#partially as a music student but partially because i *love* classical music I always have and I still do | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wilted-woods · 9 months

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OKAY!! BBIEAL BRAINROT BECAUSE I'M SLOWLY GETTING BACK INTO THE FANDOM!!

STARTING WITH MY BBIEAL HEADCANONS SO FAR!!

Professor Baldi

He actually cares about his students and wants what's best for them

He's only sometimes a bit strict because he values his students education

He still struggles with technology therefore he forgets how to use the You Can Think Pad

He prefers old-school teaching but is flexible with modern-day students that are only familiar with technology

He's 5'9"

He's basically like a Sphinx (hairless) Cat so he'll sometimes be seen wearing thicker clothing during cold weathers

He has mild to severe Parkinson's Disease (hence why he's sometimes so stiff and hardly to never moves when you play the game except for when you get the questions wrong)

He's actually very friendly when you get to know him better

The fact that he can hear practically EVERYTHING gives him really bad migraines (sensory overload)

Principal of The Thing

Same as Baldi, he truly cares and wants what's best for his students

Again, same as Baldi, he values the students receiving their education

He greatly cherishes the safety of his students and would blame himself if any of them get hurt (so does Baldi) hence why he's strict with the rules of the school

He's 6'0"

He also gets confused when it comes to technology as he's an old-school principal

He prefers classical music

He has really bad arthritis (rheumatoid and osteo) in his legs hence why he's always drifting around the school

He has grey hairs

He has a really bad limp when he tries to walk which is really painful for him

Playtime

She's autistic

She's partially deaf though she could still somewhat hear

She plays other games too besides jump rope

She always keeps a ladybug squishy with her

She's the host of the Stress Relief Club (please join :( I promise it's really fun! There's fidgets, stim toys, sensory toys and so much more! So far only the main characters of the game (excluding PLAYER (for others)) are a part of the Club)

She loves lizards

Although she prefers pigtails, she keeps it up in a ponytail because she only has one rubber band

She loves to dance

It's a Bully/This Is A Bully

He has anger issues

He has been bullied before because of the way he looks

He's diabetic but goes against it sometimes because of all the certain foods, drinks and sweets that he wants to eat

He's basically just your typical bully (somewhat)

One thing he doesn't tolerate is driving the students he's bullying to deleting themselves so he just sticks with the usual taking things and maybe some pushing and shoving

He mostly hangs with Playtime as she's the only person he tolerates

He can change his mind on if he's going to bully the PLAYER or not but mostly considers doing so

He has a hard time focusing in his classes (he's a high schooler)

Arts and Crafters

They have selective mutism

He's claustrophobic and agoraphobic

They're mostly sometimes shy and quiet

He has mild scopophobia (hence why he attacks you once you look at him and teleports you to Baldi)

Their favorite artistic expression is Expressionism

He likes crocheting

They mostly hang around either Playtime or the Janitor

He loves ambient music which gives him artistic ideas

Filename2/Null

He's strictly antisocial (hence why he never makes his presence known except for when the PLAYER gets the questions wrong, he's found almost willing during Baldi's Birthday Celebration/Birthday Bash)

He has tried to warn the main characters (excluding one) about the game asides from the PLAYER

He has a stuttering issue but it gets really bad when he's stressed

He's 6'8"

Nobody is aware of his existence asides from the PLAYER (doesn't acknowledge him and doesn't take him seriously) and another

He's very observant to a certain degree

They tried to restrict him from doing what he's currently doing but failed and aren't aware of his existence anymore)

He's grown attached to one person..and that's when he felt it for the first time after being cooped up in isolation for so long...

The Janitor

He has a few disabilities (ex: ADHD, Autism and mild Tourette's Syndrome) which makes his job extremely difficult but he always finds a way to manage things

He's extremely talkative with those he's the most safe and most comfortable with but gets upset when they become annoyed and having to point it out

He tends to zone out quite frequently

He has Insomnia due to being extremely dedicated to cleaning the entirety of the school

He's 7'9" so he comes off as intimidating since he's taller than everyone in the school

He has to crouch to get into the rooms he needs to clean but sometimes forgets so he ends up slamming into the door frames

He found his someone and is already attached...

He's a collector (he owns a lot of items that contain trinkets that he's found (he's basically a crow))

First (1st) Prize

He's actually quite sentient so he willingly tries to give others hugs

He has abandonment issues which makes him a little clingy

He helps Playtime with her club

Even when some of the students are deliberately mean to him, he still does what he does best

#Günther/Wilted's Rambling Station #Günther/Wilted's Headcanons #Baldi's Basics In Education And Learning #BBIEAL #I've excluded PLAYER since y'know- the PLAYER is basically us-

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greyeyedmonster-18 · 2 years

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When I'm close to you, we blend into my favorite color.

(happy love month, please enjoy as try to give you fluffy sweet lovely romance dribbles of all shapes and sizes; this was actually an AU i had written, and scrapped, but pieced back together in a way that i liked better.

In which regulus is an artist and...james might be his favorite color.)

"You usually do...like...I don't know... things?"

"Wow." Regulus replied sarcastically, "So observant of you. I'm trying to work here."

"Like you do buildings is what I meant," James stepped closer and Regulus could see his running shoes next to the canvas, "Like actual things and places and this is...colors. It's different."

The comment was enough for Regulus to slow his palette knife and look up at the other boy, "...you notice what I paint?"

Regulus tried to ignore the thumping of the bass happening on the other side of the wall as he sat in front of a nearly blank canvas. He could hear his brother's loud laugh alongside the music, rattling the walls and creating an environment that was far from conducive to painting. He imagined he was elsewhere.

Alone.

In a quiet studio somewhere, not even some bullshit classical music playing. Just a comforting emptiness and the sounds of a dry brush on canvas; the splashing of water in a cup; white noise of electricity.

He had moved in with his brother to save money and to get out of student housing that was much to be desired, not taking into consideration that Sirius, not only, was in his final year and had a one-track mind on graduating and a career with a paycheck that was far too large for the amount of time Sirius actually took to work, but also had friends and liked to have them over.

A joyous shout from behind the wall made Regulus jump, red smearing across the canvas and he inhaled deeply through his nose.

Why are you having a party on a Thursday?

Because I can. Is there a problem? I can ask someone else to have it

But it was never a problem. Because Regulus was a starving artist and Sirius had a full fridge and remembered to clean and was his brother. Who had gotten a two-bedroom flat without Regulus having to ask.

Regulus put the brush down, debating whether or not to give up entirely and wake up early to keep working or to join the party when he heard the door of his bedroom open.

"I thought you might be in here!" A familiar voice said and Regulus looked over his shoulder to see his brother's best friend, James Potter, in the threshold of the door, "Hey Reggie."

"Don't call me that."

James didn't heed the warning, walking further into his bedroom without an invitation, "Haven't even come out to say hello?"

"Hi," Regulus said and rolled his eyes, watching as James made himself at home in Regulus's bedroom, jumping to sit on top of the desk in his room next to his easel setup. "Remind me why you're in here?"

"On the way to the loo. What are you working on?"

"Nothing, currently," Regulus gestured to the partially marred canvas.

"That's a very nice red."

"Do you need something?" Regulus asked and James grinned, reaching over to mess up Regulus's hair as he always did. James practically lived in the flat as well he was around so much. Star athlete on the football team who had happened be in the same university obligated writing course as his brother first year. Since then, they had been inseparable. Weekends and holidays and all the hours in between, where Sirius would go, James wouldn't be far. Regulus was....star-struck a bit when they had first met, disarmed and enamored with the "big-man-on-campus" with dark skin and eyes that looked like kaleidoscopes, swimming with shades of gold and green and dark brown. The allure and the initial enchantment had worn off, Regulus finding the two of them impossibly annoying most days, but...

Regulus was nothing if not an artist. A keen observer of beauty. And it would be a sin not to appreciate beauty. To not memorize the ratio of shoulders to waist; the line of James's spine and the way his black curls twisted around another. Year after year, Regulus observed and continue to do so even as James was in his bedroom with music pounding behind them.

"You can come hang with us, you know. In case, Sirius didn't tell you."

"He told me," Regulus said and dared to look at James, straightening a little as he did so, "I'd rather literally watch paint dry than pretend to be interested in everything those finance....idiots have to say. My brother included."

James laughed, "Well, I'm not a finance idiot. You can always talk to me and we can play them in beer pong with a fat wager. And we're both sober so there's an automatic advantage"

"I..." Regulus cleared his throat, "I really should work on this and I have class tomorrow."

"If you change your mind," James shrugged and got off the desk, heading back towards the door and Regulus let out a breath, eyes trailing down toned thighs trapped in a pair of jeans. He was definitely not going out there now.

The door to the flat opened and Regulus didn't move from where he was painting, in an artistic flow and determined to get one more section finished, a deadline approaching. He had moved to the sitting room for better natural lighting, setting up shop on the ground, forgetting the easel entirely, and deciding it would be easier to ask for forgiveness from Sirius when he got paint on the ground than sacrifice his art.

"Well, that looks different from the last time I saw it!"

"Sirius isn't here."

"I know, he's on his way back from class."

Regulus rolled his eyes but otherwise ignored James as he continued with his palette knife on the canvas, making marks with dark, dark red, and violets that were sitting just next door to shades of green.

"This is a bit different for you."

"What?"

"You usually do...like...I don't know things?"

"Wow." Regulus replied sarcastically, "So observant of you. I'm trying to work here."

"Like you do buildings is what I meant," James stepped closer and Regulus could see his running shoes next to the canvas, "Like actual things and places and this is...colors. It's different."

The comment was enough for Regulus to slow his palette knife and look up at the other boy, "...you notice what I paint?"

"It's kind of the decor around here..." James gestured vaguely to the wall where one of Regulus's cityscapes was hanging up.

"Oh. Right."

"And I'm impressed because I can't even draw a circle. So...what's this one?"

"You don't have to pretend to be interested."

"I'm not. Pretending, I mean. I'm interested. Tell me!"

Regulus sighed, wiping one of his hands on the top of his thigh, shifting so he wasn't looking at James so awkwardly. So he wasn't looking at James in a way that granted a clear view up the inseam of his shorts. James had obviously just come from practice, only bothering to change out of his cleats and Regulus could see faint sweat marks on the side of his face. James also had his glasses off, the view of hazel eyes and dark eyebrows made all the more clear. Regulus swallowed, wishing he had kept his eyes averted.

"It's...a family tree," he told James, choosing to look at the paint stains on his hand, "that's the assignment. To paint a picture of our family."

"It's just colors, isn't it?"

Regulus rolled his eyes, "And you're just kicking a ball around, aren't you?"

James grinned though, "You're right. How about you explain this to me, and I'll take a day to explain football to you?"

Nothing to explain. I know the sport like the back of my hand, just as I know your stats.

Shortly after meeting James, Regulus has spent an absurd amount of time asking his brother questions about football, trying not to sound too obvious. Trying to make it seem like he just wanted to be part of the University Culture and not just to have things to ask James about if he ever got the courage.

"You don't have--" but Regulus got cut off by the sound of the door opening and closing again.

"James? Did you make it?"

"When did he give you a key?" Regulus asked.

"Oh, he didn't. I just made a copy when he was in class one day," James offered and Regulus shook his head, "In here! Just talking with Reg!"

"Good, saves me a trip and a text message, what do you want for--" Regulus watched as his brother's eyes went wide at the marks on the floor surrounding the canvas, face morphing from absolute horror to absolute fury in an instant, "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"It'll come out!" Regulus assured him, lying through his teeth knowing damn well that oil paint was a bitch to get out of everything.

"Mhmm. I leave newspaper in the kitchen for a reason, you little shit."

"Newspaper isn't part of my process." and Regulus heard a muffled snort from James' direction.

"Okay well is being homeless because--"

"Sirius, you can't mess with the process." James said, coming to Regulus's rescue and putting an arm around his brother's shoulder, "Besides, look how good it's turning out. Can't be mad at that."

"Yes, yes, very talented. I'm still pissed about the floor. Clean it up, Reg."

"I will." Regulus gave Sirius his best absolutely innocent smile and his brother, mouthing a silent thank you to James.

Regulus hung up the almost finished piece in the kitchen this time, the best overhead lighting in there, and the only room with a space big enough to prop it up. He stood back with one hand under his chin, examining the painting, not quite happy with it and not being able to place why. He groaned in frustration, running a hand over his hair for the thousandth time that evening, certain black curls were rivaling his brother's state of unmanageable and tousled.

"Alright there?" asked James

"No."

"Looks good."

"You would say that, but no offense you really don't know what you're on about."

"No, it does...all...the colors. I dunno, they don't really go together do they? But then they work. It's cool." James closed the door the fridge now holding a bottle of some kind of sports drink Sirius kept on hand exclusively for his best friend.

"That's...well...yeah."

"So...what's the problem?"

"You don't need to placate me. I'm sure my brother is going to miss you if you're gone too long."

"And I'm sure your brother is snogging his boyfriend right now, I'll give them a bit longer. Tell me. Explain away, Picasso."

"Bite your tongue."

"Van Gogh?"

"Well now I'm curious how many artists you know."

"Uh...Monet? And... oh, Sirius likes Kandinsky, I think? You made us go to that exhibit, once..."

"Oh, I remember," Regulus said dryly, images of James and Sirius pretending to be museum tour guides flashing before his eyes, giving tourists incorrect information about the paintings on the walls. James seemed to be remembering too, though perhaps less mortifying for him, judging by the smile on his face.

"And Da Vinci? I know a few. I'm learning." James said and nudging him after taking a sip of the bottle he was holding, "So...walk me through this. I'll listen. It's a family tree, right?"

"Mhmm..." Regulus sighed, and stepped forward slightly to gesture at the painting, "So...it starts...I did it backwards, sort of. The bottom, all the dark greens? That's my father. Strong and...stoic and the foundation of our family. Like the ground, we walk on and...stable. That's how I see him anyway. Really strong trees that can weather storms and just stay standing. And uh, just above him, it's like that mustard color? Not great, that's supposed to be for my aunt and uncle. They kind of take some of the color from my father but...kind of...off." Regulus said and looked back at James, expecting to see a glazed far-off look on his face. But James just nodded intently, as if to say keep going, I'm hanging on every word.

"But I had to include them because I wanted my cousins on here, see the three blocks? Bellatrix and...Andy...Cissa. Bellatrix is the dark violette, almost black...like in just the right light you can see something that isn't so...harsh but it doesn't happen often. And Andy is green too. She's the foundation for her family as well..lighter though. Like she has less...pressure and weight to bear. Uh..like those trees that flower in the springtime? I think she's one of those. And then...Narcissa is yellow, a bit like money...and not a lot of people like yellow but those who do? Really love it. It's a particular color. Pretty, too. A lot of pretty things in nature are...yellow.

And...then..next to my father on the other side, all that...grey? I tried to blend it in with the greens and it's a bit--"

"Like pink, isn't it?"

"Mhmm." Regulus nodded, "My mother. She's a bit pink, a bit red...but like, cold and hard like diamonds. She's the winter version of all these colors, I think. A lot of squinting with this one too...and then you go up from there and--"

"Red."

"That's Sirius." Regulus couldn't help but smile the tiniest bit. Sirius had been Regulus's favorite part to paint. The ability to use such a bold color carelessly felt a bit like stepping into his brother's shoes.

"He's red?"

"Can't you feel it?"

"Colors aren't feelings."

Regulus raised an eyebrow, "That's all colors are."

"And Sirius..." James paused, brows furrowing together and Regulus made a mental note of the crease between his forehead that appeared. His new favorite wrinkle on James' face, only in competition with the lines on his cheeks when he was smiling. "...He's red."

Regulus couldn't help but laugh a little as James made the realization, hazel eyes brightening and a small smile forming on his face. "He's red. But sort of darker in spots? Exciting, passionate, loud, but the thing with red is...it works really well as a supporting color too. Like next to green? They're complimentary. It's almost a neutral the way it can...just get along with most things. But...you know, my mother's red too and...that's..."

"Can be a lot. Too...much red on the page?" James asked, and Regulus made a small noise of agreement, not wanting to vocalize the very obvious tensions between Sirius and their mother. The one's arguments that James had been around to clean up after.

"And that's it."

"Where are you?"

"It's a family tree."

"Last I checked your last name is Black. You're missing."

"I..."

Maybe that was what was wrong the whole time.

But how did you go about articulating a color that was ardently out of place?

Regulus was a worrier in a family of warriors.

"What color are you?"

"I don't know."

James looked at him stepping closer to the painting and to Regulus. Those kaleidoscope eyes examined his face, moving across high cheekbones and skin that was paler than his brothers. Shorter hair, straighter nose; slight; small. Delicate

A worrier not a warrior

Regulus was focusing his attention on not blushing, he didn't realize James had picked up a paintbrush from where it had been abandoned on the kitchen table (this time resting on newspapers) until he made to put it on the canvas.

