#also this is pretty lazy I made this in like les than an hour in total
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#my art#super 4#super 4 playmobil#super 4 alex#super 4 gene#man it’s been forever sense I posted my own shit#also this is pretty lazy I made this in like les than an hour in total#I’ve got a sore throat and a shit ton of homework 2 do tonight#I’m contemplating not going to school tomorrow#I’m gonna | insert all of the above |
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hey babes (can i call you babes?), could you write remus pranking sirius by walking around the house with tremzy’s jersey because he knows that is an irrational jealousy trigger, sirius going crazy about it and remus laughing his ass off? love your fics btw 😘
You can absolutely call me ‘babes’ if you like, thanks for asking! Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove <3 Welcome to the shameless smutfest, everyone! This is the longest smut I’ve ever written, combined with the prompts below:
1. Coops aftercare
2. Sirius teasing Remus
3. Coops trying something new in bed
TW for subspace/ subdrop (fairly mild), light spanking (over clothes), smut, praise kink, and lots of teasing
There were a few things Sirius Black prided himself on above all else, including (but not limited to) winning a Stanley Cup, becoming Harry’s godfather, and scoring Remus Lupin as his husband. However, when it came to actual talents, the one he was proudest of was his kissing ability.
Sirius Black was a damn good kisser and he knew it. He had plenty of experience, after all, and thoroughly enjoyed it; now that the recipient was his drop-dead gorgeous husband, he took even more pleasure in brushing up once in a while. In fact, his entire plan for the day revolved around his ability to make Remus fall to pieces with just a few touches of his lips.
They woke up slow and lazy, letting the July sunlight warm their backs through the window as the replacement fan they bought rattled away downstairs. Remus’ fingers were cold as he traced Sirius’ jaw—of course they are, Sirius thought with a smile—but he watched him with soft, sweet caramel eyes.
With gentle pressure, Sirius pushed him onto his back and captured his lips, carding one hand through his mussed curls. Remus draped his arms over his shoulders as Sirius splayed both hands over his ribs and drew those pretty noises out.
Remus took an unsteady breath, already too addled to nip and suck at his lips—Sirius doubled down and slid his thumb along the dip of Remus’ collarbone, rubbing it in the hollow of his throat until he felt a tremor rock through him and a leg come up to wrap around his hip.
“This is a—oh—a good way to—unh—wake up,” Remus panted, his shaky hands tangling in the grown-out hair at Sirius’ neck. He hummed in agreement, scraping his teeth along that pillowy upper lip; Remus let out a keening sound and ground his hips up, drowning in kisses.
Sirius pulled away with as much self-control as he could muster and rolled back to his side of the bed, trying his absolute best to look casual. “Morning, mon loup. The market opens in about half an hour, so we should get a move on before it gets too crowded.”
A heavy beat of silence passed as Remus blinked at him, his mouth still open and lips redder than ripe strawberries. “Huh?”
Sirius didn’t laugh at his voice crack, but it was a close call. “The farmer’s market, remember? Those cantaloupes you like are in season.”
“Huh?”
“Cantaloupe. It’s the same in English and French, I checked.” He leaned over for the most chaste and quick of kisses, grinning at the heat still radiating off Remus’ body. He looked absolutely befuddled and more than a little desperate as Sirius sat up with a pat to his hip. “Come on, let’s go.”
“Wait, wait, come back!” Remus hooked his fingers in the waistband of Sirius’ sweats to bring him back, but Sirius just calmly stepped out of them and headed into the bathroom to wash his face, studiously ignoring the pathetic groan from the other room. “You’re gonna leave me like this?”
“I’m heading out in twenty minutes,” Sirius called through the door, pausing to laugh silently. “You’re welcome to join if you like!”
“This is cruel and unusual punishment!”
He raised his head from the sink, half-blind around the water. “I gave you kisses!”
“Oh, fuck you!”
“I love you!”
Muffled grumbling answered him, along with the rustling of sheets as Remus clambered out of bed on—yep, there’s the stumble—very shaky legs to get dressed. “You’d better get in here and finish what you started, or I’m getting myself off.”
“Do that and you won’t get what I’m planning to give you tonight,” Sirius singsonged.
The bathroom door swung open; Remus’ murderous glare was somewhat lessened by his thoroughly kissed dishevelment. He paused for a second, then jabbed his pointer finger at Sirius. “It better be fucking good. Also, good morning, I love you.”
He grinned around his toothbrush. “There it is.”
“Is this payback for something?”
“Maybe I just like seeing you squirm for once.”
Remus wrinkled his nose and threw Sirius’ sweatpants at him. “This is definitely payback for something.”
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The farmer’s market was lovely, partially because of the sunny day and partially because Remus let him keep his hand in his back pocket the whole time. They strolled down the sidewalks, chatting with vendors about summer plans and figuring out what to eat for the rest of the week so they wouldn’t need to pick anything up at the grocery store.
And every once in a while, when he felt like Remus was getting a little too comfortable, Sirius would give his ass a light squeeze.
The reaction was predictable: a catch in the throat, a clench in his jaw, a small, shocked exhale as his eyes fluttered shut for a half-second. Sirius had the decency to wait until he wasn’t talking to a vendor; he wanted to make him horny, not humiliated.
Once Hattie started to get tired and they had collected a variety of necessities, including two cantaloupes that made Remus’ whole face light up, Sirius took his wrist in his hand and pulled it toward his face. Remus’ knees visibly went weak as Sirius checked the time on his watch, skimming a thumb over the perfectly-healed tattoo below it.
“Just past noon. Right on time, mon amour.”
“Sometimes, I think you like that watch more than I do,” Remus muttered, clutching the bag of vegetables in his other hand with white knuckles.
Sirius hummed noncommittally and kissed the sensitive skin of his pulse point, holding his lips there until Remus looked like he was having a hard time swallowing. “Ready to head home?”
“God, yes.”
“Great!” Sirius put his most chipper smile on and linked their fingers together, internally reveling in the clumsy, clammy grip of his husband’s hand. Round two is a success.
As soon as the door to their house closed and Hattie flopped down on her bed by the fan, Remus gave him an expectant look, tugging on the front of his shirt with a glance toward the stairs. He was flushed with anticipation—Sirius almost felt bad when he kissed him sweetly and carried their groceries into the kitchen to fill the cabinets.
There was a frustrated huff from the hallway and, just as he was finishing with the fruit bowl, two arms wrapped tight around his waist as a mouth slid along his neck. “Hey, sweetheart.”
“Hey.” Remus pushed his hips against Sirius’ ass and started sucking a hickey just below his ear, but Sirius turned around and headed toward the living room before any mark could appear.
“I’m going to fix the fan in the backyard, okay?”
“Fine,” Remus gritted out.
“You sound tense, honey.” He grinned over his shoulder as he hefted the box fan and knocked the backdoor open with his hip. “Ça va?”
“I’m just—” Remus waved his hand around for a second. “I’m just gonna finish putting stuff away. Maybe take a cold shower.”
“Make sure to drink something, too. It’s hot outside.” With a quick, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it wink, Sirius headed into the backyard.
Forty minutes passed, during which time he almost forgot about his plan while he wrestled with levers and bolts. Just as his forehead began to itch from a mixture of sweat and gear grease, he felt eyes prickling the back of his neck from the house and raised an eyebrow, grabbing his shirt off the ground to wipe the back of his neck.
“Bonjour.”
“What’s going on out here?”
Sirius shrugged, watching Remus’ eyes track the movement of his shoulders. “Trop chaud.”
“Really?”
“Quoi?”
Remus tilted his head back, muttering under his breath, before he leveled Sirius with a look that crackled like lightning down his spine. “Will you at least tell me what I did to deserve this?”
“Qui a dit—”
“Nope, nope, nope.” Remus made a timeout motion, though Sirius noted the high blush on his cheeks. “The kissing and the groping was…” He pressed his lips together for a moment and satisfaction bloomed in Sirius’ gut. “It was something, but is the French necessary?”
“C’est ma langue maternelle!” Sirius protested around his smirk.
“Yeah, I know it’s your first language,” Remus groaned, resting his forehead on the doorjamb. “I need to take another shower.”
“Non, mon loup, revenir!” Sirius laughed, reaching toward him.
Remus gave him a playful glare as he crossed the yard. “Are you going to be horrible to me again?”
“Peut-être.” Perhaps. He nudged the fan away with his foot as Remus straddled his lap, brushing his sweat-soaked bangs out of the way for a lingering kiss. “Salut, mon coeur.”
Remus’ smile got bigger and he pressed closer, nibbling his lower lip. “There it is.”
“Le francais? C’est t’a excite?”
“Peut-etre,” Remus mimicked. “The French always gets me, but the nickname tells me you’ll be nice.”
“Vraiment?”
He let his head tilt as Sirius mouthed along his neck, toying with the hem of his shirt. “Mhmm. We should go inside.”
“I have to finish the fan,” he murmured, biting down just enough to make him gasp.
“Finish it later.”
“We’ll get too hot if I leave it.”
“Don’t care.” Remus’ breaths were coming faster and shallower. “Come on, baby, don’t leave me hanging.”
Sirius hummed and moved back to his mouth, feeling him turn to putty in his palms. He kissed him deep for a few seconds, then pulled back just enough that Remus leaned in for more. “You’re a good boy, you can handle it.”
A whole rollercoaster of emotions crossed Remus’ face: shuddering arousal at the pet name, then confusion at his words, then utter shock, and finally heartwrenching disappointment when he realized. “No.”
“Oui.”
“No.”
Sirius kissed him once more. “Combien de fois que j’ai été patient?”
A small whine slipped through his plush lips and he squeezed Sirius’ waist between his thighs. “Can’t translate, baby, please—”
“How many times have I been patient for you?” Sirius repeated, forcing himself to be calm even though his hands wanted to shake as they slid along smooth, freckled skin.
Remus tensed as he began tracing his ribs and leaned into the touch. “A lot,” he finally admitted.
“A lot,” Sirius agreed. “Do you want me to remind you what happened on Valentine’s Day?”
“Very good things,” Remus said with a devilish grin. “As I recall, you were the instigator and I only made you wait ten minutes.”
“Eleven and a half, actually.” Sirius licked a stripe up his shower-fresh neck and he shivered, even in the mid-afternoon heat. “What time did we get up this morning?”
“Fuck—uh, um, eight? Nine?”
“Eight forty-five.” Remus’ knees slid further apart on the grass. “Can you use that big brain of your to do some math for me?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Eleven and a half hours from eight forty-five is…?”
Remus’ eyes snapped open. “You’re kidding.”
Sirius made a buzzer noise. “Wrong.”
“If you make me wait until eight fucking pm—”
“Eight fifteen, actually.” Sirius blew a breath over the slick side of his neck and Remus’ jaw tightened. “Think you can make it?”
“No.”
“I think you can. You’re very stubborn, you know,” he said conversationally as he tried to detangle Remus’ limbs from his own.
“I’m not letting go until you promise to fuck me before eight pm.”
“I will shake you off me.”
“Do it. I dare you.”
With a groan, Sirius got to his feet and prayed the neighbors wouldn’t see them as he tried to pry Remus off him; he gave up after thirty seconds, when they were both laughing too hard to keep going. He cupped that impish face between his hands and squished his cheeks. “I promise we’ll go to bed before eight.”
Easy as pie, Remus unlocked his ankles from Sirius’ lower back and slid down with a satisfied little smile, kissing the hinge of his jaw. “Merci beaucoup.”
He stuck his hands in his pockets, making the fatal mistake of turning his back on Sirius while still within arm’s reach—he yelped at the sharp smack of Sirius’ palm on his ass, whipping around with wide eyes.
“Neighbors!”
“Worth it.”
“And you call me insatiable,” Remus laughed, shaking his head. “I’ll be inside when you’re done, waiting patiently like a war widow while our dog tries to eat socks.”
“It’s a beautiful day!”
“I’m not getting sunburned, Sirius!” he called over his shoulder. “We have plans that don’t involve aloe, remember?”
“They could!”
“Nope!”
------------------------------------
Sirius caught him once more before going upstairs for a shower; despite the grease streaking his skin and the sweat making him sticky, Remus let himself be pushed against the kitchen counter with a moan. In all honesty, Sirius was getting a little tired of the game—a significant part of him was considering bending Remus over the cool marble then and there. It wasn’t like he would get any sweatier.
But, no, the whole point of this was to make Remus the one who begged for it for once. Make him wait, give him a taste of what Sirius felt every single day while he wandered around looking the way he did. And then…then it would be so much sweeter.
It was barely four pm, after all.
“I need a shower,” Sirius mumbled, dipping back in for one more taste. Just one more, he promised himself as Remus’ hands slid along his back. Just a little bit, as a treat.
“No, you don’t,” Remus breathed. He pushed himself onto the counter and tilted Sirius’ face up for a new angle, tugging lightly on his hair.
“I’m covered in—mmm—grease.”
“Don’t care, god, fuck, Sirius.” He could feel Remus’ bulge pressing against the well-worn denim of his jeans and slid a hand down to press over it; Remus whined at the pressure and buried his face in the hollow of Sirius’ neck, biting and sucking at the small tattoo there.
“It’ll be so much better if you wait—”
A sound tore from Remus’ chest and he squeezed Sirius’ waist between his legs. “Bend me over the table, I don’t care, just come on—”
His mouth came off Sirius’ neck with a soft pop. “Shower.”
Sirius hurried upstairs before he could fall victim to those honey eyes that threatened to pull him under like some helpless bug. I am in control here, he thought as hard as he could under the freezing shower spray. He’s going to beg for it and then I can give it to him.
And the best part was, Remus liked it. He had seen the darkness of his eyes with each short-changed kiss, had heard the edge of lust beneath his frustrated grumbling. Sirius was well on his way to taking him to pieces without ever getting past his zipper.
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Bubbles popped and slid between Sirius’ fingers and he winced at the slimy feeling, but at least it took his mind off the clock. Six forty-five pm—less than two hours before he could finally, finally give Remus what he wanted. The pleading need had turned into a dangerous game, and Sirius wasn’t sure whether that was good or bad. Remus had refused to break eye contact while they talked at dinner; nobody had ever asked Sirius about his day with such aggression, and even fifteen minutes later his pants were still uncomfortably tight. The night was supposed to end with Remus a babbling mess, but he would not object to getting a taste of what he had been dishing out all day.
Sirius was halfway through washing a casserole dish when two familiar hands slid up the front of his shirt and narrow hips pressed him against the edge of the sink. “Wash your hands,” Remus said, brooking no room for argument.
“I’m not done with the dishes.”
“Sirius.” Hot breath fanned over the side of his neck and he suppressed a shiver. I. Am in. Control. “Wash your hands.”
Sirius washed his hands.
He felt a smile spread across Remus’ face and a kiss brushed against the top notch of his spine. “Thank you.”
“It’s not even close to eight, sweetheart.”
“You might change your mind about that.”
“Will I?” He reached for a towel to start drying dishes when he suddenly found himself facing the opposite direction; he barely had time to blink before Remus’ mouth was on his own, plush and warm and wonderful. Sirius started running his hands down Remus’ back, making a beeline for something he could grab a handful of, then stopped short.
“Told you so,” Remus murmured against his lips.
