise/stimulation he literally can’t focus on anything else.

🏀--Does your OC have any skills that people wouldn’t expect them to have? Do they have a hobby or pass time that others would consider strange or weird? How did they learn this particular skill or pick up this hobby?

Hiro is a surprisingly talented baker. He obviously never had much time for it before he left the Tyger Claws, or the opportunity to do something he’d consider so frivolous, but he picked it up from Mama Welles after he met Jackie. For the fact that he’s still pretty nervous cooking, he’s actually a decent baker, and enjoys how much he can tune everything else out while he’s doing it. He rarely bakes for himself, seeing it as something that isn’t necessarily worth the cost of supplies/the time commitment, but if there was even an inkling that someone else would appreciate it—they’d be quick to find some sort of homemade treat waiting for them when they least expect it—and as he’d be quick to point out—he looks damn cute in an apron. Most of his hobbies are pretty normal—dancing, boxing, rock climbing, and usually fairly physical. He’s been dancing for a long time, but the boxing he picked up from Jackie/Viktor, and the rock climbing from Victory. He also loves to race bikes and this is a definitely a hold-over from his TC days. It’s not necessarily a weird hobby, but people usually don’t expect him to like clothing/shopping as much as he does—and it’s usually where a lot of his extra income disappears to (well that and expensive stuff for his hair.)

🐟--What was your OC like as a baby? What were they like as a child? A teenager? An adult? How do you think they’ll develop ten years into their future? Twenty years? Will they live to old age?

Hiro was a really quiet child—and desperate for any sort of guidance/attention. His role models growing up weren’t good ones, and they definitely used this as an opportunity to manipulate him. He was very approval-seeking, and would take that wherever he could find it, even if meant trusting people he probably shouldn’t have. Granted, he didn’t know much better, but the lesson stuck with him, and it left him a much warier adult. Hiro was a god-awful shit as a teenager. He was still in the Tyger Claws at the time, and there was a lot of repressed anger/trauma there with almost zero outlets. There are a few relationships he maintains from before he cut ties with TC, but they are few and far between, Judy and Viktor being the biggest ones—and even those went through rocky periods.

Ten years into the future, it really depends if he can stay clear of the gangs or not. The likelihood of him allying himself with a corporation is slim to none, but enough bad choices/impulsive decisions might still lead him down a not-so-good path. Twenty years—he’d either be the healthiest he’s ever been, with strong relationships with others, and a circle of people he’s truly grown to trust, or what he absolutely used to dread/fear becoming. It all depends on whether he puts personal relationships/growth over what’s easier for him/seems to come a little too easily, and lets himself get consumed by the darker side of Night City. Regardless, he’d probably survive to old age—honestly out of sheer spite. He’s always been driven by survival/keeping himself alive, and would honestly do so even if only to outlive his enemies. Even into older age though, he’d still try to keep himself sharp. Whatever the case, the likelihood of a peaceful retirement somewhere seems far-fetched. He’d still manage to find his way into the middle of things, even if only unintentionally.

❤️--What inspired you to make this OC? How long have you had them? How have they changed in the time you’ve been developing them?

Oh boy, I’ll try not to get too long-winded with this. Hiro started as an OC for an unnamed futuristic story—probably about two-ish years ago? I’d just seen Bladerunner (as well as the more recent sequel) for the first time, and I’d never gotten too deeply into the genre before. But I realized I wanted to create a character that would fit into one one these universes—someone scrappy, a survivor at heart, and who wasn’t afraid to risk his own safety for his found family. He didn’t have a lot of depth when I first created him (although the name stuck—he was always Hiro, and it never felt right changing it). He initially was a lot less sympathetic, and honestly—even aggravated me a bit. I tried to create a character that was a little more balanced, and someone who had flaws but wasn’t completely unlikeable, and who’s impulsive actions led to actual, lasting consequences. His initial character (even before I fit him into the CP universe) began as a sort of android, who could almost, but not quite pass as human. He still has fairly extensive cybernetics, and relies on them heavily, but not as much as he had previously.

Even when I was first developing him as a Cyberpunk OC, he was more focused on guns/ranged weapons/stealth. It was only after playing cyberpunk, that my play-style began to influence his character and he became much more strength/melee based. And honestly? I’m really happy he did. He’s not my usual type of character, at least in that regard and it’s been fun leaning into it—and making him this character who’d rather punch first and think later. (Also not at all influenced by the fact that I’m impatient as hell and net hacking/stealth just takes so long.) He developed along-side Vic, and her character really helped me to realize how Hiro would interact with other characters—especially ones who have such different backstories/upbringing, and the process of creating him, and being able to bounce ideas off someone else (“hey wouldn’t it be cool if this happened?”) was a huge part in inspiring me, and was so helpful, having someone to respond to that character and provide their own feedback (and vice-versa). Also honestly, Hiro was created after a long period of me not being super creative/artistically motivated. It was the middle of COVID and I was so fucking bored, and not doing much outside of work and classes. So he was an amazing creative outlet for me—helped to get me to start writing again, and eventually led me to tumblr/discord and a lot of really fantastic people, and the sort of community I’d needed.

Wow, uh sorry this got so long. But man, thanks for asking--was really, really fun 😍💖

#aaaa I'm sorry this took so long #character asks #ask memes #hiro oda #thanks for your patience #🖤🖤🖤#character headcanons #cyberpunk ocs #uh got a bit carried away with this one 😅#okay tho they're long questions--ya can hardly blame me #victory delvin #tyger claws #very long post #victory delvin belongs to shinycorvidae #this bitch ended up being almost 2000 words holy shit--wish I could write actual papers this easily 😂

4 notes · View notes

mytastessuck · 3 years

Text

Ween: Quebec

LAh, Quebec. Hated upon its release, nowadays considered Ween's best album. Listening to this album, modern-day listeners may wonder why this album received such a chilly reception when it came out. Well, in between Gener's divorce, Claude's near-fatal car accident and just a general shitty time to be members of the band, the mood of this album felt drearier and noticeably more cynical than their other records. In some respects, this album is heavier than The Oneness and sloggier than The Pod. But its rawness works to its advantage in that this is one of the realest examples of art I've ever listened to and the fact that Ween could get this out while going through the wringer says a lot about their talent, determination and how blessed they are by the Boognish.

Let's get started.

1. It's Gonna Be A Long Night

As far as Motorhead tributes go, this is most likely the best. Try to find a better parody of Lemmy's voice. Don't try. You'll be embarrassing us both. This track goes hard as fuck while still being something you blast out your window while you pick your niece up from school. Bonus points for the scream at the end.

1975/10

2. Zoloft

Best tribute to a drug I've ever heard. Only pussies sing about cocaine and heroin. Real musicians give tributes to behavioral-modifying over-the-counter pills that let you deal with jackasses all day. Ween knows their drugs and they know who the real hero is.

25/10

3. Transdermal Celebration

Ladies and Gentleman, my second favorite song of all time.

When I heard this song for the first time, I broke down in tears. The guitar work (thanks to Carlos Santana's stolen guitar, oddly enough), the beautifully sung lyrics, the sheer mental imagery...I can't put it into words which makes me a really shitty reviewer now that I think of it but that's what you guys came for. I have three different versions of this song on my playlist and really, nothing makes me feel closer to understanding what it's all about besides this song and another one. This song...is universe.

ℵ0/10

4. Among His Tribe

A peaceful song about a day in the life of a man in a tribe. Pretty chill fare. Very cool to mellow out to while imagining how people from you might leave. Always a nice venture.

10/10

5. So Many People In The Neighborhood

A nice paranoid ditty about your neighbors. Bizarre instrumentation but it asks an important question about your neighbors: are they good people?

...

...They aren't.

9/10

6. Tried And True

A nice song to sing along with when you're around other people. If some brave soul asks where the song's from, say it's from the 60s. Hell, tell them it was by Harry Nilsson. That'll put an old dog toy in their craw.

11/10

7. Happy Colored Marbles

Here we get to the meat of the album, where one side of a man wonders about people's mental state why the other side just thinks about playing with marbles. Well, we don't have to pay any attention to the first part. It's not like it foreshadows anything about where the tone is going with the son---WOAH, THAT'S FUCKING LOUD! Jesus, is this what they play to get the guys on Twitch to scream like that?

2500/10

8. Hey There Fancypants

Ah, finally after all that horrid nonsense, we finally get to listen to proper music! Yes, this is a delightful tune that one can play in front of beloved Queen Victoria before we are taken into the Royal Loo in order to perform the Sacred Cunnlingus, as one is wont to do. Yes, if those Ween folks focused more on making music like this instead of all that other dreck, we might actually be able to do something about this Indian problem once and for all!

10/10

9. Captain

A song to be played at night while you're sailing back to shore as you see a storm gathering overhead. No other situation is appropriate.

9/10

10. Chocolate Town

Time to head down to Chocolate Town where all the folks look at you like you don't belong there, whether you were born and raised there or not. That's the vibe I get from this song or not. Seriously though, nice of Ween to creep a bit of darkness into such a pleasant sounding song. Always a sucker for that shit.

10/10

11. I Don't Want It

Love how this song manages to capture the feeling of how it feels to watch a relationship crumble before your eyes without being able to stop it. The divorce really shows it swinging dick in the latter half of the album and its super apparent on this track. I don't want to wish this situation on any of you but for those that have experience this...remember to hold onto the memories.

11/10

12. The Fucked Jam

Ugh, this song always makes me uncomfortable. I don't know if it's the voices or the instrumentation or chiptune-like mumbling but...yeah, this song just weirds me out in the wrong way. Nothing offensive here though.

5/10

13. Alcan Road

Ah, finally back on solid ground. Nice tune to trip out to while imagining yourself levitating up a mountain. Nice shit and a real step up.

9/10

14. The Argus

One of Ween's more downcast songs and it earns its tune by being one of their darker works. May the Argus cast his compassion upon us indeed.

10/10

15. If You Could Save Yourself (You'd Save Us All)

Gene really airs it all out on this track and fuck, it's some of the rawest shit I've heard in music. He lets out all of the frustration he had about the marriage in one song and he kills it in a way that Taylor Swift, Eminem, or Carly fucking Simon could only aspire to. Great way to vent about divorce and great way to end an album.

11/10

Album Score: ℵ0+4605/10

Next time, we review White Pepper, probably Ween's second most underrated album. See you then.

#ween #music #review #quebec

2 notes · View notes

dazais-guardian-angel · 4 years

Text

Time for my feels dump thoughts on Diabolical Box...! y’all, this game. this game. I don’t think people give it enough credit for... a lot of what it does, despite the messiness of the plot reveals... but it’s so special and unique, in ways I’m only now appreciating. also this is gonna be really REALLY fucking long I am so sorry, but I have a Lot to say about the ending parts... i just love this game so much...... so i wrote a fucking novel bc of course i did.

also i played this in October, completely unintentionally, so that’s noice.

The amount of voice acting and cutcenes in this compared to CV is amazing, I love it so much, even if it is funny sometimes the dialogue they choose to voice and then abruptly cut off a few lines later.

I had COMPLETELY forgotten about Luke jumping on Chelmey and trying to rip his face off and it’s just the funniest fucking thing omg; Hershel in the background going “NO LUKE THAT’S HIS FACE” is comedic gold.

Will we ever know what Hershel was going to say when Chelmey asked him what Luke’s relationship to him was... dammit Luke why’d you have to cut him off.

Hershel calling the hamster “generously proportioned” is amazing. also “I’ve always said that helping rodents in need is among the duties of every true gentleman” Hershel... please tell me what other situations have made you say that... please...

Why is there an entire subplot about finding this Karen’s dog, just to make Chelmey look like even more of an idiot? if they needed to pad the game out more, they definitely could have done it with flashbacks or in places that I’m... ahem... emotionally invested in

Flora’s treatment in this game is so infuriating to me, like... why did they think this was a good idea? What was the point of bringing her into the plot for NO other reason than to be kidnapped and impersonated? Was it literally just because they needed a way for Hershel and Luke to run into Don Paolo and get the box back from him??? Why couldn’t, idk, Katia run into him in Dropstone and get the box from him and save Flora, that would still get the box to her and keep Flora in the group, and it would tip them off to Katia being related to all this even earlier, and Don Paolo could still be shown there if he absolutely has to make an appearance in each game. I know it’s because he has to be built up and then revealed, and because Hershel always has to have a dramatic point-n’-reveal every game, but whyyyyyy does it have to be at the expense of Flora. :))))) It would have been interesting to see her reactions to Folsense and Anton and everything, and not have Katia be the only female involved in all this; maybe she could, you know, actually have a personality!! hahaaaa who am I kidding...

beluga: “it’s already been a year since she passed away” me: whythehellyoucryingsodamnloud.jpg

Anderson talking about Dropstone and the sacrifices made to found it and how it can’t die out like “other towns”... with the song playing... whythehellyoucryingsodamnloud.jpg

The sheer coincidence of Katia going to Folsense on the same day that Hershel and Luke would end up in Dropstone and then there, and on the 50th anniversary of the town... not a likely one.

Didn’t some versions of the game come with a real version of the train ticket to Folsense? I want it D:

i also want a real Elysian Box, like can i commission someone to make one minus the whole you know actual gold, please, i’ll pay aNYTHING- *sobs*

LUKE HOW COULD YOU FORGET THAT HERSHEL IS AN ARCHEOLOGIST, AFTER ALL THE ARCHEOLOGICAL SHIT YOU’VE BEEN THROUGH

Hershel to “Flora”: “you’re as white as a sheet!” Don Paolo, minutes ago while the others aren’t looking: *furiously powdering his face mask or some shit*

Why was Anton’s diary lying in the street though... it doesn’t make sense that Katia or Beluga would have it, and they couldn’t open it anyhow. probably just a gameplay thing that should go unquestioned but I want to knowwww lol. Also wish Hershel and Luke had reactions to the entries.

Ilyana tho. Also bootleg Clive asdfghjkl

I LOVE THE TOWER OF HANOI PANCAKE PUZZLES

Am I the only one who doesn’t understand the obsession with the tea set... like yeah it’s fun to serve tea when you actually get it right, but I’m stuck with like two recipes missing and getting frustrated just trying and trying countless ingredient combinations on end because some of the npcs are NOT helpful enough in telling what to make :))))

Obviously Katia can’t reveal anything or say anything about why she’s there at all to keep the suspense till the end, but it would have been cool to see her working together with them and making a plan to get into the castle and help Anton aka I just wanted more scenes with Anton being nice and not flying into a rage over a misunderstanding ugh

It’s honestly pretty impressive some of the deductions/connections Chelmey makes in this game, despite his... other incredibly stupid ones lol

“iSnT iT oBvIoUs?”

WHY DOES HERSHEL RISK KILLING LUKE (AGAIN) WITH THE BOX. And why tf does it not do anything to them since they assumed it would...?

The biggest mystery of the series is how Pavel gets where he does, truly

The music in the forest is truly one of the best osts, god I love it. I also adore the Herzen Castle ost now, I never really noticed it before but it is WONDERFULLY creepy and heavy and melancholic and just... idk, those harpsicords go hard. damn.