"What are you doing, you fuck!" Regulus exclaimed, reaching to knock the brush out of James' hand but the other boy was faster, making it to the canvas. A line of bright baby blue next to Sirius's red and Narcissa's yellow. "You sodding piece of shit! Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

"That was a great Sirius impression," James laughed handing Regulus the paintbrush, "You can't have a family portrait without you. So...there's your color."

"...I'm baby blue."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Dunno, it's a feeling." James told him and Regulus narrowed his eyes at him. "Also happens to be one of my favorites. Like how you want the sky to be before a good game."

Regulus sighed vehemently, "If you've fucked this up, you're going to be the one up all night repainting it from scratch Potter."

"That...is alright with me," James put a hand on his shoulder firmly, looking down the distance between their heights, "but you'll figure it out. You're good. Probably my favorite artist."

James's hand stayed there a bit longer.

Regulus couldn't stop himself from blushing bright pink.

Two weeks later and a new assignment started. A new medium. An exploration. His professor asking Regulus to stay on the direction of using colors for representation, pleasantly surprised Regulus hadn't drawn a well-rendered set of portraits as would typically be his modus operandi.

There was a knock on his bedroom door which was left open, the flat quiet as Regulus preferred it to be. He turned over his shoulder, Sirius standing there with his long hair pulled away from his face tightly, the tell-tale sign that he was actually studying or working on an assignment that required a certain level of discipline.

"I'm going to go walk to get a coffee. Do you want anything?"

"It's late, Sirius."

"It's going to be even later," he said, "entire financial plan is due in a few days, and I have a maths exam to study for too. Want anything?"

"I'll come, actually, if you don't mind."

"Terribly."

"Too bad."

"What's this one?" Sirius asked, his eyes fixated on the beginnings of Regulus's newest project.

"I'm...not sure yet. I'm exploring a new technique. Why?"

Sirius shrugged and shook his head, "It's...going to sound so stupid...but it kind of reminds me of James."

Fuck.

#jegulus #james potter #regulus black #soft love dribble #happy love month #we're back to being a romance channel for a little

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blue-fidelity · 3 years

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~ “Smile In The Face of Tragedy”

Chapter One: Beer Run

Pairings: Billy Hargrove x Henderson!reader, Steve Harrington x best friend! reader

Chapter Summary:

(Y/N) reminisces the events of the summer before senior year. It’s her last year of High School, and she wants to start fresh, the pretty newcomer with shiny blue eyes is willing to help with that.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, abuse (could be trigger warning, reader has a hard past)

The year of 1984 had come into full swing, and (Y/N) had tried to make the rest of her junior year somewhat enjoyable. After the incident with the demogorgon around Christmas, she wanted to focus on the lighter side of life. Which was mainly dicking around with her best friend, and crush, Steve Harrington. Things were going great, till the summer.

‘Summer of ‘84. She dubbed it, “The Summer of Steve & Nancy”. Months usually consisted of Steve and Nancy trying to fix the shattered fragment of what their relationship was, whilst (Y/N) and Jonathan watched on the sidelines. Steve would come to (Y/N)’s house at ungodly hours of the night, usually sneaking through her window.

She’s just been so distant, I don’t know what I’m doing wrong- he’d whimper, laying his head on her lap. She tried to contain her tears, for him. If only she could tell Steve that there was someone better for him, someone that could make him happy. There was one problem with that, though. Steve loved Nancy. It’s not like (Y/N) could change that, and it killed her. Seeing her best friend in this state though, it was another level. She wanted to scream at Nancy, scream at her for stringing Steve on a loose thread that she could’ve easily cut. Instead Nancy hid her feelings for Jonathan and carried on this dance with Steve.

It just wasn’t fair, though, nothing really seemed fair at this point. Everything would eventually come crashing down and it’d leave a trail of broken hearts in the process, but atlast, (Y/N) would keep her head up high. She’d try her best not to fall into the deep end of emotions she wasn’t able to handle. If anything turned down hill, she knew she’d have one thing. Her brother, Dustin.

Dustin was the ray of happiness that (Y/N) projected off of, to his charismatic personality and bright smile, she was like him in many ways. Moments spent with her brother we’re always great, they had a surprisingly better relationship then most siblings did. It was probably because (Y/N) was secretly a nerd, and even though she wouldn’t admit it, she probably liked D&D even more than her brother did. That’s why she absolutely loved joining Dustin and his friends on their sessions.

This made the party worship her in a way, and she couldn’t help but find it adorable. It’s not everyday you get a bunch of middle schoolers fawn after you. So despite the never ending months of trying to mend Steve’s broken heart, the summer wasn’t a total bust. In fact, she loved the days she spent with those boys (even though it was a little hard to carpool when she drove a Harley Davidson, Mike was always willing to lend his family’s station wagon).

Now, she was nearly two months into her senior year, and she decided to make it count. After all, it was her last year of high school before college. It was the day before Halloween, and she couldn’t be more excited. Dustin and the rest of the party were pretty hyped about spending their first night trick or treating unchaperoned, if (Y/N) remembered correctly he stated, “(Y/N)! We are 13, practically men! As men we fetch our own candy”. To this she giggled, ruffling her brother’s curls, “Well young man, you must save your sister some Kit-Kats”.

(Y/N) knew Tina, the only popular girl that really tolerated her was going to throw a party at her place. She had called her last night all excited about her, “Halloween Bash”, and how she wanted (Y/N) to help plan it. “The guys at the liquor store won’t say no to a hot chic on a motorcycle!”, of course Tina wanted her to get the beer. (Y/N) didn’t even drink that much! Only on occasions, but Tina was her friend. So after school today, she was going to head to ‘Hawkins local liquor store, and PRAY TO GOD she could hide the kegs from her mother. It was moments like these she wished she had a car to stash things in.

She pulled up into Hawkins High’s parking lot, “Toys in The Attic” by Aerosmith playing loudly on her stereo. Spending a whole summer with middle schooler’s kind of made her forget about her social status. If it made sense, (Y/N) wasn’t in the “popular clique”, being Steve’s best friend just gave her a title. Those who didn’t like her called her, “Steve’s Wannabe Queen”, which was partially true, whilst others who liked her didn’t name her anything. She was just, “(Y/N) Henderson”. A face that simply stood out in the crowd because of sheer confidence, kindness, and a vibe that screamed cool. Guys wanted to fuck her, girls wanted to be her. It was a classic High School cliché.

Tina waved at her as she parked her ‘Harley beside her car. She was with Carol and another girl who she couldn’t name. “Hey (Y/N/N), I was just telling the ladies you’ll be supplying the beer for tomorrow?”, she said, to which (Y/N) rolled her eyes. “Only because you know the creeps down there won’t turn me down, come on Tina I feel used”, she fake pouted. The girls all laughed, continuing to talk about the party.

As the girls continued their conversation, (Y/N)’s Aerosmith seemed to be drowned out by the familiar sound of The Scorpions, “Rock You Like A Hurricane”. A fellow metal head such as herself in Hawkins Indiana? ‘This couldn’t be possible. About everyone in this town had shitty taste in music, besides her and Jonathan. She turned down her stereo and directed her view to the sound, eyes being met with an ocean blue Camaro, with a California license plate. How fitting. Whoever the driver was, had sped into the parking spot beside hers.

The group of girls behind her stared eagerly to see who this suspicious newcomer was, and if (Y/N) was being honest, she was kind of curious as well. The driver door swung open, and the driver’s combat boots grounded him to the concrete. That’s when she saw him, and he saw her, too.

Something radiated off him, almost a confidence higher than hers. It was cockiness, and at first glance, she could see right through him. Denim jacket, cuffed jeans, and a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. That was her first impression, and damn was he definitely good looking. For a moment, Steve had been wiped from her brain. Replaced with blonde curls and pretty blue eyes that bore into hers. “Whatcha looking at, princess?”, he smirked- eyeing her up and down like an animal staring down its prey. (Y/N) tried to contain herself, she wasn’t about to be wooed by the new playboy.

“I’m simply looking at your car, 1979 Chevrolet Camaro Z/28, right?”, her car knowledge would get her out of this one. “Right you are sweetheart, pleasure to see one of the girls in this town has common sense”, he grinned, showing his pearly whites. “Well if you're ‘lookin for that trait in the rest of the girls here, I think you’d sadly be disappointed”, she smiled, gesturing to her “friends”. Tina and the other’s let out gasps. The newcomer shook his head, plucking his cigarette from his lips. “Well I guess I’ll see you and your senseless friends around then, huh?”, “I guess so”. He strutted to the school.

“You whore! Way to throw us under the bus like that”, Tina scowled, slapping (Y/N) on the shoulder. She only laughed, “Well, couldn’t lie to the guy now could I?”. Well wasn’t (Y/N) feeling pretty proud about herself right now? She could really be a sarcastic fuck sometimes, huh?

In a way, (Y/N) loved school. Her place made her feel validated, and she got pretty good grades. What was there not to love? As she was at her locker, her peachy attitude soon turned to discomfort. The happy squeals of Nancy could be heard from a few lockers away as Steve spun her around. She smiled at the couple, yet it still made her heart ache. (Y/N) couldn’t help but notice Jonathan awkwardly walking away from them, passing by her. Steve looked at his girlfriend with sparkles in his eyes. He genuinely seemed joyful, and in a way she was happy for him. Still, that aching feeling was there, and at this point it seemed nothing could replace it.

Later that day, during art class (which was last period), she found out the new guy's name was Billy Hargrove. Fresh out from sunny California a week ago. She questioned why someone like him would choose art out of all things for his creative credit, but, maybe he’d surprise her. The class was filled with a very “out of the box”, group of people. They might’ve been (Y/N)’s favorite out of the student body. The art room was a space for open opinions, and creativity. Everyone was interesting in their own individual way, but somehow, Billy managed to stand out.

When he entered the class, everyone was already working on their current pieces. Mr. Axworthy, who insisted everyone called him “Mr. Ax”, had assigned a new project about a week ago. Every year he gave students an assignment to represent themselves, this year it was painting your favorite album cover. Though (Y/N) had many favorites, she chose The Clash’s “London Calling”, and was currently working on the shading. She was calmly sitting at her easel when she heard the teacher speak, “Mr. Hargrove! Pleasure to have you in our art class, there’s a free spot beside Mrs. Henderson, she’ll explain the current project to you!”. (Y/N) gave “Mr. Hargrove” a slight smile as he walked towards her.

“So, Henderson, huh? Got a first name?”, he questioned, showing that cocky smirk. “It’s, (Y/N), yours?”, “Billy. Billy Hargrove”. Now she knew his name- and it somehow added to his intoxicating aura. Call it fascination- but, Billy’s presence overwhelmed her in a way, and she didn’t even know him that well! It’s not like her feelings for Steve disappeared, just anytime those shimmering blue eyes glanced her way, her heart raced. Maybe Billy was the void waiting to fill that aching feeling, and she just hadn’t realized it yet. Everyone was telling her to move on, that it wasn’t worth it, but- to her, Steve was worth it. The one thing that wasn’t worth it though, was chasing a dream that wasn’t going to come true.

As (Y/N) was explaining the project to Billy, she was surprised by how attentive he was. If he could get excited about one thing, it was music. “So how are your art skills?”, she asked, “A little rusty, but nothing you can’t show me”, he grinned, taking one of his paint brushes and dipping it into some red paint. (Y/N) thought he’d go for the canvas, but he surprisingly smeared the paint onto her cheeks. She stared at him in shock- “Wha-what the hell did you do that for?!”, she exclaimed. “Just thought I could add to the flush on your cheeks!”, he laughed, of course he’d notice her blushing. Two could play at this game. “Well, you know what I think your face could use?”, “Oh yeah? What’s that?”, “Some green!”, she shouted, painting a big green line on his face. Before their paint war could continue, Mr. Axworthy had noticed.

“I hate to interrupt, but shouldn’t the paint go on your canvas?”, he motioned to our easels. “Well of course Mr. Ax, but when it comes to the concept of art, isn’t everything a canvas?” she giggled, leaving Mr. Axworthy speechless. “Well, yes- but I’d prefer you’d not interrupt the class and actually help Billy start his project”, he states. “Definitely, he had just finished telling me he wanted to do Metallica’s ‘Kill ‘em All, isn’t that correct, Mr. Hargrove?”, “Yes that is correct!”. “Well then, carry on, you can wash the paint off your faces at the end of class”.

By the time class finished, Billy had at least finished the base coat of his painting whilst (Y/N) had time to finish her shading. Now, they needed to step into the halls with paint all over their faces-how embarrassing. It was as if Mr. Axworthy wanted them to be publicly humiliated! In a way, (Y/N) didn’t blame him, it was a good form of punishment. When the pair walked the halls, they received awkward glances. Billy simply rolled his eyes, who were they to judge him? He wrapped an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders, giving her a reassuring smile, “Let them stare, I know you got rep around this joint, they have no reason to give you dirty looks, aight?”. It was nice to have reassurance from Billy, but from getting to know him, he generally had that ‘don’t give a fuck attitude’. She wasn’t worried about the paint. She was worried what people would think if they saw her, the girl who had been pining for Steve forever, under another guy's arms. The new hotshot nonetheless.

Luckily Billy was called over by Tommy, of course he had already been recruited by that group. Despite her very much fun art class with him, she was feeling uneasy with all the looks she was getting from people, and to make matters worse, Steve was standing at her locker. He waved her over with a smile, to which she headed over to him.

“Hey Stevie”, she beamed at him. Damn she still couldn’t resist that adorable face. “Hiya (Y/N/N), saw you walking with ‘Hargrove”, he smirked. “Oh yeah, that- we just have art together, nothing big”, she blushed, I guess Billy really was getting to her. “That explains the paint on your cheeks?”, he pointed at the red coated on her face. “Just a small mishap I guess”, she chuckled. “So what brings Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington to my locker?” she inquired. “Just wanted to see my bestie, it’s been a while”, he smiled softly, poking her side. It really had been a while, (Y/N) really couldn’t remember the last time Steve looked at her happily. It gave her a sense of comfort to see him so cheerful. “It really has- I’d hate to cut this short, but I really have to get some errands done, but I’ll see you at the party tomorrow?”, “Definitely! I’ll see you then”, he bid her goodbye, kissing her on the cheek. Her hands grazed her cheek, touching where he just kissed. “Oh and Henderson! Let’s hangout sometime, yeah?”, he shouted to her, “That’d be great!”.

Before heading to the parking lot, she stopped at the bathroom to wash the paint off. She checked to see if anyone was there, luckily there wasn’t. The girl really didn’t need anymore dirty looks. She grabbed some paper towels, running them under warm water. While she whipped the paper towel over her face, she took the time to look at herself. What was she doing? Was she really going to let Steve slip away that easily? Billy had just entered her life, and had obviously taken an interest in her. What was the risk of jumping into things too quickly? She couldn’t wait forever. That’s when she decided. (Y/N) was going to allow herself to get lost in the new overwhelming feeling of Billy Hargrove.

(Y/N) drove down the quiet back roads of Hawkins, making her way to the liquor store. If the town wasn’t sketchy enough, having the liquor store away from civilization made it even sketchier. She really didn’t like coming here, the last time (Y/N) came here was for another one of Tina’s parties. It was for the end of the summer, at Lover’s Lake. It was quite the blowout, till Hopper came to shut it down. Fortunately she didn’t get caught that night, her mother would’ve killed her, and she wasn’t about to spend the night in jail.

Now, (Y/N) wanted to give the cashier an offer he couldn’t refuse. The process was simple, bat her eyelashes, show plenty of cleavage, talk innocently, and then figure out how to put two fucking kegs in the side car of her motorcycle! She glanced down at the outfit she was wearing, a simple low-cut red t-shirt with some high rise acid wash jeans, and a leather jacket. The leather jacket could go. She strutted to the counter of the store, knowing they held the kegs in the back storage, it was time to turn on the charm. Borris, the regular cashier, was in his late 60’s, and she absolutely hated the way he looked at her. It made her feel grose, but she wasn’t about to let Tina down.

Boris contentedly stared her down, obviously checking her out. On the inside, she shivered, but she kept on a smile. “Anything I can do for you pretty lady?”, he asked, grinning. “Yes, I was wondering if you can hook me up with a few kegs? ‘You see I got this party tomorrow, up in Indianapolis! It’s a big college thing, ‘can’t have a good time without alcohol”, that oughta convince him. “Sure thing sweets, I’ll grab some for you, how many shall it be?”. He didn’t even ask her for her ID! “Two will be just fine! Thank you so much!”. He brought them up to the counter, shit those look heavy, she thought. “How much does it come to?”, (Y/N) asked. “Oh, on the house, anything for a pretty girl looking to have a good time”, score! He almost offered to help bring them out- till a familiar voice cut in.