The pleasure center in the corner of Sirius’ brain erupted into cheering as he rolled the familiar fabric between his fingers, gathering a fistful of the jersey in his hand to drag Remus even closer. “That’s a dirty trick.”
“A dirty trick is kissing me within an inch of my life and then making me wait.” Remus licked along his jawline and soothed it with a light bite.
You know how I get when you wear my jersey, he thought with a grin, cracking one eye open to admire the red and gold lining. He opened his mouth to make a joke about the last name, but his words died in his throat. “What in the unholy fuck are you wearing?”
“The same jeans I’ve owned since I was eighteen. Why?” The little shit was smug as the cat that got the canary.
“Remus.”
“They make my ass look fantastic. Sue me.”
“I’m not talking about the jeans.” His hand was officially trembling.
Remus pulled back and met Sirius’ gaze with a challenge in his eye. “You like it when I wear jerseys.”
“You did this on purpose.”
“Wear clothes? Yeah, actually, though I’d rather not if it’s all the same to you.”
“Take it off, then, or I’ll bend you over this countertop.” Sirius’ blood hummed in his ears as Remus crossed his arms over his chest, taking a step back.
“No, you won’t.”
“Why the hell not?”
Something sparked over his face. Sirius almost regretted cornering him in the kitchen before his shower. “Because it’s not eight-fifteen pm and you hate letting me win.”
“Okay, now you’re just fucking with me.”
Remus barked a laugh, short and sharp. He was smiling at Sirius; clearly, he could tell his resolve was crumbling. “Oh, honey, I haven’t even started. I’ve got about nine hours to catch up on.”
“Where’d you get that?”
“I was saving it for a special occasion. Are you going to do something about it, or should I finish weeding the garden?” Sirius had him over his shoulder in half a second, and Remus laughed the entire way up the stairs before he was dropped on the mattress with enough force that the bedposts creaked. “That was aggressive. You could’ve asked, you know.”
Sirius took him by the hips and flipped him over, pointedly ignoring the playful wiggle that showed off the jeans that were practically glued to his legs. “Whatever I do, you’re going to take it, and you’re going to like it.”
He felt Remus’ breath catch under his palm as he pressed down between his shoulder blades. “Oh, I’m sure I will.”
The sight of the loose neckline showing a large section of bare skin did things to Sirius.
The large TREMBLAY stretching across his back did…other things.
He bunched the extra fabric up and hoisted Remus onto his hands and knees, drawing an oof from his mouth before he closed a hand around one side of his ass and squeezed. “Did Logan give this to you?”
Remus’ mischievous smile was all the answer he needed.
The first smack mixed with Remus’ gasp of surprise and Sirius rubbed small circles over the denim his hand had just connected with. “Did Logan give this to you?” he asked again, slower and deeper. Remus nodded. “Was that okay?”
“Yes,” Remus huffed, leaning into Sirius’ hand. “He thought it would be funny.”
“Do you think it’s funny?” Sirius murmured. Remus’ eyes fluttered shut as he released the jersey and moved his other hand down to knead the muscle of his upper thigh.
A grin curled the side of his mouth and one golden eye stared up at him in challenge. “Yes.”
The next smack made Remus’ mouth fall open and pulled a broken whine from him. “You think it’s funny that seeing you in someone’s else’s jersey makes me upset?”
Remus snickered at that, devious and long enough that Sirius paused for a second. “Baby, you’re not upset. I think it’s funny that seeing me in Logan’s jersey turns you on.”
He didn’t make any noise when the third spank came, just arched his back into it with a low hum; Sirius took a moment to admire the curve of his body, then smoothed his hands along the sides and front of Remus’ legs until he could hold the inside of his thighs and cup his dick through his pants. “Seeing you in jerseys always turns me on.”
“What if I wore Pots’?”
Sirius grumbled against the back of his neck and slowly undid the zipper; under it, he could feel Remus’ pounding pulse.
“Or Talker’s?”
“No.”
“It would turn you on,” he singsonged. “I could wear Finn’s jersey. It might still be a little big on me, but—”
He cut off with a breathless moan when Sirius gripped his narrow hips with one hand and slid the other into his underwear. “You were saying?” he prompted with an openmouthed kiss to the exposed bit of his shoulder. Remus’ summertime freckles were in full bloom, speckling him with a galaxy of his very own. He closed his hand around the shaft and ran the pad of his thumb under the head—it was dry still, just barely, but he felt a tremor in Remus’ thighs.
“Logan asked me to return this when I was done with it.” Remus pressed his cheek harder into his shoulder when Sirius dragged his jeans down to his thighs. “He might not want it back now.”
“That depends on whether or not you can keep it clean,” Sirius said as he grabbed the lube from their drawer and slicked his palm; he sped up a bit, and Remus’ eyebrows pitched upward.
“I’ll have—god, fuck—a better chance than you.”
Remus’ nose scrunched on the next smack to his ass and Sirius hesitated, putting both his hands on Remus’ ribcage. “Not good?”
“Meh. I liked it better earlier.” He shifted, kicking his jeans off the rest of the way. “Maybe a different time?”
“You got it, sweetheart.” He leaned down for a kiss—it was a little awkward until Remus sat up further, but they were both smiling into it before his lower lip was tugged between sharp teeth for a quick, sharp moment. “What was that?”
“You’re being sweet again.”
“You like it when I’m sweet.”
“I love it when you’re sweet,” Remus corrected. “However, you’ve already broken your goal, and I’m not letting you back out of this bed until you atone for your sins today.”
“My sins?” Sirius laughed.
Remus cleared his throat and held a hand up, counting down on his fingers. “Number one: copping out of morning kisses. Number two: public indecency at the farmer’s market. Number three: improper use of watches. I’m pretty sure they aren’t supposed to be kissed like that. Number four: Looking sexy with your shirt off in front of the neighbors. Number five: leaving me high and dry three times on purpose. Do I need to get my other hand, or do you get the point?”
Sirius shook his head in disbelief. I adore you. “You’re firing on all cylinders today.”
“It’s a miracle I have any braincells left after that torment. If you don’t make an honest effort to break this bed before eight pm, I’m keeping this jersey on for the rest of the day.”
“I love you so fucking much.” Sirius snapped the band of his boxers. “Though I don’t want to break you.”
“I’d love to see you try.”
Sirius twisted the jersey up to kiss the shallow dips of Remus’ lower back in response. They were nowhere near as deep as his own—Remus had a penchant for leaving kisses and light thumbprint bruises there—but they caught the light just enough to melt Sirius’ heart. He sucked a dark hickey on the bend of his hip, then uncapped the lube and set to work.
For all of his teasing confidence, Remus had terrible control over his own limbs when he was past the point of no return. Sirius crooked the two fingers he had worked in, stroking over his prostate again and again until Remus’ legs shook so hard that they almost slid right out from under him.
Sirius’ arm was starting to get a little tired from holding him in place by the back of his jersey, so he pulled his fingers out and let Remus hold his own weight for a moment while he shimmied off his sweatpants.
Remus shivered in the cool air; every few seconds, a ripple of pleasure washed over him. “Come back,” he pleaded. “I didn’t do anything.”
Sirius shushed him softly and dragged his thumb over the lube-slick muscle before lining himself up. A series of cut-off keening noises slipped out of Remus’ mouth as he pushed in, slow but unrelenting. He bunched the jersey up toward his shoulders until the black-letter name—fuck, seeing that on Remus really did get him going in a strange way—was almost completely hidden in the folds and Remus’ back was on full display.
“Can I—can I—ah.” Remus tucked his elbows under his chest as he dropped to the pillows, twitching as the motion changed their angle. I’ll show you an honest effort, he thought.
“Color, sweetheart?”
“Green, fuck, can I see you?” he panted.
Sirius pulled out and turned him over, then set one leg over his shoulder before entering him again with deep rolls that made Remus clench his fist in the bedsheets. He kneaded the insides of Remus’ thighs until he started rambling, fragments of words that Sirius couldn’t even begin to comprehend.
Remus’ lower back arched with a pillow-muffled shout and his newly-freed leg knocked against Sirius’ side. “There!”
“What?” The sudden change startled Sirius out of the white-hot haze that had gathered.
“No, don’t stop,” Remus begged, grabbing Sirius’ forearm. All his foxlike smirking had vanished, replaced by something almost feral. He was still the most beautiful thing Sirius had ever seen. “Sirius, please, it’s so good.”
“Like this?” he asked, picking up the pace once again with one arm under Remus’ thigh; his eyes rolled back for a moment and Sirius’ chest stuttered at the sudden tightness around him. A moan answered him, louder than the protests of their poor bedsprings.
Red lips, mussed curls, a disbelieving smile…everything on Remus’ face was blissful as he clutched Sirius close. “It’s so good,” he repeated, half-sobbing, half-whining. “It’s—It’s so—Sirius.”
All three syllables of his name tripped off his tongue individually, and Sirius lifted his hips up an inch, pulling him against his skin for as much contact as he could manage. “Was it worth it?” he asked, breathless and sticky and alight with energy. Remus’ skin was salty with sweat but sweeter than sugar; he smelled fucking incredible, though Sirius couldn’t focus on anything but the catch-hold-release of his muscles beneath his hands. “Was waiting worth it?”
“Uh-huh.”
Sirius grinned against his collarbone, snapping his hips forward; Remus gasped and scraped his fingers along his back in shock. “Told you so. God, Re, you were so patient today. I didn’t think you’d make it past noon.”
“I tried so hard,” Remus said as he threw his head back. “Wanted it so bad.”
“You were pretty naughty there for a bit, weren’t you?” Sirius teased, slowing down and tilting his face over with a hand on his chin.
Remus’ glazed eyes filled with heartbreak. “I just wanted it, wanted you.”
“Oh, honey, I know,” he soothed, kissing his cheek. “You did really, really well. I shouldn’t have kept you waiting so long, huh?”
Remus said something, too quiet for Sirius to hear.
“Could you be good and say that again? A little louder?”
He nodded, slow and hazy. “I fucking loved it, Sirius.”
The last miniscule knot of tension in Sirius’ gut that wondered whether he had taken it too far unraveled. “There’s my good boy. Do you think you can be on top for a bit?”
Remus gave his shoulder a clumsy push with about as much force as a baby koala; he settled in Sirius’ lap when they rolled over and pressed their foreheads together, his chest heaving with the effort of catching his breath. “How do you do that?” he groaned.
“Do what, mon coeur?”
“You’re so sweet.”
“What are you talking about?” Sirius murmured as he rocked his hips up and Remus let his head fall to the side. “You’re such a sweetheart. I love you so much.”
“I’m never this nice to y—” Remus’ sentence cut short as he tightened his grip on Sirius’ shoulders with a gasp; the jersey fell back down, covering his front.
“Raise your arms for me, mon amour.” Remus leaned forward slightly, and within moments the jersey was on the other side of the room while Sirius increased his pace and wrapped a palm around Remus’ shaft. “For the record, I think you’re amazing. And sexy, and funny, and far too mischievous for your own good.”
Remus’ jaw went slack, and he seemed torn between rising on shaky knees and pushing into Sirius’ grip; after a noise of distress, he sat down hard and found the ideal in-between spot to circle his hips.
“Look at you, my clever love,” Sirius panted, cupping his cheek with one hand as precome spilled over his fingers. “Just dripping for me, aren’t you?”
“I’m sorry,” Remus blubbered, blinking hard while he tried to focus on Sirius’ face.
“Don’t be sorry, Re. I’ve got you.”
He moaned, wobbly and frantic—his rhythm became erratic and Sirius steadied him with a hand on his hipbone. “Close, close, close—”
“Me, too.” Sirius swallowed hard and quickened his hand until Remus’ abs clenched and he dropped to his elbows, burying his face in the side of Sirius’ neck with a wounded noise. “Are you alright?”
“I’m so fucking close,” was the muffled answer.
“Let go, sweetheart.” Stars were popping at the corners of Sirius’ vision—he had been so focused on Remus’ reactions that he hadn’t realized how fast he had been barreling toward his own edge. “Let go, I’ve got you.”
Remus sucked in a harsh breath, then spilled over Sirius’ hand. His whole body went hot; Sirius pulled out and quickly jacked himself until he shuddered beneath Remus’ weight, holding him against every inch of skin he could reach.
Their bedroom was humid with the heady warmth of a day’s worth of pent-up tension, finally released. “Re?” Sirius asked, his voice scratchy with fading euphoria. There was a faint buzz against his shoulder when Remus hummed his acknowledgement, though he felt no other movement.
Remus wrapped his arms around Sirius’ back and kept his face hidden as his legs straightened unsteadily. “Did I—did I take it too far? With the jersey? Was that weird?”
Sirius combed his fingers through his hair. “Not at all, mon loup. That was really, really hot. Can you turn on your side for a moment so we can cuddle?”
Remus made a quiet noise of assent and dragged himself off Sirius’ front; they were both sticky from sweat and come, but Sirius gathered him close with a few slow kisses to his flushed face. “I don’t like this part.”
“I know.” Sirius rubbed a wide oval from the small of his back up to the tense spot between his shoulders, tracing the small scar there. “It’ll be over soon, though. Did I push you too far?”
Remus shook his head with a tired smile. “That was awesome.”
“You haven’t spaced out in a while,” Sirius mused, talking to himself more than anything. He knew Remus liked the rumble of his chest and his post-sex voice, and let him slot their legs together in contentment. “It happened fast.”
“Yeah.”
He glanced down. “Can I go get some water and a washcloth for us? It won’t take long.”
Remus hesitated, then nodded. “You’ll come back?”
“Two minutes, tops,” Sirius assured him, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
One minute and twenty-four seconds later, he sat down next to Remus and guided him into a sitting position so he could drink some water while Sirius wiped his torso clean. Once the glass was drained and they were both significantly less sticky, he pulled him back down to the mattress and ran a finger down the slope of his nose. “You’re so pretty,” Remus said quietly with half-lidded eyes.
“So are you.”
“We should check on Hattie.”
“Right now, we should cuddle, and then we can take her for a walk once you’re feeling better.”
Remus smiled, soft and sated. “I’m already feeling better.”
“After a nap, then.” He kissed him gently. “No headaches.”
“I love your shoulders,” Remus said out of the blue as his eyes slipped shut. “Great to hold on to, and perfect for cuddles.”
“Thanks,” Sirius laughed. “I’m pretty fond of them myself.”
“I always forget how big you are until we do this. You completely cover me. It’s really fuckin’ hot, baby.”
The flattery made Sirius’ heart pound with affection and he nudged their noses together. “I’m glad you think so.”
“Today was so good.” Remus’ voice was sleepy and thick; Sirius rested his chin on top of his head and sighed. “So good. Thank you.”
“Love you, Re.”
A soft puff of air cooled his sternum, just below his tattoo. “I love you, too.”
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No Control Part 3
Julian is nonbinary in this fic and I think they will be in all of my fics from now on even though in my original NB Jules fic they came out when they were older.
I wrote this in 4 hours. Kinda proud. I might try and stay up late and get the next part written tonight if at all possible. (No idea how many parts this will be) I've finally used this tablet enough so that the keyboard is a decent speed.
Warning- hospital, injury, not really panic attack but being in shock, no medical knowledge
"Hey Captain No Spleen." James smirked.
Sirius smiled back but was quickly overwhelmed by all the greetings.
"How are you feeling, min fils?" Dumo asked.