Opening the Elysian Box is the best puzzle in the series, because of the meaning behind it. Or at least, it’s my favorite for that reason :^)

Alright folks so I’m gonna be completely, unabashedly honest here, and reveal myself to be the superficial, shallow fucker I am lmao: Anton is super hot and I’m still attracted to him even now, and I hate that we get so little time with younger him dklslskdfkflssd I AM SORRY I CAN’T HELP IT OKAY. BLAME THE VOICE ACTOR, HE HAD NO RIGHT TO SOUND SO UNEXPECTEDLY DEEP AND INCREASE ANTON’S HOTNESS LEVEL BY 1000%... just. god damn. damn. the dining room scene. the lighting. the way he puts his hands down and closes his eyes at one point. the way he says Herzen. the freaking sass with “chalk it up to my bad taste then.” the little clap. his entire design which just oozes Victorian era anime bishie beauty. kudos to the character designer who was like “well they said make someone cool and handsome and i wasn’t sure what to do but i tried and i guess it worked out” GOOD SIR BOY DID YOU SUCCEED. how dare this man turn me on so much, fUCK. And I know it’s super shitty of me to not like his old design as much!!! but just!!! why the beak nose.... why.... he was so gorgeous and then you give him the Bronev nose treatment..... i’m already so sad over the ending but you make him look so much sADDER, THE SADDEST POSSIBLE DESIGN FOR OLDER ANTON. It’s not that I mind him being old, I just wish he looked more like himself... there didn’t need to be such a drastic change. But I know I’m just being petty lmao. anyway stan Anton for most beautiful PL character always 🙏 Descole and Clive’s hotness have nothing on this man

*ahem* But to get back to serious topics, replaying this now when I’m older, with the ones after it in mind, I think I finally realize why this game stands out to me so much from the others, making it my favorite. To put it as best I can, Diabolical Box, to me at least, just has a different feel from all the other PL games. Yes, it’s still definitely a Layton game, you still investigate a mystery, there’s still puzzles everywhere, it still has a relaxing city or country feel to the atmosphere, there’s still lots of charm, but once you hit Folsense and the climax and the ending reveals, the tone sort of... shifts? Not drastically, but enough that’s different from any point in all the other games that I can remember; I feel like Last Spector might have the closest kind of atmosphere to Folsense at certain parts, but even then the plot of that game is nowhere near to having the same tone as this one. Diabolical Box, when you really look close at it and think about it, is dark. Dark in a way that none of the other games are, despite the darkness some of the others do have. And I think part of that is because almost every other game/movie is connected to the overarching story involving Hershel’s past and people involved with him, and so the drama and angst is very much grounded in London or other places Hershel would be/was, and in his time, but Diabolical Box is unique in that the story and characters in it have nothing to do with him. And to reflect this, Anton and Sophia’s story is based in the early 1900′s, the Victorian era, in a city so far separated from, again, everything to do with Hershel, that if you were to just watch their story by itself and take the professor and Luke out of it, and you knew nothing about the series, you could reasonably argue that it isn’t from a Professor Layton game at all. What I mean is that Anton’s story could be an entire anime all on its own surely it’s not obvious how badly I want that, nope, not at all, completely separate from this series, and it would work; it could be its own period era-esque drama series, still with all the supernatural shit intact later on. I can think of a few existing anime similar to what I’m imagining.

And I really do think it would be amazing, because like I said this story is terribly, terribly dark, and sad; as a PL game, like a lot of the other ones, it can’t go deep into the nitty gritty of what makes Anton’s story so fucking depressing, but just like... Imagine it. Imagine being alone, for so long in that castle, so long that you don’t even know how long it’s been anymore, with virtually no one, after having your heart broken and being abandoned by the person you loved the most, and who you thought loved you, and getting no closure about it. This long post goes a ton of detail about Anton’s character and things he was probably feeling/reasons for his behavior, but in short, Anton’s mother is never mentioned, so combined with how distant he was from his father and the fact that he feels alone in his role in society and that no one truly sees him as a real person, it’s quite possible that he clung to Sophia unconsciously as a mother figure, and, in general, she was the only person who made him feel seen, and loved. The only exception was Beluga, but Beluga leaves the town and Anton behind after quarreling with their father, so... It’s just extremely apparent when you read the diary entries and his dialogue (with the voice acting) that Anton was always alone and terribly insecure, and that Sophia made him the happiest he ever was - and so her leaving him was devastating to him. He was alone for fifty years (and who knows how long it actually felt, to him), in a lonely castle and emptying town, his entire family either left or dead, his body slowly aging without him even knowing it, while he had a daughter and granddaughter born without even knowing it, and all the while he’s left with the misunderstanding that Sophia might have loved someone “better” than him all along, never getting answers, having to live with all that grief and guilt and blame and jealousy and self-hatred over a situation that wasn’t even entirely true. Imagine what your MENTAL STATE would be like, jfc it’s a miracle he’s as sane as he is in the game!! Not to mention everything that crashes down on him within TEN MINUTES AT THE END. Yes, Unwound Future and the prequels very purposefully heap the angst on with Clive/Dimitri and Descole respectively, like “we are trying so hard to make you feel for this guy cry cry cry” and I fall for it like the trash i am love them too, don’t get me wrong, but Anton’s tragedy is much more understated but in my opinion is by far the absolute saddest of them all. I just... i’m crying y’all, this poor man. give him a fucking HUG. Anton Did Nothing Wrong 2k20; he doesn’t even hurt the people he lures in with his vampire scheme!! he lets them go without a scratch!!! what a guy... give him a hug and blankets please i love him so much, him and Sophia- *sobs*

and also as a side note, I honestly think Descole/Desmond would fit perfectly into this game for a lot of these reasons, in the trend of “trying to fit Descole into the first trilogy”; he’s got the right Aesthetic™ for one thing, but mainly just he and Anton have a LOT in common...! actually, now that I think about it, Randall and Anton do too, but I much prefer the notion of Descole and Anton interacting. honestly, I’m toying with the idea of an AU where Desmond and resurrected Aurora end up in Folsense and solve that mystery themselves instead of Hershel and Luke; i think it’d be fascinating.

However, by the same token, as much as I LOVE this game and characters for all of those reasons... it also makes no fucking sense ahaha. How the FUCK does the gas work. The illness that started killing people when the ore was first unearthed and is the reason everyone starts leaving, is THAT from the gas I assume?? but like why?? cause eventually it just turns to making the town appear as it was years ago and keeping people young, so...? ARE ALL THE TOWNSPEOPLE NOT ACTUALLY THERE, OR THEY ARE AND ARE JUST YOUNG LIKE ANTON; I’m still not clear on this!! because Hershel at the end says they’re illusions, and yet when you talk to the npcs so many of them complain about being tired and feeling old, so what is the truth!! It would make sense if newcomers see the town as it is in the pictures, but there’s no reason for them to not age... in fact, I don’t understand where the not aging thing comes from at ALL, since if the idea is that the gas makes what you think will happen happen, how tf did that even come about in the first place??? There’s no way everyone who inhaled the gas would think the exact same things and have the exact same hallucination. And if fifty years passed in reality, how long did it feel like to Anton/others; surely it couldn’t have been that long if they never questioned why they weren’t aging? If the gas in the box put Schrader in a coma, what was his theory about what would happen? Why does nothing happen to Hershel and Luke upon opening it when they clearly assume something will happen? Related to other things, how does the box become the source of a rumor, and how does Schrader even get it? Do people just assume Anton is dead or otherwise gone, or do they know/assume he’s still in the castle but don’t try to see him because of the vampire? Does Beluga know Anton is still there, if he does it’s pretty shitty of him to ignore him, and why does he think the box has to do with the fortune of all things if he possibly knew Sophia wanted it and knew it had something to do with her and Anton (seriously I don’t understand Beluga, I really wish they’d done more with him; he looks so shitty even if you give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he knew the least amount possible)??? Did Sammy know that the drugged flowers related to getting into Folsense? Did Katia know how to get into Folsense, and what was she planning to do if she never found the box in order to prove she was who she said she was? Why do some of the npcs act like they know the deep dark secret of Folsense and keep saying Hershel and Luke don’t need to know, and keep talking about the town being cursed, like do they really know the truth?? Or not??? LEVEL-5 I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS AND I’M TOO DUMB TO FIGURE OUT THE ANSWERS. EVEN LAYTON VS. WRIGHT’S STUPID REVEALS MAKE MORE SENSE THAN THIS AAAAAHHHH

anyway DB best game anton hot Even with all the weirdness though that makes this game the most Layton the Layton series has ever Layton’d lmao, I still love Diabolical Box so damn much. I love it so much, guys. It’s not part of a huge narrative, it’s not connected to the main characters; it tells its own little story and it does that perfectly. It’s so unique from all the rest, like I said, the plot has so much depth I don’t really see talked about, Anton and Sophia’s story is so beautifully tragic and underrated on a mature level that none of the other games really reach, and despite how upset I am we don’t get to see more of them, their love story is so impactful and emotional just from what little we do see, despite some of the oddities of how it plays out... they’re so sweet together and I cry so damn much over them ಥ⌣ಥ Iris is one of the most beautiful and touching songs in the series, too, and my favorite. And I’m a sucker for the Victorian era and cute romance lmao, so it just gets me like nothing else does... it’s so wonderful. saddest PL game, I will die on this hill. Even if I seem to talk a lot more about some of the other games/characters simply because there’s more content to talk about and there’s more to say about the more flawed content. you can’t improve perfection *chef’s kiss*, deep down, I think, this game will always be my favorite. ❤️

#professor layton #professor layton spoilers #meta #'thoughts post' more like Dana Rants An Entire Novel of Feels #but what is tumblr for if not this amiright #anton and sophia utterly destroy me and they always will #there's not much shown but what IS shown is so goddamn devastating and painful and bittersweet #i don't ship much but they're one of my otps so u know they good :')#i wanted to say even more here but i felt so guilty for how fucking massive this post was alksdfkfl;ss i cut some of it out already #i can kinda relate to Anton though tbh.... not getting closure on a relationship ending is truly painful; it's one of the worst things ever #so i feel for him </3 #and i love him #protect anton herzen always #and stan DB always

18 notes · View notes

passionate-reply · 3 years

Note

the human league for the band ask 👀👀

Cheeky, aren’t we, Ruby?

FAVOURITE SONG: “Austerity / Girl One”

Where to even begin here? Everything about this song just goes off the shits? It’s long as fuck, it’s a medley of two original compositions for some reason, it has this creepy, minimal synth backing, the lyrics and the narrative are so powerful. I mean, lord knows I have said to people, ”When the best of men take bribes, isn’t it the fool who doesn’t?” and they’ve probably thought that’s in the Bible or some shit. Meanwhile I just sit there, smugly laughing to myself because that’s a quote from a fucking Human League song. Delicious. Runners up: “Rock ‘N’ Roll,” “Darkness,” “Being Boiled.”

LEAST FAVOURITE SONG: “Human”

Feel free to substitute any of those songs they did in the early 90s and miraculously got into the charts with, I forget their names. Late period Human League is messy. Very much disposable pop that I have a hard time vibing with. I mean, okay, the mid-80s stuff isn’t exactly up my alley either, but at least it’s weird, you know? I find it hard to really dislike “The Lebanon,” because I find the sheer absurdity of the Human League doing a political rock song amusing. This later stuff is just kinda boring.

HAVE I EVER SEEN THEM LIVE: No :(

But I would in a heartbeat. I know they’re kind of an 80s flashback cruise-tier band at this point, but I don’t give a shit, I’d see them anyway. For the cred.

FAVOURITE BAND MEMBER: Philip Adrian Wright

Hear me out on this one. The original Human League literally hired this guy specifically to work projection and slides when they performed. What kind of ridiculous job is that? I love it. And then when Marsh and Ware left to do B.E.F./Heaven 17 stuff, he ended up playing synths. He’s basically the only person in the more recognizable lineup of this band who has any actual musical ability. Despite not even being in the band to do music. Iconic! Nobody really gives a damn about him, and disappeared to God knows where in the mid-80s, but here on Passionate Reply, we stan Phil 2. What a legend.

LEAST FAVOURITE BAND MEMBER: ...

Once again there is no obviously bad member of the Human League, but I’m going to use this as an excuse to point out that Phil Oakey literally has no idea what he’s doing and isn’t really a musician in any meaningful sense. Marsh and Ware hired him because they kind of knew him from school, and he was popular, well-dressed, and owned a motorcycle. That’s literally it. Phil is a complete joke. I don’t actually dislike him, though, because he’s living his best life and he owns being a flamboyant frontman pretty well, considering. I wish Phil 1 well, and I hope he still has that motorcycle.

HOW MANY OF THEIR ALBUMS YOU HAVE: 2

Once again, I have millions of digital files. But as far as vinyl goes, I own their debut, Reproduction, as well as their weird instrumental EP The Dignity of Labour, which is a concept album about Yuri Gagarin’s spaceflight. (The early Human League were ridiculously weird like that and I love that for them.) I’m almost certainly going to talk about Dare on Great Albums in the future, but I actually don’t care for the cover art all that much, despite it being super iconic. So I actually might have to do a video where I don’t own the vinyl...

FAVOURITE ALBUM: Reproduction

Easy to guess given that I’ve lavished so much love on the original lineup era here, but there you go. This one is definitely getting a Great Albums video too. It’s just so out-there and experimental. You really get the feel that it’s underground, counter-cultural even. Which is a weird thing to say about a band that eventually became the most mainstream thing on the planet in the 80s. But just look at that cover! It’s downright disgusting, and would very much ruffle feathers today if you tried to slap that on your album!

3 notes · View notes

calumcest · 4 years

Text

i took a walk with my fame down memory lane (i never did find my way back) - chapter five

[ao3]

cannot believe the malum is going somewhere now this is truly scenes...only 50k into the fic and all...would you believe that i don’t read fics over 8k long because i’m too impatient i’m literally the worlds biggest hypocrite i HATE slow burn look at me. i literally write everything i hate

@tirednotflirting my lovely basically-co-writer i love you thank you for dealing with this shit i changed like half of it i cannot believe you had to read it in the state it was in...truly vile...also this chapter actually owes its life to @kaleidoscopeminds i wasn’t going to post today bc the laptop i have to use rn is doing my nut and bc i thought nobody cares but meg cares and so this is for her <3

Noel gets back the next afternoon.

He’s dishevelled, he’s sleep-deprived, he’s stone-cold sober and in a right fucking mood, but he’s there. Calum sees him at breakfast, sat at a table chatting to Alan - he’s just got off his flight, still hasn’t taken his suitcase back up to his room, looks like he hasn’t got changed in the four days he’s been gone - and when Noel spots him, he just stares for a minute, wavering, like he’s not sure how Calum’s going to react. It makes Calum falter too, because Noel’s always so certain about these things, always scoffs and says c’mon, then, don’t be a dick, all business-like, so it’s an unexpected reaction. It feels almost like a shift, feels like maybe something’s irrevocably changed, now, and he’s not really sure what to make of it, not sure whether the way his stomach flips is because of that or Noel or the comedown he’s currently pushing through.