“It’s no problem Boris, I’ll help her out, just grab me a pack of cigs mhm?”, Billy Hargrove, of course. “Your usual William?”, questioned Boris. “That’ll be just fine”. (Y/N) was stunned. Did it just happen to be a coincidence that he walked through the door? More like a sign. He took hold of one of the kegs, while she grabbed the other. They both headed outside.

“Stalking me, Hargrove?”, she smirked. “Absolutely not! I just happened to need more cigarettes, and I noticed a familiar Harley Davidson, don’t flatter yourself”, he placed the keg down, lighting a cigarette. “Sure...and you deliberately wanted to help me with the kegs?”, “The guys a creep! I’m sure you didn’t want to be around him any longer”, he huffed, blowing smoke from his lips. “Aww, you protecting me Hargrove? That’s cute!”, she giggled.

Even though Billy hated to admit it, he loved when she laughed. She ignited this glow that was hard to describe- though, it made him feel warm. It made him feel good. When he arrived here, his goal was to sleep with nearly every girl who made eyes at him, he’d make a list, and then he’d check it off one by one. That all changed when he saw her. She was different, she had this spark that came with her quick wit that left him wanting more. Was he going to tell her that? No, not yet, but it seems his “friendship” with her was growing quicker than he expected.

“I’m not protecting you..just-shut up”, why was he getting so flustered? This was so unlike him. “Whatever Hargrove, just help me load these into my sidecar will yah?”, she struggled to hold the keg. “Sweetheart, are you sure those will fit in there?’, he questions, looking at her struggling. “You got any better ideas?”, she groaned impatiently. In fact- Hargrove did have an idea, whether she’d agree, he really didn’t know.

“Here me out- you and I both know those aren’t going to hold in there, and I know why you need them, so why don’t I stash them in the Camaro, and you and I can go to the party together?”, he offered, waiting eagerly for her response. She hesitantly looked down at the kegs, and then back up at him. “Billy- are you sure? I don’t want you going through all that trouble, what if your parent’s found them?”, she questioned worriedly, biting her lip. “My parents won’t notice a damn thing, if they even touch my car- it’s their dead body on my hands”, he laughed, though she could see his shoulders tense up, the question had obviously bothered him. “Well alright then...let’s load them into your trunk”.

Once the kegs were in, Billy closed his car trunk tightly. Smiling at (Y/N) he took another puff of his cigarette, leaning against the back of his car. “So what are you going as?”, he wondered, staring at her. (Y/N) had spaced out, not really getting what he meant. “What do you mean?”, she asked. “For the Halloween party, what’s your costume?”, “Oh! I'm going as Sarah Connor from the new Terminator movie?”, she explained, wondering if he’d heard of it. “Nice, I was told that movie was supposed to be good”. Why did this conversation feel so awkward? “It really was, I went to go see it with my little brother”, she grinned.

“You got a little sibling- me too, well step sister, but that doesn’t matter”, he muttered the last bit, inhaling more of his cigarette. “Do you two get along?”, she questioned, “No-not really-just, can we change the subject?!”, he raised his voice slightly, startling her a bit. He really didn’t want to talk about his family. ‘I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to pry- I should go-”, she whispered, heading back to her motorcycle. (Y/N) turned on her heel, flinching when she felt Billy take a slight hold on her wrist. “Wait- I didn’t mean- I didn’t mean to startle you”, his words were shaky, as he kept his grip on her wrist. She slipped his hand off her wrist, staring at him blankly. (Y/N) wasn’t exactly sure what she was supposed to say at this moment. “It’s just- when I moved here, I wanted to start fresh and the idea of my family just-it makes it hard”, he says sharply. “I just don’t like talking about it”.

(Y/N) nodded her head slightly, she didn’t really know what Billy went through when he moved to Hawkins, and whatever it was, seemed to trigger him. In a way, (Y/N) knew what it felt like. She and her family moved to Indiana in 1979, when she just started middle school. It was hard to adjust, and Hawkins was a lot different from her last home. They left because her father had walked out on them. Though it was traumatic, it wasn’t like he was a very good dad. He’d come home late from work, usually drunk and angry. (Y/N) still had scars from when he beat her. It made her insides twitch, shivering at the thought of the still present stitches on her back. The night she got them, her father had been particularly cheesed off, luckily her mom and Dustin weren’t home. Her mother was having a well deserved ‘ladies night’ while her brother was at a sleepover.

The night started off calmly, (Y/N) had been contently listening to records in her room while her father was watching football down the hall. She knew he had been drinking, she never saw him without alcohol in his hands. That’s why she didn’t drink that much, she’d hate to turn out like him. Her door was locked, to make sure he wouldn’t come in. She cringed when she heard glass shatter in the other room, footsteps slowly approaching her door. She hopped out of her bed, muttering ‘fuck-fuck-fuck’, under her breath. At this point she had gotten scared. Her dad knocked harshly on her door, “(Y/N), you better fucking open this door, or I’ll knock it down myself”- he yelled, voice booming. That’s when she realized. I’ll go out the window. (Y/N) quietly opened the window latch, slipping through the frame. Luckily her house was only one story, so there was no risk of falling.

She thought she had been safe, till her father noticed she escaped from the window. (Y/N) barely had a chance to leave the driveway till her father spotted her, tackling her to the ground. Her chest hit the cold pavement, groaning in pain as her father pinned her wrists to the asphalt. Not getting a chance to notice the kitchen knife in his left hand, he unexpectedly slashed the blade against her back. She wailed as the knife dented her skin, begging for her dad to stop as tears filled her eyes. By chance her mother had entered the driveway before her father could do anymore damage. (Y/N) never understood why her mom didn’t call 9-1-1, just simply drove her to the hospital to get stitches. It was probably out of fear, and it was only a few nights after the incident that he disappeared. When Dustin found out what happened, even with only being eight years old at the time, she swore he was ready to kill him.

When she stared back at him, she had a sympathetic look in her eyes. “It’s okay B, just- if you ever need anyone to talk to, I’m here”. He smiled slightly at the small nickname, looking at her softly, “Thanks, no one’s really offered that before”. He scratched his neck nervously, lighting out his cigarette. “Hug it out?”, she extended her arms out cheekily. Hug it out? Billy Hargrove didn’t hug it out- but she seemed so sincere- he pulled her into his arms, kissing her forehead. He couldn’t resist smelling her hair, it smelled almost tropical- like the salty scent of the ocean breeze that reminded him of home. For the first time, Billy felt at peace in this new town. He knew that if she stocked around, he could bring himself to be happy, and as luck would have it, she was planning to.

Next Chapter: smile-in-the-face-of-tragedy

Authors Note: The time has come and the first chapter is here! I hope you guys enjoyed, feedback is greatly appreciated 😊! If anyone else wants to be in the tag-list, feel free to comment below!

Tag-list: @holychocopie

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five-miles-over · 3 years

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Versions of Modern!Commodus that I’ve Toyed With

Version 1: Dr. Augustus Aurelius, Cardiothoracic Surgeon

Character notes

(Yes, I know this is a photo of an older, non-Commodus-looking Joaquin Phoenix, but it felt appropriate)

Very, very ambitious (wants to be the best at everything) and always strives for excellence, be it getting the best grades in school or getting into the best residency programs

Participated in fencing, horseback riding, and tennis while in school and university

He has a rather interesting habit of dissecting animal parts (he’d use cadavers instead if he could) when he’s not doing surgeries or studying. Every time, he’d head to the butcher’s and ask for any fresh brains, kidneys, hearts, or livers. Then, he’d take them back to his apartment and dissect them, labeling valves and arteries.

Lives by himself in a luxurious apartment/penthouse overlooking the cityscape...though one could also say he lives at the hospital too.

Very famous as a surgeon - the kind people would fly across the ocean to get treated by.

Version 2: Aelius Commodus, Hollywood playboy and Oscar-winner

Character Notes

Started out as part of an independent film production studio situated in Italy

His acting career mainly consists of epic films, where he usually plays a villain. Even the few dramas and psychological thrillers that he stars in always include him playing very dark characters.

Aside from his phenomenal acting skills, his exploits at nightclubs and colorful interviews capture the attention of the paparazzi

He’s always spotted with a new lady on his arm (models, actresses, singers, fashion designers, makeup artists, etc.)

Always down for a good time, but parties mainly to forget the fact that he lives alone...and that his only real family is his butler/chauffeur

Version 3: Commodus Aurelius, high school drama student and aspiring actor

Character Notes

Usually keeps to himself, doesn’t have a lot of friends - but that’s partially because he’s very selective about his company

Always listening to something in earbuds - it’s either punk rock or classical music, nothing in between

Has a killer sense of style that involves guy-liner, slightly messy dark hair, and designer black clothing (favorite brand? Prada of course)

His signature scent is Tom Ford Noir

Extremely passionate about performing

His schedule is packed with all kinds of performing arts (Opera lessons, ballet, acting roles in various productions, piano lessons)

He’s the black sheep of his family

Often enjoys wandering around late at night, smoking a cigarette

Sometimes he’ll sneak into a library or museum after hours just for the thrill of it.

Version 4: Lucius Aurelius Commodus, Rome’s modern-day Prince Charming

Character Notes

Yes, he is a member of the British royal family but he was born in Rome while his parents were on holiday

Has luxurious tastes and loves to flaunt them, be it a designer watch or a perfect bottle of Bollinger to impress his company

However, he does believe in the importance of helping the less fortunate and participates in charity events on behalf of the Crown

Kind of a rebel at times, not hesitating to take action by leading efforts to stop international trafficking or to increase access to justice and basic human rights

Has kind of a love/hate relationship with the media. He likes good interviewers who ask insightful questions and genuinely want to know things, but also dislikes it when they ask him trivial matters and invade his private matters

Having been the World’s Most Gorgeous Bachelor for a long time, it’s an international day of mourning when he ties the knot with the love of his life

He may or may not be secretly a vampire (just kidding about that one. Sorry, your Highness)

#commodus #joaquin phoenix #emperor commodus #gladiator 2000 #commodus imagines

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unearthcd · 3 years

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natalia dyer, cis female + she/her | you know andromeda de-larouche, right? they’re twenty-three, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, their whole life? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to go tomorrow by the newton brothers like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole messy stacks of sheet music, observant glances, and the inevitable fading of all beautiful things thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is october 29th, so they’re a scorpio, which is unsurprising, all things considered.

‘tis i, again, coming to you live with a second character! as always, feel free to message me to plot or chat here or on discord (swamp rabbit#1745)!

name: andromeda nicolette de-larouche nicknames: drom, dromeda age, birth date: 23; october 29 hometown: irving, north carolina occupation: musician in various jobs sexuality: bisexual

act i

andromeda nicolette de-larouche was born the middle triplet to a financially comfortable couple right here in irving, north carolina. while the children weren’t being taught three languages and horseback riding by tutors and nannies as toddlers, you could say they were considerably well-off.

mom was a workaholic whose idea of showing affection consisted of a half-hearted head or shoulder pat, lacking in stereotypically motherly instincts. dad was more present and seemed to fill in those emotional gaps, providing genuine love and care to the family. all was well—or as well as any young, young child could tell—until they divorced. the triplets were three and their mother, without so much as a fight, gave up her parental rights over them.

drom took her mom’s departure hard once she was old enough to understand it, though most would be made to believe she was unaffected, the girl possessing a cool and blasé attitude when asked about it. in a way, she unintentionally adopted some of the woman’s traits by way of self-preservation—most notably, a lack of outwardly expressed love and attachment (save for towards her siblings). the signs of a deep and lingering pain were and are there, though, for those observant and caring enough for her to notice them.

eventually dad remarried, bringing a step-mother and her five children into the family. despite this generally happy situation, andromeda’s relationship with her step-mother wasn’t picture-perfect. despite being perfectly kind, drom was partially closed off towards her. that being said, even as a girl she noticed how kind and loving she was towards each and every one of her children—even the more difficult ones, i.e. andromeda.

that is, until one entirely average, unnoteworthy evening when a young dromeda briefly expressed an interest in learning piano at the dinner table. it was her step-mother who immediately signed her up for in-home classes. her step-mother who gifted her the instrument. the large and unexpected gesture brought them closer.

the same support was ever-present throughout the years as drom picked up more and more instruments (violin, cello, organ, guitar...), got into composing, and became involved in the local music scene and those in neighboring cities.

yes, she was a band kid. all throughout middle and high school. and if anyone gave her shit for it, she’d verbally cut them down before she could physically do so with her cello bow <3

act ii

for a while things were good—really good. home life is great, despite dad often being gone at work, a CEO and sole financial provider for the family. drom is a budding musical genius, impressing instructor after instructor. then, at the age of fifteen, things take a sudden turn.

TW: ALCOHOLISM/REHAB. dad was gone more than usual, step-mom seemed particularly stressed. while something had taken a downward turn, neither of them were initially open about it. that is, until dad was placed in rehab. this came as a shock, considering he didn’t drink often at home, instead choosing to do so at the office. andromeda didn’t take this well. it wasn’t like he was especially present before, but the thought of losing another parent, in a sense—of them having picked something else over her and the family—affected her deeply.

despite being surrounded by love, she became fiercely independent and unreliant on others. of course, she loves and is very protective of her family, but she’s also guarded and weary of maintaining any attachments. in a way, especially with her step-mother (another parental figure she couldn’t bear being disappointed by) and her father, once he returned (“ah, the prodigal father makes his triumphant return”). the only relationship she strongly maintained was hers with atty. it’s a triplet thing.

it’s not that drom was rude to her parents (aside from the occasional teenager-like remark), but she definitely wasn’t your typical loving, prime-time-movie-picket-fence daughter, either. she became... cordial. polite, but not affectionate. closed off, once again, but to a new level.

her junior year of high school she began giving music lessons to people of all ages (fellow students, their younger siblings, etc.) for extra spending cash. it wasn’t like she needed it, but she was stubborn and didn’t want to ask mom + dad.

act iii

despite a handful of university scholarship opportunities, a resume of awards, and impressive involvement in a couple short musical tours, once atty decided to stay in irving for college, so did she. from eighteen to twenty-two she attended irving university with a major in musical performance and composition.

at one point she did a study abroad program for a semester, (which i’m leaving super vague, because connection opportunity??) but otherwise her studies were based in her hometown.

post-graduation she’s managed to do a few high-profile projects (composing a track for an animated feature film, writing music for a few east coast indie films) as well as take on a couple jobs—one playing in a neighboring city’s orchestra and one being an accompanist for local theatres and dance studios. catch her in the pit at local productions. don’t bring her flowers, she’ll get embarrassed (or do, please do).

personality + fun facts

look, she isn’t a recluse, she just avoids getting too close with people. she’ll make friends, but she won’t put a ton of stock into the relationship. that way, if you’re gone tomorrow, she isn’t hurt by it.

dry sense of humor. doesn’t care to handle anyone with kid gloves. this sometimes works out in her favor, though. since she isn’t out here looking for her soul mate or found family, she’s never trying to put on a more “presentable” or likable version of herself. so if you’re still wanting to hang out, it’s probably because you genuinely like her

has a mini tattoo of the dies irae (aka classic death motif) notes on her left side ribcage

does instagram lives while composing and practicing music in her room, the little maestro just doing her insane thing

of all her siblings, she’s the closest with atticus. she won’t say it often, but she considered them a rock throughout the turbulence brought on by their bio parents. that’s one of the two relationships she will actively fight to protect and maintain. the other being atty’s daughter, gracelynn, who drom has an uncommon soft spot for. she jokes (or is she?) about making her a musical protégé all of the time.

connection ideas

i have a handful of inspo posts > here < and am starting to add more as i come by them, but i’m open to all of the angst, drama, emotions, heartbreak interesting dynamics!

#irvingintro #alcoholism tw #rehab tw

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adultswim2021 · 3 years

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Space Ghost Coast to Coast #85: “In Memory of Elizabeth Reed” | December 7, 2003 - 11:30 PM | S08E04

Happy 20th anniversary, Adult Swim. And, boy, what a momentous episode of Ghost do we have here to celebrate. There are a number of episodes where the guest is an event unto itself and this is truly one of them. Frequent punchline William Shatner is an absolute cunt... and a proper legend. His cuntiness and legendary status are two things that seem to be at odds with one another, and the Space Ghost crew have managed to come up with an artfully idiosyncratic episode to match Shatner’s weird-guy-ness. It’s a classic for sure, and important. But (making a “smug dipshit” face) is it funny?