Sirius looked at Remus. The words Dumo just said formed slightly over his lips, hoping the movement brought recognition of the meaning to his mind. He shook his head as it failed to remember. "Re" he whispered inaudibly.
Remus nodded and soothed back his hair. "It's okay."
"He's having some trouble understanding what people are saying. It takes a while for his mind to process the words and with his amnesia he sometimes doesn't remember what the words mean." He explained.
"That'll go away, right?" Kasey asked.
"Yeah." Remus nodded. "Once his mind heals more or once the shock of it wears off."
"Logan?" Sirius spoke. Everyone was obviously shocked by how small his voice sounded.
"He's okay." James told him.
'Slow' Remus mouthed as Sirius blinked in confusion.
"He's okay." James repeated slowly. "Leo and Finn are with him. He's resting."
Sirius nodded in understanding.
"He was worried about you." Thomas told him.
"Good" Sirius smirked with his eyes closed.
"That's a bit rude, spleenless." James shook his head with a smile. All of them glad to see some sign of their Captain.
"How- how-" Sirius struggled.
"How what, baby?"
"When-" He groaned.
"Is it about Logan?"
"No" he gritted out forcefully.
"It's okay. Just take your time, love."
"Other- when- can't think-" Sirius hit the bed in frustration. "Can't think."
"Hey, hey, shh." Remus took his hand. "It's okay. It's okay. I know it must be frustrating but it's okay. Just breathe love and then take your time."
"Other- car" he said a minute later after trying to form the right words.
"What happened to the other car?" Dumo tried when Sirius didn't say anything else.
"Yes" Sirius breathed in relief that someone understood.
"Oh, um. They think it was a hit and run."
'Hit and run' Sirius mouthed.
"It means that the driver hit your car and then drove off." Remus explained.
"Why- did- would-"
"We don't know but the police are investigating." James told him.
"Oh. Have- talk to-"
"You don't have to talk to them now, but once you're better you might. Logan told them what happened earlier." Remus assured him.
"Oh-kay" he sounded out.
Anymore conversation was cut off by the door opening.
"Hey Cap." Finn smiled tiredly as Leo and him walked into the room.
"What happened? Where's Logan?" Dumo asked.
"He's fine" Finn told him "Kicked us out so he could sleep and they could run tests."
"You okay, Knut?" Remus noticed Leos cornered animal appearance.
"Hm? Oh. I'm okay." He darted his eyes down when he made eye contact.
"Think I'm just tired." His voice was a quiet and slurred mutter.
"Here. No one sit." Kuny had stood up from his chair, knowing Leo was too dazed to notice.
'Thank you' Finn mouthed as Leo sat down. Serigi moved so Finn could sit beside him.
"Le- okay?" Sirius asked.
Finn gave him a confused look before Remus retold what was going on.
"Oh. Yeah. I think he's just in shock still." He said slow for Sirius. "He was weird with Logan when we first saw him. Said he was scared to hurt him. I'm pretty sure he just needs sleep."
"Hey that news place they were going to do the interview for just tweeted. 'Due to irresponsible time management, childish pranking, or just plain laziness, Logan Trembley and Sirius Black did not show up for their interview today. Apologize to all who were anxiously awaiting to read it.'" James read the post.
"So no one told anyone?" Kasey asked.
"I have a picture of the car that the police gave us." Finn smirked. "Should I log in to the teams account and retweet their post?"
"Do it." Everyone told him to.
"Coach said do it." Kasey read his reply. "He said the league hasn't responded to anything he has told them and hasn't even heard anything he told them. So this should get enough of their attention."
"What do I say?" Finn asked. "Just 'Here's why'?"
"Make sure to say that they're alive" Dumo told him.
"Re" Sirius hit Remus's arm. "Too many- go slower- want to know."
"Guys." Remus said loud enough for everyone to stop talking. "Slow down, one at a time." He nodded towards Sirius.
"Sorry" Sirius muttered and looked down. Like he was ashamed that he couldn't process what they were saying.
"It's okay." Dumo shook his head.
"The interview you were going to posted something petty about how you weren't there." Remus explained. "Finn is going to post a picture of the crash because we're also petty."
Sirius smiled at the words. "League don't-"
"Coach is trying to tell them but they won't listen."
"Now they will." James wiggled his eyebrows.
Finn cleared his throat dramatically, making Sirius smile and Leo giggle, before reading what he had typed like he was reading a message from the king.
"Sirius Black and Logan Trembly would of loved to do the interview, but because of someone elses inability to read a speedometer, stop at a red light, and not drive away after hitting a car, they were unable to. They would be estatic to sit down and have a nice chat once they are out of the hospital. We are sorry to anyone anxiously awaiting to see them play next week. Due to a punctured lung, bruised heart, broken ribs, damaged kidney, brain damage, a broken leg, severe whiplash, and a missing organ, they won't be able to make it to the game. Thank you for your understanding and please drive safe."
"Perfect" James laughed.
"And.... posted." Finn pressed the post button dramatically.
"Oh fuck." Remus turned serious. "Did any of us tell families about this?"
"Nope. Shit." Finn pulled his phone back out of his pocket. "I'll go call Lo's parents." He kissed Leo.
"Call mine too?" The happiness that ghosted Leos face when Finn was being dramatic had left him emotionless again.
"Of course, baby." Finn kissed him again and left the room.
"Tell- parents?" Sirius looked at Remus.
"I'll tell them." Remus nodded.
"We'll go." Dumo said.
"I probably should answer my parents." James held up his phone.
"Noelle's gonna murder me." Talker whined as his rang.
The team trickled out till it was just Sirius and Remus.
"Remus?" Hope answered the phone. "We saw what was posted. Is he alright?"
"He's okay, mom." Remus assured her.
"Oh thank god." Lyall breathed.
Sirius smiled at their reactions to him being okay.
"Can I talk to him?" Jules asked.
"Yeah he's right here bu-"
They cut him off. Going a million miles an hour.
Sirius gave Remus a pleading look because he loved Jules and he knew that they talked like this but right now Sirius needed them to slow down.
"Jules- Jules." Remus tried to stop his sibling. "Slow down. Let me talk first."
Remus heard his parents quiet them.
"Sirius is having some trouble understanding what people are saying. It takes a while for his mind to process the words and he also has some very slight amnesia that's making it a little hard for him to remember what some words mean. So when you talk just talk slowly like I am and you're going to have to make sure you talk clearly, especially through the phone."
"Why can't he understand the words?" Jules had slowed down but their slow was other peoples normal.
"Slower, kiddo. He hit his head pretty hard in the accident, like a really bad concussion. He also has some trouble talking and remembering words."
"Ohhh" Jules dragged out the word.
How are you feeling, Sirius?" Hope asked, speaking perfectly.
"I'm- good." Sirius told her.
"What injures are yours?" Jules sounded out each sylible.
"Can talk- faster-." Sirius laughed, trying hard to talk well.
"From Finns list and the doctors he was, broken leg, whiplash, brain injury, punctured lung, broken rib, and his spleen was ruptured in the crash and had to be removed but spleens aren't too necessary apparently."
"You don't have an organ?" Jules asked in awe.
"Nope" Sirius laughed.
"Well we'll leave you to get better." Hope said. "Don't be surprised if we show up in the next few days." They said their goodbyes loudly.
+++
"Okay?" Sirius asked when Leo walked in an hour later.
"Logan, uh, Logan had to go into surgery." he put his hands in the pockets of his, possibly Logans or maybe Finns, sweatshirt and bunched it up as he rocked on his heels.
"Why?" Remus asked.
"Misdiagnosed his heart and it was actually more serious than just a bruise. It was actually a tear or some-something. He- he flatlined while we were up there."
Cliffhanger I'm sorry
It's only gonna get angstier
@lumosinlove
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get to know me tag
I was tagged by @the-9muses, @missinglittlebritishfriend, @aleksandrachaev - thanks, loves 🥺🥺 Yours were fab!
Name/Nickname: Lily (which yes is short for something, no it's not embarrassing just very British, as Kat LOVES to mock me about)
Gender: Female
Star Sign: Virgo (and fortunately/unfortunately with all the perfectionism typical of that sign)
Height: 166cm (and nO I am not trying to convert that into feet and whatnot. Sorry, Americans, but your system makes NO SENSE. Ugh)
Time: 9:45 AM, desperately procrastinating setting into my final round of prep work for classes starting next week
Birthday: 2 September
Favorite Bands: like my wife, I'm a BIG fan of musicals, pretty much all musicals, so... Hamilton, Hadestown, Wicked, Les Mis, Moulin Rouge!, Evita, Chicago, Miss Saigon, The Phantom of the Opera, Cats, The Lion King. I'm also very into movie soundtracks, basically anything Disney or related to Lin-Manuel Miranda 😝😍
As bands go, Imagine Dragons, Florence + The Machine and ABBA are fab, too!
Favorite Solo Artists: Ed Sheeran, classical musicians do not count shut UP brain, Taylor Swift?? (hissssss @ Kat)
Song Stuck In My Head: Afterglow by Ed Sheeran
Last Movie: The Old Guard, rewatch #4. It's just SO DAMN COOL, guys
Last Show: Us (and no, not just for Iain, either, though ngl he's a big benefit. It's a great show, though, I'm loving it so far!)
When Did I Create This Blog: the 5th of May 2020, apparently! Feels like a lot longer to me, lol, but, yup, I'm a lockdown baby! 😝
What I Post: Fics, reblogs of other people's amazing creations, and occasionally random nonsense
Last Thing I Googled: "Lockdown UK live updates" - because, yes, that's what my TV show binging and spectacular denial levels lately have allll been caused by :/
Other blogs: Yes! I created and am an admin of agentsofchallenges, the Challenges of SHIELD blog we part-run from our fandom friends Discord. I'm also an admin for aos-angst-war, the blog we made for, surprisingly, the AoS Angst War (before we were smart enough to come up with agentsofchallenges, lmao)
Following: 387, apparently - w h o a, how'd that happen?? Too many amazing people out there, that's all I'm saying.
Followers: 237, which makes me think of three things immediately: one, there seems to be a sevens theme going on with "follow-" words today. Cool beans! Two, OH MY GOSH PAST TWO HUNDRED AND THIRTY FOLLOWERS Already??? Every time I look at this statistic, it's more, and my eyes want to pop out of my head. I mean, I'm SO flattered, guys, but also w t f!!! Ahhhhhhhh, it's more than a little unbelievable. (!!!) Anyway, and, three, hnsjdskhsghsjhd, I'm an awful person, I haven't even completed my Hundred Followers Celebration yet!! Better get right on that 😬🤦♀️🥰
Average hours of sleep: 6/7 in work-time, because teaching is a full-time job and I need to be 100% functional. In the holidays, though... yeek. Anybody's guess!! I often go to sleep in the very wee hours of the night (2, 3am) but then I'm also a lazy ass and only get up at 10, so... About the same, actually!!
Lucky number: ehhh, I don't really have one, I'm not superstitious like that, really - EXCEPT, WAIT, NO, I TOTALLY DO. Of course I do!! 42. The answer to life, the universe, and everything, my friends :D
Instruments: I play piano and violin professionally, and a little bit of cello, badly 🤣
What I Am Wearing: an old grey-green pair of drawstring sweatpants, and an oversized white sweatshirt. My isolation suit, guys!
Dream Job: ohhh, gosh, well. I've always had a passion for both music and teaching, and I've known this is what I want to do for years, so I'm kinda... in it?? Lucky me, I know, lol 🤣😍 If I could have anything, though, I'd probably want to be an actress, or a singer-songwriter. Or both!! Or, I know, a Marvel screenplay writer for the Quake/Secret Warriors alternate universe spinoff 🤣😝
Dream Trip: ohhhh, MAN, well - I'm an incurable romantic at heart, so, the Seychelles with my boyfriend? Or maybe, to be a fangirl and a romantic (which is just goals, honestly) Tahiti!! Yup, yup, that's my final answer. I want an all-expenses-paid, full-luxury trip to Tahiti - I hear it's a magical place 😝😍🏖️
Favorite Food: I've recently been visiting my family in Ireland (before lockdown screwed everything over for me UGH) so, my nan's chocolate shortbread!! The actual BEST biscuits you'll ever taste 😍😍😍
Nationality: British-Irish (yes, I have a dual citizenship, which I think is pretty wicked)
Favorite Song: Impossible. Question. And one you'll get a different answer to every time you ask it!! Currently, though, I'm going to have to say Nancy Mulligan, for all the family nostalgia and happy memories it brings up for me 💜
Last Book I Read: Ugh, this is probably the LEAST exciting answer you could even dream of, but... A2 GCSE Music Syllabus and Teacher's Guide - 2021 Revised Edition. Yeah, prepping for work SUCKS.
Top 3 Fictional Universes I’d Like To Live In: The MCU, but very specifically season 3A of Agents of SHIELD, so I could meet all my babies when they were happy(ish) and tell them how much I adore them 🥺🥺💜 Also, the Wizarding World post-the Second Wizarding War (because if I'm living in the world I'm not affected by JKR's crap). And for number three, OOH!! Storybrooke post-season 6 (and happily pretending season 7 never happens.) Yes please!!
Oooh, gosh, well, this was loads of fun, and a great distraction from work... though, in all seriousness, I should probably get to that now. Before I go, though, I'm going to tag @eowima, @que-mint-tea, @justanalto, @apathbacktoyou, @springmagpies, @maybebrilliant, @loved-the-stars-too-fondly, @nazezdha321, @besidemethewholedamntime and @fitzsimmonkeys, if any of you guys want to do this! 🥰💜
#tag game#get to know me tag#tumblr-ing instead of working is a whole big thing; am I right?#TOO big#*soft sigh* it's so fun though!!#it's SO fun
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top 10 favorite new-to-you operas of 2020 and top 10 favorite overall opera productions (which can be ones you’ve watched before 2020) of 2020, as well as why! (take all the time and space you need to answer this one)
thanks!! :)
top 10 favorite new-to-me operas (tried to remember the order in which I first watched them, but I could be wrong):
La fille du régiment
Just a really fun, humorous, adorable opera with a great cast of lovable characters and some really slappy tunes.
Les Huguenots
This one went onto my list of top favorite operas almost immediately. Another cast of amazing characters (aside from the really despicable villain), especially some lovely leading ladies; adorable trouser role who gets two (preferably) arias; some really gorgeous music; and an absolutely devastating tragic ending that's so powerful and meaningful.
Idomeneo
The ladies are fighting over the mezzo; Idamante is one of the cutest and purest opera characters EVER; incorporates Greek Mythology which is one of my favorite things; great cast of characters (though Idomeneo himself still drives me crazy); very sapphic; lovely relationship between the main couple (kinda enemies-to-friends-to-lovers); and again some really great music
La clemenza di Tito
TWO mezzo bois; very VERY gay on all levels; angst with a happy ending (though depending on the production the ending can be more ambiguous than happy); entire cast of Disaster Bis; one of the smartest sopranos in the world (Servilia); lovely portrayals of loyalty and friendship; and, of course, some AMAZING music.
Cendrillon
Mezzo love. That's pretty much all I need to say. But also it's got a lot of my favorite things: the libretto is super poetic and beautiful; the music is absolutely fantastic at evoking the fairy tale feel, especially in the scene in the forest; wonderful lovable characters; and simply ethereal music and singing for the leading ladies.