He heads to the table, though, because what the fuck else is he supposed to do - skip a free meal? No fucking chance - and Noel’s eyes follow him the whole way, a slight edge of trepidation leaking into the edges as Calum gets closer and closer until he’s hovering at the table. He’s not going to speak first, Calum realises. He’s going to let Calum take the lead, and that’s unusual too, nothing like the Noel that had left all of four days ago. Jesus, what the fuck do they do to the water in San Diego? Whatever it is, he hopes Noel’s brought some back for Liam to drink.

Alan’s watching the two of them, that managerial instinct telling him that something’s not quite right here, like he can see the way Calum’s skin is crawling with this strange, unknown hesitancy around Noel, and Calum doesn’t want to make a scene in front of him, so he just cocks his head and looks down at Noel.

“You’re a prick,” he says. Noel blinks, and for a brief moment Calum’s stomach drops, like maybe even that has changed, now, like maybe that’s not the right way to say I love you, you massive cunt anymore, and then Noel grins tiredly.

“Aye,” he says simply, and Calum grins back, relief flooding his veins, and sits down opposite Noel.

It goes pretty much the same with Tony and Bonehead, although Bonehead does cuff Noel upside the head a little harder than strictly necessary. Liam doesn’t come down for food, even though he’s always the first up, and when he realises that the waiters are clearing away the chafing dishes without an indignant Mancunian telling them oi, I’ve only had six hash browns, Calum exchanges a look with Bonehead. Liam’s going to make Noel go to him, isn’t going to let them have a chance meeting. He’s going to make Noel go to him, which for Noel is the same as crawling through broken glass on his hands and knees.

Noel does it, though, swallows his pride and heads up to Liam’s room when everybody else is chatting animatedly, relief powering the conversation. Calum doesn’t even notice he’s gone until he turns to ask Noel to back him up on Help! being better than Rubber Soul, which is probably what Noel wanted. He’d hate to make a big show of it, for everyone to know that the roles are reversed, that Noel’s going to Liam rather than Liam going to Noel. Still, though, Calum thinks, turning back to the rest of the group and launching into his impassioned defence of Help!, it’s not like Noel. Something’s changed, and Calum’s not entirely sure what, and he doesn’t fucking like it.

The rest of them don’t see Liam and Noel all day, but when Calum passes by Liam’s room he hears two low voices talking calmly, quietly, rationally, and catches what sounds like look, you love me, I love you, so let’s make this work, and ...for mam’s sake, if nowt else. They emerge again at dinner, and don’t speak about it, and nobody dares to ask, not even Calum. It’s not like anyone else would understand, anyway; the two of them live on another fucking planet where the normal rules of brotherhood and family and basic fucking decency don’t apply.

Once Noel and Liam have made up, though - or, at least, started calling each other cunts a little less venomously - the rest of the American leg of the tour goes off without a hitch.

They’re there until late October, and despite an edge of tension in the band, a little uncertainty as they all try to find their feet in their new, post-Whiskey-a-Go-Go-disaster relationships, the tour goes well. Noel and Liam don’t escalate past their usual arguments, only ignore each other for a few hours at a time, and all their dates are sold out. On top of all that, the album’s hitting heights none of them had even dreamed of.

(Well, maybe Liam had dreamed of them. In fact, Liam had laid it out plainly for them on the first day of recording, pointing accusingly first at Noel, then Bonehead, then Calum, then back to Noel, skipping Tony completely: it’s going to be number fucking one, you hear me, and it’s going to go fucking platinum, and whatever the fuck comes after platinum. It’s going to be fucking mega. )

Noel had written some songs while he was in San Diego, one candid acoustic ballad that makes Calum and Bonehead share a slightly alarmed glance when they hear it, and Alan insists that they’re masterpieces, so they head to a studio in Texas to record them. Calum stands with Liam behind the thick glass that separates the live room from the control room, watches as Noel blinks down at his acoustic guitar and sings I wanna talk tonight ‘bout how you saved my life and then looks up at either Calum or Liam, Calum can’t tell, and sings you and me see how we are. It sends a shiver down his spine, the sheer fucking openness of it, and for the first time makes him think shit, what was going through Noel’s head when he was gone? He’s been so preoccupied with their side of it, with Bonehead’s drinking and Tony and Maggie’s conversations and Liam shutting himself in his room that he hadn’t stopped to think about what Noel might have been feeling, about just how literally Noel means you saved my life.

When the rest of them get back into the studio to record the other songs, though, it feels like something slotting back into place. It reminds them all who they are, what they are, and smooths over the discordance, evens out the dissonance. The five of them come out of it grinning, laughing, shaking their heads at some ridiculous tale Liam’s spinning, and it feels good. For the first time in weeks, giddy with nothing but adrenaline and love, Calum feels good. The music’s what makes them, and the music’s what fixes them. It’s an important lesson, that they can go through something like that and stitch up the wounds with a few guitar strings, and it makes them all feel a little more grounded, a little more confident that they’re back on their feet.

The day of their flight back to the UK, when they’re all still nursing their incredible hangovers from the celebrations of finishing the North American leg of the tour the night before, Calum goes down for breakfast to find Noel and Liam already sat at the table, deep in what looks like a heated conversation. He hesitates for a moment - any conversation with the brothers whispering fiercely like that is likely a conversation he wants no part in - but it’s too late, because Noel’s seen him, and he’s beckoning him over, brows knitted together.

“What?” Calum says warily, about three feet from the table, far enough away that he can still make a break for it if it devolves into a shouting match.

“D’you know where we were this morning?” Noel says. Calum shrugs. He doesn’t even know where they are now, let alone where Noel and Liam might have disappeared to before he was awake.

“We had a radio interview,” Liam says. Calum’s not sure why he’s supposed to care about that.

“With Blur,” Noel adds, and Calum’s stomach drops.

What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” Calum says, trying his best to school his features into something neutral, feeling the two identical sets of blue eyes scrutinising him, watching for a reaction. “Why- what? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We didn’t know,” Liam says, a little coolly, and takes a sip of his tea, eyes still on Calum to see how he reacts.

“What happened?”

“What the fuck was s’posed to happen?” Noel says, raising an eyebrow. “We did the fucking interview.”

“Without calling them cunts?”

“‘Course,” Liam says, pulling a cigarette out of the packet lying between himself and Noel on the table. “We’re fucking professionals, we are.” Calum snorts. The most professional thing either of them have done is turn up to a bus call only twenty minutes late.

“You did call Damon a prick,” Noel says mildly to Liam, who waves the hand that isn’t flicking his lighter dismissively.

“Cal asked about cunt, though, didn’t he?” he mumbles around his cigarette, and Calum and Noel both roll their eyes, Calum huffing out a laugh and Noel tutting, both edged with fondness.

“The Sun’s going to have a fucking field day,” Calum says, deciding it’s safe enough to sit down. The two of them don’t seem in too bad of a mood; in fact, they seem a little too calm, both of them looking at Calum with almost blank expressions, heads tilted one way. “What?” Calum adds, a little defensively, and Liam leans forwards, taking the cigarette out of his mouth just so he can speak properly.

“Mike was there,” he says, like he’s revealing a big secret that he’s been bursting to tell. Calum’s heart skips a beat, but he keeps his face straight, and just blinks at Liam. So that’s what this is about. He should’ve known, really; it would have been too much to ask for the Gallagher brothers to forget about that part of Calum’s sexual history for, like, two fucking minutes.

“Well, he’s part of Blur, isn’t he?” Calum says.

“He asked after you,” Noel says, far too nonchalantly, stirring his tea. Calum swallows, feeling the all-too-familiar guilt surge up in his lungs. He shouldn’t be talking to Michael. He shouldn’t have taken Michael’s number, shouldn’t have learnt it off by heart, shouldn’t have sat in Noel’s empty hotel room and turned to Michael on one of the worst days of his life. And he definitely shouldn’t have done all of that without telling Liam or Noel.

“Oh,” Calum says. “Well.” He’s not sure what else to say, what else the guilt will even let him say. “What did you say?” Liam throws him a slightly indignant look.

“Told him to fuck off, obviously,” he says, like he’s a little offended Calum’s even asked. “Not telling him fuck all about you, am I?” God. If it were anyone else they were talking about, Calum would feel a pure rush of love for Liam, at the fact he’s so unquestioningly and unnecessarily protective of Calum, but because it’s Michael, a huge surge of guilt washes over the love that rises in him, lapping at his veins before the love can get there.

“Oh,” Calum says again, and Liam just turns back to his tea, clearly thinking the conversation’s over, that what needed to be said has been said and satisfied with Calum’s response. Noel, though, is still looking at Calum, something too perceptive in his cool blue eyes.

“Why would he ask?” he says, and there’s an edge to his voice, something cold and challenging.

“What d’you mean?” Calum says, holding his gaze, trying to push all the panic rising in his chest back before it reaches his eyes. Shit, what the fuck had Michael said? Did he mention anything about the phone call? Does Noel know?

“Seems a bit friendly.” Noel’s eyes are carefully blank, expression guarded, not giving anything away, cards held close to his chest.

“He’s a friendly guy,” Calum says, relieved at how even his voice comes out. “Just because you two are cunts.” At that, Liam looks up again, frowning.

“Who’s a cunt?” he says, incensed. Calum almost lets out a sigh of relief - if Liam’s back in the conversation, Noel won’t say anything else. At least, not now, he won’t. Calum’s just buying himself time, really; Noel’s going to stew on it, mull it over on late-night bus calls and midday hangovers, and come back to Calum when he thinks he’s got something infallible to slash at Calum’s defences with.

“You are,” Noel tells Liam.

“You are too,” Calum reminds him, and Noel shrugs.

“Could be worse,” he says. “Could be Damon Albarn.” Liam snorts, and even Calum has to roll his eyes and shake his head, reaching over for Noel’s tea and pulling it towards him, wanting something to do with his jittery fingers. Noel lets him, even pushes a packet of sugar in his direction because he knows Calum can’t stand drinking tea unless it’s immediately going to give him diabetes, and Calum smiles, watching as something a little disarmed crosses Noel’s face for a split second before he schools his features back into that half-irritated, half-challenging expression that’s so Noel he might as well patent it.

Strange, Calum thinks, as he empties the entire packet of sugar into what’s now his tea. Noel doesn’t have chinks in his armour, not really. At least, not when it comes to anyone whose name doesn’t start with an ‘L’ and end with an ‘iam’, and last time Calum checked, he wasn’t a loud-mouthed twat from Manchester that Noel’s been exasperatedly hauling out of trouble for the past two decades. He doesn’t really have time to wonder what it’s about, though, because then Liam’s sighing loudly, raising his hand to catch the nearest waiter’s attention, and saying: “Alright, mate, don’t happen to know where the best place to score coke around here is, do you?”

“Liam,” Noel says warningly, the well-worn older-brother irritation already lacing his tone, and Liam just shoots him a what? sort of look, as the waiter stares back at them.

“Coke?” he asks, a little hesitantly, like he’s sure he’s misunderstanding what Liam’s asking.

“Yeah, mate, y’know, the old Colombian marching powder,” Liam says, nodding his head, like this is a perfectly normal conversation to have with a waiter at ten in the morning.

“I- uh, sir, I’m not sure-” the waiter starts, a little nervously, and Liam leans forwards.

“Cocaine, mate,” he says slowly, clearly thinking the waiter’s not caught on, like that’s the only possible explanation for why he’s not immediately gone oh, yeah, ‘course, hang on, let me my local dealer on the line.

“Piss off, Liam,” Noel says, a definite note of annoyance in his voice now, and Liam’s like a shark to blood, turns away from the waiter, all thoughts of getting whatever white powder he can procure up his nose forgotten as he spots a new drug of choice; arguing with Noel. It’s something Calum’s seen a hundred times, the way Liam will find a gap in Noel’s defences and worm his way in, make a home under Noel’s skin just for a few minutes of his attention, and it’s not something he fancies sticking around to watch, knowing it’ll end with fists flying with no regard for who might be caught in the crossfire.

“I’m going back up,” he says, even though he hasn’t eaten yet, but neither Noel or Liam are listening anymore, already caught in a half-hissed, half-yelled conversation about whether it’s inappropriate or street-smart to ask a random local guy for coke plugs at his job, Liam, at his fucking job, and do you know how many fucking hotels we’ve been kicked out of because of you so far this year? Liam’s raising his voice as Calum walks out of the room, shouting something about me? It’s not just me, you prick, you were in fucking Sweden as well, right, and you’re the one who took off to fucking San Diego, what the fuck else was I going to do while we all waited for you to stop being such a pathetic little cunt? , and Calum knows he’s left just in time when he hears the sound of crockery shattering in the distance as he jogs back up the stairs to his room. He doesn’t really mind, though, doesn’t care if they get kicked out of this hotel too, because all he can think, heart pounding, is why the fuck did Michael ask after me, when the last thing he might have heard is me calling him ‘no one’?

He doesn’t even get time to think about that, though, because Bonehead’s on his way down as Calum’s on his way up, and he blocks Calum’s path and insists Calum join him on a walk to the supermarket because the amount of beer he’s going to have to drink to deal with the brothers on an eight hour flight back home needs two people to carry it. Calum thinks shit, he’s right, so they fetch Tony to carry all the alcohol Calum’s going to need to drink too, and then spend the walk to the shop and the entire time traipsing around it arguing about whether or not Tony should get any of the alcohol they’re loading into their arms. Calum weighs in for the first ten minutes, but it becomes clear Bonehead and Tony are just looking to fight about something, so Calum draws back and lets them have at each other, walks next to them and lets the sound of their rowing wash over him as his thoughts turn back to Michael.

Did Michael really want to know? Or was it a power play, him saying something to Liam and Noel knowing it would get back to Calum? No, surely not, Calum thinks, as Tony and Bonehead bicker about whether or not Tony deserves at least one of the six-packs Bonehead’s picked up. Michael wouldn’t do that. He’s not that kind of person.

Maybe Michael isn’t, a little voice in his head says, but maybe Mike is. You don’t know Mike, do you?

(Calum thrusts one of his six-packs at Tony, suddenly feeling a little too sick to drink.)

-------

They head back to Europe in November, first to the UK to record Whatever, and then straight off to France. Noel even manages to make a joke about the Amsterdam ferry incident as they’re waiting to board in Dover, which is as close to saying I forgive you to Liam for the episode as he’s going to get.

Calum doesn’t speak to Michael for almost two months. He doesn’t want to call first, after the way the last call ended and still uncertain about the whole Michael-Liam-Noel situation, and Michael doesn’t call him. Calum tries not to dwell on it, to think too hard about the sound of the dial tone and the way he’d called Michael no one, but Blur are fucking everywhere. It seems like they’re playing all the same places as Oasis but a few weeks earlier, because every time Calum walks down a French street he’s accosted by blown up images of Michael’s face, moody and pretty, staring down at him from billboards and bus stops and fucking lampposts.

It’s one of those posters stuck haphazardly onto a lamppost in Berlin that Calum sees, a few hours before they’re due to play a show, that reminds him, with a jolt, what the date is.

The twentieth of November.

Michael’s birthday.

Calum’s almost taken aback that he remembers. He’d forgotten for the past three or four years - the date had passed him by without so much as a second glance - and the thought makes him feel a little guilty, a little sick, like he’s broken a promise to himself that he never even knew he made.