YES! It’s FUNNY! I will admit though, the first time I saw this episode I didn’t quite know what to make of it. This is partially because I’m very much a Star Trek agnostic. I’ve never been into Star Trek. In the last few years I’ve watched most of the pre-Next Gen motion pictures for inane list-making reasons, and I enjoyed them to varying degrees, but Star Trek is truly not for me. I’m more of a... well, I’m not a Star Wars guy either. What’s the other one? Uh... Spaceballs. That’s it. I’m more of a Spaceballs guy.

But I feel like I’ve absorbed a lot of Star Trek lore through cultural osmosis. I vaguely understand that William Shatner has had some deliberately-paced choreographed fight scene on those rocks from Bill & Ted’s Bogus Journey. When I hear music similar to the the music that Jim Carrey hums in The Cable Guy, I’m pretty sure whatever it is I’m watching is doing a Star Trek thing. And yes, I’ve watched every single Red Letter Media “Mike and Rich talk about Star Trek for 4 hours” video. But even today, after having picked up more Star Trek knowledge on my journey to the grave, I still have this nagging feeling of “I only sort of get this”.

Still, this episode has a handful of screamingly funny lines, and the episode ends wonderfully, with Space Ghost in his death throes, suffering the ultimate indignity of dying in front of William Shatner. There’s also the part where Zorak asks why everyone in Star Trek is black, and a part where Moltar nervously reads from his fan fiction (from a book labeled TARD WARS, hahaha). Shatner, who has a reputation for being arrogant and difficult, is as good a sport as one could hope. The show makes good use of his hammier moments, and only shits on him slightly in the process. The most notable moment is when Shatner says to Zorak “didn't you and I fight to the death?” to which Zorak replies “That sounds pretty dumb, man”. I’ve actually quoted this line many times. It’s one of the best.

Also, for those of you who like to track these things: the show features callbacks to other episodes and shows; the handimen at Zorak’s apartment are clearly extras from Sealab 2020/2021, one of the Leprechauns from Aqua Teen Hunger Force shows up, and there’s a poignant callback to classic Space Ghost episode “Banjo”.

The title motif of this season is naming the episodes after Allman Brothers songs, and I always wondered about this one. Maybe I’m reaching, and it’s probably too disrespectful to be true, but I always thought that it was somehow a veiled reference to Shatner’s wife, whom he supposedly killed or let die. It’s simply too dark to be true, but it’s the first thought that immediately jumped to my mind when I first heard the title of this episode. Am I stupid for thinking this? Am I stupid because it OBVIOUSLY is a reference to that?? I simply do not know. I would like to know.

MAIL BAG

The big anniversary is upon us. What are your 20 favorite things about adult swim for 20 years going. Don't sleep on this question!

I gotta do SOMETHING special, so I might as well do this. More thought could have gone into this, but I spent about an hour trying to come up with episodes or moments from 20 different shows and putting them in rough chronological order. I limited myself to one episode/scene/moment/joke/whatever per show so it’s not all Space Ghost jokes. So, here we go:

Sealab 2021: “I, Robot”. Adult Swim proved it could be brilliant right out of the gate with the stealth premiere of “I, Robot”, but for Sealab it’s all downhill from here. (2000)

Space Ghost Coast to Coast: Space Ghost stops in his tracks to reminisce about the time Bobcat Goldthwait said "crack a window". The entire episode “Kentucky Nightmare” is brilliant, but this moment in particular so uniquely captures my sense of humor that it’s inexplicable. The dumb look on Space Ghost’s face when he stops in his tracks. Goddamn. (2001)

Aqua Teen Hunger Force: “Mayhem of the Mooninites” I tried very hard to make this all be individual jokes or scenes or whatever, but this is another episode where the entire thing is just line after line and I can’t really pick. This, “I Robot”, and “Kentucky Nightmare” is like a perfect trio illustrating how good Adult Swim really was right out of the gate. (2001)

Home Movies: Jason casually reveals that his parents have no idea who Brendon and Melissa are and that he spends most of his free-time making movies with them. This is the episode “Storm Warning” which is overall one of the best episodes of Home Movies, but this scene is probably my favorite. Illustrates how simple and hilarious the comedy is on this show. (2002)

Tom Goes to the Mayor: the end scene in “Undercover”, where they’ve shoddily reversed Tom’s various unnecessary surgeries and called him “Taumpy Tears” to boot. Positively sublime. (2006)

Metalocalypse: Dr. Rockso’s music video. From the episode “Dethclown”. I was never in love with this show as much as the true fans were, but there were a handful of incredible episodes. This episode basically tells one joke over and over and it’s very funny. It really ends with a bang showcasing Dr. Rockso’s shitty music video that celebrates cocaine use. His singing voice is hilarious. (2006)

Assy McGee: I am the only person in the world that defends Assy McGee as being “actually pretty good” and it’s all entirely due to this one line: Assy McGee (a pair of naked buttocks with legs, whose ass functions as his head) is forced to attend a black tie event and is just milling around wearing nothing but a black bow tie. Through clenched anus he delivers the line “I can barely breathe in this penguin suit”. The whole show is worth it for that joke. I don’t even know what episode it is except that it’s from one of the first few. I might not even have the line exactly right. But, I remember laughing so hard. I may not have laughed at Assy McGee again. (2006)

Saul of the Mole Men: The opening theme song. And nothing else. (2007)

Tim & Eric Awesome Show, Great Job!: Jim and Derrick. I should pick something more user-friendly maybe, since this episode almost entirely relies on being familiar with Tim & Eric’s previous episodes. But goddamn, this episode is such a funny concept (which is basically Tim & Eric doing an alternate MTV-ified version of Awesome Show) (2008)

Moral Orel: “Numb”. When Moral Orel suddenly stopped being a quirky Adult Swim comedy and suddenly started doing episodes that resembled art films. This episode is a fucking masterpiece. I remember sobbing the first time I saw it. There are a few in season 3 that are like that, but this one is my favorite. (2008)

Check it Out! with Dr. Steve Brule: Terry Bruge-Hiplo reviews “Dumpster’s Children”. Another bit of comedy that I’d describe as “inexplicable” and “sublime”, and it all hinges on an old man’s mouth. Holy fuck. I don’t think I’ve laughed harder than this at a TV show since. (2010)

Delocated: The ending of “Mole”, an extended Face/Off riff where Jon goes undercover as the scary mobster Sergei. In the final moments of the episode he marries a woman, fathers multiple children with her, and only then is pulled out of the mission. The episode is a tour-de-force of comic acting by Steve Cirbus, who is graciously allowed to shine for most of the episode. But man, that ending is fucking wonderful. (2010)

Venture Bros.: The ending of “Operation P.R.O.M.” a flurry of emotions hit me when “Like a Friend” by Pulp starts playing. The scene is so well done and weirdly touching. Brock realizes that deep down he gives a shit about the Venture family and is genuinely terrified something might happen to them. And then he gets to slaughter a bunch of Zorak monsters, which is also weirdly sweet. It’s even touching on a meta-level knowing that Jackson and Doc tried many times and failed to include licensed music in the show. I love Venture Bros, but I think we’d all be better off if this were the series finale. Sorry. I had to say it. (2010)

The Heart She Holler: The first scene with Patton being taught the way of the world posthumously by his father on a VHS tape. The first season of this show is amazing, but that scene, especially where Patton does a little Japanese bow and says “oh, hot dog!” is just hysterical. Literally every time a hot dog comes up in conversation my wife and I quote it. Please, do not scorn her, it’s not racist when SHE does it. (2011)

Eagleheart: The All That Jazz inspired finale. “Paradise Rising” is mostly a masterpiece, and how it ends is so fucking incredible. Easily the most under-rated show on Adult Swim and I’m not just saying that because... you know (mimes dick-sucking) (2014)

Rick and Morty: I watched the first two episodes of Rick and Morty, thought it was good, but for some reason didn’t become a devotee until my wife made me watch the Mr. Poopybutthole episode. It’s still my favorite episode, I think. (2015)

Brett Gelman’s Dinner in America: The “Dinner with” specials are all really good, but goddamn, this one hits. Should be shown in schools. I am going to go to every grade school in my county with an AR-15 (to get past the guards, of course) and I won’t leave until they call an assembly and they let me fumble around trying to find it on vimeo and play it for the students. (2016)

The Eric Andre Show: Eric interviews Steve Schirripa. The bit where he has an intern dip his balls in Steve’s spaghetti sauce is hilarious, naturally, but I’m here to showcase the running gag where every time Steve complains how hot the studio is, Eric just wordlessly hands him an ice cube until Steve explodes. It’s one of the most childishly hilarious things I’ve ever seen. It’s perfect. (2016)

Million Dollar Extreme Presents: World Peace: The Pick-Up artist sketch. I’m mostly unimpressed with MDE, and all but a few Sam Hyde bits leave me cold. But this sketch is a crowning achievement. I mean, I think these guys suck politically and are more mean than funny, but their sensibilities yielded one really incredible piece of comedy. Okay, I laughed at the blackface sketch too. There. You dragged it out of me. (2016) Joe Pera Talks With You: This show is beautiful and I love every episode. But the episode “Joe Pera Reads You The Church Announcements” Wherein Joe discovers a new-to-him song and can’t stop listening to it, is one of the most joyous episodes of television I’ve ever seen. A gateway episode. I tell everyone to please watch this one first. (2018)

#adult swim #space ghost coast to coast #adultswim2021

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octoberumbrellas · 4 years

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Potential jobs/careers for the Hargreeves if they weren’t raised by Reginald

In which the (not)Hargreeves were raised in supportive environments where they were able to pursue their own interests and weren’t turned into child super soldiers

also this turned out way longer than intended (like 1500 ish) and I don’t really have creative writing experience so this may read like an essay

Luther: Physical Therapist

Luther would frequently go to the gym for stress relief or just for fun. He would practically become a personal trainer/support team for any of his friends who asked for advice at the gym. The coach at his high school frequently encouraged him to compete in weight lifting, but Luther decided not to because he thought using his powers would count as cheating.

He realized senior year of high school that he could continue helping people by doing what he loves so he decided to study physical therapy when he went to his university. At one point he switched to being a general sciences major but he switched back after a semester.

However, his love of science never faded. He’s become a regular at several science museums and planetariums in his city and the surrounding area. He’s considering going back to college for another degree so he can teach science someday because he’s always had a passion for sharing what he loves.

Diego: EMT (Emergency Medical Technician)

Diego didn’t realize that his good aim came from his powers until he was in middle school; up until then he figured that he just didn’t have any powers. He played t-ball when he was young before switching to baseball and playing through high school. Although he could have used his powers to do supernaturally well, Diego focused on utilizing his own natural talents, which earned him a spot on his university’s baseball team.

Although he considered going pro, Diego decided to become an EMT. He has a passion for helping others and knew that this was a healthy and helpful way to channel the hero instinct that he’s always had.

Even though Diego didn’t pursue a career in baseball, he still enjoys the sport. He volunteers to coach a kids baseball team on the weekends. He has become a significant positive role model for the kids he teaches. Now he occasionally uses his powers to entertain them with pitches that could never happen naturally.

Allison: Lawyer

Luckily, Allison was able to train her powers to only work for a certain phrase fairly early on, when she was around four years old. Her parents helped her come up with a phrase so they could take a break from having ice cream for dinner almost every day.

After a few unfortunate incidences of letting her powers go too far, she decided to be more careful and only use her powers when absolutely necessary. Allison recognized the importance of people using their voices for good so she participated in speech and debate teams and in student government throughout high school and college.

Allison studied pre-law before attending law school. She has taken on many high profile cases and plans to open her own firm fairly soon. She makes it a point to provide low cost or free services to people who may not be able to afford a good lawyer.

Klaus: Philosophy Professor

Being able to speak with the dead caused Klaus to have a lot of questions about the world, life, and the afterlife. His parents helped him to healthily cope with the ghosts around him; now he’s not afraid of ghosts and occasionally is able to help them. He excelled in school and graduated a year early.

Klaus worked as a medium and palm reader to have some extra funds while in college. All of the medium experiences were real but the palm readings were entirely made up (but were somehow always correct).

He double majored in philosophy and classics before pursuing his master’s degree and becoming a philosophy professor. He’s still a bit of a character, but what professor isn’t? Klaus is known for his thought-provoking lectures; students always try to enroll in his classes because they know that it will be a positive experience.

Five: Physicist

While he was very young, Five figured out that he could teleport; once he grew older, he made it his mission to find out how it works. He took as many classes as he could while in elementary, middle, and high school. Five studied physics at his university to continue to study the science behind teleportation.

After graduating college, Five got a job at NASA. His goal is to continue studying his power so that he can replicate it with machines to revolutionize the future of space travel. He’s begun considering whether or not he should attempt to time travel with his powers but he’s still considering the ethics of this.

Five’s other goal is to create the perfect cup of coffee. He worked as a barista in college to help him on this mission; the results were very mixed.

Ben: Book Editor

Ben discovered his powers as a young kid and was, unfortunately, terrified. He began keeping to himself and it took him a while to open up again. During those years to himself, he fell in love with books and literature.

When he began college he chose to study literature, but he switched to professional writing at the beginning of sophomore year. Ben worked at the school newspaper for his last two years of college and he has been working on his own novel on and off for several years.

Now he works as a book editor; this allows him to travel occasionally because he can work practically anywhere. Sometimes, Ben chooses to go somewhere remote so he can allow the thing inside of him to stretch out. He’s also trying to find and meet some of the other people like him so they know that they don’t have to be alone.

Vanya: Music Teacher

Vanya’s parents realized early on that she could healthily channel her powers through music. She enjoyed studying her first instrument so much that she now knows how to play eight, but her favorite is the violin.

She participated in band and orchestra throughout high school and continued on with orchestra through college. Although she didn’t declare a major starting out, Vanya decided to study music education after she began giving music lessons halfway through freshman year.

Vanya now works as a music teacher at an elementary school because she’s great with kids and understands that music can be a good way to channel emotions when you can’t describe what you’re feeling with words. She still does private lessons on the weekends and in the summer.

How they met each other (bc I still want them to be friends without the Academy)

Luther and Five

Luther and Five met in a general science class freshman year. They were in the same group for a project and quickly became friends; partially because they had a lot of shared interests, partially because their other group partner did practically nothing to help.

They rented an apartment together for the next three years. They accidentally discovered each others powers at the same time; while attempting to move a couch up the stairs to their apartment it started to fall, Luther picked it up to keep it from falling on Five as soon as Five teleported away. After that, they were happy to finally stop hiding their abilities. Luther and Five had a shared passion for space; Luther actually suggested that Five could apply his abilities to space travel.

Allison, Vanya, and Klaus

Allison decided to take piano lessons sophomore year, a friend recommended that she take lessons from Vanya. Allison only took lessons for a few months before she had to stop due to a busy schedule but they still hang out at least a few times a month. They met Klaus at a New Year’s Eve party when he offered to read their palms; they both declined but now they all hang out.

Klaus told them that he sees ghosts shortly after they met but they both thought that he was joking. Allison and Vanya realized that he was telling the truth when he manifested a ghost on their birthday junior year. Vanya was excited to share her powers with them but it took Allison a few months to be comfortable with sharing her abilities.

Ben and Diego

While Ben was working at the university paper, he met Diego while writing an article about the baseball team. They ended up in a class together the next semester and became pretty close friends. Even though they didn’t have a ton of interests in common, they both loved video games and would compete in Mario Kart competitions together.

Despite becoming close friends and celebrating a few birthdays together, they never told each other about their powers. Diego was worried that people would find out about his powers and assume he was cheating at baseball, meaning that he would be kicked off of the team. Ben was still not fully comfortable with his abilities and was afraid that he wouldn’t be able to keep them under control.

note: I know that it’s not likely 100% realistic that they would all end up going to a college or university because not everyone does. But it is a realistic way for people with different interests and from different countries to interact with each other so that’s what I went with. Idk I just like to think that they would all still be able to be friends without the experience of being in the umbrella academy to bring them together.

#repost cause it didn't show up in the main tag rip #tua #the umbrella academy #will have to spell check this later

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thealphabetmurders · 4 years

Text

Champagne for My Real Friends, Real Pain for My Sham Friends

2.9k words | AO3 Link | warnings: hurt/comfort, alcohol, drink spiking (nothing bad, Remus wants to spike the punch at Prom), implied/referenced underage drinking, crying, self hatred, self-esteem issues, mentions of surgery.

Roman went to his senior prom by himself, depressed and lonely. Janus shows up and Roman is certainly is not going to leave alone.

(Roman wants people to love him, Janus comforts him and helps him realize there is only one person who he needs love from)

***

Roman tugged off his bowtie, hastily shoving it in his pocket and collapsed on the pavement next to his car, hitting his head against the metal as he fought back hot tears, still very aware that he was in public. He felt stupid, so incredibly stupid. Roman should have known that going to prom was a bad idea. Well, more like, going to Prom alone was a bad idea.