Chérubin
it's the adventures of our dear Cherubino, what more could I want? How can I not love an opera that's all about this wonderful disaster child? It's so lighthearted and fun and sweet and also just really spot-on hilarious. I was laughing my head off the entire time. Plus it's Massenet so the music is gorge, especially the mezzo music :D
Benvenuto Cellini
Not least because it introduced me to one of my favorite trouser roles, but also because (as we've discussed) it has basically everything you need in a (not-tragic) opera: fantastic cast of lovable, wonderful characters; exciting and somewhat angsty plot; joyous happy ending; really cute and pure lead couple; adorable trouser role; Disaster Bi hilarious semi-villain you just can't help but love; some really fantastic music; and so much fun and hilarity in general.
La Rondine
I give this one props because it somehow made me bawl my eyes out even though no one dies. And of course it's the whole Puccini "let's pretend this thing is an operetta for an hour and a half :) and make everything all lighthearted and happy :) and have everyone just have a great time singing some wonderful music :) and then break everyone's heart in the last half hour and leave them obliterated." Also that ensemble in Act II just makes me CRY even though it's like the happiest bit of the opera?? it's just so freaking pretty omg.
Alcina
Props for being one of the frickin gayest operas on the planet. Also contains one of my favorite pieces of music ever in the history of ever. In general has a lot of opportunities for folks being gay as heck. Oronte can fall off the face of the earth, though. Also I am a sucker for Handel in general. Plus mezzos loving mezzos. Can't go wrong with mezzos loving mezzos. (Yeah, I know technically Rugierro can be played by a countertenor, but I don't watch those ones ;p ) The plot is still "WTF???" in my head, but does that really matter when it's basically one nonstop gay mess?
Die Fledermaus
Really don't understand how this took so long to get into my life (especially because German operetta was my Thing back in the day) but now that it's in my life I love it to pieces. One of the most iconic trouser roles ever, and an entire cast full of lovable buffoons, as well as just one bop after another. Plus a really slapstick plot. Basically laughed through the entire show.
10 favorite overall opera productions of 2020:
It was so hard to narrow this one down! I've seen so many amazing opera productions this year. To make it a little easier for me, I tried to focus on productions of operas that weren't new to me this year (though I HAD to put the Pelly Cendrillon on here. I couldn't not) so I could focus more on the production itself.
These ones aren’t in any particular order bc I’m lazy:
Sher Hoffmann (Met 2009/2015)
Surprise, surprise. I simply adore the production, set, costumes, staging, etc.--all so wonderfully weird and delightfully eccentric, without distracting from the very odd and complicated story. Plus, I love the casts in both performances, esp. Kate Lindsey but you knew that already ;)
Sher Barbiere (Met 2017)
Three words: DiDonato. Flórez. Mattei. Plus Del Carlo and Relyea and it's Sher so really, where can it possibly go wrong?? It's an absolute delight from beginning to end that just takes all the comedic gold from the story and runs with it, and, as with his Hoffmann, provides a delightfully eccentric set and staging without being distracting.
Salzburg 2013 Don Carlo
Super gay, amazing cast, beautiful production, contains material not seen many other places, and introduced me to Maria Celeng's Tebaldo, which will undoubtably forever be my favorite. Did I mention how gay it is?
Garsington 2017 Nozze
A really fun, charming, heartwarming, and beautiful staging of one of my favorite operas. I love the cast and set and costumes and that people in general are pretty nice to Cherubino, and the Count isn't as creepy or mean as in some productions, and has some legit nice moments with Rosina during the opera so his apology at the end actually comes across as kinda genuine. In particular I love the really adorable Figaro and Susanna (individually adorable, as well as being a really adorable couple) and Cherubino.
Pelly Cendrillon (Met 2018/ROH 2010)
Super gorgeous production that does an amazing job evoking the fairy tale feel. Not thrilled with 100% of the choreography but I love pretty much everything else about it--the sets, the staging, the cast (especially the Met cast, though there is one little detail in the ROH one I like better) and even the lighting are super intricate and effective.
Munich 2011 Hoffmann
Just a really delightfully weird take on this opera, with a great cast, some fantastic singing, hilarious sets and costumes, and some quirky staging and edit choices that make it really unique and fun.
Met 2017 (Sher) Roméo et Juliette
I should basically just say everything by Sher is my favorite now huh? I legit want to write this guy some fan mail because his work (especially for Hoffmann) has in a lot of ways just been really meaningful to me. I didn't even like this opera until I saw this production. It's so GORGEOUS and timeless and yet simple and sweet, and the cast is to die for.
Met 2017 Norma
Flippin gay, that's really all I need to say, oh my lord. Plus the cast is amazing. Honeslty don't remember much about the sets or costumes, I just remember how amazingly gay it is.
Met 2009 Orfeo ed Euridice
The dancing in particular is what draws me to this one, but also the expansive moving sets and some really heartbreaking choreography and blocking. Side note, I know a lot of people are annoyed with Amor's outfit, but I love how ridiculous her sparkly pink ensemble is compared with the sombre outfits of the leading cast (and chorus representing all those famous dead people historical figures). I mean, she's basically Cupid, right? When has Cupid every been spiffy or dignified? Plus the whole thing is super gay and really underrated in my opinion. Bonus: Stephanie Blythe is now hands-down my favorite Orfeo.
La Scala 1995 Hoffmann
Set and costumes are okay, effective but not particularly memorable, but holy lord is this one GAY as hell. That's my favorite thing about it, plus much of the cast (Mentzer and Shicoff, obviously, as well as Natalie Dessay being my favorite Olympia and Denyce Graves being one of my top favorite Giuliettas). There are a few kind of weird things about the staging, and the edit is far from being my favorite, but I adore how fully it embraces every aspect of gay that this opera presents. Plus it's one of the few I've seen that actually has a legit nice ending (others being Munich and Sher).
Thanks for the ask, sorry it got kinda long!
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I've been homeless and immobile for a while, but I'm in danger of losing my accommodation and wheels (again).
Mentally and spiritually, I have been homeless for nearly two decades. I have once again been threatened with eviction because I don't have enough money in my bank account to pay my rent or meet my car repayment and other loans. Each time it happens, things get worse and there's no negotiating.
This time around, though, I might call their bluff, because I was already being driven mad (quite literally) by the restrictions, manipulating and gass-lighting (being called a cold, uncaring self-centred, irrational, illogical, lazy, stupid, narcissistic and paranoid sociopath — enough to make a guy with self-esteem and motivation issues suicidal). What's changed is that now I've been banned from using, cleaning and/or performing any maintenance on any room in the house except my bedroom (including bathrooms and toilets), which was previously one of my responsibilities. I have to use outdoor ones/the old servants' quarters, which doesn't have a door on the bathroom. )I live in the southern hemisphere; it's winter here.) I'm not allowed to hang a curtain or take material to make one, so I use an old chlorine bucket in the passageway/corridor outside as an indicator that I'm in there. I'm not allowed to be out there past 21:00 and am not allowed to move my stuff to the servants' quarters or garage because they are being used as storage space for tools and, occasionally, as a home gym by/for my landlord. I'm also not allowed to use any tools or appliances (including vacuum, cleaners, brushes, brooms, dustpans and cloths), because no maintenance. Everything of mine that I don't keep hidden and locked away has been confiscated. Of that, everything that I bought myself has been discarded or claimed as belonging to my landlord and landlady. (My soap, of all things, was the first casualty, which is what tipped me off and prompted my buying locks for those things I could lock away.) I am also not financially able nor permitted to buy more tools, containers or locks (and replacements for those) since my finances are being scrutinised and my choices, decisions and purchases criticised.
My broom is a paintbrush, my dustpan a plastic shopping bag and my duster a roll of paper towel. My vacuum cleaner is a cardboard tube glued to a Pringles can with a PC fan inside. ... And they wonder why I've taken to doing DIY projects that repurpose recyclable household items ; how irrational of me ... Le sigh.
That means no fridge, kettle, microwave or stove. I also don't get cooked meals. That would be fine on its own if I weren't subject to restrictions. I live off powdered milk, coffee, cereal, peanut butter, marmite, bread, orange squash concentrate, syrup, biscuits and bananas. Sometimes, I skim a couple of tablespoons of yoghurt out of the container when they're not around, or dilute fruit juice with water at a ratio of about 1:3, just to have some variety/luxury. I had some meal replacement shake powder too, just to keep me from starving, but that's gone and I can't afford to replace it. If I ask for more, I'll have to pay it back; they keep track of everything they buy for me (including a bottle of vitamins) that I'll have to pay back if/when I get a job again. I already owe about $220. It was, of course, a big deal when I bought myself twelve beers on special for $9 the day I got paid for the first lot of contract work I'd done in nearly six months since losing my job, despite the guy underpaying me by just over $100 because I hadn't insisted on a written agreement and was in no position to haggle/negotiate; the last time I do favours for friends, especially those who're religious. (The fact that I'm rationing out the beers at one a week and am only on my sixth one next weekend doesn't have any relevance to my landlady, who tried to confiscate a couple with intent to give them to my landlord and made an almighty fuss about how selfish I was being when I said I'd be fine with sacrificing them if either of them had just asked for one, how she'd noticed my ex always bought the wine despite our having agreed on certain divisions of costs when we were together, and a whole lot of other irrelevant bullshit.)
I need help getting out before the end of June, assuming I find a job and somewhere to go by then. Otherwise, I'm quite likely to end up on the street or attempting to off myself again. Currently, I have no job, nowhere to go and not even enough money to buy a cheap bicycle for $175. Even if I take my car to a dealer who'll settle the balance of my loan with the bank, I get nothing for it because it's an old model which I haven't been able to afford to take better care of and is pretty much a lemon four years after I drove it off the showroom floor. (I should have traded it in after two, before the new model came out). That's the best deal I've been offered. The alternative is to either trade it in for something else and extend my loan or take an amount that's less than it's worth and continue paying off a loan for a vehicle I no longer have. Hooray for death by a thousand cuts under Consumer capitalism.
Apparently, it's all my fault for not learning my life lessons, growing the fuck up, sorting my life out and GTFO of the family home a hell of a lot sooner (by at least a decade, nearly two), when the physical abuse by my peers first started in small and subtle ways. I thought that would all be behind me when I left high school, then varsity, then two corporate jobs. But no, I'm the kind of person who attracts bullies and toxic, abusive relationships.
The moral of the story
If I had known what I now know and the lessons I have learned when I was a padawan/young twenty-something, I would have taken my education seriously and applied myself to obtaining both CS and EE degrees instead of a crappy, near-worthless diploma, moved into my own two-room shoebox as a priority and bought a bicycle instead of a car. Anywhere I can't reach by bike probably isn't worth going and a car is an immovable liability/waste of money two years after purchase. At least I would have my own space (which I so desperately crave). At least then, I could be an allegedly horrible, reprehensible and repulsive degenerate of a person all by myself without anybody to hurt or hurt me. I'm fucking done with living with other people for a while. Fuck that noise; I want a thousand days of solitude, even if it's in a corrugated iron shack in an informal settlement. I'm prepared to cook my supper in a three-legged potjie over a wood fire and boil collected rainwater in a cast iron pot while I wait for my orchard and mielies to grow.
Honestly, at this stage, I'm prepared to live on a camp bed with a sleeping bag and a camp chair and folding table in somebody's garage, undercroft or old servants' quarters (as long as there's a plug point and running water) just to be able to get away from here. I just want some space of my own to be myself (horrible or otherwise) again and keep my interaction with people to a minimum while I figure out how to cope with/manage my shitty life situation, get back on my feet and out in the world again without being scrutinised, criticised, judged, condemned, restricted, rejected and ostracised. That shit is literally making me crazy and suicidal. It is not in any way conducive to me so much as thinking of an action plan/way forward, let alone pursuing it. Yet, somehow, I still manage to restrict the time I spend buggering around on social media (still too much), which I apparently need to succeed in the modern world, hunt for jobs, write, make music and try to flog my Patreon to disinterested parties. Oh, and I'm also writing a proposal for a social media site for someone who's attempting to gather funding.
Seeing my shrink for two hours a month (which costs me a month's wages from my part-time weekend job) and the afore-mentioned job is not enough, as much as I love animals.
So if you can spare between ten and twenty-seven dollars a month to help keep me afloat, please subscribe to my Patreon. Your support will be greatly appreciated.
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A Little Push
Sooo.... I’m obsessed witht the idea of Emma and Zoey as friends who won’t admit it, and, well, after writing many bants for them, this suddenly had to happen. You can blame @bi-gstupid and @nocoffeeforoldmen for enabling me.
Content: Zoey/Emma, drinking, casual hook up, mild sexual content, hints of Paulkins in the end bc they are soulmates ok?
----
Thinking back on it, Emma should have known they were heading towards this. However, it still took her by complete surprise when it happened. She glanced to her left, where Zoey was dozing off, with her hair splayed out over all the many pillows, under the sheet that didn’t fully cover her breasts. Huh.
They had been out drinking. A tradition they had developed over the last month and a half. Nora had broken her ankle and while she stayed at home, she had left Zoey in charge. On paper that sounded horrible, but since Zoey now was the boss, she had no one to suck up to, and that made her a lot more tolerable. Emma almost even enjoyed their shifts together. Not fully though, since Zoey and her friends were doing a production of Les Mis and Zoey would sing the Fantine songs over and over. But Zoey was a good drinking buddy. Hot enough to get free drinks and not selfish enough to abandon Emma for just anybody. She held her liquor well and talked shit about the other people in the bar.
Today they had been drinking beers mostly and having a laugh over that customer guy who was interested in Emma and not very subtle about it, but never got the nerve to do more than polite small talk. It was somewhat endearing, and it wasn’t like he was unattractive. Emma kind of enjoyed the polite small talk. He usually let her vent a little over whatever annoyed her that day. Zoey kept insisting she should date him. Or, in her words, totally bone him.
“I’m not gonna bone him,” Emma insisted.
“You’re so boring,” Zoey said and emptied the beer glass in front of her. Then she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Classy. “He really looks like he could use a good roll in the hay.”
“And therefore, I should do it?” Emma asked, eyebrow raised. She lifted her own glass and took a sip.
“You also need a good roll in the hay,” Zoey said with a sly grin. “Finish your beer, old lady. I’m getting us another round.” Then she stood up and left Emma to fume over being called an old lady. The other round turned out to be drinks this time. Then another beer. Another drink.
And suddenly it was the middle of the night and Emma was feeling perfectly drunk and ready to lie down. They emptied their glasses and got up, gathering their things. Outside a light drizzle was in the air. It felt nice and cool on Emma’s face and she stood for a moment with her eyes closed and enjoyed the sensation on her skin. A cool breeze brought out goosebumps on her arms and legs. She felt less tired now.
She opened her eyes and looked up at Zoey. “Wanna split a cab?” she asked.
Zoey looked at her for a moment, an expression in her eyes Emma couldn’t read. Her gaze travelled up and down Emma’s body and she bit her lip. And then, instead of answering, she had stepped forward, leaned down and kissed her.
What the fuck?
Emma froze, taken by surprise by the softness of Zoey’s lips. Zoey pulled back and gave her a questioning look. Almost defiantly asking Emma what she was going to do now. Emma stared at her, lips parted and heart pounding. Then she placed her hand on Zoey’s neck and pulled her into another kiss.