There’s a little phone booth next to the lamppost that looks like it might not even be working, and Calum finds himself striding in that direction, fumbling in his pocket for the few German coins he’d been given. It’s nothing, he tells himself, as he starts dialling Michael’s number. It’s just polite to wish someone a happy birthday. It doesn’t mean anything.

It only takes two rings for someone to pick up, a soft click and a moment of silence at the other end of the line.

“Hello?” It’s not Michael; it’s a woman. Maybe Michael has a house-sitter? Calum’s pretty sure Michael must be loaded now, right, if he’s in Blur? He’s probably not pissing all his royalties away on drink and drugs. They probably have a group accountant to manage everything for them, rather than Noel cuffing them all upside the head and going eeyar, yous need to start buying cheaper coke.

“Oh,” Calum says. “Uh. I’m looking for Michael?”

“He’s in Japan at the moment,” the woman says. Her voice is sweet and warm, almost comforting, and oddly familiar. It’s probably just the Australian accent, Calum thinks. Anyone with an Australian accent has sounded familiar to him since he left.

“Oh,” Calum says again. He should’ve guessed, really. Of course Michael’s not at home. He’s in a fucking band. In Blur, no less. Of course he’s on tour.

“May I ask who’s calling?” the woman says. Calum hesitates.

“Just a friend,” he says, a little evasively. “Just- uh. Wanted to wish him a happy birthday, is all.”

“Oh, that’s lovely,” the woman says, and she sounds like she’s smiling. “I can give you the number of his hotel room in Japan, if you’d like.”

“I-” Calum’s not sure what to say to that. He might be sending a message he’s not entirely sure he wants to send if Michael finds out Calum had called his house first, and then got the number for his hotel in Japan.

“Or I can pass along a message?” the woman offers. “What’s the name?” Calum bites his lip. It can’t hurt, he thinks. It’s not like Michael will have spoken about Calum to anyone who’s known him in the past few years, if he hadn’t told his own bandmates.

“Yeah,” Calum says. “Yeah, that’d be good, thanks. It’s Calum.” The woman lets out a little gasp.

“Calum Hood?” she says, and Calum’s stomach drops. "I should have recognised your voice! You've lost your accent, haven't you?"

“Uh,” he says intelligently, but she’s already started talking again.

“It’s Karen,” she says.

Oh, fucking hell.

“Oh,” Calum says. Fuck. Jesus Christ. Of course it’s Michael’s mum. Of course Michael wouldn’t get a fucking house-sitter, rich and in Blur or not. It’s oddly steadying, though, that in this instance at least Michael’s Michael and not Mike, makes something electric shoot through Calum as he thinks maybe I still know enough of him. “Uh. Hi?”

“I didn’t know you and Michael were still in contact,” she says, and he can hear the grin in her voice, how happy she sounds about it. It makes his stomach twist in guilt, heavy and leaden.

“Yeah,” Calum says weakly. “Well. Not really. But- y’know. It’s his birthday.” He cringes at his own words, stilted and uncomfortable, but Karen doesn’t seem to notice.

“I’m sure he’ll want to hear from you himself,” she says jovially. “I’ll give you his number, hang on a minute.”

“Actually, I-”

“Yes, here it is. Have you got a pen and paper?”

“I don’t-” Calum breaks off, looking wildly around him, and picks up the pen on the top of the telephone keypad, scratching it against the sign that tells him how much of his money he’s pissing away on this phone call. He’s roped into this, now, isn’t he? Karen will tell Michael Calum called, and if Calum doesn’t call Michael after telling Karen he would, it’ll look suspicious. Or it’ll look like he doesn’t care enough, which, with their fragile balance and Calum not knowing where Michael’s head’s at, is the last thing he wants.

“Okay. It’s oh-one-two,” Karen begins, and Calum nods along as she reels off the number for him, phone wedged between his ear and his shoulder as he forces the last of the ink from the pen onto his hand. “Oh, and the country code is zero-zero-eight-one.” Great. Now he can’t even use that as an excuse.

“Thanks,” Calum says, hoping it comes out genuine and not sarcastic. “I’ll, uh. I’ll call him, then.”

“Do,” Karen says, and Calum can tell she’s positively beaming. God, he’s a terrible person. “I’m so happy you called, Calum. I should have known you two would have stayed in contact and not let any of this Blur versus Oasis nonsense get in the way of your friendship.”

“Yeah,” Calum says feebly, feeling guilt tap insistently at his lungs, waiting to be let in. “Well. It was nice talking to you?” He’s not sure how to end a phone call that isn’t either a polite speak to you soon or an exasperated Liam, you cunt, don’t you fucking hang up on m-

“Of course!” Karen says brightly. “I’m very proud of you, Calum. Y’know, I remember you getting your first ever guitar, and look at you now. I’m glad you kept your head screwed on straight.” Calum thinks of the three thin white lines Liam had cut for him earlier that are probably still in his bloodstream, and winces.

“Yeah,” he says, trying for grateful. “I, uh, I try. Thank you.”

“I’m sure I’ll speak to you soon,” Karen says. “I hope you manage to catch Michael!”

“Thanks,” Calum says again, and hopes he doesn’t sound like he wants to gouge his own eyes out. Karen doesn’t seem to notice, though, just chirps a happy goodbye! and leaves Calum to stare at the telephone keypad, holding the receiver loosely in his hand, like he can’t really believe what’s just happened.

Well, fuck. Now he’s got to call fucking Japan.

Calum sighs and starts dialling the number, sending out prayers that Noel’s got some really big fucking tunes up his sleeve for the next album to pay for this call. It rings three times, and then there’s a click as someone picks up.

“Hello?” It’s not Michael. Jesus Christ. Why the fuck is wishing someone a happy birthday this much of an ordeal?

“Is Michael there?” he asks. There’s a short pause.

“Who’s calling?”

“A friend,” Calum says. “Who’s this?”

“Graham.” Which one was that? The one with glasses, right? The other guitarist?

“Right. Is Michael around?”

“Depends on who’s calling.” Calum sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose. Wishing someone a happy birthday really shouldn’t be this fucking hard.

“It’s Calum,” he mumbles. “From Oasis,” he adds, in case Michael happens to have met a few more Calums in the past couple of years.

“What the hell are you calling for?”

“Why the hell d’you think?” Calum knows he sounds hostile, but he doesn’t care, not when the nervousness that had been contained in his stomach is starting to seep out into his bloodstream.

There’s another pause.

“Alright,” Graham says, but he still sounds suspicious. There’s a rustling sound, and then Calum hears him yell Mike! Calum’s on the phone for you. Yes, Oasis Calum, d’you know any other Calums? Well, okay, yeah, but you haven’t spoken to him since last Chri-

Every second feels like an eternity - although that’s probably at least slightly to do with the fact that he’s spending his entire month’s pay on this call - but eventually there’s more rustling, some fierce muttering that Calum can’t understand beyond - in the bathroom, you dick, and then the sound of a phone being lifted to someone’s ear.

“Calum?” Michael says, and there are footsteps, like he’s walking as far away from the handset as possible.

“Happy birthday,” Calum says lamely. All of this for those two words. It feels incredibly anticlimactic.

“Oh,” Michael says, and he sounds surprised. “I mean. Thanks. I didn’t think you’d remember.” Neither did Calum.

“Well,” Calum says, because he doesn’t want to say that. “Just wanted to call and- uh, say happy birthday, I guess.”

“How’d you get this number?” Michael asks, sounding curious. Calum bites his lip.

“Your mum gave it to me,” he says.

“You rang my house?”

“Well, it’s the only number I have for you, isn’t it?”

“Did you tell her it was you?”

“Yeah.” Michael exhales heavily.

“I haven’t told her,” he admits. “That we’re talking again. Or- y’know. I just haven’t mentioned.”

“I know,” Calum says. “She was surprised that I called.”

“What did she say?” Michael asks. Calum swallows.

“Just, y’know, nice to hear from me, she’s glad I called, all that,” he says vaguely. Michael hums, like he’s mulling it over, and Calum’s stomach flips. Maybe he shouldn’t have called at all. Maybe Michael wants Calum to be his dirty little secret just as much as Calum wants Michael to be his. After all, Calum’s own mum doesn't know either, does she? It’d be hypocritical of Calum to hold it against Michael if he wanted to keep it under wraps too.

(It still kind of stings, though.)

“I’m going to get a fucking Spanish Inquisition when I get home,” Michael says eventually, and Calum huffs out a laugh, stomach untangling itself a little from the tight knot it’s been in for the past five minutes.

“Yeah, probably,” he says, the ghost of a smile flitting across his face as he thinks back to being grilled and reprimanded by Karen any time she got so much as a whiff of a secret from either of them. “D’you remember that time she thought we-”

“Remember when she thought we’d been out smoking weed?” Michael blurts at the same time, and Calum can’t help but smile properly this time, heart somersaulting at the fact that Michael remembers too.

“She was so angry,” Calum says, through a grin. “Kept saying she could smell it on you.”

“Fucking crazy woman,” Michael says, but Calum can hear that he’s grinning too. “We couldn’t afford weed, what was she on about? We hadn’t even been drinking, just been-” he cuts himself off abruptly, and the smile drops off Calum’s face.

They’d been fucking, is what they’d been doing.

“Good thing she didn’t smell that on us,” Calum tries, and Michael huffs out a small laugh, but it’s tight and uncomfortable. Neither of them speak again for a moment, the silence awkward and palpable, until Michael sighs.

“What are we doing?” he mumbles, sounding a little pained.

“I’m wishing you a happy birthday,” Calum says, because he doesn’t want to follow the road that Michael’s words are beckoning him down.

“You know what I mean,” Michael says. “We need to talk.” Calum’s stomach twists. Those words are never followed by any good conversations.

“Do we?” he says, hoping it doesn’t sound as apprehensive to Michael as it does to him. He doesn’t want to talk. He doesn’t want to have that conversation, to hear Michael say you fucked up, and this is it, doesn’t want to have to go all the way to see him just to hear him say I don’t want you anymore.

“When are you back in the UK?”

“December,” Calum says. “Late December. Near Christmas, I think. I’ll have to ask Maggie.”

“Maggie?”

“Our tour manager.”

“Oh.” There’s a moment of silence. “Well. Call me when you’re back?”

“Look,” Calum says, a little desperately, clutching the receiver to his ear. “I- if you want to, like, end whatever this is, not talk to me anymore, I’d rather you just do it now. I don’t want to travel all the way to London for you to tell me you never want to speak to me again.” Michael inhales, and doesn’t exhale.

“I didn’t say that,” he says carefully, after a minute. “But we need to talk.” Calum blinks at the telephone keypad. He’s not sure what to make of that.

“Okay,” he says. “I- uh, yeah. Okay. I’ll call you when I’m back home?”

“Yeah,” Michael says. He pauses, and then adds: “I should go. I locked Graham in the bathroom to take this call.” Calum can’t help the snort that escapes him.

“I should try that on Liam,” he says.

“I think it’d take more than a bathroom door to contain Liam Gallagher,” Michael says. He’s got a point.

“You’ve got a point,” Calum concedes, and he hears Michael huff out a small laugh at the other end of the line, crackled and tinny but genuine and soft. “I should probably go too. I’ve got a show in a few hours.”

“Where?”

“Berlin.” Michael hums.

“We played there a few weeks ago,” he says.

“I know,” Calum says, without thinking. “Uh. I mean. The posters are all still up.”

“Surprised Liam and Noel haven’t gone around tearing them all down,” Michael says, and Calum can hear the smile in his voice.

“I think they’re planning on pasting posters of us over you.”

“Hope they have a lot of them.” Calum grins, eyeing the three Blur posters he can see in his line of vision.

“That’ll be my entire share of the royalties gone,” he says, and Michael snorts.

“I really should go,” he says, sounding a little regretful. “I’ve got to spend at least half an hour convincing Graham not to tell Damon I locked him in a bathroom to talk to you.”

“Why?” Calum’s not sure why he asks, because he’s fairly certain he doesn’t want to hear the answer. Because I don’t want anyone to know we’re talking. Because I want to keep you a secret. Because I’m ashamed of you. It’s even worse because he can’t blame Michael for it.

“If I do anything to Graham, Damon takes it as a personal attack.” Oh. Well. That probably shouldn’t make something warm blossom in Calum’s stomach, the fact that it’s not because of him, but it does.

“Damon doesn’t seem particularly intimidating,” Calum says.

“You fucking wait,” Michael says, and there’s a fondness to his tone that makes Calum’s heart ache, because Michael used to talk about him like that. “Call me when you’re back in the UK, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Calum says. “Bye, Michael.” He’s expecting a click, the thin sound of the dial tone, but it doesn’t come.

“I’m glad you called,” Michael says after a moment, all in a rush, like he’s had to build up the nerve to say it.

“I’m glad I did, too,” Calum says, and he can’t help the small smile playing at his lips. Michael’s glad he called.

“I’ll see you soon,” Michael says.

“Yeah,” Calum says, smile slipping off his face as his stomach flips unpleasantly thinking of the inevitable conversation. “Soon.”

The dial tone rings loud and harsh, and Calum listens to it for a good few moments before putting the phone down and stepping out of the booth. Three Michaels stare at him from different angles as he heads back for the hotel, declaring something in German that he can’t read, eyes seeming to follow Calum as he turns the corner. They seem almost disapproving, like they know Calum doesn’t want to talk. Or maybe that’s Calum’s guilt-ridden imagination.

Well, Calum thinks, stomach flipping as his eyes find another picture of Michael plastered to a lamppost. At least they aren’t posters of Noel and Liam, in that case.

-------

December comes far too soon.

The album goes platinum while they’re in Southampton, or maybe Sheffield, and Calum joins the rest of the band at some grimy nightclub, drunk and high and full of adrenaline because shit, that’s their fucking album. Number one and platinum, fucking hell. It doesn’t feel fucking real.

They film a video for Whatever somewhere in London, and Noel turns up late to the filming, still dressed in his clothes from the night before, so drunk that he can barely play his guitar. Liam’s fucking furious, probably because this is the first time Noel’s ever been drunker than him, and Calum has to spend the rest of the day making sure Liam doesn’t go into the same room as Noel, because they still have a few weeks worth of dates in the UK and they could do with having both the lead guitarist and singer alive for them.

The UK dates pass so fast in blurs of games of Frustration on the tour bus as green and grey whip past the window that Calum barely notices that it’s their week off until he sees a river that looks suspiciously like the Mersey and asks Noel where they are.

(“Liverpool,” Noel says, throwing him a strange look.

“We’re going home tomorrow,” Liam adds.

“Too right you’re fucking going home,” Noel says. “Not fucking kipping at mine again.” Liam scowls, opens his mouth with an indignant expression, and Calum decides now’s a great time to find Alan and ask him about the re-stringing of Calum’s bass he’d said he’d sort out before the gig.)

He’s so exhausted after their last show, having his first proper comedown in weeks, that he can’t do anything but crash through the front door and stumble to his bed at six in the morning. He sleeps like the fucking dead, and by the time he gets up and showers, feeling a bit more alive than he has done the past few days, it’s nearly dark outside.

“Good morning,” his mum says pointedly, when he wanders into the kitchen, yawning, and pulls open the fridge.

“Morning,” Calum says, pulling out a beer and some leftover pasta. “Where’s Dad?”

“Gone fishing,” his mum says. Calum grunts to let her know he’s acknowledged it, and heads to the microwave.