Roman went as a 7th wheel with a group of theater kids he didn’t know too well, it becoming increasingly more obvious that they wanted him there mainly to take pictures (partially out of pity too, he’s sure). He felt happy for his friends during pictures, he was okay with paying for himself for dinner, he had to get his own punch and cake but that’s okay, but when the slow songs started playing and people paired off, Roman just couldn’t do it. Watching idly by as the music slowed and the couples looked at each other with love in their eyes… God it sucks.

Clicking open his phone, wincing slightly at the bright screen, Roman estimated he had at least 15 minutes before he was found out and a member of his Prom group would attempt to come find him outside- outside alone.

He was a pretty good actor, he would simply act like nothing was wrong, and just went out to his car to put his suit jacket in the backseat because it was getting hot. Despite the venue in question being freezing, it is not as though anyone would question him. Why would they care? Roman came to Prom alone, and he expects anyone to care about his well being? This is supposed to be the best and most romantic night of his high school career. Roman should be happy for his friends that they are happy!... And yet, here he was.

The red jacket was tugged off and haphazardly thrown in the back seat of his car. He rolled up the sleeves of his black dress shirt, Roman was getting a bit warm in the spring weather. He sighed deeply, stretching his back and shoulders when he felt it: He touched his chest and saw 2 small black buttons had popped off of his shirt. Now, even if he wanted to put on his tie again, he couldn’t, and he didn’t have a sewing kit to put the buttons back on.

Roman looked on the ground near his shoe and saw the offending piece of plastic, picking it up with shaky hands. He looked at the object, ghosts of strings around the 4 holes and he felt the dam break.

Clutching the button so hard it hurt, he threw it across the parking lot, before collapsing on the trunk of his car, sobbing to himself. The warm metal felt nice against his bare forearms, though it was something he barely noticed, the tightness in his chest and throat being the only sensations he could focus on at the moment.

Roman’s headache from the dehydration and the string of evil thoughts only grew plaguing his mind. Horrible thoughts swirled his consciousness, whispers to himself about how he would never find love and everyone around him was simply pretending to like him. He would never be good enough for anyone. Not a romantic partner, not his family, not his friends, and certainly not himself.

After a good, long few minutes, the tears and sobs began to peter out. Though the corners of his eyes still felt moisture, no actual tears would fall. He stood up straight, rubbing his eyes and taking a couple calming breaths, hoping to turn his erratic breath back to normal.

Roman felt himself calm down, that was until a voice appeared behind him.

“I am guessing this is yours?” Roman nearly jumped out of his own skin, yelping, when he realised that there was someone standing behind him.

The older man was standing there, definitely not dressed for Senior Prom, holding a small black object between his fingers. Janus smiled and tossed the button over to an unprepared Roman, who barely caught the offending piece of plastic.

“H-how long have you been standing there?” Roman swallowed thickly.

Janus’s face shifted into something Roman could not decipher, his gaze shifting away, “What answer do you want me to give you?”

Roman inhaled deeply, biting his lip and feeling that tightness in his throat again, but refused to give in this time. “What are you doing here?” Opting to switch topics entirely rather than answer.

Janus sighed, reaching for the bag that was casually slung over his shoulder, “Your brother texted me, saying he wanted me to bring vodka,”

Roman frowned, “Remus? Remus told me he didn’t want to come,”

“That is what he told me he told you as well, yes, but in the last hour or so he changed his mind. He said he only wanted to go so he could spike the punch,” He lifted the alcohol so Roman could barely see it, “I was happy to take him up on that. I also brought some bubbly for myself,” Janus peeked out another bottle, this one a corked one of champagne.

Rolling his eyes, Roman gave Janus a pointed look, “Why exactly are you indulging Remus’ ideas?”

Janus shrugged, “It happened at my Prom,”

“By you?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

Janus smirked, chuckling slightly “I told my whole class that if they nominated me for Prom King that I would spike the punch. Guess who won and got wasted on Prom night?”

Roman shook his head, smiling slightly, “I am sure the transphobes loved that,”

Janus bit his lip, stifling a laugh that a part of Roman longed to hear, “Standing up on stage as the Prom King is almost on the same level as my top surgery in terms of absolute gender euphoria,”

Roman nodded, his mouth smiling but his chest and head still ached, the corner of his eyes still burning, “Well, you should go meet Remus, I am sure he is most likely waiting for you by now,”

Janus’ expression shifted from playful to concern and Roman cursed internally, “Roman, you are a fool if you believe I am just going to leave you out here alone,” Janus strode up to him and leaned against the car with him, arms and shoulders pressed up against one another, “You thinking I am going to simply ignore the fact that you were in hysterics not two minutes ago, makes me worry that you think I am an actual villain,”

Roman didn’t say anything, he just looked down at his shoes, then glancing again at his shirt with the two buttons missing. He pulled at the strings left behind, littering them onto the pavement.

“Look, you do not have to talk about it. But, I do believe it would be beneficial to air out your problems,” Janus spoke cooly, looking up at the stars in the night sky. Roman looked at him from the corner of his eyes. His eyes trailed over his black curls, passing his eyebrow scar, and down to his long legs, one kicked up against the car, “Again, say something or don’t, but this is the last time I am going to bring it up,”

Roman knew that if he simply said ‘Janus, I do not want to talk about this’, then the older man would drop it in an instant. However, he somehow couldn’t bring himself to lie in front of him, because he wanted nothing more than to spill his heart out to him. He never had anymore who seemed to care before. There was Remus, of course, but Roman always felt as though he had to protect his twin from himself, so he was the sounding board- he was the listener. Roman couldn’t have his own problems with Remus was already dealing with so much. Roman doesn’t have any friends he trusts to listen to his insecurities, even if he did, why would they care? He’s a bit lonely and doesn’t like the way he looks, so what? In the grand scheme of things, that doesn’t matter. When it comes to Roman, nothing matters.

“Okay, so you don’t want to talk, that’s fine, but-”

“I don’t think I am good enough,” Roman interrupted.

When Janus realised there was no follow up, he nodded, “Good enough at what?”

Roman chuckled weakly, “Where to start? I am not that good of a student, there are far superior singers than I, I don’t have the picture perfect blue eyed blonde hair appearance that everyone so classically loves, I do not exactly have any skills that no one can do better, and I also am loud and eccentric and awful. That is never going to change. No matter what I do, or who I pretend to be, everyone is always going to hate me and they are absolutely right to,”

Roman sniffled, and Janus noticed the way his voice got more choked up as he continued his tirade. There was only silence for a while, before Janus sighed, finally looking over at him. Roman made eye contact, feeling slightly dizzy and nervous looking into Janus’ deep brown eyes.

Janus looked down, a redness that was only noticeable thanks to the street lights covered his cheeks. He stayed silent for a few moments before speaking, “I am not going to stand here and tell you all the things that I like about you, and why everything you just said is untrue. I am sure that you would just think I am lying to you anyway,” Roman winced at the words and looked down, the rhythms of his breathing starting to eradicate, “Hey, stay with me,” Janus pleaded, grabbing Roman wrist, and he looked up again, “I am not going to pretend to know what everyone thinks of you. I am sure there are plenty of people who do hate, more than you think,”

Roman frowned, “Uh, than-”

“Do please continue to interrupt me Roman, I will definitely reach my point faster that way,” Janus shook his head, and continued, “I am sure there are plenty of people who dislike you. There are plenty of people who dislike me too. I have hurt and lied and manipulated people. I am better now, but it doesn’t change the fact that those people will never like me. Knowing that, let me ask you this: does having many people hate me make me any less worthy of the life I am living?”

Roman swallowed, “Well, no-”

“Does me making mistakes in my past negate any progress I make in the future?”

“No,”

“Do I deserve to die, or experience pain because there are people who exist that dislike me?”

“Obviously not, Janus, what-”

Janus cut him off once again, “So, tell me Roman, why are you the exception? What exactly makes you so special that you think you are the only one who deserves the pain they are getting because, what, idiots in your Tech Theater class don’t like you?”

Roman sighed, removing Janus’ grip of his wrist and running a hand through his hair, “I don’t think I deserve to get hurt or die because of that, it’s not that bad, I just…” Roman growled, frustrated, and hit the door of his car with the palm of his hand, “I have nothing to offer anyone!” He shouted, heartbroken, “Nothing to give. Anything I can do, I can think of 5 other people who could do it better. It’s not that I don’t deserve to live, it is just that I am unneeded and unwanted,”

Clawing at his face, Roman felt the tears creep up again and wanted to shout and wanted to run away. He was so angry at himself and at his friends at and stupid kind and beautiful Janus.

Roman turned away, still fighting off the tears, but Janus harshly grabbed his shoulder, turning him around, before using the collar of his shirt to pull him into a firm, comforting hug. Roman opened his mouth to speak, but Janus beat him to it, “I��m sorry. You don’t have to hide. I am here for you. I will stay out here as long as I have to. I am here for you,” He threaded his fingers through Roman’s hair, “I promise,”

Roman’s will broke as he gripped the back of Janus’ flannel, sobbing into his shoulder once again, holding onto Janus so tightly he was afraid he would break the other man. Janus said nothing, simply letting Roman cry, rubbing his thumb on his back with one hand and running his hands through the locks of the younger’s hair with the other.

“I apologise if what I said made things worse, that was not my intention in any way,” Janus said, guilt present in his voice.

Roman shook his head sniffling, his voice hoarse and broken, “I know, don’t apologise. What you said was right. I just wish I had a little more, y’know, worth to people,”

There was a beat, and Janus spoke up after a while, “Can I ask you something, Roman?”

The sobs had become less frequent, being replaced with silent tears and sniffles, “Okay,” He responded.

Janus pulled back from their embrace, but still holding onto Roman, arms around his waist, “Why do you feel the need to judge your self worth based upon your output to others?”

Frowning, Roman looked at Janus, “You sound like school, I don’t understand what you are saying,”

“You seem to judge yourself based upon what you can do for other people,” Janus said, stepping closer to Roman. Roman arms went around Janus’ shoulders, their chests almost flushed against one another, “You keep saying that ‘people can do things better than me’ and ‘no one needs me’ and that you’re unattractive, all untrue statements, for the record, what about the things you do for yourself?”

Roman swayed slightly, Janus following his movements, “I do not do anything for myself, I do not like myself enough to do so,”

Janus chuckled, now moving his feet to lead the two around, ever so slightly, “Oh? Well, I certainly believe you,”

“I don’t,”

Janus gave Roman a pointed look, “You don’t dress yourself the way you do for yourself? You don’t style your hair or use the nice smelling shampoo or body wash for yourself? The music that you listen to while you exercise or in the car alone, who is that for other than you?” Roman stayed silent, letting Janus lead him in their dance and conversation, “You eat the food you want for yourself. You watch the movies and shows you want for yourself. You picked a red suit for Prom because red is your favorite color, you did it all for you. You live so much of your life simply for you, so why do you believe that you need to perform for others to have self worth?”

Roman parted his lips slightly, looking at Janus. Janus let go of his waist, and then grabbed Roman’s hand to twirl him around, pulling him closer into his arms after the fact. The other man looked into Roman’s honey brown eyes, feeling very exposed, but also never more cared for, “You are going to spend your whole life with one person: yourself. In the end, it matters less what you can do for others, and more about what you should do for yourself. Roman, you need to fall in love with who you are, because there is so much about you to love,” Janus gently cupped his cheek, and Roman felt as though he could barely breathe.

A few minutes of silence went by, Roman resting his head on Janus’ shoulder as they slow danced in the parking lot. No people around to impress. No music to follow the beat. This is just for them. Janus spoke up after a while. “How are you feeling?”

Biting his lip, Roman sighed, and he couldn’t fight the small smile that was on his face, “You, uh, you’re really good at this Janus,”

Janus smiled softly, “It is unfortunately from experience, but I am getting better,” The older man took one of Roman’s hands and kissed his knuckles. Using that same hand, Janus pulled Roman in and softly kissed him on the cheek, the other almost melting under his touch.

“What do you say, my prince? Shall we go inside? Perhaps have a proper dance?” Janus smirked, but not letting go Roman hand.

“Are you even allowed inside? You graduated,”

Janus shrugged, “Probably not, I am also most likely not supposed to give your brother vodka so he can spike the punch, so,”

Roman couldn’t fight the smile and playful giggles that were now escaping his lips, “Self love is illegally sneaking in the former Prom King to your dance and spiking the punch for your awful classmate,”

Janus kissed Roman’s cheek once more, “Now you are getting it, my prince,”

The two walked hand and hand to meet up with Remus outside, his twin (also not dressed for Prom) wiggled his eyebrows and smirked, to which Roman put him in a headlock and tickled him till he couldn’t breathe.

Roman distracted the supervisor as they snuck in the alcohol and spiked the punch, giggling and laughing the whole time. He didn’t look for the group he came with, they didn’t seem too concerned about his whereabouts anyway. That’s fine, he liked hanging out with Remus and Janus better anyway, comforted with the knowledge that they love him for him. And when his favorite song played while the two were in the bathroom, well, he danced wildly in the middle of the stage by himself, not needing to impress anyone, and having fun on that night for no one else but himself.

#My writing #sanders sides #thomas sanders #roceit #roman sanders #janus sanders #deciet sanders #high school au #prom au #look at this #it is cute #it also has kind of a lesson or whatever #about self love #and the things we do for ourselves #nice #also I tried a new format for tumblr fics what do you think

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isingonly4myangel · 4 years

Note

You asked for prompts, so here is one: Hilda organizes a dance at the Academy of Unseen Arts to lift people’s spirits. Zelda begrudgingly attends. Everything is fine until a cheeky young warlock asks her to dance, and she has a flashback to being under Faustus’ spell.

Yikes, well this only took me more than a year to answer. Nothing like a mandatory quarantine to force you into working on pieces you haven’t touched in ages! Anyway, this is set after part 2, so we’re still in a sweet spot of potential before part 3 happened. First CAOS story, would love to hear people’s thoughts!

Also, in case anyone is interested, the piece they dance to is “Melting Waltz” by Abel Korzeniowski. Yes, I like my horror tv shows :)

Below the line, because Faustus Blackwood is an ass, and- ya know- trauma

The dance had been Hilda’s idea. Since the whole Satan fiasco, morale amongst the remainder of the coven had been low. Very low. Hilda, ever the caretaker, tried everything to lift people’s spirits. Once baked goods had failed, even with enchantment, she began to plan for the dance.

A week or two prior, Zelda had contacted the High Priests of two covens in New York City that had a reputation for being more liberal in their beliefs, to inform them of what had happened in Greendale. Both men had accepted her as the first High Priestess in history with relative ease, and though she was reluctant to show it, Zelda was delighted. So when creating a guest list, Hilda had written to them with a dual invitation for a face-to-face meeting as well as an evening of socialization with the Greendale coven.

Expecting the remaining members of the Greendale coven to be joined by a dozen or so members of the New York covens, Hilda spent days decorating and baking. Two days before the event, she and Zelda stood in the main hall at the Academy, making minor adjustments to decorations.

“What’ll we do about that… thing?” Hilda asked, gesturing to the statue in the centre of the space, now missing its head. It was one of only two tangible marks of Faustus Blackwood’s brief and twisted domain over the Church of Night, the other being his office within the building. Zelda had begun to clear it out the previous week, but had left almost as soon as she entered. She could not stand his lingering scent.

In response to Hilda’s question, the ginger-haired witch merely raised her left hand, palm facing the statue, and Hilda turned to look at Zelda as she felt her sister’s magic surge through the room. Slowly at first, but then with increasing speed, the neck of the statue began to melt. Dark grey droplets formed, dripping from the statue’s throat down to its shoulders. Before long, stone flowed as liquid, the statue becoming misshapen, drooping as it disintegrated.

Once the statue was no more than a large puddle of grey sludge, it suddenly errupted into flames. Zelda took a drag off the cigarette in its holder on her right hand, watching the remains of the statue evaporate.

“Well,” Hilda broke the silence as the last of the puddle burned away. “I suppose that’s that.” She began, somewhat awkwardly, to sneak out of the room around her sister. Zelda methodically exhaled a cloud of smoke before flicking the ashes of her cigarette in the swiftly shrinking puddle. Then the redhead turned on her heel and sauntered out, feeling somewhat lighter.

The evening was lovely. The hall of the Academy was alive with light and sound. Candles on each wall and hovering overhead created a sophisticated and appropriately spooky embiance. Music reverberated softly through the space, somehow smoothly alternating between classical orchestrations, jazz band recordings, and modern pop songs for the younger generation.