Zoey didn’t hesitate and immediately wrapped an arm around Emma’s waist, while deepening the kiss. She tasted like her last drink – rum and coke – and she smelled nice. Her body was soft and curvy against Emma’s, but there was nothing soft about the way she kissed. It was needy and hungry, with tongue and a hint of teeth. After several minutes of kissing and hands that got more and more curious, Zoey pulled back and with heavy breathing said, ‘I would like to split a cab.”
And that was how Emma found herself in Zoey’s apartment, making out against a hallway closet. It had been ages since she last hooked up with a girl, let alone someone she knew already, but Zoey’s feverish kisses, and hands under her shirt were causing her blood to boil and her body to yearn for more.
They were both still in their Beanies uniforms and Emma started to undo Zoey’s buttons fast and pushing the shirt off her shoulders, exposing creamy skin and a thin lacey bra. She trailed her fingers down the exposed chest, ghosting past the nipples and continuing down her stomach.
Zoey was undeniably hot. Pretty face, and annoying and distracting mouth and nice legs. Her eyelids fluttered as Emma touched her and it was incredibly satisfying to look at. Zoey kissed her again, more urgently, shoving her hand into Emma’s shorts, not even bothering to open them.
They stumbled backwards through the apartment, until Zoey opened what Emma assumed was the bedroom door. Zoey didn’t hesitate, shoving Emma unto the bed and straddling her, sending her a victorious eyebrow waggle.
They ended up having sex for what felt like hours. Whenever one of them was done, the other one took over. It was practically a competition to see who could give the other the most and the best orgasms. Finally, they both rolled away and caught their breaths.
“Sex with women is so fun,” Zoey grinned, lifting her head and resting on her elbow. “I’ve always wondered what sleeping with an older woman was like.”
Emma crossed her arms and frowned. “I’m not that much older than you.”
Zoey just giggled. “You take everything so seriously.” Then she stretched out on her back and closed her eyes. “Goodnight, Emma.”
Well, that was that Emma supposed. She just fucked Zoey from work. Zoey, who was rude and lazy and flirted with customers to get more tips and always sang some new musical theater song or practiced scales. Zoey, who was the only person she knew, who matched her level of shit-giving, who was really hot and a good kisser. Emma hadn’t thought of their bickering as flirting, but maybe it had been. There was some tension between them and now they had acted on it.
She fell asleep after turning around a few times to get comfortable, and woke up to sunlight and an arm stretched out over her. She turned her head and groaned at the sight of Zoey behind her.
“Move,” she said, lifting her arm off.
“Sorry,” Zoey mumbled and rolled away, “I’m used to spooning my boyfriend.”
“Your boyfriend?” Emma asked.
“Sam is kind of my boyfriend. I don’t know. We’re not exclusive, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Zoey answered, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. “He gives good dick. But you were much better at oral,” she winked. Emma rolled her eyes.
“Oh really? The gross cop dude isn’t good at going down on women? I’m shocked,” Emma said sarcastically.
“Was that your way of saying thank you Zoey, you were good too?”
“Thank you, Zooeeeey, you were good too,” Emma mocked. Zoey threw one of her many pillows after her.
“Anyway, I’m glad it’s not weird. You’re an asshole, but I really wanted to fuck you,” Zoey said, standing up and walking naked around her room, picking up discarded clothes. There were a few marks on her from last night.
“Likewise, I guess?” Emma shrugged, “we agree this was just fun, right? Not a big deal?”
“Of course,” Zoey grinned, “sex is no big. Speaking off, you really should fuck the guy from Beanies.”
“But now I have gotten that roll in the hay,” Emma said with a smirk, “so now there is no reason.”
“Babe, there is always a reason,” Zoey winked, pulling on clean underwear. “I just got your machine started again. You’ll wanna get laid again in no time.”
Emma bit her lip as she thought it over. What the fuck was she talking about? “Did you-“
“Oh, fuck you, you gave me hickeys,” Zoey said, inspecting herself in the mirror. Emma smirked.
“And you fucking liked it,” she responded, climbing out of the bed. Zoey had been whimpering and begging for more when she gave them. From the look in Zoey’s eyes, she remembered as well. Emma went searching for her clothes and got dressed quietly. She really needed to brush her teeth. Zoey walked her out, still only dressed in underwear.
“See you at work,” she said, and Emma did finger guns back at her.
“See you,” she replied.
She spent the day sleeping eating greasy carbs and then more sleeping. She woke up to her Monday shift. It was one of the long days and she wasn’t looking forward to it. Zoey was in the break room, grinning when she saw her arrive. She hadn’t buttoned her shirt yet and the hickey was visible. Emma got images of her mouth against Zoey’s skin and her hand between her legs. She exhaled and fought the sudden arousal at the thought.
The customers kept coming, everyone else was clearly as tired and in need of coffee this Monday as she was. Emma noticed several cute girls, with pretty eyes and full lips, in dresses that hugged their curves. She noticed a few men, with sharp cheekbones or nice shoulders. Zoey was right, her machinery had started back up. A customer spilled a little as he took his frappe, and Emma wiped the table down.
“Hi,” a nervous voice said, and she looked up into remarkably blue eyes, “I’ve got an easy one for you. Just a cup of black coffee.”
Emma smiled at him, and it made his whole face light up. She poured him the coffee, keeping an eye on him at the same time. He was tall and cute. She accepted the payment, noticing his impressive full lips and that he had broad shoulders underneath the suit jacket. When she handed him the coffee, his fingers brushed against hers and she felt tingles run from her fingertips up to her elbow.
Maybe Zoey was right?
“I see you in here all the time, don’t I?” she asked, “what’s your name?”
“Paul,” he answered, offering her a small and sweet smile.
“Hi Paul,” she said, “I’m Emma.”
//
#tgwdlm#starkid#emma perkins#zoey and emma are good friends and neither of them will admit it#zoey x emma#paulkins#paul matthews#zoey from beanies
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for @shitpostingfromthebarricade , who very nicely asked for an elaboration of my partial disagreement with the idea that Grantaire represents “the people” of France or Paris:
First let me say again it’s a partial disagreement; I do think he represents a specific segment of the people. But one which is not ~~**~~ The People~~**~~ which I will hopefully be able to explain here?
- As far as “the people” goes, that term-- that specific term, “the people” detached from other qualifiers-- especially in Hugo’s specific political-social group-- seems to have been used mostly to mean the workers-- workers, small artisan-merchants, maybe peasants. If someone in a socialist-writer text of the period is called a “child of the people” it means they’re from the working class; if they’re a Man Of The People , ditto. Feuilly is the representative of The People in the Amis’ group-- Enjolras even specifically says so, in the middle of one of his full-on visionary speeches--Feuilly,vaillant ouvrier, homme de peuple, hommes des peuples” (valiant working-man,man of the people--and then the transition/combo that can be read as “man of all peoples” or “men of the people” , plural (or, actually, as “the people’s man”, depending on what you’re choosing to focus on. Lamarque song rewrite go!) . For a guy with very few lines, Feuilly is specifically carrying a LOT of social/political representation here :P (and of course it’s even more Symbolic because Feuilly has no known human parents; his class background is also his family background, he’s of The People, full stop, not of any more specific background. )
We’re never given Grantaire’s exact socioeconomic background, and certainly working-class kids could go into art studies in certain circumstances-- but Grantaire also has no apparent job and has a lot of middle-class-kid hobbies (boxing, singlestick, dancing, etc etc). Everything about Grantaire marks him as middle-class in background, currently choosing to vie-boheme it up. He’s definitely not a representative of “the people” in this sense.
I also can’t go with Grantaire representing Paris, at least not Full On Spirit Of Paris. Leaving aside that Grantaire specifically disavows Paris and his own Parisian-ness in Preliminary Gayeties, Hugo sets up very specific symbolism and character for Paris in Les Mis, and he’s pretty direct about it!
Hugo’s Paris is wild, bold, anarchic, laughing, unafraid of violence, sometimes lazy or careless but essentially generous, bold, insightful and daring, and always inherently inclined to liberty (and also essentially Romantic at its heart, because this is a Hugo novel and anything good has to be essentially Romantic at heart:P) (and Hugo has a Lot of Feelings about Paris). Paris in miniature--Paris Atomized, Paris made human-- is Gavroche, not Grantaire. Even among just the Amis, the one closest to being Hugo’s Paris Avatar is Bahorel, who shares so many echoes of the gamin chapters in his intro, the group’s flâneur-- flâner est Parisien!--and connection to the city, in the same way Feuilly is their connection to the wider world and internationalist causes.
But like I said, I do really think Grantaire represents a part of the population of Paris! An important part!
Specifically, he’s representing that part of the population that wants to take a damn break. The part that feels that “of great events, great hazards, great adventures, great men, thank God, we have seen enough, we have them heaped higher than our heads”,(4.1.1) the part that having found a seat wants to sit. The perhaps selfish, but very understandable, part of the population that is secure enough itself to feel like it will do nothing but lose in another revolution, that “some one whose name is all” that says “I am young and in love, I am old and I wish to repose, I am the father of a family, I toil, I prosper, I am successful in business, I have houses to lease, I have money in the government funds, I am happy, I have a wife and children, I have all this, I desire to live, leave me in peace.” (5.1.20)
That is to say...Grantaire is representing the apathetic, the burned out, and the bourgeoisie.
This is certainly not the most flattering thing to be representing, but then Grantaire isn’t a particularly aspirational character--not until the very end of his arc, when he stands up and announces himself For The Ideal. Like the people who close their doors,like the bourgeoisie who just wants to rest, he doesn’t hate the ideal, really...but he’s had Enough Trying, he wants peace and security and to not die or see his loved ones die, and all of that is very understandable! But if he were genuinely happy with that...well he wouldn’t be with the Amis at all. He also wants that Ideal, a better kinder world, and unfortunately to get that he’s going to have to stand up.
..Well, not him, personally,of course. When he stands up he’s-a-gonna die, albeit in a super symbolic transformational/salvational way. But the Not Very Subtle At All implication is that this is where the revolution wins: when the comfortable people , and especially the bourgeoisie (well, as Hugo defines them), who have been sitting down, sleeping, wake up and take part.
(This is of course true in a grand sense-- revolutions need mass participation! -- and it’s also true in the very specific sense of what went down in 1830 vs 1832. In 1830, a lot of the bourgeoisie did get involved , and it’s a big part of why that went as smoothly as it did. But in 1832, by and large they said No Thanks We’re Good; a handful of students and some wild Romantics really was about all participation outside of the working/poor classes. But this is already so freaking long and this is not a Barricade Day post!)
So: all of that very long ramble is to say, yeah, I think Grantaire is symbolizing not The People (who are , symbolically and historically, already on the barricade) but a specific and crucial subset of The People Of France (Or Wherever), which is why I never feel like I can go either “Yeah!!” or “Ugh No” when I see a “Grantaire is the people” mention. :P
--sorry I can’t put them under a second cut >< , but these are relevant longer chunks of some of the quotes above!
Of great events, great hazards, great adventures, great men, thank God, we have seen enough, we have them heaped higher than our heads. We would exchange Cæsar for Prusias, and Napoleon for the King of Yvetot. “What a good little king was he!” We have marched since daybreak, we have reached the evening of a long and toilsome day; we have made our first change with Mirabeau, the second with Robespierre, the third with Bonaparte; we are worn out. Each one demands a bed.Devotion which is weary, heroism which has grown old, ambitions which are sated, fortunes which are made, seek, demand, implore, solicit, what? A shelter.”(4.1.1, Well Cut)
The bourgeois is the man who now has time to sit down. A chair is not a caste.
But through a desire to sit down too soon, one may arrest the very march of the human race. This has often been the fault of the bourgeoisie. (4.1.2, Badly Sewed)
And it appears that they are going to fight, all those imbeciles, and to break each other’s profiles and to massacre each other in the heart of summer, in the month of June, when they might go off with a creature on their arm, to breathe the immense heaps of new-mown hay in the meadows! Really, people do commit altogether too many follies. An old broken lantern which I have just seen at a bric-à-brac merchant’s suggests a reflection to my mind; it is time to enlighten the human race. Yes, behold me sad again. That’s what comes of swallowing an oyster and a revolution the wrong way! I am growing melancholy once more. Oh! frightful old world. People strive, turn each other out, prostitute themselves, kill each other, and get used to it!
... I don’t think much of your revolution,I don’t execrate this Government. It is the crown tempered by the cotton night-cap. It is a sceptre ending in an umbrella. In fact, I think that to-day, with the present weather, Louis Philippe might utilize his royalty in two directions, he might extend the tip of the sceptre end against the people, and open the umbrella end against heaven. ” - (Grantaire, from Premliminary Gayeties, 4.12.2)
What, then, is progress? We have just enunciated it; the permanent life of the peoples.
Now, it sometimes happens, that the momentary life of individuals offers resistance to the eternal life of the human race.
Let us admit without bitterness, that the individual has his distinct interests, and can, without forfeiture, stipulate for his interest, and defend it; the present has its pardonable dose of egotism; momentary life has its rights, and is not bound to sacrifice itself constantly to the future. The generation which is passing in its turn over the earth, is not forced to abridge it for the sake of the generations, its equal, after all, who will have their turn later on.—“I exist,” murmurs that some one whose name is All. “I am young and in love, I am old and I wish to repose, I am the father of a family, I toil, I prosper, I am successful in business, I have houses to lease, I have money in the government funds, I am happy, I have a wife and children, I have all this, I desire to live, leave me in peace.”—Hence, at certain hours, a profound cold broods over the magnanimous vanguard of the human race. (5.1.20, The Dead Are In The Right and the Living Are Not Wrong)
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Personal top movies of the decade. There were a lot of great ones and I didn't watch them. Instead we have:
3. Pacific Rim. For a majority of people this isn't really anything to write home about in terms of anything other than production design and world building. I love this movie. I've seen this movie the most in theaters more than I have any other movie. As a life long tokusatsu/kaiju movie fan, seeing something like this one the big screen was a dream come true. It's far from perfect. The lead actor is...something. I feel that it's enjoyable and I notice something new every time I watch it because, really, the art direction in this is maybe too good for this movie.
2. Shin Godzilla. The best Godzilla movie to come out since 2001. It took my breath away when I saw it in theaters just because of how horrific they made Godzilla once again. If you're not a fan of the two newer American iterations because they may be too bombastic, this is the perfect foil. It's like an episode of West Wing, but the problem is Godzilla. I at least find it very interesting to see the concept of a giant monster taken this seriously and the tactics they they deploy to deal with the situation.
1. Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse. Once upon a time I wanted to be an animator and make a Spider-Man movie. That shit didn't and isn't happening anymore, but I doesn't need to because this movie exists. It's really everything I want in both an animated movie and a Spider-Man movie and it's not a horrible mess. The animation is stylish as hell and doesn't rely of realism to be impressive. There's a lot of Spider-Man characters and fan service and it's all handled beautifully. The script is tight as hell, the pacing is great. It's an absolute total package.
The other, arguably better, great movies of the decade:
Rubber: A spoof, meta "horror" movie about a killer tire. I love humor and the way weird structure of the story. There's an audience watching things unfold, but only some people in the story know it's a movie. Real weird. Into it.