“Liam called earlier,” his mum says, as he presses some random buttons - he really should figure out how this microwave works - and then sets it off.

“Oh?” Calum says.

“He was asking if you wanted to come round tonight,” his mum says. Calum hums, frowning a little. Liam’s not very good at being on his own, no one to take his endless energy out on now that both Paul and Noel have moved out, but he can usually take at least a day or two.

“Might do,” he says, because there might be something more to it if Liam’s already itching to see him again after less than twenty-four hours, and then sees the disappointed look on his mum’s face. “After dinner?” Her face clears, and she nods.

“We’ll be eating around seven,” she says. “Oh, and another bit of wall’s fallen in. Could you take a look?” Calum groans, and tips his head back against the wall, closing his eyes.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters under his breath, drawing out the first syllable. His mum tuts, and the microwave dings. “Yeah, alright.” He opens his eyes and reaches for the microwave.

“Michael called, too,” his mum says, and Calum swears again as the plate drops out of his hand and crashes to the floor, smashing to pieces and dropping hot, steaming pasta everywhere. His mum jumps out of the way, swears loudly, and says: “Bloody hell, Calum.”

“Sorry,” Calum says, scrambling to his knees to try and pick up as many pieces of plate as he can. “It was hot.” His cheeks are burning, partially from embarrassment and partially from whatever’s making his heart race like it is, and he stares steadfastly at the floor as he shuffles around.

“What did he want?” Calum asks, as casually as he can, speaking to the floor.

“He didn’t say,” his mum says. She hesitates, and then adds: “What’s going on with you two?” Fuck if Calum knows.

“I don’t know,” Calum says, still not looking at her. He doesn’t want to see the inevitable disapproving look on her face, the motherly instinct to stop him doing something that’s probably just going to get him hurt etched on her features.

“When did you start speaking again?” Calum hesitates, hand hovering over a shard of ceramic. He’s not really sure himself. Would it be the awards show? Or Glastonbury? Or that first phone call a few weeks later? It’d be Glastonbury, he supposes, because Michael hadn’t even acknowledged his existence at the awards show, couldn’t even look Calum in the eye. Glastonbury had been the first time Michael had admitted to the both of them that he still remembered Calum.

“Glastonbury,” he says, and his mum inhales sharply.

“Why didn’t you say?” she asks. Calum sits back on his heels, looking up at her, and shrugs.

“I didn’t know how,” he says, which is sort of the truth. He leaves out the fact that he hadn’t really wanted to tell her, had wanted to squirrel it away, the last little piece of Michael that he could have to himself.

Her expression softens, and she purses her lips, a little sadly.

“Be careful with him,” she says, and Calum’s not sure whether she means Calum should protect himself or protect Michael. After all, she’d seen all the unopened letters Michael had sent.

“Yeah,” he says, looking back down at the pasta still spread across the floor. It feels sort of fitting, somehow. “I’ll try.” His mum sighs, and pushes herself off the kitchen counter she’s been leaning against.

“Go,” she says. “I’ll clean this up.”

“No, it’s alright, I-”

“Go,” she says, a little more sternly, and Calum gets to his knees, wiping his hands and dusting his knees off.

“Alright,” he says. “I’ll just-”

“Call him,” she says. He hates that she knows him so well.

Calum heads out for the phone in the hallway, not wanting to take the call in the living room or kitchen where his mum might eavesdrop, and dials Michael’s number. He twirls the cord around his finger while it rings three times, until there’s a click and someone picks up.

“Hello?”

“Hi.”

“Oh,” Michael says. “Hi. Your mum said you were asleep.”

“Yeah,” Calum says, a little apologetically. “I didn’t get up until, like, half an hour ago. We played our last show for a while yesterday.”

“Oh,” Michael says again, a note of recognition in his voice. Of course, Calum thinks; Michael’ll know what last shows - particularly home shows - are like. “Well. I just wanted to see if you were home, really.” He doesn’t say why, but they both know.

“I am ‘til the twenty-seventh,” Calum says. Michael hums.

“When can you come down?” Calum exhales heavily. He could go down any day, really. Tomorrow, if Michael wanted. He’s not sure whether he should just get it over with, or whether he should make the most of the last few days that he might have with the secret feeling of maybe there’s still hope. It’s been six months; he can probably stand a few more days of anticipation. But then again, it’ll be better to get it out of the way now, to have as long before Christmas as he can to gather himself after whatever Michael will throw his way so that it’s not overshadowing the few days his parents will get with him before he’s off again.

“Tomorrow?” he offers, a little tentatively. He’s not sure whether it seems a bit too keen.

“Yeah, tomorrow’s good,” Michael says.

“I can be in London for twelve?” He winces, thinking about how early he’s going to have to get up for that.

“Twelve works. Where d’you come in?”

“Euston.”

“Can you get to Camden?” Michael asks. “Or d’you want me to pick you up?”

“No, I can get there,” Calum says, even though he’s not entirely sure he can.

“Alright. I’ll give you my address, hang on-” there’s scrambling at the other end of the line.

“D’you not know your own address?”

“I- well, sort of, but-” Calum can’t help but laugh. “Fuck you,” Michael says, but Calum can hear he’s smiling too. “You got a pen and paper?”

“Yeah,” Calum says. Michael reels off an address, postcode and all, and Calum dutifully jots it down, only stopping him once to ask whether he’d said D or E.

“Alright,” Calum says, re-capping the pen and tearing the sheet of paper off the pad next to the phone. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“See you tomorrow,” Michael echoes, and Calum only hesitates for a moment before hanging up. It feels strange, he thinks, not to hear the dial tone ringing in his ear, one last reminder of Michael even after he’s gone.

(He wonders whether Michael lingered like he always does.)

-------

Liam ends up coming round for dinner, sounding relieved and grateful when Calum calls him and offers, making Calum frown and file the information away to quiz him on later. Calum’s mum rolls her eyes and makes exasperated noises when Calum tells her he’s coming, because now I have to make dinner for four people, Calum, couldn’t you have told me a bit earlier? but Calum knows she doesn’t really mind. Brash and corrosive though Liam can be, he’s got a childlike charm to him that captivates anybody who meets him, Calum’s parents included. They spend dinner laughing at stories Liam tells about tour, exaggerated and carefully skipping over all the drug use, and Calum’s mum even waves them away when they go to help wash up, tells them with a smile to head to the pub, go on, enjoy yourselves, you deserve it.

“I fucking love your mam,” Liam says, practically skipping as they walk down the dark street to the pub. He’s not even wearing a coat, the fucking madman. Calum huddles further into his own, nosing into the collar of it as the cold wind whips at him.

“You’re just saying that because she made your favourite pasta,” Calum says, and Liam turns back to him and grins.

“Didn’t hurt,” he says. “C’mon, it’s cold.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you bring a coat?” Liam shrugs, hopping from foot to foot. Calum’s not sure whether it’s because he’s cold, or because he’s Liam.

“Nearly there, anyway,” Liam says, as they round the corner to the street the pub’s on. “Mam gave me a tenner for drinks.” Calum snorts.

“Why’s your mum giving you money for drinks?” he says. “You’ve got a fucking number one album.” Liam grins.

“Still the youngest kid, though, aren’t I?” he says, eyes twinkling. He’s got a point. Peggy would never give Noel a tenner for the pub.

“Y’know, I can see why Noel hates you,” Calum comments, and Liam’s grin widens as he pushes open the door of the pub.

It’s warm inside, and Calum says he’ll get them a table if Liam gets the drinks, which Liam doesn’t want to do until he sees a pretty girl tending the bar, and then he’s off like a shot. Calum squeezes between a bunch of tipsy men laughing far too loudly into a table in the back corner, wrinkling his nose as he steadies himself on the table and comes into contact with something sticky. Gross.

Liam, inevitably, takes a good twenty minutes to come back with the drinks and a phone number tucked into his shirt pocket, grinning and eyes twinkling as he sets Calum’s pint down opposite him.

“Took your fucking time,” Calum says, raising an eyebrow, and lifts the pint to his lips.

“Did you fucking see her?” Liam says. “‘Course I took my bloody time.” He takes a sip from his own pint, and then nods at Calum’s. “You owe me for that.”

“No I don’t,” Calum says. Liam scowls at him.

“That’s your fucking Christmas present then,” he says, and Calum rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling into his beer.

They drink in comfortable silence for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts. Calum’s enjoying the warmth of the pub, the familiarity, the way it feels a little like home. He wonders whether Sydney would feel foreign to him now, whether he’d still love the feeling of the warm sand under his feet at Christmas.

“We used to go to the beach at Christmas,” he says, without thinking. Liam shoots him a strange look, before his face clears.

“Oh, ‘s all the wrong way round down there, innit?” he says, like he’s just remembered. “Must be weird for you, Christmas being cold.” Calum shrugs.

“It was at first,” he says. “I’m used to it now.”

“Oh aye?” Liam sounds genuinely interested, so Calum carries on.

“Yeah,” he says, with another shrug. “I never saw snow until I moved here.”

“Did it freak you out?” Liam asks. “Seeing things all white, and that.” Calum blinks at him.

“What?”

“Well, if you’d never seen snow, what’d you think all the white stuff was?”

“I knew what snow was, you fucking idiot,” Calum says incredulously. “Fucking hell.”

“Well, how the fuck am I meant to know that?” Liam says defensively.

“You ever seen a camel? You think camels don’t exist?”

“ Yeah, but-”

“You thought I didn’t know what snow was?”

“How the fuck am I meant to know what they do and don’t teach you in Australia?” Liam demands, and Calum snorts and shakes his head.

“You’re fucking unbelievable,” Calum says, even though Liam thinking Calum didn’t know what snow was until he moved to the UK is entirely believable. Liam scowls, but it’s good-natured.

“Fuck you,” he says. “You wait, I’m going to fucking leave you in Australia when we tour there.”

“You wouldn’t last a minute without me,” Calum says confidently. “Who’ll save you from the bities?”

“The fucking what? Bikeys?”

“Or the freshies and salties?”

“What? Those aren’t words. You’re fucking making this up, you are.” Calum laughs, and Liam folds his arms, resting his elbows on the table.

“Watch it,” Calum says, nodding at his elbows. “Table’s sticky.” Liam looks down, and grimaces, unsticking himself from the table.

“Couldn’t’ve told me that before, could you, you prick?” he grumbles, dusting off his elbows, like it’s going to get rid of the stale beer.

“Didn’t know you were going to put your fucking elbows down, did I?” Calum says, and Liam just sticks two fingers up at him as he reaches for his drink again, making Calum grin in response and wink at him over the rim of his own glass.

They drink in silence for a while, listening to the chatter in the pub as they let the cosy atmosphere and the drinks warm them from the inside out. It’s nice, Calum thinks, downing the last of his pint. He hasn’t been alone with Liam in God knows how long, been stuck on tour buses and in planes with him and at least five other people for far too long, and he realises just how much he’s really missed his one-on-one time with Liam, the easy comfort of a friendship that both of them fall into without even thinking about it, the security of knowing their lives are irrevocably intertwined now. It’s nice that they don’t have to speak, that they can just sit here and drink each other in, just exist alongside each other in quiet peace.

Liam’s not usually this quiet for long, though, usually can’t contain his incessant energy for more than three minute bursts at a time, but Calum knows better than to push. There’s something there, but Liam will say it when he’s ready to say it, and not a moment sooner. Calum’s been burnt one too many times by his own good intentions in that area, so he just sits back, pushes his glass away from himself and waits. It only takes another few minutes of Liam staring down at the bottom of his glass, brows furrowed and deep in thought, until he suddenly says:

“Noel’s moving to London.” The penny drops.

Ah.

“Is he?” Calum says, although really, he’s not that surprised. They’re getting somewhere, and Manchester’s not exactly the place for an up-and-coming musician to be based. It’s been at the back of his own mind, but he’s been pushing it aside, preoccupied with too many other more pressing issues to worry about the logistics of moving that far out.

“Yeah,” Liam says, still staring at the bottom of his glass.

“You knew he would,” Calum says, trying to make it as gentle as possible.

“I know,” Liam says. He doesn’t sound as upset about it as Calum had expected, actually. “He’s going to look at houses tomorrow.” Shit. London’s big, though, isn’t it? What are the odds that he’ll bump into Noel?

“Did he say where?” Calum asks, hoping it comes out casual. He wishes he had another pint in front of him, wanting something to do with his hands and feeling just how sober he is all of a sudden, so used to either being on a high or a comedown.

“Yeah, but fuck if I remember,” Liam says, with a shrug. “I’m going with him. Cunt’s making me get up at eight to catch the train.” Oh, fucking brilliant. Two Gallaghers to avoid in London, not just one. Is it too late to call Michael and reschedule? Probably; his mum’ll be listening if he makes a phone call when he gets back from the pub, and he doesn’t want to deal with all those questions. It does explain, though, why Liam doesn’t seem all too torn up about Noel moving so far away; Noel allowing Liam to come and look around with him is a silent acknowledgement that he knows Liam’ll be spending more time there than he will at home, most likely, so it’s got to be a place he likes too.

“You’re a fucking scrounger,” Calum tells him, knowing Liam will know what he’s talking aout, and the ghost of a smile crosses Liam’s lips, but doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he plays with the rim of his glass. Calum frowns. He’s missing something.

“What?” he asks, and Liam shrugs, a little uncomfortably. He’s feeling something he’s not sure how to articulate, then, something he can’t channel into punches or barbed words. It’s something to do with Noel, because that’s the only topic he never knows how to approach while knowing exactly how to navigate it with his eyes shut and his hands tied behind his back, but it’s not something that Noel’s done, or Calum would be fucking hearing about it, and it’s not something that Liam’s done, or Calum would also be fucking hearing about it, but from Noel. It’s got to be something else, something that Noel doesn’t know about yet, something internal for Liam. Something about him moving to London, maybe, since he’s managed to bring that part up. Something that Liam feels about Noel moving to London, something that’s making him hesitant about accepting that he’s going to be spending a lot of time at Noel’s new place-

Oh.

“He’s not doing it to get away from you, Liam,” Calum says, and Liam swallows, finger stilling on the rim of his glass for a split second, and Calum watches a little apprehensively as two conflicting emotions flash across Liam’s face; anger, irritated and embarrassed at the fact that Calum’s just called him out on it, and vulnerability, afraid and wanting Calum’s reassurance. Calum knows Liam better than almost anyone, and even he can’t ever tell which way it’s going to go. Luckily for him, though, Liam seems to struggle with himself for a moment before he exhales heavily, and slumps back in his chair.

“You don’t know that,” he says.

“I do,” Calum says. “He’s your brother, Liam.” Liam looks pained at that.

“Yeah, I know,” he says. “But- y’know. After LA.” He doesn’t say anything else - probably doesn’t know how or what to say - but Calum gets it. Everything had changed after Whiskey-a-Go-Go, shifted a few centimetres to the left, and even though everything’s okay again, it’s a different kind of okay to before.

“That wasn’t your fault,” Calum says, because it wasn’t.

“Wasn’t it? I was a right cunt.”

“You’re always a right cunt,” Calum says, but he doesn’t mean it unkindly, or even teasingly. He means that’s just how you are, and we’re all still here, aren’t we? “And anyway, so was Noel.” Liam has to concede there, tilts his head to indicate yeah, I s’pose.