Sabrina sat on the staircase surrounded by her schoolmates, the red silken fabric of her skirt draped over the stairs. Her mortal friends had joined the coven for the occasion, mingling with the Academy students around Sabrina. Hilda played hostess as she made her way in cheerful circles around the room to ensure that every guest was contented, the neckline of her blue dress cut just a little lower than previous dresses (at her sister’s encouragement). Zelda was every inch the High Priestess. Her fiery hair was pinned up, her dress a formal black, pointed at her shoulders and at the ends of her long sleeves, partially covering the backs of her hands. Her nails were a deep, blood red matching the jewels of her earrings and the color painting her lips. She stood in a cluster of warlocks, trading ideas on numerology, quietly pleased that things seemed to be going so well. Their guests appeared to be enjoying themselves, and Zelda felt respected, listened to, equal with the men she stood amongst. It made for a very welcome change.

The music shifted into a haunting waltz, a minor-keyed orchestration full of strings. The warlock on Zelda’s left extended an upturned hand to her, the gesture holding a certain air of ceremony. He made quite a picture with his gold suit jacket, along with gold rings on his fingers, eyes lined in the same color, and nails painted to match. So much gold laid against his dark skin created quite a striking effect. “Might I ask you for a dance, High Priestess?” he questioned with a charming smile. Zelda raised an eyebrow, almost as though she were evaluating him before replying.

“Very well,” she murmured after a moment’s pause, placing her hand in his outstretched one. He led her to the centre of the room where other dancing couples had begun to pick up the waltz tempo, and pulled her gracefully into a dance frame with a hand on her back, leaving her free hand to rest on his shoulder. As the music rose, he stepped forward and began to lead.

They were a very elegant pair, and other couples drifted to the outskirts of the dancing space to allow them more room. A number of conversations around the room fell silent as people turned to watch.

“You dance beautifully, High Priestess,” he spoke as she followed his change of direction with ease, flashing her that same lovely smile.

“Thank you, Brother Ethan. It was one of my favorite pastimes a century or two ago, I did quite a lot of it. All those marvelous European parties.”

“Oh I know just the ones, somehow the Europeans always throw superior parties. And so many handsome young men,” he added, a wry smile on his lips. Zelda gave a knowing laugh as he raised their connected arms for her to turn under, but as she spun- once, twice- the room seemed almost to tilt under her feet, and she heard the flutter of a skirt that she was not wearing, felt sharpened fingernails pricking the delicate skin of her waist. She was pulled back against the warlock, and she desperately tried to focus on his tightly curled hair, the feeling of the flat of his palm nearly between her shoulder blades, the gold edging his dark eyes, anything to remind her that this was not Faustus.

Breathe, she thought, forcing herself to keep with the rhythm of the music while everything in her screamed to run. Careful to keep her face frozen in a slight smile, she directed all of her attention to inhaling and exhaling evenly in time with the music, counting waltz time in her head. In 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. Out 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. Her feet followed his automatically, and she bit hard on the inside of her lip as he turned her again.

An eternity later, the music came to an end, and she returned his bow with a picture perfect curtsey. “You are truly lovely, Sister Zelda,” spoke her partner as they returned to the side of the room.

Zelda, Blackwood’s voice hissed in her mind, a cruel echo of Ethan’s friendly tone.

“Thank you for the dance, Brother Ethan,” she spoke, digging her fingernails into her palms to stop her hands from shaking. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some-something to attend to.” Without waiting for his response, she turned away from him and started across the room. She managed to keep a sensible- though swift- pace until she stepped into the empty corridor. Her strength disappeared and she broke into a run, undeterred by the height of her heels.

Swinging around the corner, she flung herself at the front doors and stumbled through them, the chilly evening air tearing into her lungs. She flew down the stone steps, no thought to where she was going, only wanting to get as far away as possible. Racing towards the railroad tracks, one foot caught behind her, and suddenly the ground rushed up to meet her, her palms skidding against rough soil and small stones tearing at the knees of her stockings. As she whipped her head around to look behind her, she saw her right shoe standing upright, its heel rooted in the earth. Her breath caught in her chest and a sob ripped from her lips, fingers digging into the dirt in an effort to find something- anything- to hold onto as memories that plagued her nightmares flooded her mind. She sank back on her knees, gasping air into her lungs while her tears left tiny dampened spots on the ground beneath her.

Every thought was disturbingly vivid- the overpowering scent of Faustus’s cologne, the sickly sweet taste of sugared tea, the sharp crack of the cat o’ nine tails against her back, pricks of pain as his sharpened fingernails tore at delicate flesh inside of her until there was blood on the sheets. The maddening knowledge that she was aware of every moment and yet powerless to stop anything.

A hand on her back startled her so that she recoiled from it with a strangled cry, her hip landing hard against the uneven earth. Half-expecting it to be Faustus standing above her, waiting to drag her back to the prison of the music box, she was somewhat bewildered to see Lilith looking down at her, an unfamiliar expression of pity on the face borrowed from Mary Wardwell. Zelda wiped furiously at her cheeks with the back of her hand in a futile attempt to compose herself.

“My Queen,” she spoke, her voice wavering. “What m-”

“I’m not here as your queen,” Lilith cut her off, kneeling beside her despite the dirt. “I could feel you. All the way down in Hell- your body, your magic in distress, your mind practically screaming. Zelda, what’s happened?”

“I-it felt… it felt like F-faustus, when he-he…” A sob bubbled up in her throat and she tried to swallow it, her head dropping in shame at such a display in front of the Queen of Hell. In front of Lilith.

Lilith reached out a gentle hand and placed it lightly against Zelda’s head, brushing fiery hair away from her face. The witch allowed it, leaning in almost imperceptibly to her touch. Wishing to spare her High Priestess any pain she could, the demoness pulsed her magic through her hand and nudged into Zelda’s mind, carefully touching on the recollections at the forefront of her memory. Brushing up against the thoughts, Lilith could see Zelda’s remembrance of the last few minutes in the hall, and of everything she suffered at Faustus’s hand. Her lips parted as she gasped in horror, tears burning in her own eyes to match the redhead’s.

“Oh, Zelda,” she breathed, leaning forward to touch her forehead lightly to the witch’s. “As I am Queen of Hell, I promise that no man will ever hurt you like that again. And when I find Faustus Blackwood, I will drag him screaming into the Pit and I will visit on him pain as he has never known before. He will pay for what he’s done, I promise you.” Lilith tilted her head up to press her lips against Zelda’s brow, sealing her vow with a kiss heated in Hellfire.

Hold me, she heard Zelda’s whispered thought as the witch bit her lip, trying fiercely to hold back tears. Lilith, please. Please hold me. The desperation in the redhead’s mind broke the demoness’s heart as it had not been broken in millennia. She gathered the other woman into an embrace, feeling Zelda’s arms wrap around her waist as she held her tightly. And as the witch sobbed against her chest, finally giving into tears, Lilith began to plot revenge against the man who had brought her High Priestess, trembling, to her knees.

What fun she would have with him. What fun.

#I was gonna end it differently #but I couldn't bring myself to just leave Zelda there #pardon the shameless madam spellman shipping #caos #chilling adventures of sabrina #Zelda spellman #aunt zelda #high priestess #madam satan #lilith #church of lilith #madam spellman #Blackwood sucks #zero spellw*od here #tw #trigger warning #writings

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togglesbloggle · 4 years

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Hmmm, 16 and 31 please!

16. who was your first crush?

Just listen to this on repeat for three hours and you’ll have the sum of the experience, I think. That’s not entirely true- I made the classic mistake of falling for a straight friend in high school, and there was some associated drama about it- but, you know. It’s always a bit messy. Haven’t talked to the crush in over a decade, but that song still makes me think of him.

The biggest clusterfuck was that my little sister had a crush on the same guy. I told him about it in front of her, which is one of the meanest things I’ve ever done to anybody. We were jumping on a trampoline at the time, I remember. It was jealousy, in retrospect, though she couldn’t have known that at the time, and I only barely did. I don’t have too many acute regrets in life, but that’s one of them, and only partially blunted by the knowledge that children should be forgiven for almost anything, and that kindness is a skill that takes decades to learn.

She forgave me, eventually, if only because she’s the better of us. These days we talk often over the phone still, and we’re playing Baldur’s Gate 3 in tandem and talking to one another about our choices. The lockdown has been rough for us, but like the queen says, we will meet again.

31. who is/was your favorite teacher?

When I was 21, I took a “History of Western Music” course as part of the university’s desperate attempt to culture its engineers some. This project worked, marginally, though I wouldn’t actually pick up the trappings of true liberal education until much later- mostly it gave me plausible deniability about taking subjects for the sake of their beauty. The music professor began with monks and their choirs, as one generally does in this sort of class, and skipped lightly through baroque and the romantics; if I was wiser in the ways of the world, I would have seen the warning signs of a teacher that loves modernist composition.

We spent roughly the second half of the semester on the twentieth century- this professor, now a jailer, waxed lyrical about chromatic scales and atonality. A terrifically poor choice for non-music-majors. At the time I just assumed he was a bit of a bubblehead, but having spent more time on the other side of the classroom, in retrospect it was probably more that he was out of shits to give.

In any case, there was one day that broke the mold. The topic was musical indeterminacy, also called aleatoric composition. At first it was just like any other weird day- almost exclusively focused on John Cage. I recall him showing a video of ‘Inlets’ that wasn’t this one, and a few other things, which the class took about as well as you’d expect. But right towards the end, he showed a performance which I haven’t been able to find since (if you know it, by all means please tell me where I can find it!). It was just an interview with Cage himself, discussing his philosophy and his theory of music. John Cage being John Cage, this was intercut with video and sounds of collapsing construction sites and equipment, which would sometimes drown him out. I have no recollection whatsoever of the words. All I know is that somewhere in the process of watching that interview, I got it.

‘It’ here is, I’m afraid, not something I have the chops to explain. When I try, it looks something like this:

Those chasing philosophical enlightenment in the Eastern sense tend to agree that it happens all at once; to be enlightened is structurally like getting a joke, not like studying math. But they disagree about the best ways to prepare for this. One of the points of disagreement is sometimes labeled ‘wet’ and ‘dry’ enlightenment, that is, whether practices like mindfulness, virtue, and lovingkindness should be used to make the transition more comfortable, or whether a student should just be thrown in the deep end and taught to deal with the crisis afterward. Proponents of the so-called ‘dry’ side, the sudden unprepared catastrophe, are epitomized by the school of Zen Buddhism, famous for their koans and other such tools designed to provoke abrupt enlightenment.

John Cage was a Zen Buddhist.

After listening to the video and the end of class, I spent the next little while absolutely fascinated with sound. Instead of going to my next lecture, I just wandered around the engineering building, letting the chaos of footsteps and half-heard conversations wash over me. I’m sure I must have looked drugged, and speaking from experience, it was about as dramatic a psychological state as a half-dose of psilocybin, and much less transient in its consequences. In the end, I passed the time standing under a sycamore on the south side of the building, looking up at the blue sky through its branches and letting the world pass through me.

It wasn’t enlightenment proper, at least I don’t think so- at a guess, a practitioner would have called it a jhana. After an hour or so it passed away, albeit leaving behind a significantly expanded relationship with the notions of cognition and sensation. That sycamore tree is still a pretty good candidate for my favorite teacher, though.

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infinitelytheheartexpands · 3 years

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My laptop is currently updating, so while I have that working in the background, I wanted to share a series of six short, mostly-opera-inspired autobiographical narratives/prose poems I wrote last April and May:

I would kill to have some wine right now.

There is a bottle of red wine sitting on the kitchen counter. My father bought it when he went to the store the other day─ don’t ask me what day it was, I don’t remember, the days already blend together as is─ and I have considered pouring even just a little bit into a glass and downing it.

And then proceeding to throw the glass against the wall and shatter it.

I’ve been contemplating doing that a lot lately.

True, I would kill to have some wine, but if I did go ahead and pour even just a little bit into a glass, and down it, and possibly then proceed to throw the glass against the wall and shatter it, I would most likely be killed before I had the chance to kill.

Kill or be killed. We are all trying our very best to do neither these days, but it happens anyway.

I am sixteen years old. As I start writing this, I am nine days away from turning seventeen. For me, alcohol consumption is thus not only not approved by the Parents, but also illegal. But then again, so is voting blue in the 2020 US Presidential election. That is also something neither approved by the Parents nor legal for me. But I digress.

Thirty-one, twenty-nine, thirty-one again, sixteen now, that makes sixty, ninety-one, one hundred and seven days since I watched one of my classmates get drunk at a New Year’s Eve party. She downed a whole bottle of peach wine (I didn’t even know that was a thing) and looked at me with her red eyes and silver-sequined halter top and curly dark brown hair in a high ponytail. You’re more beautiful than Jesus she told me and you’ll go to the moon on a rocketship. I laughed.

I laugh when something’s so unexpected I can’t do anything else. I laughed when I first heard Notre Dame Cathedral had caught fire because it seemed so ludicrous that I couldn’t do anything else. Notre Dame on fire? You can’t be serious, it can’t be serious.

It was serious.

I’m not sure if she was.

A little part of me wishes she were.

When I was in sixth grade, I told the same girl I thought her hair was luscious. Sixth-grade me didn’t know the word had a sexual connotation; the girl did and was offended.

Maybe a little part of me did know, somehow.

***

As I write this next part, I am working on a paper about state-sponsored censorship. I have picked this topic because it is a fascinating topic, it fits the requirements for the paper─ write about a major global problem─, and because I feel censored myself.

Expressing anything that conflicts with the Parents’ thoughts and opinions is strictly forbidden. If you are different, you are ostracized. I am different, so I am ostracized.

I am too proud, too strong to succumb. But it still hurts.

As I write this, I am listening to Act IV of Rossini’s Guillaume Tell, an opera about liberation, appropriate for both me and my paper. At this moment, Hedwige is calling on God, ‘the hope of the hopeless’, to save her husband and break the yoke of oppression that binds Switzerland.

It’s very nice, and the sentiment is good and true, and it works for her and Mathilde and Jemmy and the Swiss women, but it does not work for me. I lost my faith a long time ago. Ironically, it is French grand opéra, the genre to which Guillaume Tell belongs, that is partially responsible for my loss of faith.

It was impossible for me to watch Verdi’s Don Carlos for the first time in eighth grade and Meyerbeer’s Les Huguenots in tenth and not be horrified by the things people do in the name of religion, to kill people senselessly just because they believe slightly differently than them─ even their own daughters (as is the finale of Les Huguenots).

How can a good God allow such things?

Do I realize these works are fictional? Yes. But do I know they are based on history, on real events? Yes.

“These things are meant to happen; they are all in God’s plan.” Well, can God just not find another way to make what’s meant to happen happen? I cannot believe in a God that allows these things to happen. To say that an all-powerful, all-knowing, all-good God who can allow such things exists is a lie.

***

Now that Guillaume Tell is over, I am listening to another grand opéra, Les vepres siciliennes, albeit in its Italian version, I vespri siciliani. Another opera about occupation and liberation, but a liberation that comes at a horrible cost: the entire French ruling class is massacred by the Sicilians at the end of the opera.

If I didn’t care, I would stage my own personal ‘massacre’: I would turn my back, walk out the front door with the possessions I most needed to survive on my own, and never come back.

But I do care. They may not care, but I do.

One of my greatest curses is that I care about what I care about too much. My heart is too deep to not care.

There are some battles that are not worth being fought.

If a massacre is your only recourse to accomplish something, perhaps you should not do that thing. Or, at least try to find another way.

Right now, I am at the beginning of Act III, at Monforte’s aria “In braccio alle dovizie”. In the original French, it’s called “Au sein de la puissance”. At the breast of power.

Monforte is the hated French governor of Sicily, the revolutionaries’ primary target. When he sings this, he has just learned that one of the main revolutionaries, Arrigo, is his long-lost illegitimate son.

By rape.

‘The breast of power’ indeed.

Just like with a massacre, if rape is your only recourse to accomplish something, perhaps you should not do that thing either.

Just a thought.

I’m a woman. What do I know, in the eyes of many out there?

One of my friends said that Verdi gave Monforte his just deserts, but also overly beautiful music. “He couldn’t help it, though, not when his Dad Music Instincts were activated.”

I feel guilty listening to the aria, even though it is truly a beautiful piece and the recording I’m listening to─ a 1989 recording from the Teatro alla Scala, with Giorgio Zancanaro as Monforte─ is absolutely gorgeous.

Can we separate the music from the character, the art from the artist? I do not know. Everyone has something utterly heinous to someone else. Once we stop separating the art from the artist, where do we begin again? And yet, I do not want to support people who do horrible things to others.

Perhaps it is all relative.

Perhaps everything is.

Perhaps nothing is absolute at all.

That frightens me.