Scott Pilgrim vs. the World: One of the best live action adaptations of a comic. Really dig the neon, video game style and the editing.
13 Assassins: 13 samurai are hired to take out a warlord. This movie is wild. It's 2 hours long and just builds and builds up to the 40 minute long, non stop action climax. I haven't seen anything like it and haven't seen anything like it since really. An impressively patient movie.
The Raid: Cops go into a building of criminals and they all fight. Some of the best fight choreography in cinema. It's a rush.
The Muppets: I like Muppets and it was good to see them all again. I thought this movie was very funny and sweet.
It's Such a Beautiful Day: An interesting animated film about a man's bizarre life and his place in the universe told in little vignettes. I'm big on the visuals and the dark humor.
Why Don't You Play in Hell?: Yakuza's decide to make a movie. Weird, violent hilarity ensues. Probably my favorite movie about making a movie. There's four story lines presented and they all come together with the joy of violence and film making. It comes off as so sincere, pure, inspiring, and heartfelt but is juxtaposed with wild violence. Like it.
The Grand Budapest Hotel: Might be my favorite Wes Anderson movie? I personally think it's his funniest. I like the art direction and the visual comedy of the movie. Really great stuff.
The Lego Movie: This could've been so bad but it wasn't and was way better than it needed to be. Really surprised by how funny it is and the animation in this is really crazy. I thought for like the first 15 minutes it was stop motion.
Colossal: Anne Hathaway controls a giant monster across the planet. I didn't expect to enjoy this movie as much as I did. Jason Sudeikis is really fantastic in this movie.
Guardians of the Galaxy 2: The best Marvel movie. It's impressive for a movie like this to have this many major characters and for all of them to have some sort of pay off. I'd say the most emotionally charged of the Marvel movies as well. It's really something special and I wonder if Guardians 3, or any other Marvel movie, will come close to this.
Logan Lucky: Ocean's Eleven but in the south. A really funny and clever heist movie. The acting and characters are great and what make it. I wouldn't mind seeing a sequel to this.
The Shape of Water: What a strange little love story with fish people. Really liked the look of the world and the fish guy. Michael Shannon is a great villain. Del Toro has a lot of great human villains.
Hereditary: A family comes to terms with a death in the family. The scariest and most emotionally brutal movie I've seen in a theater. Don't know if I'll ever watch it again but I really liked it. I know some people didn't think, horror wise, that it was anything special but subjectively hit every one of my branches on my subjective horror tree. Tony Collette should be recognized more for this.
Annihilation: A group of scientist travel into a weird space bubble in Florida. Stalker with monsters really. This movie really should've had more eyes on it. The pacing is great. The acting is pretty great. There's very weird, suspenseful moments. Four scientist female protagonists. Great effects and story. It's the dream of combining the spectacle of blockbusters with the character and emotion of more grounded movies. A beautiful middle ground.
Mission Impossible Fallout: Ethan Hunt does more impossible missions but all his shit doesn't work. One of the most impressive spectacle movies I've ever seen. The whole helicopter bit is a stand out for me.
They Shall Not Grow Old: The day in the life of a World War One soldier. An incredible documentary and a revolutionary step forward for film restoration. It's mind blowing to see the work that went into making look as good as it does. Highly recommend if you're into that sort of thing.
Booksmart: One of, if not, the best teen comedy I've seen. Great characters and humor. It's good to hear teenagers sound like teenagers.
Movies I should've watched and didn't:
Blade Runner 2049: I'll get around to it. Leave me alone. I'm lazy.
Sorry that this got long and congratulations if you made it this far. Also watch Tampopo. It came out in 1988 but I watched it in this decade and it's one of my favorite movies of all time now. Same for Zazie dans le Metro. Both terribly charming films. Can't remember if I first watched The Abominable Dr. Phibes this decade or not but I like that a whole bunch too. Watched Buckaroo Banzai in 2007 but it's still my all time favorite. Will always recommend that. Keep watching movies.
#shin godzilla#into the spider verse#pacific rim#rubber#scott pilgram vs the world#13 assassins#the raid redemption#the muppets#it's such a beautiful day#why don't you play in hell#the grand budapest hotel#the lego movie#colossal#guardians of the galaxy 2#logan lucky#the shape of water#hereditary#annihilation#mission impossible fallout#they shall not grow old#booksmart
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Camile Rowe: I Have Never Set Foot in Hollywood
Dior Perfume made her one of their faces and Guillaume Canet gave her a role in his new film. Her mother is a dancer at the Moulin-Rouge and her father is a restaurant owner who gave her the pleasure of living.
Paris Match: What qualities does one need to have to become one of Dior Perfume’s faces?
Camile Rowe. In my opinion, if people like to work with me, it’s because they think I’m nice rather than “pretty.” What I’m doing is still weird… in high school I was friends with all the guys. The only thing I was proud of was thinking I was a skateboard champion when I was racking up fractures… and then when I was 16, I suddenly I suddenly had breasts and people started looking at me funny. From the time I was 12, I dressed in the same way: jeans, T-shirt and military jacket. Which I keep on doing.
Tell us about your childhood.
I grew up in Ville-d'avray, in a very nice house. On the weekends, my father would go cycling with about 20 friends. When he returns, we prepared brunch and the kids would dress up. I chose Princess. [Laughs.] I received a lot of love. I am my mother's only daughter, with a much older half-brother and half-sister, and a niece who is like my little sister.
What were you dreaming about?
My mother, who is an American, taught me that " anything is possible”, that one can always achieve one's dreams. I wanted to open a café-théâtre. I got it from my dad, who's a restaurant owner. He left me the love of good food and the pleasure of living. Mom was a dancer at the Moulin Rouge and the Lido. At first, I was a little shocked, the breast of the girls in the air. But I loved it. There was also the school... I was only good in subjects that I liked. I'm a lazy literary girl who did nothing in math and physics. Which I regret... now I’m interested.
Do you feel French or American?
In France, hyper-american, sometimes. And the other way around in the States ... I really grew up with this binationality.
What About Donald Trump?
I voted Hillary. We were a bunch of people watching the election night. It was horrible! We all slept together on the couches, and the next day, I saw the eyes of some women, it was heavy. I'll remember all my life.
How do you see America?
I've lost my optimism and I'm scared. Before meeting you, I even cried on the plane. I'm depressed, me who, not so long ago, was always trying to stay positive. I participated in the women's march in Los Angeles. It's an honor to be part of a generation that can make things happen. Maybe we needed a spark to wake us up.
Is it for the movies that you moved to Los Angeles?
Not really. It's because I love living here, and I found my maternal family there. The amazing thing is, you can't meet a human being all day if you don't want to. In New York, where I lived for seven years, in Chinatown, I couldn't go out without feeling overwhelmed by the energy of the city.
Do you live in West Hollywood with the stars?
Oh no, what a horror! I never go there. Hollywood scares me. Currently, I’m more into French movies. Even though my favorite movie is “Down by Law,” by Jim Jarmusch. I live in the East, in Echo Park, a trendy neighborhood where there's not much going on. It's full of young families and cute little restaurants. I live up a hill, right in front of a park.
Who spotted you for the movies?
An agent who was sitting next to me, in Paris, at the café Les Philosophes. I had just bought a plaid shirt and asked my best friend if she thinks I could wear it like a dress. And I was laughing like a pig, which I always do ... he leaned over to me and asked me who was representing me. I was stupid enough to say, “Me.” He's like, " she doesn't understand anything." He's still my agent. I went to film school at the American University in Paris, but to become a screenwriter. I was afraid to be an actress. Fame, mostly. And then the idea of having to invest in myself for two or three months scares me. I like my freedom, to be able to say to myself, “today I don't work.”
You're in “rock' n' roll” by Guillaume Canet with Marion Cotillard. How were you chosen?
It was a big surprise. I was offered roles as a kitten, which I refused. Guillaume's script was something else... my agent was just as surprised when he got his phone call. Guillaume Canet was looking for a young girl who was making her cinema debut, he had seen some videos of me on the Internet. We had dinner. And it worked. It works a lot with feeling. He's an amazing person and I love his movies.
Did he see the ad for the Dior Homme Intense perfume where you lovingly kiss Robert Pattinson?
Yes. Thank You, Dior! Especially since, there too, the shooting had been great. Robert and I really hit it off. We see each other from time to time.
Where do you get this ease in front of the camera?
Very young, my father pushed me to face uncomfortable situations, like talking to adults in his restaurant. I hated that. I preferred to stay in my room and read. So I learned very early to meet celebrities. Unfortunately, it was no longer the time of the Pacific Palisades, our restaurant of the 1980s. Those I would have liked to meet -Mick Jagger, Ringo Starr or Roman Polanski- were no longer there.
What kind of actress do you want to be?
Ideally, I'd like to get roles that take me out of my comfort zone. Learning the piano to play a pianist, riding a horse ... I want to take risks. Posing naked doesn't scare me, it's my job. I did it. I don't regret it, but I do it less. I don't want to anymore.
You party a lot?
Not even! I'm super early at bed, at 10: 00pm... not rebellious for a penny! And very American: 30 minutes of yoga every day, cycling every morning with a girlfriend, surfing. I read a lot. My favorite book is “Master and Margarita” by Mikhail Bulgakov. I like the Russians. And Norman Mailer. Right now, I'm immersed in “the other Hollywood,” by Legs McNeil, which tells the inside story of the porn industry in the 1970s. It's very interesting. [Laughter.]
Are you still with your boyfriend, singer Devendra Banhart?
Always! Before I was with him, I thought he was pretty, intelligent and very funny. We met and his best friend was engaged to my best friend... at Christmas 2015, we decided to go to Big Sur, California. And the four of us drove away. During the two-hour journey, we got to know each other, Devendra and me. There you go. It's nice to fall in love at Big Sur, my favorite place.
Wedding?
[Smile.] I would love to have a family.
Would he be the ideal father?
I think so...
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Chapters of TINM as John Mulaney quotes
Including relevant excerpts
Chapter 1 - You know how I’m filled with rage? I’m so horny and angry all the time and I have no outlet for it.
Chapter 2 - As mad as that made me [two hours ago], in retrospect, that is the funniest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.
Chapter 3 - I will pepper in the fact that I am gay.
Chapter 4 - I need everybody, all day long, to like me so much. It’s exhausting.
Chapter 5 - Every new song is about how “tonight is the night, and we only have tonight”. That is such nineteen-year-old horseshit.
Chapter 6 - No! That’s the thing I’m sensitive about!
Chapter 7 - “You know, I wanted to invite him up for a beer.” “Thanks, I’m nine.”
Chapter 8 - I thought [my sister] was pretty smart, and [she] seemed good at [life], and I’m lazy by nature, so I don’t check up on people when they seem okay at [life].
Chapter 9 - I was sitting up in bed a few weeks ago like “uuuuuugh”. You know, life.
Chapter 10 - “That tall child looks terrible. Get some rest, tall child! You can’t keep burning the candle at both ends!”
Chapter 11 - This is an on-fire garbage can... Could be a [love interest].
Chapter 12 - Stop snitchin’ motherfucker!
Chapter 13 - I’ll take your advice, friend I’ve never listened to before.
Chapter 14 - “Hero tutor teaches after school”
Chapter 15 - [Pudim] is my best friend in the entire world, I give [him] a million kisses a day, [he] does not like me and [hisses] at me and bites me all day long.
Chapter 16 - So I was home for Christmas and we were just eating triscuits in silence, and I was just staring at the floor and I was like, “well, here goes nothing. You ever seen a ghost?”
Chapter 17 - I never talked to my dad about that, but I figured I would tell all of you.
Chapter 18 - Nah sister! You’re not taking me to no secondary loction!
Chapter 19 - I’ll keep all my emotions right here, and then one day I’ll die.
Chapter 20 - My parents loved us, they just didn’t particularly care about our general happiness or self-esteem.
Chapter 21 - You ever have those days where you’re like: “This might as well happen. Adult life is already so God damn weird.”
Chapter 22 - “Why? Why do you do this?” And he said “Cause it’s the one thing you can’t replace.”
Chapter 23 - When I was in grade school, I was bullied for being Asian-American. And, the biggest problem with that... is that I am not Asian-American.
Chapter 24 - Something happened here. You hope it’s a miracle, but probably not.
Chapter 25 - “You saw what they were doing to [me] and you did nothing.” “CAUSE I WAS OVER ON THE BENCH!” “Just explain to me this: how are you better than a Nazi?”
Chapter 26 - “Tu vas mourir le 7 août 2037.” “... That’s pretty good.”
Chapter 27 - Fourteen years ago [my mom] smoked cocaine the night before [her] college graduation, now [she’s] afraid to get a flu shot. People change.
Chapter 28 - [Being gay] is so nice, I didn’t know relationships were supposed to make you feel better about yourself.
Chapter 29 - And that’s when the afternoon went from good to great.
Chapter 30 - Do my friends hate me or do I just need to go to sleep?
Chapter 31 - “Hello? Hello, are you there? Ugh, lost him.” And that’s it! No follow-through with that guy!
Chapter 32 - “You know, Leonard Bernstein was one of the great composers and conductors of the 20th century. But sometimes, he would be gay. And according to a biography I read of him, when he was holding back the gay part, he did some of his best work.”
Chapter 33 - I grabbed it, drank all of it, and said, "It's perfume.”
Chapter 34 - I was just mowing down fat [New York] democrats.
Chapter 35 - Now, we don’t have time to unpack all of that.
Chapter 36 - I also don’t want me to be doing what I’m doing.
Chapter 37 - All I do is sit and dwell in the past.
Chapter 38 - That’s where we’re at conversation-wise in our relationship as a [father] and son, because I’m [16] and I don’t have [a girlfriend] to talk about and [he] doesn’t understand my [interests].
Chapter 39 - I had a good family, I have wonderful parents.
Chapter 40 - And I said “you can do whatever you want forever”. And he took my advice.
Epilogue - My [boyfriend] is a bitch, and I like [him] so. much.
#this goes in the list of fandom memes that only I can understand so far#so much procrastination#it's not even the wip I'm supposed to be working on rn#TINM
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Best albums of 2019
I am a strong believer in belated music lists. Hindsight! The past year was stressful for me even before COVID-19 broke, and my favorite music was on average noisier and more irritating than usual. I find comfort and excitement in a mischievous sensibility; if music as chaotic and unpleasant as Jpegmafia’s can hold together, maybe there’s hope yet.
1. 100 Gecs, 1000 Gecs
I’m addicted to everything that I see, yeah! Including screamo death growls, Auto-Tuned cackles, comically heavyhanded drops, pop-punk bangers in disguise, secretly tender love confessions, insanely catchy hooks, and flimsy guitar trash. This marvelous album throws every absurd pop trope of the past decade into a kaleidoscopic blender, spitting out a misshapen musical wind-up toy that never stops exploding and recoagulating, falling down a flight of stairs and revealing a new ghastly face with each bounce. Taken as some musical equivalent of shitposting by writers who think irony and sarcasm are the same, it’s a pop mindfuck that computes emotionally, as awkward kids and/or evil spirits of chaos Laura Les and Dylan Brady make their voices big and ugly and demented because that’s how they feel. Anyway, shitposting is its own species of rock & roll.