“I dunno,” he says, still staring steadfastly at his empty glass. “Maybe he just needs a break from me.”

“He always needs a break from you,” Calum says. “But he never takes one.”

“Took one in LA.”

“Yeah, and then he came back,” Calum says. Liam seems to mull the words over, let them roll around in his mind, see how they feel, but Calum can see from the look on his face that they aren’t quite enough.

“Maybe you should get your own place in London,” Calum suggests. Liam looks up for the first time, brow furrowed. “Then you could be close, but not too close.” Liam’s brow stays furrowed, but he hums thoughtfully.

“You think?” he says, sounding a little uncertain. Liam moving out of Manchester is quite a big step, the city etched into his veins like none of the rest of them, but it makes sense. And, Calum thinks, they’ll probably all have to move to London, eventually. It might be better to get it done at the same time as Noel, to have someone who knows how to navigate Liam’s inevitable misplaced temper tantrums at the fucking movers or traffic or furniture shops when he’s really just stressed about the change.

“Yeah,” Calum says. “It’d do you good, anyway, being on your own. Probably do you and Noel a world of good too, not living on top of each other all the time.” Liam scrunches his face up, looking ten years younger than he is, like the annoying little kid that Noel must see him as, and then sighs heavily and nods.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, you’re right. Yeah. Might have a look myself tomorrow, then.” Calum swallows. Not in Camden, he thinks as loudly as possible, in case Liam’s psychic.

“Yeah, do that,” he says out loud. Liam nods again, a little more decisively this time, clearly not listening to Calum’s thoughts, and then grins at Calum, bright and easy, like the past five minutes hadn’t happened at all.

“You’re getting the next round,” he says, and Calum sighs, all long-suffering, but heaves himself out of his seat, forgetting that the table’s sticky and squawking when he puts his hands down on it to support himself. Liam laughs delightedly, like there’s nothing in the fucking world that brings him more joy than Calum’s misfortune, and Calum scowls good-naturedly and flips him off as he heads in the direction of the bar.

Well, he thinks, as he jogs down the steps leading up to their seating area and weaves through tables of increasingly tipsy old men laughing far too loudly. At least Liam’s sorted. And London really is big, right? Must be twice the size of Manchester, at least. And he’ll be in Michael’s house, anyway, won’t he? There’s no way he’ll see Noel and Liam there.

Yeah, he thinks, flagging down the bartender. It’ll be fucking fine.

taglist: @callmeboatboy @sadistmichael @clumsyclifford @angel-cal @tirednotflirting @cthofficial @tigerteeff @haikucal @queer-5sos @i-am-wierd-always @stupidfuckimgspam @bloodyoathcal @pixiegrl @pxrxmoore @currentlyupcalsass @clumthood @another-lonely-heart @calumscalm

if you’d like to be added to my taglist pls fill in this form!

chapter six

#malum #5sos fic #5sos fanfic #5sos slash #5sos fanfiction #ill be responding ot messages tomorrow i need some time to gather brain cells #this heat is SERIOUSLY doing me in #nadya...i have Some Thoughts but i need to collect the fics #god im literally sat in front of my fan on full blast and its just blwoing hot air at me SUFFERING #imagine not having yorkshire blood must be so nice

11 notes · View notes

isobel-thorm · 3 years

Note

evens for a v of your choice? 👀

let’s go with Evvie uwu

The Basics

2. Gender Identity Cis female

4. Race and Ethnicity Human, white, Irish origins

6. Headcanon VA - & fc Lauren Cohan

8. Weapon of Choice(?) Nowaki Assault rifle, or any shotgun she can get her hands on

10. Do they have any markings, piercings or scars? Small scar on the right side of her upper lip

12. Own any pets? She’s very dedicated to her fish

14. Can they cook? Can they bake? She’s passable with both, but she enjoys baking more.

16. Can they drive? She can. Doesn’t mean she should. If it’s a four wheel vehicle anyway. She can’t drive those for shit but she’s amazing on a motorcycle.

18. Have any special keepsakes? The implant that she and Velkan use for Twin Switches. It’s useful and sentimental all in one go. She still thinks getting Johnny via the same tech is karma for it, though.

Interests

19. Hobbies: Clothes shopping, cardio

20. Clothing/Aesthetic: Expensive, cute, lives in leather pants or slacks with bright colored midriff-bearing shirts and jackets.

21. Fave food(s) and drink(s) Seafood and whiskey

22. Fave Color: Light blue

23. Fave Genre: Romantic Comedy

24. Fave Season: Summer

25. City or Country? Anywhere But Night City

26. Guilty Pleasure Sweatpants

Storytime

27. What’s their family like? Who’s in it? What’s their relationship with them? Her and her siblings’ relationship is just about non existent with their parents because they basically abandoned them all, and the desire to find them has dwindled to none over the years. Her twin brother Velkan is the most important person in her life, and her other siblings aren’t that far behind, as much as Valencia would say otherwise.

28. Are they literate? Did they go to school? How long? What level? She’s intelligent, probably somewhere just beyond college level, but she’s also more a street smarts kind of gal- or business smarts, considering she’s Corpo. Trust No Bitch and all that.

29. What was childhood like? A lot of waiting around for parents who didn’t come home much.

30. What was adolescence like? Same as childhood with the added obligation to help Velkan take care of Vance and Valencia.

31. What’s their current main conflict? This is currently up in the air. Right now it’s either ‘keep Velkan out of trouble’, ‘keep Vance alive from doing all this shit’ and/or ‘get the terrorist out of my head.’

32. What steps have they taken to overcome this conflict? Shoot first ask questions later, be there for her siblings at all costs.

33. How have they changed over time? Lightened up a lot. Like, a lot. She’s still the Full Fledged Adult of the group, though.

For Fun

34. What’s their room look like right now? Sheer chaos in the main rooms, perfectly organized and color coded closet.

35. What are they like as a friend? Loyal, encouraging, #2 Wingman

36. What are they like as a partner? Same as friend, add very very subtly-but-effective-flirty

37. Do they have any phobias? Fear of abandonment

38. Did/do they go anywhere special for vacations? Beaches, as far from Night City as she could afford.

39. Your character walks into a cafe. What do they order? Super sweet iced coffee. Probably some fancy limited time flavor like that Dunkin Brownie one.

40. What time do they go to bed, usually? No set time, where she drops, she drops.

41. What’s their morning routine like? 80% of it is spent trying to decide what to wear, then its just eat and go.

42. What’s the dumbest thing your character’s done? Joined the corporate world to try to get a better life for her and her siblings, which ended up doing the opposite.

43. What pokemon would your character be (if they’re already a pokemon/gijinka tell us what they are, and how that’s affected them)? A Vulpix or Ninetails,

44. What’s their pokemon team? Try to pick all 6. Vulpix, Rapidash, Cubone, Lapras, Dragonair, Houndoom. She said “consistency whomst?”

45. Theme song (and a playlist if you’ve got it!) Here’s one for “the Greys” as in all four of them but its really just her at the same time. All the songs are the right vibe for her. The main ones for vibe/energy on that list are Blow (Deconstructed) Kesha, Beauiful Dirty Rich - Lady Gaga, Hello - Karmin

46. If this character was in a musical, what would their motif be (what kind of instruments do you hear, what’s the tempo, etc). Legally Blonde’s energy with the sound of Heathers. Light, mostly hopeful, but intense songs.

The Deep Lore™

47. What was this character’s biggest turning point in their life, something that changed them almost completely? Joining Corporate. It set her on a path where she turned into someone she started to not like and got out just in time, but she’s also well aware it almost ended her family because of the domino effect it had on her family.

48. What was their lowest point? What was their highest point? Lowest was the same answer, and high point, well, haven’t gotten that far yet.

49. What are some themes tied to your character’s story? / 50. What are some motifs associated with your character? “Stick to your guns” / “ffight for your family.”

51. What were some inspirations for your character (people, movies, games)? I didn’t really have character inspo as far as personality, but her fashion sense was definitely “SR 2/3 Shaundi, but willing to put on a suit jacket and heels” - literal ‘Corporate Ho.’

52. How are you and your character the same? How are you different? Oh she’s absolutely a chaotic confident mess and I’m... as far opposite as possible.

53. Expectations vs Reality: what did you expect and what did you get with this character? No expectations had or met just yet.

54. What does your character want, and what do they need? Wants to never have anyone abandon her, wants a solid life with her family all getting along peacefully. She also needs that but general stability would be nice, because she’s been all over the place in life for most of it.

55. What’s your character’s core trait? What’s their best trait? What’s their worst trait? When happens when these all interact with each other? Determination and blind optimism, respectively. They end up giving her lots of high, happy expectations, where the results are usually anything but.

56. What’s your overall goal with this character? Will they get a happy ending or will they succumb to their faults? We’ll see how canon goes, but if it’s too sad, God is Dead, My Canon Now. She can go be happy with Vik/Dino/Whoever The Hell I Settle On.

#Everlee Grey #foofygoldfish

3 notes · View notes

weirdochick56 · 4 years

Text

Gentle Notes- Dean Winchester One Shot

Dean Winchester x reader

Warnings: None. Explicit language maybe? FLUFFFFFFFFFFFFFF.

Disclaimers: I don’t own any SPN characters/plots mentioned.

Word count: 1, 796

Summary: In which the reader hides the fact that she can sing from Dean and is one day caught doing exactly that by the eldest Winchester.

Listen to Kina Graniss’s version of “Can’t Help Falling In Love” Here!!

***

You look around your dull room in the mostly-vacant bunker with disdain. The boredom was overwhelming you so much, you had begun spacing out. And the book wasn’t even boring!

The Winchester brothers were probably on an adventure hunting down some monster, meanwhile here you were, practically chained to your bed reading a book.

And not even a lore book, mind you, but a romance novel. And it wasn’t the book itself that had you so jittery, it was the fact that you were reading a book for the first time in well, decades, for the purpose of entertainment and not research.

You sigh, the small book feeling completely unsuitable in your lap in sharp contrast to the normally-heavy old, dusty books you were forced to go through.

Closing your book shut and looking down at your cast-clad leg with hatred seemed fitting at the moment, though. Stupid leg, you grumble mentally.

Getting it broken and being unable to complete the normal kick-ass, monster-hunting activities you were used to was one thing, but having Dean Winchester practically order you to stay home like a good girl and do mundane things while he and his brother got to go out and fuck up some demon was entirely different.

Painfully different.

Aggravatingly different.

I’m-gonna-kick-your-ass-if-you-speak-like-that-to-me-again-Winchester different.

So here you were, attempting with all your might (which wasn’t very much at the moment) not to scream in utter frustration. Hunting was your life. Hunting was the only thing you knew how to do. Well, as far as everyone knew.

And sure, you’d gotten a few scrapes here and there, but nothing so serious you couldn’t hunt. Until now, that is. And until now, you hadn’t felt so...incapacitated.

Shit, you frown. I need to do something. Researching was out of the question as Sam had somehow managed to scrape up all the necessary information up on his own. Cleaning? No, you’d already picked up after the messy brothers the night before. There was nothing to pick up. Sleeping? Nope, not tired. Eating? Not hungry.

So?

And then suddenly, it hits you. How about covering?

You grin broadly, leaning over the side of your bed with a tiny groan when you accidentally twist your leg the wrong way and promptly tugging your old guitar from beneath your bed.

Not the best option to keep your most prized possession, but enough to hide it from prying eyes.

It’d been a while since you’d been able to string the guitar. To sing your heart out. Being with the brothers on the road constantly left you no time to listen to your own music, much less play it yourself. Not to mention you flat-out refused to let anyone hear you sing. Not because you were bad, because you knew you could sing, but because it just wasn’t something you were ready to share. Singing and playing the acoustic guitar was your thing. You weren’t sure if you were ready to let anyone know about it.

So confident that the brothers wouldn’t be back for another day, you decide to tune your guitar first and warm up your vocals. Then you press your back to the headboard, sitting up and letting your arm muscles relax onto the large instrument.

It had most certainly been a while since you’ve felt the familiar weight of your guitar and even longer since you’d open your mouth to so much as hum along to a song in fear of getting caught.

You tested out the six strings on your guitar before settling for “Can’t Help Falling In Love” by Elvis Presley. It was your favorite to play on guitar and you’d sung it before.

You cleared your throat, letting your fingers ghost over the strings before you let your let your eyes flutter shut and play the first chords. Then you opened your mouth.

Wise men say only fools rush in But I can't help falling in love with you Shall I stay? Would it be a sin If I can't help falling in love with you?

The lyrics that come out of your mouth are breathy and slow at first. Raspy and barely audible, but sweet and smooth as honey. Full.

Like a river flows surely to the sea Darling so it goes Some things are meant to be Take my hand, take my whole life too For I can't help falling in love with you

You keep the strumming of your fingers over the guitar consistent and accurate, the familiar warmth of singing and playing the guitar flooding the pit of your stomach, wrapping around your whole body and shining through on your voice.

You sounded magnificent. Full of emotion but still keeping your voice controlled. The pitch was strikingly on point and your mouth moved softly, encasing each soft murmur from your lips with full intent. You felt so happy.

Like a river flows surely to the sea Darling so it goes Some things are meant to be Take my hand, take my whole life too-

CRASH.

You immediately stop strumming, your voice getting caught in your throat and your eyes flying open. As soon as you do, you see Dean standing near your doorway, a wince clearly inscribed on his beautiful face and your alarm clock lying in pieces on the floor.

Dean looks up at you with wide eyes and a sheepish smile. “Uh...sorry?”

Your breath gets caught in your throat as you stare at him. Oh no. Oh no. The cat was out of the bag!

Then you groan, your cheeks flushed. “Oh God. I’m- when did you get here Dean?”

He smirks, regaining his composure almost immediately and approaches you with a smug jerk of his broad shoulders in his step and you figured a shitload of teasing was going to be coming your way which induced a grimace on your face almost immediately.

“I don’t think that matters much now, does it miss I-have- a-secret-singing-talent?” He raises his brows and you flush shamefully. By then he grins so wide you have a hard time figuring out how his face wasn’t split in half. “I mean, Goddamn, you have a set of pipes in you sweetheart!”

You groan again, covering your flushed face with your hands.

“Oh god. No one was supposed to know!”

You can hear him let out a surprised sound and cautiously take your hands off your face. He was looking at you like you’d grown two heads. “What?”

Dean sits next to you, a soft smile gracing his perfectly-sculpted lips instead of the condescending one from before. “Nothing. I just can’t seem to figure out, for the life of me, why someone with such a beautiful voice would ever want to hide it away from anyone. From me.” He looks at you pointedly.

Your blush intensifies and you can’t help but smile at him shyly. “I just- I don’t want people to look at me negatively, ya’ know? For having my own thing, I mean.” Your voice is far too low.

Dean sighs with exasperation and takes your face in his hands softly, forcing you to look into his absurdly bright green eyes.

“Sweetheart, no one’s gonna look down on you for singing like a fucking angel.” He pauses to chuckle a little and you’re left a little breathless at the sound. “And not the asshole ones either, the naked babies with halos and shit.” He beams. “I mean, hell, you have the goddamn most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard!” he bites his lip in order to contain his excitement but fails miserably.