***

Today is Rome’s 2,773rd birthday. As a six-year Latin student and future classics and history double-major, this is cause for celebration.

If things were normal and I were at school, my Latin teacher would bring birthday cake for all the Latin students, and we’d eat it and sing “Felix dies natalis, Roma”. Happy Birthday, Rome.

But things are not normal, and I’m at home multitasking between this and a presentation script for that paper, and still listening to I vespri siciliani.

Now I’m at the end of Act IV. Everyone is celebrating the impending marriage of Arrigo to Duchess Elena, one of the Sicilian revolutionary leaders. Sicilian and French, united at last. Everything is set to work out.

But there’s still Giovanni da Procida, the other major revolutionary leader, who is hellbent on revenge. He sees this wedding as the perfect opportunity to strike down the French once and for all.

And thus, the massacre.

Everything can be set to work out, but there is always something that comes up. A massacre, a pandemic, a set of internal troubles that bring a proud empire to its ruin.

Now I’m in Act V, at Elena’s bolero ‘Merce, dilette amiche’. She has no idea about Procida’s plans; she’s just excited to marry Arrigo and bring peace to her beloved Sicily at last. I think I’m going to change operas again after this is over; the act is rather uneven (though I still very much like it) and I would prefer not to listen to everything falling apart today.

I debate listening to Berlioz’s Les Troyens, the closest thing to an opera about the founding of Rome and a masterpiece itself. But there is still too much about collateral damage for my tastes today: one kingdom falls and another loses its benevolent queen, all in the name of a supposedly greater destiny. And that’s just based on the first third of the Aeneid. I wrote an essay about that first third once for English class, using that thesis; my English teacher said it was one of the best essays he’d ever read. But I digress.

After a quick refresher on the synopsis, I decide to change styles and go with a story from the heyday of the Roman Empire: Handel’s Agrippina. Lots of plotting, but everyone gets what they want in the end and it ends happily for all. No collateral damage here. I am weary of that.

Sometimes I feel like collateral damage.

It’s tough to remember that you’re the master of your own story, not just a side character or a scapegoat in so many others’.

Everyone in this opera knows they’re the masters. That’s the problem. But it ultimately works out.

I want nothing more than for it to work out for me. It hasn’t yet.

But I have a feeling it will.

***

I got maybe halfway through the first act of Agrippina yesterday. I love Baroque opera, but I guess only in small doses.

No matter.

Today I’m listening to the beginning of Act II of Verdi’s Don Carlo. This is the fourth time in a row I’ve listened to it.

I read John Green’s Turtles All The Way Down recently. The main character frequently finds herself stuck in ‘thought spirals’, where she keeps thinking more and more about the same thing. I have those too, although I tend to picture my mind more as a bullet train: it always moves hundreds of miles an hour, faster than I can control, from one thought to the next. I constantly find myself retracing the figurative map of my mind to figure out what I was thinking about, what I need to remember but simply cannot. And it’s like my mind keeps returning to the same stations a lot; these are my equivalent to the spirals.

This opera, this moment, is one of my frequent stations.

Make that five times in a row now. This will be the last, I promise myself.

In this scene, a group of monks chant, praying for the rest of the dead Emperor Charles V, whom, I note with a smile, was himself a character in one of Verdi’s earliest operas, Ernani. In that opera, he sings an aria where he confronts his destiny as the next Holy Roman Emperor. My legacy will live throughout the ages, he sings.

Including in two different Verdi operas.

But there I go again on another bullet-train route.

The monks are singing now, their stark minor-major shifts making me feel as if I am there, in the cloister of San Yuste or in any of the great cathedrals of Spain, looking up into the vaults of the ceiling, of heaven itself, seemingly. The only lights come from candles in my mental picture, and I gaze up, my head uncovered, my mind only partially spellbound, more by the visual beauty and the history than by any religious feeling.

I am a heathen.

I have only been inside a Catholic church once, when I was fourteen; it was an impromptu side trip during a school-sponsored tour of colleges in St. Louis. One of the chaperones said the Cathedral Basilica had can’t-miss art, and thus managed to get a large section of the attendees to come with her.

She was right. It was one of the most beautiful places I’d ever seen. And that was all I thought.

Okay, that’s a lie. I did wonder what it would be like to be able to have faith again, to be able to kneel in one of the pews, and pray, and believe, as my ancestors have done before me; after all, if religion were something you inherited in your blood, then I would be half-Catholic.

But I cannot kneel and pray and believe.

In this scene, one of the monks claims that Charles V fell because he was too proud, because he believed that he was greater than God. If a god exists, I do not claim to be greater than them. I am not perfect, not by a long shot.

He did not die because he did not believe in God. He died because everyone dies, even those who are supposedly the greatest of us.

God alone is great, the monk proclaims. I do not, cannot believe that. We are all great to begin with, but some of us are led to believe we are not.

We are the masters. I must remember that.

And I realize that I have let it play a sixth time.

Sometimes I am not the master of my own mind.

***

The sixth time was the last.

Now I am at the end of the act, listening to the showdown between Filippo II, King of Spain, and Rodrigo, Marquis di Posa. Filippo is the guardian of the way things are; Verdi called Rodrigo an anachronism, and indeed, he was the only principal character who never existed.

Rodrigo, he said, was at least two centuries ahead of his time.

I don’t know what exactly Verdi’s feelings were about this, but personally, I do not think this is a bad thing. Progressivism is often progressivism in any age.

At any rate, Rodrigo, who has recently returned from Spanish-held Flanders, has taken his chance─ a rare private meeting with the King, who is confused as to why Rodrigo has never approached him for favors like all the other courtiers─ to confront him about the horrific conditions of Flanders and its people. Give them liberty, he pleads.

No. I have given them the same peace I have given Spain.

A horrible peace!, Rodrigo fires back. The peace of the tomb!

We should not have to suffer until death.

Let history not say of you, “He was a Nero.” A murderer of innocents, a torturer of the defenseless, an occupier, a denier of liberty─ perhaps the greatest torture of all.

I once watched a video in which a director said, “To live in an occupied country is to live only half a life.” I would say that to live in an occupied country, or even any place where you cannot be free, cannot live fully as yourself, is not even that. It is to barely live at all. It is to merely have a beating heart and breath.

To live in spite of this, to simply be as you wish, is the ultimate act of defiance.

#notyouraveragejulie writes #(or rather reads old writing)#writing #poetry #poems #prose poems #autobiographical narratives #life in the time of COVID #opera #opera tag #censorship #freedom #also the author would like to note that this was written *before* she saw Agrippina and loved it so those comments aren't 100% accurate now

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lalaytight · 3 years

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Nct Dream as University Students

-Information Prior to Reading-

Clearing - When applying to University after the official date of the A level results, national results, the clearing section opens which allows people who did not get the required grades or have changed their mind in term of courses, apply to university and get a spot.

Dissertation - he final project completed in the last year of University, is normally around one set topic and makes up a good chunk of the final grade awarded at the end of the course.

Pre's - Stands for Pre Drinks a social event where alcohol is consumed prior to going to the clubs.

Masters- A second degree normally 12-18 months long in addition to the bachelors degree when you first graduate. Normally more specific than the first degree.

Gap Year- A year taken between finishing up school and going off to university, normally spent either saving for university or more commonly travelling the world and 'finding' yourself in a third world country on a beaten path.

Pull/ going on the pull- The act of trying to get a date or take someone home with you whilst on a night out in the clubs/ pubs. Can be either successful or unsuccessful but is a great past time.

Tactical chunder- The act of throwing up whilst drunk in order to sober yourself or remove some of the alcohol from your body. Is often done to make room for more alcohol.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption

Mark Lee

Mark is currently a second year university student studying Art history. His entrance story to university was not easy nor common, at first he took a gap year working out just what he wanted to do with himself for the rest of his life. About halfway through this gap year he decided university was not for him and he wanted to take a gap life rather than just a gap year. However, his mother was not impressed and insisted he went to university. Therefore, he entered as an Art History student but did not put any effort in resorting in him having to retake his first year of university. As his parents told him that if he dropped out that he must have a full time job in place before doing so and Mark was too lazy to find a job.

Mark is part of the university football, soccer, team. He wasn't a first pick for the club and he is mainly kept as a reserve for the team. It's not that he isn't a team player, rather the opposite and his club members absolutely love him as he's their biggest hype man. They always want him on their society nights out but they just don't want him playing. Mark might be a team player and somewhat well coordinated but he isn't the best under the pressure of the game and can get overwhelmed by the large groups of players he has to go up against.

After his first year plunder where he was forced to retake the year considering he passed none of the assignments or exams, Mark got his act together. He is now one of the hardest working members of the class trying to constantly prove to himself and his lecturers that he can in fact do it. When it comes to group projects he generally takes on the role of the person trying to convince the others to do the work. However, when this is undoubtedly unsuccessful he will then pull his weight to the max and complete the work that was missing from the other project members. The epitome of a stressed bunny at all times whilst trying to do uni work.

Mark is a terrible lightweight who attempts to keep up with his friendship group, who are all younger than him. And he is not very successful at it, he will only drink liquor partially because its a ploy to get him drunk faster and because his stomach cannot stand anything yeasty in terms of alcohol. He is fully under the belief that apple sours is a very strong drink. When drunk Mark seems more than willing to share his insane knowledge of Justin Bieber songs, he knows nearly the entire discography it would seem though not in the right key, Haechan has still to find a song he doesn't know the words to yet but the younger man has made it his mission to do so. Mark will get chatting to the prettiest person in the room accidentally whilst drunk and the others are definitely jealous of him especially when said person not only offers to help Mark back to his room and into bed but will also give Mark their number before leaving.

Huang Renjun

Contrary to popular belief Renjun is not an arts student, though he throughly enjoys the subject and can be seen frequently floating around outside the building he is in fact a classics student. No nobody knows what that means and Renjun is more than likely to study a masters on top so he can actually do something with his degree, maybe teaching though he's not a fan of small children.

Renjun is not part of a society but he is well known on the campus. He is considered two things firstly the one kid who spends way too much time around the art building considering none of his lectures occur there. He lurks with the intent to be able to sneak his way into the building and this is where he is not directly known but known for. This is because he steals from the department to supply his own personal art supply. He has a mission to never pay for his own supplies again he will only use the university's. To do this he tries to sneak in using a different unsuspecting person's swipe card access as this doesn't bring anything suspicious to him or another person. Hence the lurking but he tries to play it off that he's waiting for his partner though tends to walk off with a different person each time the security guards overly catch him.

In terms of being in class, Renjun is that one quiet student. Considering the register is done by tapping yourself in on the wall and not physically answering your name, it is more than likely you won't hear him speak for weeks on end. It's also like this in group projects as he doesn't tend to turn up to group meetings preferring to email you instead or when he does he still remains quiet. The one other noticeable thing about Renjun in class is that he goes all out in terms of appearance. He has never attended a lecture, seminar or meeting in jogging bottoms and his fit is normally very much on trend. He even went through a little time period where he was dressed like an eboy but realised he suited the softer colours much better and swapped it out for the normal yellows and oranges he is more commonly known to wear.

Just like Mark, Renjun is a pretty big lightweight. He is the first to vomit throughout the night and will continue to do so throughout the night. But he tends to pretend or try to convince the others that he is actually much more sober than he actually is. It doesn't go swimmingly well, as they coin onto the fact that every time he disappears it's to the toilet to vomit. In fact he almost accidentally locks himself in one of the stalls in the mens toilet and has to be rescued by one of the other boys in order to get out. Will try to brush it off as that he wasn't that drunk in the first place but is not doing a very good job about it. In terms of trying to pull on a night out Renjun tends to go for the friend of the poor person Jaemin is flirting with non stop. The two make rather great sidemen even though its not always on purpose.

Lee Jeno

Jeno studies architecture which is actually a really long degree. But in order for him not to appear as nerdy as he is, he tells everyone he is studying something to do with sports. Normally going for sports psychiatry as his go to or back up degree only his housemates, or closest, friends know what he is actually studying. He is convinced by telling everyone he studies Architecture that it will ruin the image he has so carefully crafted for himself.

Jeno is a rugby player and proud of it. He tends to wear it with pride like it is a personality trait and can often be seen walking around the University City in his rugby jumper with his initials and nickname plastered on in the most obnoxious font. Though he joined the sports society for the game he very quickly fell in love with the social aspect to the society as well. He can always be seen on a rugby boys night out going full out for whatever theme they have chosen for the night sometimes getting the other boys to help him with the makeup for some of the different costumes he wears. He gets really excited when its his turn to sing the dick song around the hughstreet chanting his own made up verse about his own sexual endeavours despite being completely unexperienced.

Jeno is a lazy student. He tends to do the bare minimal for everything related to the degree. This includes actual attendance, if he attends, which he often tends not to do, you can bet the clothes he was in was the exact same outfit he wore the week before. Most of the time he is found back at his uni accommodation just chilling with his other housemates when they ask him why he's at home and not at uni his go to response is 'I just couldn't be bothered to walk there so I decided to stay home' or 'I slept through my alarm and decided to take a self care day'. Even if his self care day had literally been the day beforehand. However, despite his lack of effort in actually producing work, especially in group projects, its hard for anybody to get overly mad at him considering he normally brings out the big guns and will get up to present the project making most of it up considering he did not do any of the research or work. When he actually wants to get work done you can only find him on the silent floor of the library hidden in one of those single person cubby holes right at the back. He is the kind of person to hiss, maybe even bark, at someone if they made noise around his quiet space.

On a night out Jeno is that one drunk who likes to bring out his talent at 'playing' the guitar. Like most people the one song he actually knows how to play is Oasis 'Wonderwall' and he will play this multiple times during the night. The only way to stop him doing this is to let him be completely in charge of the music for the night and therefore a lot of grime music is played throughout the evening only being interrupted by the odd song one of the other boys has managed to sneak onto the playlist. Is the best at holding their alcohol but does take a tactical chunder right before going to bed in order to reduce the banging hangover he knows he's going to have in the morning. When the boys are playing games whilst at pres Jeno is the first to flake out and give up on the game never have I ever considering he has done nothing and feels like he is the only one not drinking and doesn't find the game fun.

Lee Donghyuck/ Haechan

Haechan studies theatre studies. No surprise there as he has a talent for the arts, he is a well versed triple threat and is thought to be an actual threat to his other students or as he likes to call them his competitors. He is one of those who you cannot be sure whether he took the degree because he wanted to study what he was so good at or because he enjoyed the drama between the students on the course more. Considering there was so much between the department. He knows everything going on, exactly who's sleeping with who. You want to know the tea he's got it.

As a part of his course Haechan is very often involved in the shows the university puts on every semester. Yes all three of them, and he's pressed when they actually cast a female to play the female lead. He's also joined the music society and is a proud treasurer. He is in charge of how the club spends their money and doesn't hesitate to put most of their budget aside for the recruitment events in September and following bar crawls. The society has gained many members due to the legendary parties they throw curtesy of the budgeting planning Haechan performs.

Haechan is very friendly with nearly everyone in his tutor group. He's not shy to introduce himself to others and this has granted him a very nice reputation around the class. It's worked in his favour as everyone has deemed him someone safe to tell their stories and feelings to, well nearly everyone, and therefore he is the gossip queen. He promises to keep your secrets but his entire set of roommates know everything by the end of the day. He's a hard worker, extremely hard worker and this shows in his work as he constantly remains at the top of his class. He stays late all the time to work and books out the many rooms in his building over the weekend to work. His dissertation out of all the boys was probably one of the best, because he actually cared for the subject he was writing about.

At a Pre's Haechan is the one who hacks the playlist. He loves to add just a little bit of Bieber to every playlist, it's a guilty pleasure. But Jeno never seems truly angry at him, a little miffed that his password keeps getting guessed but other than that the hacking's allowed. Haechan is also the one to bring out the drinking games first. He's a sucker for any card based drinking game but will totally come up with his own rule set and spend most of the time arguing with anyone trying to tell him that the rules are incorrect. By the time they've hit the club he's had a cheeky little vomit on the side of the path only to continue to laugh it off. Alcohol just makes him even more daring than he was anyways so out comes the jester. The sudden courage to do anything when drunk is a blessing and a curse. He is the only one up to climbing over the stools to release a trapped Renjun but he is also always up to dancing on the tables pint in hand. The most reluctant to leave the club. And the one pulling when he really doesn't want to. He's there to party not to get numbers. At the end of the night he's gained like 5 snapchats he never intends to use.

Na Jaemin

Jaemin studies English Literature. He was given two options, start work or go to university. And Jaemin's too pretty to be working so university it was. In his opinion. He entered university, barely, but he got the grades he needed irregardless. And after all who cares what A level's you hold when you have a degree?