2. Taylor Swift, Lover
To be straight is for experience to confirm expectations. Taylor Swift has written about the delight of watching fantasies fulfilled (“Today Was a Fairytale”), renewed (“Begin Again”), or constructed (“Wildest Dreams”). Even when putatively rejecting conventional heteromance, she also sneakily reconstructs it by using its same vocabulary (“Speak Now”). Her best songs address not just desire but the stories we tell about desire, the moments when dreams and reality converge. But Lover is the first time she’s written about the delight of watching experience surpass expactations, the moment when fantasies are gleefully, unexpectedly discarded for something better (“I once believed love would be burning red, but it’s golden” is a lyric whose emotional force requires no familiarity with her catalogue). It radiates calm, a long exhaled breath after years of drama. She made a monogamous maturity move her queerest album, and the colorful electronic beats sound so pretty in the afterglow.
3. Lana Del Rey, Norman Fucking Rockwell
A quietly hysterical collection of observed Hollywood singer-songwriter fictions, played on the piano by a glamorous lady of the canyon who has just shooed guests out of her shag-carpeted parlor and drawn her nicotine-stained curtains after watching California tumble into the sea. In the same year hating boomers became mainstream, the year’s most critically acclaimed album was also a tribute to the most boomerific of rock critics. Greil Marcus, of course, whose taste has never before been so exquisitely pandered to, and I think that’s beautiful.
4. Blueface, Dirt Bag
Blueface doesn’t rap off beat, it’s the beat that can’t keep up. Or as Blueface himself puts it: “I’m literally talking in this bitch and it’s still knockin!” Or as Greg Tate puts it in “The Persistence of Vision: Storyboard P”: “At moments of revolution in artistic form, innovation frequently involves discarding flashy displays of technique. The reduction of ostentatious moves in favour of subtler ones is often read as laziness or limited ability (Flyboy 2: 86).”
5. Jpegmafia, All My Heroes Are Cornballs
Jammed up by jerky segues and pauses, constantly shifting to the next random thing in an endless procession of abrasive diversions, this experimental rap clusterbomb fashions a music of dynamic impatience, wrenching ugly harmonic convergence from the splattering of keyboard doodles, industrial crunches, electronic glitches, roaring guitars, death-factory sirens, repressed shrieks, goopy fusion keyboards, smears of electronic color. Jpegmafia’s rhymes compute mainly as yet more barrage, more proper nouns competing for your attention, but there’s a mischievous energy in his voice that adds a crucial smidgen of humanity. If this music seems the product of online information overload, it’s also the sound of working in the gig economy and/or the service industry, where “directed attention fatigue” has become a cautionary buzzword. My headaches feel like “Rap Grow Old & Die x No Child Left Behind”.
6. Otoboke Beaver, Itekoma Hits
Hardcore punk as hardcore comedy. Rage channeled into hyperactivity. Gnarled riffs and howled tantrums played at violent speed. Keening voices letting loose because they can’t hold the noise inside. Tension and release games crammed with sonic jokes. Tempo changes and dynamic jerks that seem tokens of the band’s impatience but in fact work as tension-building devices, with explosive kickback later--or now! Dissonance as byproduct of acceleration. In the playful intricacy of their group shout-singing I hear the Raincoats too. Angry giggles. Boom!
7. Kim Gordon, No Home Record
Lacking the guitars of her former bandmates, she threw a wall of synthesized barbed wire around some of her meanest basslines ever and made something unprecedented, for her and Sonic Youth--electroindustrial, basically, riding a bass rumble so deep it overpowers the music. The spoken pieces here (“Don’t Play It”, “Cookie Butter”) initially recall her willful avant-filler on A Thousand Leaves and NYC Ghosts & Flowers; then you notice how much more brutally these tracks bring the noise.
8. Kankyo Ongaku: Japanese Ambient, Environmental & New Age Music 1980-1990
Billed as ambient but sprightlier than the aesthetic that term suggests to an American audience, this two-hour set captures a moment in Japanese music history when the influence of Erik Satie and John Cage intersected with new ideas about architectural acoustics, inspiring a craze for minimalist electronica designed to peacefully fill a space (as in-store music for Muji, say). Lent contemporary relevance by the influx of chill lo-fi hip-hop beats to study to as well as the vaporwave-derived fascinations with banality and nostalgia, it’s considerably more beautiful than those lineages would imply, as tranquil and friendly as a book of nature poems. These pieces abound with cute tunelets, yet derive their spacious charm from nonmelodic elements--bells, pitched percussion, and the recorded outdoors: running water, chattering birds. Unlike most ambient music, they are not self-contained; when played outside, the synthesizers merge with the sounds of the city.
9. Teejayx6, The Swipe Lessons
By styling himself as an expert scammer, Teejayx6 invents a new internet-era edition of gangsta macho: he’s a master criminal, king of the deep web, fluent in cryptocurrency, relying on his wits to stay ahead of the online piracy brigade. Don’t cross him, lest he steal your grandmother’s social security number. Over darkly stylized beats, his chattering, perpetually surprised flow enters a realm of formal delight accessible to only the most playful. When he hits you with the requisite “All my fans, I really wouldn’t even scam you, I was just playing,” he acknowledges the figurative nature of the game.
10. Clairo, Immunity
A queer adolescent musical diary, tracing the highs and lows of a conflicted relationship that ends ambiguously. Rostam’s production lapses into self-parody exactly once, with the harpsichord flourishes on “Impossible”; otherwise the smoky bedroom-pop shimmer is flawless. “Sofia” exists for inclusion on romantic playlists.
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✿ , DAEJAE PLE ASE.
↳ smol & cute daejae things by a v lazy mun.
who is more excited for halloween ?
DAEHYUNIE, being a makeup artist who specializes in sfx, is particularly fond of this holiday, especially when you take into account their adoration for dressing up and shopping overall. at least a month prior to the infamous october 31st, they have their whole costume planned out & ordered / custom made, as well as a matching one for their boyfriend - they give him the freedom to be a huge part of this creative process & allow him to add or subtract whatever he wants from the outfit. though the house had an additional, much smaller room if any of the college roommates wanted their privacy, daehyun took it over slyly, since it was right next to his & jaewon’s, transforming it into their beauty room, filming room, costume room, room for when he wants to get especially freaky with jaewon while their home isn’t empty since it has an extra layer of sound isolation. besides, they get spoiled with candy in even bigger dosages than on a daily basis, so how could they not be excited for halloween?
who gives the best gifts ?
DAEHYUNIE, who puts a special amount of care, love & attention to detail into every gift they craft or pick out. they use any given opportunity or excuse to shower their friends with gifts - anniversaries, birthdays, christmas, valentines day or any other holiday. they also happen to be the type to buy an item they randomly see while out and about, solely because it reminded them of their significant other, and surprise their loved ones.
who sings along to the radio the loudest ?
JAEWONIE, be it genuinely singing with his angelic voice, or being a crackhead and messing around in order to lure a smile or some giggles out of his boyfriend. whatever the instance, daehyun always ends up leaning their head against their lover’s shoulder, either due to swooning or laughing too hard. if it happens to be the former, they often press their lips against jaewon’s throat and feel the light vibrations of his vocal cords - they don’t stop pecking the warm flesh until they hear his voice falter, or have their friends complain about their sickening pda. they even have jaewon hum their favorite tunes as lullabies, slowly putting them to sleep with his honey tones almost every night. daehyun, on the other hand, happens to be insecure and shy about their singing - they merely feel comfortable enough to do it seldom, and only in front of jaewon.
who actually finishes a book they’ve started ?
DAEHYUNIE, who doesn’t lay the book down, gripping it tightly, until they’ve soaked in every single word between the hard covers. they feel very peaceful at night, when they and jaewon are in bed, daehyun reading their mystery novel while jaewon is watching space documentaries or entertaining himself in his own way. the comfortable silence between them is soothing, relaxing, no tension in the air whatsoever, allowing dae to get fully invested in the alternative, fictional world he’s reading about. once they finish a chapter, they often make a pause to mold into their boyfriend’s side, snuggle and whine about whatever’s going on in the story, telling him all about the plot and explaining their opinions, starting a discussion which lasts until the ungodly hours of the night, when their lips get too tired to talk and soft kisses bring them the sweetest of slumbers.
who falls asleep during a movie ?
JAEWONIE, even though daehyun makes an effort to nudge him every time they catch his lids starting to get a bit too heavy. even though they spend nearly every waking moment together, their sleeping schedules are not entirely synced up, so sometimes when dae’s in the mood to watch a movie, their boyfriend might be too tired for it, but he still does his best to make his little one happy. and who’s to blame him for dozing off when dae has a deadly habit of cuddling whilst watching movies, their fingers carding through the fluffy brunet locks in such a tranquil manner?
who plans a surprise getaway vacation ?
JAEWONIE spoils his lover in such a way. daehyun is too much of a control freak, and planning a trip would bring them more stress than anything else, so i assume jaewon takes on that task when he sees their partner needing some additional, extended rest, or when their anniversary is approaching. he’s a lot more spontaneous than daehyun, and although they’d initially panic over the surprise and the fact that they need to pack real quick, i feel he’d put their mind at ease really effortlessly and reassure them that everything would be okay.
who comes home with useless decorative knick knacks for the house every single day ?
DAEHYUNIE has been scolded too many times for exactly that. soon, their room will start resembling that of a hoarder, because they can’t not act on their primal impulse to buy shiny, sparkly, cute things, which just so happen to be what they desperately need in that exact moment.
who takes more pictures ?
JAEWONIE is quite obviously a lover of the sky, be it during daytime, nighttime, sunrise or sunset, and he tries to capture it all. dae’s heard him complain about the beautiful hues and stars not translating well into pictures via cameras so many times, yet they find it endearing whenever they see the younger directing his lenses upwards. dae doesn’t have the habit of capturing sights they find pretty, which they regret later on, but they love living in the moment far more. i love to think that jaewon has a collection of dae’s cute sleepy photos since that’s the only time he can snap pics of his boyfriend without receiving a fussy reaction in return.
who likes baths? who likes showers ?
DAEHYUNIE is a bath type of person. candles, bath salts, bath bombs, relaxation and pleasure for all senses - they are capable of spending hours in calm, bubbly, sparkly & nicely-scented water, until their skin turns pale and wrinkly. it gets even better if there’s soft music playing in the background and their man’s holding them in his arms, pecking their shoulder and conversing with them gently, fingers interlaced for daehyun to kiss them repeatedly. they’re thankful whenever jaewon agrees to spend so much time with them in the bathroom, especially since they feel like he prefers quick showers.
who keeps a weekly planner ?
DAEHYUNIE tried to start their inspo and study journals, planners, organizers many a times but each time they buy all the needed stationary items, they keep up the habit for a day or two, and then get too lazy to continue doing it. even if they make a planner for the entire week, they surely will never stick to it - even though they claim they’re organized and have a fixed routine they feel comfortable in, oftentimes they're truly trapped in it, suffocating and waiting for jaewon to come around with his fickleness and ruin their dull schedule.
who actually watches the discovery channel ?
JAEWONIE. i can see him eating snacks and forgetting to chew, mouth stupidly hanging open as he stares at the screen in awe. i feel like not even dae walking in front of him in lingerie would be able to unglue his eyes from whatever documentary he’s watching. and even though dae should be interested in some of those due to their background and field of study, they can’t find it in them to gift more than 15 minutes of their attention to that channel. if they have nothing better to do, they stick to their boyfriend’s side and turn into the most annoying, attention-seeking brat in the world - sometimes they just fall asleep on his lap, and other times go down on him, just to test how long he can ignore them before succumbing to their ministrations.
who brings up having kids first ?
DAEHYUNIE is that type of person who’s always dreamed of having their one true love throughout their whole life, and in their heart of hearts they truly believe they’ve found that in jaewon. they aren’t afraid of settling down with him, and since they’re so family oriented, they want to have kids with him one day. soon, if anyone asks them. i believe they eased into that conversation when they got their kitty together, testing the potential child waters by babying the animal and using it to spark baby talks. ‘don’t curse in front of kitty, will you do that in front of our babies too?!’ ‘kitty’s in the room, don’t be indecent, you’re gonna scar our kids if you do that in the future’ are some of the comments they not so subtly made before putting a stop to beating around the bush and directly asking: do you want kids? and an even scarier question: do you want kids with me?
who fixes things around the house when they break ?
JAEWONIE always has to fix his boyfriend’s messes. objectively being the clumsiest person in the world, daehyun often drops or breaks things, be it something tiny and irrelevant, or actually important house appliances - they claim they don’t need help at first, stubbornly attempting to figure out how to mend their screw-ups, until they eventually get too irked to deal with it and subsequently pass it onto their lover with apologetic puppy eyes. sometimes they even try to earn a smile by saying ‘i broke it just so i could watch you fix it’.
who leaves their dirty towels on the floor ?
JAEWONIE, and it irks the neat freak in dae so much. they’ve had too many talks about keeping everything in line, and they do believe he’s doing his best to make them not lose their mind, but it happens occasionally that they come across a forgotten wet towel or a misplaced sock somewhere in the room, to which they grunt audibly, making it known that they’re mad. however, it doesn’t take long for them to cool off, especially if jaewon’s offering kisses or chocolates.
who makes the coffee in the morning ?
DAEHYUNIE loves waking their boyfriend up in the morning. if he has classes really early, before they do, & they see him set an alarm for 7am, they wake up at 6:30am, just to spend some sweet time with him before he has to go. they make him a cup of coffee, and leave it on the nightstand before mounting him and waking him up with kisses and hushed sweet nothings. it usually ends with jaewon sitting with his back pressed against the headrest of the bed, dae nestled on his lap and dragging their lips and tongue over the side of jaewon’s neck while he’s sipping coffee and slowly coming to his senses, a large hand supporting the small of dae’s back. they figure it’s a beautiful start of a new day - sometimes the sleep is too good for them to give this treatment to their boyfriend, but they try to include this morning ritual as often as possible.
who gets jealous over very petty things ?
JAEWONIE. daehyun doesn’t get extremely jealous unless someone makes a very obvious move on their boyfriend - that’s when all hell breaks loose and wigs start to fly and claws come out. but i do think jaewon’s the more possessive one, especially due to dae’s naturally friendly personality which others may perceive as coquettish and then pursuit the cute little fairy, however also because dae loves consciously making him jealous since they love how he reacts to it, they love feeling claimed.. in a non-toxic, loving way, yk.
who exercises more ?
DAEHYUNIE goes to the gym as much as they can, with jeremy by their side, coaching them and making sure they don’t overwork themself. it’s doctor’s orders and they love keeping themself in shape anyway, since they get fairly insecure when they aren’t at their ideal weight. over the time, they’ve built a little bit of muscle, so they find it exciting when they play with their boyfriend and actually have the strength to tackle him or pin him down, overpower him even if it lasts only for a second.
who actually reads the newspaper ?
JAEWONIE, mostly because of the fact that it makes me soft thinking about dad!won reading the newspaper. but i can also imagine dae being too lazy to check what they’re interested in for themself, so they ask him to dig up any existent article for a case they heard about on the news or that someone’s mentioned to them beforehand. they also make him check the weather for them, and little things like that.