You forget how to breathe for a second. He’s being so supportive and his face is so close to yours and suddenly you have this overwhelming impulse to kiss him senseless.

You gulp, chuckling softly. “Uh, yeah. Thanks, Dean.”

His face turns serious and he looks scrutinizingly into your eyes. “Y/n, I’m fucking serious. You might be a great hunter, but with talent like that, you could become a star or something.”

You laugh a little at his words and blush once more. “That’s not really my thing, D. Hunting is my life. And singing is only a passion. I can’t have both.”

His lips twitch at the corners a little and his eyes are sad when he leans in and kisses your forehead. You suck in a sharp breath and your chest feels warm with adoration.

Then he looks at you, eyes soft. “Y/n, I’ve never seen you so engrossed in something. You looked so...so beautiful. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You scoff, hiding a blush, and shake off his hands gently. “You’re just saying that,” you mumble.

He cups your face again, forcing you to look at him once more. Your breath hitches at the look he’s giving you. His sparkling green eyes glimmer with pure, sheer -almost overwhelming- adoration. He looks at you as if no one else mattered in the entire universe. Your noses brush and his gaze flickers to your lips, bright green irises darkening to dark shimmering emerald.

“I’m not, sweetheart. Trust me when I tell you that you’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

You blink a few times, your cheeks blushing and your head unable to wrap around the thought of someone as devastatingly handsome as Dean thinking you were attractive. Gorgeous.

“Dean-“ you go to protest but Dean effectively shuts you up by placing a finger over your lips.

As he shushes you, his eyes never part from your lips as he licks his own subconsciously.

“Y/n. I’m going to kiss you now. I think you should know this because I’m giving you the chance to back out.”

Your breath hitches and your heart races but you don’t move an inch. Dean seems to understand your approval as he slowly leans in, eyes fluttering shut. Your eyes fall shut too and you can feel his warm breath fanning your face as your stomach knots in anticipation.

He hovers over your lips for only a few seconds before leaning in and pressing them firmly to yours.

Your breath catches and you lightly part your lips, enveloping his passionately and cradling his face caringly in between your hands. His stubble tickles your fingertips and you shiver lightly at the sensation.

The kiss is gentle, sweet, bit filled with obvious craving and your head spins at how good he smells and feels like this.

It’s over sooner than you expected and your eyes flutter open.

“Dean-” you breathe.

He smirks softly, caressing your face lovingly. “You didn’t back out.”

You blush, leaning into his touch. “Why would I?”

***

Here’s an olddddddd one shot I wrote and had in my drafts hope you enjoyed.

A Special thanks to my forevers:

@jessikared97

@lilypalmer1987

@ladyofletters67

@sammykb1994

@mogaruke

#dean x reder #dean winchester x reader

44 notes · View notes

todaydreambelievers · 5 years

Text

The Newdie Awards!!

So, now that TDB is winding down - and in honor of the final podcast, I decided to hand out a few awards for all the people who’ve helped me along the way. It’s a lot like The Office’s Dundie Awards! (only nicer).

First of all, though, I want to shout a huge thank you to all the people who’ve donated so far to the TDB Pool - to keep the podcast hosted for years to come, so new people can listen, even if we’re not producing new content. I’m amazed at how much we’ve raised so far. Thank you so, so much for all your contributions!

Secondly, a shout out to @seeroftodayandtomorrow - who diligently watched the show every week with me for the last two years. That’s quite the feat and shouldn’t be discounted. You guys try doing anything for two years straight! <3

Thirdly, not sure how many of you realize this but @nikkisrandomthingsfan has been modding @todaydreambelieversfic for years now, and does an amazing job of it. I can’t thank her enough for taking that over for me - and agreeing to continue to watch over the fic blog even after the main TDB blog ends. In addition - to all the writers, including those who did the Author Spotlights with us back in the day, and to all the artists and creators out there - I hope you keep on doing your thing. We’re blessed to have such creative talent in the fandom. Thank you, thank you <3

The Newdies!!

The Matt Rutherford: Not Here but Not Forgotten Award goes to...

All of my lovely guests who weren’t here in the finale. I’ve had the pleasure of discussing the show with so many wonderful people - and I’m grateful to all the people who took the time to be on the podcast an share your thoughts. Thank you for being such wonderful guests <3

The Blaine Anderson: Biggest Stan Award goes to...

@thedorkmark There are plenty of Blaine stans around, but I haven’t met any that have surpassed Izzie’s passion and willingness to die on any hill. And like Blaine, Izzie’s a sweetheart and a kind soul. Thank you for bringing such joy and fire to the podcast <3 <3

The Mike Chang: All Around Awesome Award goes to...

@somewhereonlyino Like Mike, Lauren’s sometimes quiet, but always brings a fun and warm attitude to the podcast. Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts and being such a team player. <3 <3 The Tina Cohen-Chang: Don’t Cut Me Off Award goes to...

@carojane - I’ve never met a person who stans Tina harder than Carly, someone who shares Tina’s strong will and ability to push through the hard parts with sheer determination. You’re sweet and sensitive and kind but also won’t back down from a fight. Thank you so much for everything you’ve shared over the years <3 <3

The Sugar Motta: Sweet’n’Spicy Award goes to...

@coming-up-rosie - Every time Rosie pops on to the podcast, she’s sweet’n’spicy and always knows how to liven up the conversation. While not around a lot on the podcast, like Sugar, whenever you were on you brought joy and enthusiasm - especially lovely since I kept placing you on such random podcasts. Thank you so much for your ability to go with the flow and have fun while doing it <3 <3

The Sam Evans: Always Lending a Helping Hand Award goes to...

@klaineship2 Over the years, Carmen has been such a hard worker! She’s done the entire rewatch with me, continues diligently to keep track of fics, and has even translated my and other’s fic into another language for more people to read!! Like Sam, you’re kind and dependable, and great friend who’s always there to jump in and help out. Thank you so much for everything you’ve done over the years <3 <3

The Adam Crawford: Cutie Across the Pond Award goes to...

@perfectanomaly The thing about Anny is that she’s always coming at me with an unexpected, but welcome, new point of view, and challenging me on how I see the characters. Like Adam, she’s sweet and friendly (and also European!) and reminds me that these character’s don’t always have to live in the boxes we sometimes place them in. Thank you so much for keeping me on my toes all these years, and giving me new perspectives to think about <3 <3

The Santana Lopez: Tell It Like It Is Award goes to...

@honeysucklepink - Pink, you’ve been such a firecracker over the years! Your deep love of music and glee and Darren Criss has driven your passion, and like Santana you’re never afraid to shy away from your opinions, even if they’re different from everyone else’s. But also like Santana - you care deeply about the things and people are important to you. Thank you for always bringing your massive knowledge of music and crackling stories to the podcast <3 <3

The Sue Sylvester: Kicking Down the Fourth Wall Award goes to...

@slayediest - No one on the podcast has had an insider view of production quite like Slayediest, so it’s always fascinating to hear your stories about how things probably happened on the show. But also, like Sue, you don’t really give a shit about all the nonsense going on around you, and think that most of the drama is ridiculous and silly (and it is!) and I really appreciate it about you. You have a great sense of humor, and are always reminding me to sit back and enjoy the craziness in the world. Thank you for letting me drag you on all these years, I’ve always valued your input so much <3 <3

The Marley Rose: Most Precious of Precious Muffins Award goes to...

@sleepdeprivedmind - Connie, hands down, is one of the kindest, most positive, purest people I know. I’ve never heard her say a bad word about anything, and even tries to bring a positive on some of the most negative subjects (like Will!!, lol) Like Marley, you have such a big heart and warm soul and radiate joy whenever you come on the podcast. I’m incredibly thankful to call you my friend, thank you so much for all the great conversations we’ve had <3 <3

The Mercedes Jones: Oh Hell to the No Award goes to...

@black-john-lennon - Kay was the first guest I recorded with on the show, and I’m so grateful for that first conversation, because it helped me gain the confidence that this project was something I could accomplish long term! Kay’s never been one to back down from a fight - but doing so from a place of passion and getting to the heart of the matter. Like Mercedes, you do have a sassy, won’t-back-down attitude, but I think you also share her vulnerability and big heart, and I don’t think that’s appreciated enough. Thank you so much for so many fantastic conversations, and becoming someone I can call a good friend <3 <3

The Emma Pillsbury: The Gingers Always Know Best Award goes to...

@redheadgleek - Oh, Julia, so calm and wise in her ways, she’ll always be there to lend a listening ear or be of service in whatever way she can be! Like Emma - I think you’re smart and on the nose about a lot of things, but also incredibly kind and caring. And, many people may or may not know, the backbone of keeping a lot of fandom things afloat. (She has every Klaine fic ever stored on a drive somewhere in case the apocalypse happens guys, lol <3) Thank you for always being so sweet, and listening to me ramble on with an open mind and an open heart <3 <3

The Kurt Hummel: There Are More Than Four Sides to Me Award goes to...

@kurtmckinnon - Kelley helped me redefine what a Kurt Stan could be. Believe it or not, being a Kurt fan myself, I always shied away from the term - but Kelley’s love and passion for the character, and the show, helped me be secure in my identification of being a Kurt Stan (lol). But more so, like Kurt, there are far more sides to you and you’ve always come to the podcast with a new perspective and a way of thinking that I might not have been privvy to. I appreciate so much that you kept challenging how I saw the world. Thank you so much for being such a huge, positive champion of Kurt, and always pushing me to think outside of the box <3 <3

The Finn Hudson: The Show’s Gonna Go All Over The Place Aware goes to...

@notthatbea - My dearest Bethany, my goodness where do I even start. Always there when I needed her, Bethany’s never been afraid to back away no matter what kinda crazy scheme I’ve got going on. Like Finn, she’s sometimes bumbling along with me (in a good way!) but has a huge heart and always willing to go with it now how matter how crazy and out of control things get. Thank you so, so much for becoming my good friend, for letting me take you on some of these insane adventures, and solidifying yourself in my heart - so much love <3 <3

The Brittany Pierce: Special Unicorn Award goes to...

@slayerkitty - No one has a laugh quite like Kitty’s, and it’s a delight to hear it, even when it’s for the most randomest of things. Like Brittany, she’s a little bit sweet, a little awkward, a little odd, and a whole lot wonderful unicorn - all of it wrapped up in such a delightful way. I’m sorry I cancelled your contract so many times - know that I couldn’t really imagine doing the podcast without you there. Thank you so much for your fountain of knowledge, your great sense of humor, and your deep love of all fandom things - you’re unique and wonderful in your own special way, and I appreciate that about you <3 <3

The Cooper J Anderson Emotional Tornado Award goes to...

@ckerouac - I mean is anyone really surprised by this?? RB is the ultimate emotion tornado, swooping in and creating a great time like like none other. Like Cooper - your enthusiasm never wavers, your energy is inspiring, your sense of fun is endless, and you’re always pointing me (ha) in the right direction, and I’m guessing you probably have really great hair.

Thank you for the phrase - ‘I wanna lick him nipple to navel’ and your vast knowledge of liquors, and the bangity-bang song, and the 2 out of 3 podcasters joke. Thank you for jumping in on a podcast as a pinch-hitter even when you didn’t even know what the topic was. Thank you for all the laughs and the sometimes tears and the driving me crazy but not really. Thank you for becoming one of my greatest friends - I value your friendship deeply. Just - thank you <3 <3

And one final thought - Iron Man’s better. He just is, RB, I mean really ;)

The Elliott Gilbert: Glitter Rock Vampire Award goes to...

@snarkyhag - I’m not really sure I have words to express how I feel about the one and only Le Diva Hag. You are the Glitter Rock Vampire of my world - always there, always helping, always being a life coach and a wonderful friend. I can’t tell you all the things she’s done for me over the years - because if I did it’d take up another post entirely. But know that sometimes you come to a fandom just wanting to hang out and enjoy the silly world that is your favorite story, and you walk away finding someone whose become one of your closet friends. I have nothing but gratefulness for everything she’s brought into my life.

I love you, Snarky, you are the Elliott to my Kurt, and I promise I’m never saying good-bye to you <3 <3

and finally...

The Rachel Berry: Greatest Star Award goes to...

YOU!!!

To all my listeners, and all the people who’ve contributed to TDB over the years, taking polls, giving prompts, writing stories, doing art, joining in on the conversation, or just hitting like or reblog. This blog has been made special because you were a part of it. To my real Daydream Believers - thank you for bring such joy to my life and others. You all are the greatest stars <3

Congratulations!!!

#tdb podcast #tdb rewatch #tdb rewatch finale celebration #oh goodness #i'm tearing up as I finish this post #you were all so amazing #and i'm so so grateful to all of you #i'll miss tdb - but i'm so glad i've found all of you in the process

78 notes · View notes

shamansantics · 5 years

Text

Some People Be Shitting on My Girl Ariel

And I am here to tell you why saying shit like "Ariel left her family for d*ck whereas Moana did it to save her village" is not on.

Ariel from the very start of the movie is shown to have a profound fascination with the human world. Her passion for anthropology is such that she befriended the only bird who'd come near her and avidly listens to him to collect every tidbit of information about humans that she can get.

In the famed song "Part of that World" she sings about how she longs to "ask them my questions and get some answers", which goes to show that she often feels ignored and tossed aside when she expressed curiosity. Her interests don't matter. Her concerns are invalid. (There's a lot of proof of this in the prequel where we see her dad completely ignore her when she tries to make a point about music and how Atlantea should have it.)

She also sings about wanting to be somewhere where "they don't reprimand their daughters", showing once again that she feels scorned and diminished. Powerless.

She doesn't sing about wanting to go to balls and meet dudes to thirst on. She sings about wanting to explore a new world, discover a new culture and - hopefully - better her own fate by going to a place she, although knowing little about it - feels and hopes is more progressive than her world in certain key areas, namely the respect given to young women.

Lo and behold, she sees a mortal man and is infatuated. Saves him. Sings to him. Bonds with him in the throes of danger. This is the first time she is close to the object of her passion - a real live human - and he is fascinating and male and pretty damn fine.

We don't know how much contact Ariel has with merman, but her best friend is a literal fish, her chaperone is a crab and like... do we see Ariel interact with any mermen? Or her sisters? Never. This isn't conclusive evidence but considering how tight a leash Triton tries to keep her on, I honestly wouldn't be shocked if she just plain wasn't allowed to talk to guys - tailed or legged - that were even remotely sexually compatible with her ever. So yeah.

She's out and about unsupervised, saves a hot dude, spends the night high on adrenaline and feeling like a powerful heroine while in the closest proximity she's ever been to a man who isn't her dad EVER... and the night before she'd seen him singing and dancing and being generally good humoured and not a jerk? She is going to fall hard and fast.

That's not a character flaw, okay. I repeat. FALLING IN LOVE ISN'T A CHARACTER FLAW.

It doesn't make her silly or weak or stupid to fall head over heels for a guy who represents everything she finds inspiring in a very short time. It makes her *sixteen*, her canon age, if I'm not mistaken. Hormones are high, mood is lit, guy is attractive. She's going to be attracted. She is going to love him. Love what he represents. Novelty. Freedom. Joy. Adventure.