Jaemin isn't in any society's or on any sports teams. He doesn't care about university that much to get involved. What he is at is every single student night held by the student union. He's always there right in the centre of the room having the time of his life and chucking the empty cups onto the floor.

Jaemin's a lazy student in the way that he attends university because he doesn't want his attendance to plummet but he has no intent to involve himself in the lectures. Barely completes his coursework and he once tried to pay a ghost writer to write his essay. He can always be found sat at the back of the lecture hall sitting in a strange silence alone. He's dressed to the nines and looks completely at peace air pods in and Netflix show playing. He doesn't have to worry about getting notes he'll just flirt his way into getting someone to send them to him. The official crush of the English Lit course, but he's just a little too far away for comfort. He does not participate in group work, he's always sending the work but it never arrives. You'll have to do his part as well and he'll get the same grades the rest of the group does. Because even when you send those sheets in about what everyone did, the lecturers don't read them or care and he gets away with it.

Jaemin has one intention on a night out to pull. But he isn't looking just for a casual relationship. He's determined to find the one whilst at uni. He's looking for his other half. And he'll use any of the other guys to help him pull. Anyone and everyone is his wingman. Except Jisung who's the house baby and he can't ever see dating. Jaemin can hold his alcohol pretty well, he's had enough practice. He's always the one to suggest shots on a night out. And he always picks a Jaegar bomb. To the point where nobody in the house can smell Jaeger without getting the urge to vomit.

Zhong Chenle

A boy from a well off background studying economics. Couldn't get more cliche. But the truth is that Chenle loves the subject he picked it not because it was a typical rich boy thing to do, but because it generally interested him. He worked hard to get into university. But he won't tell anyone. If anyone asks he just laughs it off with a shrug of his shoulder as to query what else he would he do?

Chenle joined the music society Haechan is the treasurer of. And he's gunning for Haechan's chair when the older guy leaves university. He loves the society and everything they do, from the self produced songs to the nights out and the editing of self made music videos. But this isn't the only club he's a part of, he's joined the university extreme Frisbee sports team. He joined as a joke back in first year but he felt almost guilty just quitting. So here he is still part of the team. But hey they get to go to varsity each year and he gets to parade around in his sports uniform. And its a hit with the ladies.

In class, Chenle is one of the most active participants. He loves his subject, loves his study and he rather enjoys arguing with students and professors alike. It has lead to a rather sour view of him from many of the students. But he has his solid core of friends and couldn't care about what the others think. What he does care about is the way one of the lecturers teach and his goal is to drive them to insanity so that they quit. After all who makes group work a necessity in every single seminar. Evil people. And he's here to rid the university of evil lecturers. No matter what it takes. Despite his hate for the obscene amount of group work, he's an active participant and always willing to give the presentation working for many of his more shy classmates. But he will drag out the presentation what was supposed to be five minutes is more like 20 and full of jokes and one liners which mean you never forget what he was talking about. Even if it was completely down the wrong track.

Chenle is a great mixologist at a pre's. He'll make anyone a drink. And its strong, pungent and straight to the point. You want to get drunk, he's your man. He'll help you take a tactical chunder before you leave for the club as well. But he's also ridiculously responsible and won't let you get black out drunk in his own house. He knows when you've hit your limit and will totally supply you with water he pretends is gin so you can sober up slightly. Toaster is also always on to provide those carbs you need so desperately if you've gone overboard too fast. He's also the one who demands you go for food once you've left the club. Whilst in the club he's down for anything. Mariah Carey, break up songs or heavy metal he's here for it all. Finger guns at the ready he's going full out. Will draw the room's attention and unsuspecting targets, namingly Jisung, onto the dance floor with him.

Park Jisung

A humanities guy through and through, Jisung studies History. Another not ashamed of the course he's studying, Jisung will happily tell anyone that he's studying history. He'll also tell anyone that History was the only subject he passed well and it was just fate. He came in through clearing but he'll tell you the story of how desperate the university was to have him that they didn't care about the U he got in Maths.

Jisung is an active participant in the shows the university puts on each semester. He doesn't take to the front of the stage but rather works in the back. He's a sound technician and a rather good one. He can mix and sort out the mic's levels like nobody else. And if he turns up Haechan's mic when he's got a solo he'll always say his finger slipped. And he's charming enough to get away with it, every single time.

Jisung loves history, but he hates participation. If he could join every single lecture and seminar from the comfort of his bedroom he would. But alas he cannot, lecturers actually want you to attend. So begrudgingly he does make his way in for scheduled lessons. But he's sat in the very back corner where its so dark nobody can see him there. He listens and takes notes but if a questions asked to the class he'll slump down into his chair to avoid being seen to be asked the question. In terms of working with others this is also not something he wants to do. Jisung already has his friends, his housemates, he doesn't need any more. And therefore, he never ever makes any of the meetings set up by the group. He's active as much as he physically has to be in the group chat but that's all. He does however, send his piece of the work in super early. So there's a silver lining to his complete and utter reluctancy to work with others. Even if he does leave the group feeling as though he's a bit of an ass.

Jisung is the house's baby. And therefore, they're always trying to get him drunk. He's a lightweight and he's drunk within two hours of them starting. But he's an adorable drunk sat in the corner of the room on the sofa covered by a blanket that has been taken from someone's room nursing a bowel of snacks and laughing when someone loses ring of fire and has to drink the mixture of alcohol in the middle of the table. He makes it to the club, always does, but is banned from drinking any more when he gets there. He's also constantly under the strict watch of the others as he has a tendency to wander around the club and get lost. Though when in doubt you can always find him in the smoking area getting hit on by much older woman.

#nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct dream #university au #college au #nct fluff #oneshot #thatcollegeaunooneaskedforpart1

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fullregalia · 3 years

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20/20.

This year, in hindsight, was a real write-off. I had grand plans for it, and while I ushered it in in a very low-key manner since I was recovering from the flu, I’d expected things to look up. Well, you know what they say about plans (RIP, my trip to Europe). I got very, very sick in early February, and I’m not entirely sure it wasn’t COVID. Since March, the days have been a carousel of monotony: coffee, run, work, cook, yoga, existential spiral, sleep. My Own Private Year of Rest and Relaxation, if you will. Of course, life has a way of breaking through regardless; I attended protests, completed my thesis, graduated from grad school, took a couple of road trips upstate, and celebrated the accomplishments and birthdays of friends and family from a safe social distance. It was all a bit of a blur, and not ideal circumstances to re-enter the real world, or whatever this COVID-present is.

Throughout it all, in lieu of happy hours, coffee dates, and panel discussions, I’ve turned even more to culture and cuisine to fill the the negative space on my calendar where my social life once resided. However, since a global pandemic ought not to disrupt every tradition, here’s my year-end round up of what made this terrible one slightly more tolerable.

After an ascetic fall semester abstaining from TV in 2019 (save for my beloved Succession), I allowed myself to watch more as the year wore on, and especially after graduation. I caught up on some cultural blind spots by finally getting around to The Sopranos, Ramy, Search Party, and Girlfriends. I wasn’t alone in bingeing Sopranos, it absolutely lived up to the hype and then some; this Jersey Girl can’t get enough gabagool-adjacent content, pizzeria culture is my culture!

Speaking of my culture, there was also a disproportionate amount of UK and European shows in my queue. Nothing like being in social isolation and watching the horny Irish teens in Normal People brood. I’m partial to it because I share a surname with the showrunner, so I have to embrace blind loyalty even though there was, in my opinion, a Marianne problem in the casting. Speaking of charming Irish characters with limited emotional vocabularies, I belatedly discovered This Way Up a 2019 show from Aisling Bea and Sharon Horgan. And while Connell and Marianne are actually exceptional students, I found the real normal people on GBBO to bring me a bit more joy. Baking was abundantly therapeutic for me this year, and watching charming people drink loads of tea and fret over soggy bottoms was a comfort. I also discovered the Great Pottery Throw Down, and as a lifelong ceramics enthusiast, I cannot recommend it highly enough if you care about things like slips, coils, and glazing techniques. GPTD embraces wabi sabi in a way that GBBO eschews flaws in favor of perfection, and in a time of uncertainty, the former reminded me why I miss getting my hands in the mud as a coping mechanism (hence all the baking). Speaking of coping mechanisms, like everybody else with two eyes and an HBO password, I loved Michaela Cole’s I May Destroy You; though we’ve all had enough distress this year for a lifetime, watching Cole’s Arabella process her assault and search for meaning, justice, and closure was a compelling portrait of grief and purpose in the aftermath of trauma. Arabella’s creative and patient friends Kwame and Terry steal the show throughout, as they deal with their own setbacks and emotional turmoil. Where I May Destroy You provides catharsis, Ted Lasso presents British eccentricity in all its stereotypical glory. At first I was skeptical of the show’s hype on Twitter, but once I gave in it charmed me, if only for Roy Kent’s emotional trajectory and extolling the restorative powers of shortbread. For a more accurate depiction of life in London, Steve McQueen’s series Small Axe provides a visually lush and politically clear-eyed depiction of the lives of British West Indians in the 60s, 70s, and 80s. Lastly, how could I get through a recap of my year in tv if I don’t mention The Crown. Normal People may have needed an intimacy coordinator, but the number of Barbours at Balmoral was the real phonographic content for me.

Turning my attention across the Channel, after the trainwreck that was Emily in Paris, I started watching a proper French show, Call My Agent! It’s truly delightful, and unlike the binge-worthy format of "ambient shows” I have been really relishing taking an hour each week to watch CMA, subtitles, cigarettes, and all.

Honorable mention: The Last Dance for its in-depth look at many notable former Chicago residents; High Fidelity for reminding me of the years in college when my brother and I would drive around listening to Beta Band; and Big Mouth.

Music

My Spotify wrapped this year was a bit odd. I don‘t think “Chromatica II into 911″ is technically a song, so it revealed other things about my listening habits this year, which turned out to remain very much stuck in the last, sonically. I listened to a lot more podcasts than new music this year, but there were some records that found their way into heavy rotation. While I listened to a lot of classics both old and new to write my thesis (Paul Simon, Leonard Cohen, Prokofiev, and Bach) the soundtrack to my coursework, runs, walks, and editing was more contemporary. Standouts include:

Saint Cloud by Waxahatchee, which makes me feel like I’m breathing fresh air even when I’m stuck inside all day

La Bella Vita by Niia, which was there for me when I walked past my ex on 7th avenue (twice!) and he pretended that I didn’t exist

Fetch the Bolt Cutters by THEE Fiona Apple, because Fiona, our social distancing queen, has always been my Talmud, her songs shimmering, evolving, and living with me every year

Shore by Fleet Foxes, for the long drive to the Catskills

Women in Music, Pt. III by HAIM, because these days, these days...

Musicians have been reckoning with tumult this year as much as the rest of us, and the industry has dealt with loss on all fronts. I’d be remiss not to talk about how the passing of John Prine brought his music into my life, and McCoy Tyner, who has been a companion through good and bad over the years.

Honorable mention to: græ by Moses Sumney; The Main Thing by Real Estate; on the tender spot of every calloused moment by Ambrose Akinmusire; Punisher by Phoebe Bridgers; folklore by you know who; and songs by Adrianne Lenker.

Reading

What would this overlong blob be without a list of the best things I read this year? While I left publishing temporarily, books, the news, and newsletters still took up a majority of my attention (duh and/or doomscrolling by any other name). I can’t be comprehensive, and frankly, there are already great roundups of the best longform this year out there, so this is mostly books and praising random writers.

Last year I wrote about peak newsletter. Apparently, my prediction was a bit premature as this year saw an even bigger Substack Boom. But two new newsletters in particular have delighted me: Aminatou Sow’s Crème de la Crème and Hunter Harris’ Hung Up (her ”this one line” series is true force of chaotic good on Blue Ivy’s internet). Relatedly, Sow and Ann Friedman’s Big Friendship was gifted to me by a dear friend and another bff and I are going to read it in tandem next week.

On the “Barack Obama published a 700+ page memoir, crippling the printing industry’s supply chains” front, grad school severely hamstrung my ability to read for pleasure, but I managed to get through almost 30 books this year, some old (Master and Margarita), most new-ish (Say Nothing, Nickel Boys). Four 2020 books in particular enthralled me:

Uncanny Valley: Anna Wiener’s memoir has been buzzed about since n+1 published her essay of the same name in 2016. Her ability to see, clear-eyed, the industry for both its foibles and allure captured that era when the excess and solipsism of the Valley seemed more of a cultural quirk than the harbinger of societal schism.

Transcendent Kingdom: Yaa Gyasi’s novel about faith, family, loss, and--naturally--grad school was deeply empathetic, relatable, and moving. I think this was my favorite book of the year. Following the life of a Ghanaian family that settles in Alabama, it captured the kind of emotional ennui that comes from having one foot in the belief of childhood and one foot in the bewilderment that comes from losing faith in the aftermath of tragedy.

Vanishing Half: Similarly to Transcendent Kingdom, Brit Bennett’s novel about siblings who are separated; it’s also about the ways that colorism can be internalized and the ways chosen family can (and cannot) replace your real kin. It was a compassionate story that captured the pain of abuse and abandonment in two pages in a way that Hanya Yanagihara couldn’t do in 720.

Dessert Person: Ok, so this is a cookbook, but it’s a good read, and the recipes are approachable and delicious. After all the BA Test Kitchen chaos this summer, it’s nice we didn’t have to cancel Claire. Make the thrice baked rye cookies!!!! You will thank me later.

Honorable mention goes to: Leave The World Behind for hitting the Severance/Station Eleven dystopian apocalypse novel sweet spot; Exciting Times for reminding me why I liked Sally Rooney; and Summer by Ali Smith, which wasn’t the strongest of the seasonal quartet, but was a series I enjoyed for two years.

Podcasts

I’m saving my most enthusiastic section for last: ever since 2018, I’ve been listening to an embarrassing amount of podcasts. Moving into a studio apartment will do that to you, as will grad school, add a pandemic to that equation and there’s a lot of time to fill with what has sort of become white noise to me (or, in one case, nice white parents noise). In addition to the shows that I’ve written about before (Still Processing, Popcast, Who? Weekly, and Why is This Happening?), these are the shows I started listening to this year that fueled my parasocial fire:

You’re Wrong About: If you like history, hate patriarchy, and are a millennial, you’ll love Sarah Marshall and Michael Hobbes’ deep dives into the most notable stories of the past few decades (think Enron and Princess Diana) and also some other cultural flashpoints that briefly but memorably shaped the national discourse (think Terri Schiavo, Elian González, and the Duke Lacrosse rape case).

Home Cooking: This mini series started (and ended) during the pandemic. As someone who stress baked her way through the past nine months, Samin Nosrat and Hrishikesh Hirway’s show is filled with warmth, banter, and useful advice. Home Cooking has been a reassuring companion in the kitchen, and even though it will be a time capsule once we’re all vaccinated and close talking again, it’s still worth a listen for tips and inspiration while we’re hunkered down for the time being.

How Long Gone: I don’t really know how to explain this other than saying that media twitter broke my brain and enjoying Chris Black and Jason Stewart’s ridiculous banter is the price I pay for it.

Blank Check: Blank Check is like the GBBO of podcasts--Griffin Newman and David Sims’ enthusiasm for and encyclopedic knowledge of film, combined with their hilarious guests and inevitable cultural tangents is always a welcome distraction. Exploring a different film from a director’s oeuvre each week over the course of months, the podcast delves into careers and creative decisions with the passion of completists who want to honor the filmmaking process even when the finished products end up falling short. The Nancy Meyers and Norah Ephron series were favorites because I’d seen most of the movies, but I also have been enjoying the Robert Zemeckis episodes they’re doing right now. The possibility of Soderbergh comes up often (The Big Picture just did a nice episode about/with him), and I’d love to hear them talk about his movies or Spike Lee (or, obviously, Martin Scorsese).

Odds & Ends

If you’re still reading this, you’re a real one, so let’s get into the fun stuff. This was a horrible way to start a new decade, but at least we ended our long national nightmare. We got an excellent dumb twitter meme. I obviously made banana bread, got into home made nut butters, and baked an obscene amount of granola as I try to manifest a future where I own a Subaru Outback. Amanda Mull answered every question I had about Why [Insert Quarantine Trend] Happens. My brother started an organization that is working to eliminate food insecurity in LA. Discovering the Down Dog app allowed me to stay moderately sane, despite busting both of my knees in separate stupid falls on the criminally messed up sidewalks and streets of Philadelphia. I can’t stop burning these candles. Jim Carrey confused us all. We have a Jewish Second Gentleman! Grub Street Diets continued to spark joy. Dolly Parton remains America’s Sweetheart (and possible vaccine savior). And, last, but certainly not least: no one still knows how to pronounce X Æ A-12 Boucher-Musk.

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