Most of all, she's going love what he inspires in her: courage, strength, daring. And yeah, beauty and sexiness too.

He makes her feel more powerful than she's EVER felt before and they haven't even spoken yet! Unsurprisingly, she is going to confuse attraction and a feeling of empowerement with "true love", especially if she's never been told she was powerful before.

Ariel has been told she's pretty and sings well and all she's good for is sitting tight in her shell and combing her hair and performing for concerts.

As someone whose father has told them - and I quote - "the only thing I know that you can do well is sing" (ouch...), it smarts okay. It *hurts* to want more and be reduced to your voice. Unsurprising that Ariel didn't see trading it as a big deal.

By the time she goes to see Ursula, she has *saved a man's life* in the middle of a raging storm while the sea was on *fire*. Her chaperone has betrayed her leading to her father disrespecting her one time too many and then *destroyed* her most valuable possessions to "teach her a lesson". She is in love and angry and empowered. And he expects her to what? Go home and fucking *sing*?

Honestly, if Ursula hadn't asked for her voice, she'd probably have offered it up anyways in exchange for one (1) Atlean salt-and-vinegar chip.

So... keep in mind that this is the mindset of the girl who "gave up her world and family for d*ck".

Her dad's a jerk. Her sisters don't share her interest or understand her. Her best friend is a *fish* and just not able to keep up or truly connect with her the way she wishes he could. She is *lonely*. She is young. She is a girl.

And do you know what girls are taught? They're taught that the only thing that will make them feel more powerful than being in love... is being someone's mom. Ariel is too young to care about motherhood. But she is the perfect age to buy the "true love is the most powerful feeling you will ever experience" bullshit hook, line and sinker.

So if she feels empowered around a man? A good looking man at that? Must mean she's madly in love with him.

And see... this narrative... it isn't just Ariel who has it. She has spent *years* passionate about humanity and its culture only to be dismissed, mocked or forbidden to explore her interests at every turn. Her troves, build over years of exploration, is annihilated in *seconds*. Her father has NO respect whatsoever for her desire to learn about humans.

Ariel's true passion: anthropology of humanity is completely invalidated. No one sees it as something of value in this girl, much less something that might empower her enough to seek out the sea witch and give up her tail and voice to pursue. Least of all her.

And yet, it is. I am willing to bet that if she'd gone home after talking to Flotsam and Jetsam, the idea of seeking out the sea witch would have stayed there and within a decade, she'd have gone anyways.

The thing is... the interest of women and girls aren't taken seriously. They're "childish" and "immature" and "unimportant". The most important thing a woman can do is be in a relationship with a man and then a mother, or so we're told. That's why even accomplished career women are seen as having something fundamentally missing if they're single.

My point is... Ariel didn't abandon her family and home to chase after a guy she hadn't even talked to yet.

She abandoned her family and home to chase after a dream she'd had for years. The guy was a side quest that temporarily obsessed her because hormones and also threat of doom via seawitch... but folks. The sheer *delight* on that girl's face during her carriage ride through town is not the face of a woman whose biggest concern in life is getting married. You know... when her life isn't under threat if she doesn't.

What you should be pissed off about isn't that a sixteen year old dared fall in love with a guy who made her feel powerful, even though she didn't know him. And it's not that said sixteen year old was willing to trade the things OTHER PEOPLE told her were her most valuable assets (family that doesn't value her as a person, home she wants to leave, singing ability that has been used to demean her to a useless pretty thing)...

What you should be pissed off about... is that Triton thought it was okay to destroy the trove his daughter worked years towards. Would have NEVER allowed her to trade her legs and voice to go be human just for the sake of learning and enjoying human culture...

But was *blessing* her decision to do just that when framed under the lense "I'm in love with this dude I've know for less than a week and I'm gonna marry him, unfortunately tail's gotta go to make that happen and I'm never coming home ever."

He would have dragged her back kicking and screaming if she'd asked to leave so she could go pursue her passion. No amount of "proving herself worthy" would have made that an okay thing for her to do. But because it's "true love"... sure. Fine. She can go. He's fulfilled his fatherly duties anyways and made sure she's done the most important thing a daughter can do: marry a rich dude.

The moral of this story is...

A. Stop shitting on women for falling in love. It doesn't make them less worthy or their decisions less legitimate.

B. Stop shitting on women for confusing feeling empowered with falling in love when they're told about how amazing and magical the latter is and don't even know the former is exits, a lot of the time.

C. Start shitting on people for giving more legitimacy to the concept of "true love" as a motivator for making huge life changes than they do to shit like "because this thing interests me and I like it a lot and it makes me feel good when I do it". Start shitting on people for making a woman seeking a sense of fulfillment not worth a happy ending unless there's a romance too.

D. Moana was super selfish for wanting to leave her home to go explore even though she had a good family and her island was happy. And that's *okay*. Women are allowed to want things for themselves. They don't exist to please others and pacify their societies. Good on her for saving her village though.

E. Ariel was super selfish for wanting to leave her home to go explore even though her family was arguably much less awesome than Moana's. And that's *okay*. Good on her for meeting a dude she liked, falling for him and making the relationship last and be, as far as Ariel II shows us, a pretty decent one. WOMEN ARE ALLOWED TO WANT ROMANCE and it doesn't make them frivolous, even if they want it more than the "important" shit they're told they should be interested in instead. (Not that Ariel's main interest was romance, btw)

F. Women are allowed to be happy dammit. Be it via romance or career or hobby or academics or all of the above or *none* or other.

Just let women be happy without putting one down in favour of the other and shitting on them.

Ariel is a *great* movie and Ariel is a badass character and she is smart and extremely competent and *brave* and strong and good and anyone who says otherwise is a superficial coward whose forgotten what it feels like to be 16 and disrespected. In this essay I will...

#this is too long #rant about Disney #the Little Mermaid #ariel rocks #let women be happy #moana rocks too

74 notes · View notes

bloomeng · 4 years

Text

MDZS/Hogwarts au Headcanons

This au is a classic, but per usual I have opinions so here we go. (Also let’s pretend we do not see you know who)

All the patronuses are based on the official list and descriptions (I’ll leave the link below).

Wei Wuxian:

Gryffindor

Do I even need to make an arguement for this??

Patronus: Crow or Dolphin (I genuinely can’t decide)

Has friends in all houses and floats around among the tables in the great hall

Has been in all the houses common rooms tho

Probably good at most subjects, but he is amazing at defense against the dark arts

Definitely plays Quidditch, and is definitely the seeker too

Y’know typical over-achiver, star of the show, but without really trying

Steals books from the resticted section, not because he wants to read them, just because he was told they were off limits

He also steals food from the kitchen on his way back from the Hufflepuff common room (visiting Yanli ofc)

Is the kid that looses all of the points for his house, which means he also has most of the names in trophy room memorized (just from the sheer amount of time he’s had to clean them in detention)

Curfew is more of a suggestion, in his opinion nightime is the best time to roam the castle

He’s ended up in the hospital wing so many times that he basically has a bed reserved

Jiang Cheng:

Gryffindor

Between the loyalty, courage, ambition to “attempt the impossible,” and secret heart of gold, he could rival wwx’s Gryffindor spirit

Patronus: Chow Dog

Grumpily follows around during his misadeventures to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself

Or rather he’s the one who drags wwx’s ass to the hospital wing when he does hurt himself

Only one out of the trio (wwx, nhs, jc) who actaully studies

Hates divination, thinks it’s all a hoax, and it bugs the crap out of him that nhs actually belives in it

Is the captain of the Quidditch team, started as a chaser but now he’s the keeper

Was chosen to be a prefect

His favorite perk is the fancy bathtub, which nhs has definitely bribed him to gain access to

Shares his dorm with wwx, and he’s always complaining how he has to drag him out of bed

Lan Wangji:

Ravenclaw

He do be out here being super creative with that Guqin, and also owning our asses with his intelligence

Patronus: Wild Rabbit

I’d estimate that he spent 90% of the first 3 years of school in the library

Insert intense glaring at wwx as he tries to sneak into the restricted section

Somehow missed that wwx played Quidditch until his brother dragged him to a game

Needless to say he never missed a Gryffindor game after that

Somehow he managed to score one point off of a perfect grade on his OWL

Y’all already know he’d be a prefect, do I even need to say it

His favorite place in the castle is the window seat in Ravenclaw tower

Pretends to protest wwx sneaking into his common room

Imagine: Wangxian Hogsmeade dates and wwx trying to get him to wear his Quidditch jersey

Lan Xichen:

Hufflepuff

Although I feel like you could make a strong case for Ravenclaw, but the compassion and open-mindedness wins out

Patronous: White Swan

Professors love him, even Snape manages to tolerate him, probably by his 5th year he’s friends with half his professors

His favorite class is herbology but he’s also really good at charms and transfiguration

Owns an owl that he shares with his brother that he named something dumb like “Harold”

Has the Daily Prophet delievered every morning, and always thanks “Harold”

He grew up in a pure blood family so he is fascinated by muggle culture, and he is constantly asking jgy questions

Once jgy shared music from his ipod (yknow like one of the og ipods) and it blew his mind

Probably tried to help the house elves in the kitchen at some point, but was kicked out because he caused more damage then actual help

Somehow he was made a prefect in his fourth year???

He just roots for the under dog in Quidditch games, which often leads to a friendly competition between he and his brother (Gryffindor is never the underdog, not with wwx and jc on the team)

Nie Huaisang:

Slytherin

Again do I even need to make a case for this???

Patronus: Sparrow

Doesn’t even try and hide the fact that he let’s wwx and jc into the Slytherin common room

Often sits at the Gryffindor table because he wants to sit with wwx and jc

Instead of studying, he is constantly trying to find ways to cheat by designing bewitched items

By his 7th year he has his own business selling his cheats

His favorite class is divination, everyone assumes it’s because he’s a believer, but in reality he finds the subject hilarious and he’s amazed how a scam can go so far as to have a full educational class dedicated to it

Forged his brother’s signature on the Hogsmeade form, because Mingjue told him he wasn’t allowed to go if he was failing a class

Can’t fly a broom for the life of him

Barely passed his OWLS

In general he’s far more concerned with gossip and playing match-maker then doing any of this school work (who do you think told lxc to bring lwj to a Gryffinsor Quidditch game??)

(My monkey Xiyao controled brain likes to think that he’s been trying to set the two of them up for years, but that might just be me)

Jin Guangyao:

Slytherin

AGAIN do I really need to explain my thought process on this??? He’s cunning and manipulative, case closed, I do not take critism

Patronus: Grass Snake

Struggles in conjouring magic, but makes up for it in written work and testing

In general he works very hard and is most likely top of his class, despite the lack of natural ability

His favorite class is potions, because it’s simply a matter of following directions

The first friend he made was lxc after realizing as first years that they had really similar class schedules and decided to study together

His mother was a muggle, and thus he was raised in the muggle world, so there’s a lot of prejudice from his housemates

Every once in awhile he’ll quietly ask lxc to explain something about the wizarding world

To the annoyance of his house, he was made a prefect

Somewhere along the way he befriended nhs

The relationship dynamic is as follows: jgy forces nhs to study, while nhs forces him to come with him to Hogsmeade (mainly so that he doesn’t have to pay for his own food)

Jiang Yanli:

Hufflepuff

She’s just so sweet, compassionate, and kind not to be a Hufflepuff

Patronus: Doe

Her favorite classes are Herbology and Care for Magical Creatures

She’s really good with animals

She read that you were allowed to bring an animal and immediately went out to buy a cat

Buys wwx snacks on the Hogwarts Express, even though she made him lunch

She brought a phonograph and a collection of records from home, and set it up in the common room

No one knows where it came from, but people started to slowly add to the collection of records

Now the common room is just constantly filled with music

Lxc knows it was her, but he didn’t see the harm in letting it stay, so he let it be (plus he also enjoys music)

She goes to Quidditch games and roots for Gryffindor despite... not being in Gryffindor (she’s a supportive sister)

Spent most of her 4th year stopping wwx from fighting Jin Zixuan (the year before she started dating him)

She really do be living the cliche dream of the Hufflepuff/Slytherin relationship

Jin Zixuan:

Slytherin

He’s the typical pompous, preppy, asshole, that people assiociate with Slytherins

Patronus: Peacock

The first thing he did when he got to Hogwarts was set up his side of the dorm room to make it more up to his “standards”

His dad tried to convince him to play Quidditch, but he refused

Basically ignores jgy’s existence.... even though they’re in the same house

Loathes herbology because it requires getting his hands dirty

Is racist(?) towards muggleborns

He always has a mob of girls surrounding him at all times, yet doesn’t know how to properly process his own feelings for Yanli

I’d say he’s trying his best but that would be a lie, he thinks he’s doing the most though

He takes school very seriously, and he scored pretty well on his OWLS

One time in potions something went wrong and his potion blew up in his face quite literally, and wwx hasn’t let him live that down

Xue Yang:

Slytherin

He is bad man grrrrrr and a sly bastard, so ofc he’s the house of snek

Patronus: Weasel

Everyone hates him, his professors, his housemates, even the ghosts avoid him

Except Peeves, in fact Peeves love him

Probably because he’s constantly messing with people

He’s the only person to rival wwx’s detention record

He is fantastic at defense against the dark arts

He likes to mess with Trelawney by purposely making death omens in his readings

He just doesn’t do assignments, yet does really well on exams and passes???

Snape would vouch for him, that’s the vibe I get

He plays as a beater on his Quidditch team, and he’s known for knocking people out

Xiao Xingchen:

Hufflepuff

He’s kind, selfless, and is always trying to see the good in people, which screams Hufflepuff

Patronus: Dragonfly

Is really good with charms

Even though he’s of age, he hates appariting and will do a lot to avoid it

Runs group study sessions, with the help of sl

A big activist in freeing house elves working for old families

Stops to have full conversations with the paintings

Is the only person in the school that tries to be friendly to Xue Yang

Song Lan:

Ravenclaw

He seems to have that very principled and intelligent nature of a Ravenclaw

Patronus: Dun Stallion

He doesn’t really have a lot of friends outside of xxc, but he doesn’t seem to mind

He’s that one person who actually enjoys professor Binns’ History of Magic class

He lets xxc drag him to Hogsmeade, even though the crowded shops make him uncomfortable

Shh it’s a secret but he also has a major sweet tooth and he will buy a shit ton of candy

Because of his scary amount of knowledge of Hogwarts and its history, he managed to find the room of requirement

So he and xxc end up moving their study sessions there when their group size outgrows the library

Anyway that’s all for now, but if you have a request be sure to ask!

Anyway I’m proud of the patronus choices I made for these, mostly. I know that it’s inevitable that someone will disagree with the house placements, so just note that these are purely my opinons.

Patronus info link:

#mdzs #the untamed #cql #mo doa zu shi #mdzs headcanons #hogwarts au #wei wuxian #lan wangji #jiang cheng #ok yeah I ain’t listing all the characters #pls don’t fight me over these opinions #this is just for fun #headcanons #wangxian

5 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

mewo-is-god-imo

bald

l1mo

✨l1mo✨

cathjoooyishere-blog-blog

Checkin' on me?

lightningg

I make gifs

akratijewelsinc

Silver Jewelry manufactures, Suppliers, Wholesaler