#the concept of housewife dae makes me Hard pls excuse me#jaewcns#answered#( &. ❛ — 우린 달의 아이 / JAEWON. )
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Washed-Up Stucky MNF/Fic Writer Provides Endgame Opinions
I’m going to try to tackle this linearly, at least to begin with:
I am very much Team Bored With MCU Hawkeye, but I want to give sincere props for the cold open, which I think accomplished several things simultaneously: recapped the consequences of the last film (since, hey, it’s been a fuckin while), set the tone, and began Clint’s narrative arc.
That said, jesus, I’m still irritated by the shoe-horned family to begin with. First they were invented for convenience and narrative stakes, and then their final, ultimate reason for existence was to be temporarily fridged. Take a moment to imagine a world where Clint was the circus runaway loner he was supposed to be, who only had his coworkers as found family, who either responded to The Snap by throwing himself harder into his teamwork work OR went rogue because his sense of justice and agency was so fucking destroyed by what happened. He didn’t need a blood family to have the arc he had. And he didn’t even need the arc he had. But this is a bitchfest about a choice made many years ago, not made in this final movie.
The first third of that movie was rough. The whole thing had the narrative flow of “A Series of Related Short Stories Played One After the Other”, but the first third seems to be Failing To Establish the New World and then Clumsily Establishing The Emerging Situation.
The establishing shots and scenes to show the audience what The Snap’s consequences were worldwide were... lacking. It’s dark? No more baseball? People are relying on natural light instead of interior lighting, but this is also happening at Avengers HQ, where they clearly still have power and internet access to work their tech, so... was it just an aesthetic choice? I feel like the film tried to spend time showing us what the consequences were for the average New Yorker, but instead we get a weird Canonly Gay Russo Character who gave a good performance that tells us about the human loss but not about the mechanics of this new world. We get the ‘no baseball’ shot and all we get afterward are ‘people miss the missing people’. But restaurants still exist? Businesses are functioning? (Wouldn’t New York run kind of smoother if it wasn’t overpopulated?) I feel like we were invited to start thinking about how this dystopia works, but were never given answers. (There are so many interpretations of how things could go wrong if certain people just disappeared, and their knowledge/access were suddenly unavailable, and none of it was explored, even briefly, outside of establishing shots.)
The Garden Planet - it’s discovery, the traveling to it, the fight there - lacked emotional grounding in a way I find hard to explain. The audience was excited for Brie Larson being a fucking boss, and the quick execution of the grab-him-and-cut-his-arm-off plan was satisfying, but the twist and subsequent letdown was just a weird beat after a slog to get there, after waiting on a deep letdown beat from the last movie.
Last thing about flow and emotional beats, because I want to move on to character analysis, and this is a huge one for me: Clint’s fight in Tokyo and Steve’s fight with himself were some of the biggest missed opportunities in the entire film.
Not counting the football field brawl at the end, which I don’t count as a real fight scene, these are the two major fight scenes of the entire film and as far as I can tell, there was no effort made to make these showpieces. They went to the trouble of bringing Clint to Bladerunner Central, and pit him against the last bastion of aesthetic-obsessed mafia in the world. The panning camera in the interior as Hawkeye fought goons brushed past lazy fight scenes that only showed who was winning, not the brutality that Clint was supposedly falling into, not the grit of this new awful world, just... shapeless dark bodies getting thrown through windows? And on top of that, they could have made up (or picked from canon) any Big Bad to pit him against outside in the street, and we get an Orientalist sword fight that could have fit in nicely on a CW superhero show, and some of the most unnecessary exposition dialogue I have ever heard. Someone bothered to weave Clint’s arc in earlier, with Rhodey explaining to Natasha that Clint’s gone International and also Worryingly Dark. Why the fuck do we have the ‘I’ll give you anything you want’ line, on the rotten cherry on top of ‘stop being mean to the yakuza, we didn’t start it’? You already covered his motivations with the cold open.
And while Steve’s fight ended in a FABULOUSLY HEARTBREAKING WAY, the fight itself was nothing - you can pick little character details out like how they both ditched their shields almost immediately, and it was funny that Then-Steve mistook Now-Steve for Loki in the first place, but it was still a completely lost opportunity to get one true superhero battle in this three-hour slog. Both Steves could have gotten up and carried out the rest of the narrative after a decent brawl, but instead they fall a great distance after some blocked shots and it... was nothing? Missed opportunity for some cool shit.
Okay, skipping to character assessments now:
Clint’s character has been mishandled from the beginning and this seemed to be the “better late than never” eleventh hour arc. Except the end of the arc is unclear - it made sense for him to fall apart after losing his Shoehorn Family, but how did Natasha’s choice to fall do anything but fridge someone else, with more agency this time? It makes Natasha noble, which she already was, and it made her win against Clint, which I appreciate, but Natasha didn’t need salvation through death and Clint learns nothing by getting them back, just experiences relief.
Bruce. I want to say, first, that I love Hulk in a Cardigan. Cardihulk can stay. I want fanart, I want t-shirts, give me all of it. But Bruce’s explanation of “I scienced it so I could get the best of both worlds” only gives us half of the acceptance that Banner’s character is already working towards. As we saw most explicitly in Ragnarok, the Hulk isn’t just a physical form, he has his own separate consciousness, originally defined by rage but revealed to be more complicated. Bruce merging into Cardihulk seems to have... erased Hulk’s separate consciousness without merging it into himself? If there had been some acknowledgement of a second voice still within him that shot out opinions or demands for certain menu items in the diner, this would have been a much cleaner end to his arc, which has been equally messy between actor and narrative shifts.
Speaking of Ragnarok... it’s time! Are you ready? Have you read articles about the Gambit Gambit too? Are you fucking depressed that a fat suit was used for comedy gags in the year of our lord 2019? Because I was. The Russos seemed to... not struggle with what progress Ragnarok had put onto Bruce and Thor’s characters, but reject it. This movie’s Thor was anxious for laughs, was desperate for easy answers to a a feeling of lost heroism, and it didn’t feel like a familiar character. The time-travel scene with his mother wrapped it up very elegantly, and was well performed, but that scene didn’t need to follow a series of “chunky drunk in sweatpants” jokes to show us that Thor was struggling. Everyone in the film is fucking holding on by their fingernails, but only one is played for cheap laughs.
At least we get the bisexual Asgard lady king we deserved.
Tony got the right death. He got a hero’s death and Pepper’s last lines of “you can rest now” were exactly the right lines to wrap up an arc characterized by fear and a desire to protect and control at any cost. I knew the MCU was never going to really acknowledge that Tony’s The Problem, even with lines like ‘you should have let me do the fascist robot thing, that was gonna work fine’ thrown around pretty much as soon as he touches down on earth again.
I’m not sure if there’s much to say about Natasha. It was fitting that she was running HQ, that she was struggling, that she was rejecting emotional help from Steve but clearly still close with him. Seeing her break down after hearing the report on Clint felt right after, I think, being told by several directors (or making the personal acting choice? idk) to just be as flat and as decolletagey as possible. And again, while I feel like she would be self-sacrificing on that cliffisde if given the opportunity, and that she would win, the narrative choice to place her there and have that be her end didn’t really give her anything she didn’t already have. She had nothing to prove.
I have a hard time really laying out my thoughts on Steve without launching into the pregnant absence of Bucky, but I’m going to try. Chris Evans did a good job being the emotional heart of a really fractured story with a lot of conflicting pieces. Seeing him lead a talk therapy session after The Snap seemed very out of character for him until one realizes that Sam isn’t there to lead it himself. His scene offering help to Natasha was another good scene between them proving that not every m/f relationship has to be sexual to be interesting or add to the plot. His leadership speech during the Stupid Fucking Slow-Mo Heroes’ Walk to the platform was well done and makes me think of what could have been for the MCU, if they’d ever just let them be a cohesive found-family team for twenty minutes and let them fight some doom-bots or something. Fuck. Imagine.
Something weirdly satisfying about the deceitful ‘hail hydra’ line in the elevator. Yes? Yes.
The hammer scene was satisfying to me without being too gratuitous, but I’ll acknowledge that some people weren’t into it. Having paid more attention to Steve’s arc than most, I’ll argue that he earned it several times over.
His ending - that is, the secret life he alludes to but doesn’t explicitly reveal to Sam - is earned too. I’ve read at least one thing saying that Steve’s arc was all about him learning to let go, but that’s... never what Steve does. Not at the end of any arc, of any comic story, does Steve let go. Not of his principles, not of the people he loves, he is always “Thinking... Thinking About Bucky!” and getting in fights he can’t necessarily win. So I don’t think his final ending is ever Learning to Let Go. I think it’s fair that it’s Just Once, Just This One Time, Getting What You Want And Getting To Enjoy It.
And now I’m backtracking to Bucky. I’ve read one article already that theorizes that Steve’s arc, which was highly prioritized, included literally as little direct interaction with Bucky as possible because... the MCU? the Russos? Marvel?... is aware that Steve/Bucky is the most popular same-sex ship in the MCU. And that’s tiresome as fuck but I think there’s some truth to it. I wonder if, like in Civil War, we’ll hear later from the actors that a lot of contextual one-on-one scenes were shot and then mysteriously cut from the final edit.
I will say that in my head, Bucky is relaxed when Steve goes back in time for the final time, and lets Sam goes to talk with Steve one-on-one at the bench, because Bucky is not worried if Steve will come back, and does not feel a need to check on Steve on the bench. Because, like Peggy, Bucky has been getting secret visits too. Maybe as far back as during his time in Wakanda, but certainly since the final fight with Thanos. Bucky was calm because he already knew. He didn’t miss Steve because Steve hadn’t given him an opportunity to do so.
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December 2019
Maxim calling out of the blue, inviting me to the Mine concert later that month.
Stumbling upon great inspiration for plant-based buddha bowls.
@shitgothssay memes.
Zotter salted caramel chocolate.
Finding out about the fact that you can just add the letter A to some words to transform them into adjectives. Like aglitter or aglow and aglisten.
Ayurvedic Kapha tea with some black tea, honey and milk. Sonnentor Gute Laune tea. Green tea with toasted coconut.
Isana shower oil. Works wonders for dry skin. Such a smooth and creamy texture. Great for shaving, too.
Winning the pub quiz - again! I played with Maggie, Dennis, Daniel and Steffen (Team name: Three geese in a trenchcoat) and we won 178€. However, the best thing about this was when I finally solved the anagram after thinking about it for 10 minutes. It was Greta Thunberg! Winning is lovely, of course, but solving the anagram is already a personal win for me each time.
Tuesdays. Coming home early, sleeping it off.
Being super rested after a nap, cooking a huge pot of veggie stew and my ratatouille signature recipe, even preparing a batch of butter bean hummus and salad dressing. Listening to folk music, singing along, even dancing at some point. Standing there, peeling the potatos… Happy moment.
Signature manicure. Always. This time: bluish iridescent lilac with the obligatory black dot.
A personal realisation. I’ve been massively out of touch with myself. I’ve stopped journaling, stopped doing things for myself because they’re beneficial and not because they’re convenient and numb everything. And why is that a good thing? Well, only being at this point and realising what’s wrong with me makes it possible to do something against it. To come up a self-care plan. To make myself feel better.
Semi-deleting Facebook.
Spending time with Manu for the first time in three months. Watching a documentary about black holes and a cheesy Christmas movie. Ordering south Indian food, cuddling up in bed. Sometimes I don’t know why I keep isolation myself. Being around people can be really lovely and soothing if you can be yourself around them. It’s just that I often feel the presence of other living beings drains my energy.
The best massage I ever had. From now on I’ll always request Yaya as my massage therapist. She is SICK. Strong, merciless, forces me into weird poses and makes my back crack.
Also: the chocolate-filled mint hard candy they hand out at the massage studio. I used to hate mint-infused chocolate but somehow I think these are delicious. Perfect after-torture-treat.
Persimmons. Obsessed.
My eye colour in artificial light. A dark moss green with caramel-coloured speckles and a dark rim.
The National playing a 2-hour-long concert and including some of my favourite songs from the High Violet album. Fangirling with Anika.
The smell of cold. You know, that whiff of cool air you get when you’re sniffing a jacket that’s been hanging on the balcony for a few hours to air out.
Learning more about Claire Saffitz from this article - she likes arts and crafts, is a homebody and has degrees in history and literature! She basically enrolled in culinary school because she was bored after graduation. She’s an enigma of a quirky kind. Not brilliant and scattered, but determined and aimless. Not brave and rebellious, but anxious and creative. She hates change yet pursues it, wants order but trades in chaos. She’s loved because she hates stuff; performs well because she can’t perform. And above all, she’s aggressively regular—and something about this makes the crowd go wild.
Fresh laundry smell on my blankets and pillows. And my new gravity blanket. It weighs 11kg which feels crazy heavy when you carry it but the weight evenly distributes over the body when you’re lying down. Apparently the pressure triggers the release of stress hormones. So far I’m sleeping like a baby and I don’t seem to wake up or move much at night.
Stephanie Madewell. I love everything she writes, her blog is such a godsend of beautiful, important, eclectic ideas. One thing I especially like are her imaginary outfits.
Princess Margaret’s limerick contest with President Lyndon B. Johnson in The Crown. Pure comedy. “There was a young lady from Dallas / who used a dynamite stick as a phallus / they found her vagina in North Carolina / and her asshole in Buckingham Palace.”
Little pieces of string in the corners of a duvet cover. It’s the first time I’ve seen those. So practical for big blankets!
Mental health days. I needed this. So much. Mornings in bed, reading for hours. Drinking a whole pot of tea.
Partner yoga. Chanting the closing mantra together.
Making vegan energy balls for my brother. I adapted the recipe and made my own versions so I ended up with a batch of pistachio/cherry and mango/sesame.
Freaking out whenever I see a cute cat. Damn, I really need to spend more time with animals. My highlight: breakfast in bed, watching a video of an adorable cat giving birth. I cried. Yup.
Going swimming for the first time in, man, I don’t even know. Forever. I didn’t swim for a long time, maybe half an hour, but muscle memory kicked in immediately. Water is totally my element. And, as if it had been destiny: I chose the day they cut the hanging plants in the main hall and the guy gave me a variety of five different cuttings to take home!! He made me a very happy girl.
The ink blue sky right after sunset. / The morning after the full moon in Gemini (the moon still bright and huge, visible in the bluish-grey Western sky). / When the sun suddenly comes out after a very dark and gloomy morning.
Buying a new phone. The old one was broken beyond repair. I even got a nice cork protective case. How could I ever live without an uncracked screen? The battery now actually lasts for more than a day. Nice.
Odd bits of knowledge: A galanthophile is an enthusiastic collector and identifier of snowdrop (Galanthus) species and cultivars. (Wikipedia) // Scientists theorize the Universe might have cracks in it: long thin boundaries that formed as space cooled after the Big Bang. 95 billion lightyears long and a few femtometers thin, these wrinkles in space-time would hold enough energy to bend light and destroy entire planets. (PHD comics) // the word to bloviate (German meaning: schwafeln, langatmig vortragen) // In Japan we have three rituals: HANAMI, TSUKIMI, and YUKIMI. HANAMI is watching the flowers. TSUKIMI is watching the moon, YUKIMI is watching the snow. It’s a beautiful tradition when you invite people to watch with you. I remember them all. (Yoko Ono) // In linguistics, prosody is concerned with those elements of speech that are not individual phonetic segments (vowels and consonants) but are properties of syllables and larger units of speech, including linguistic functions such as intonation, tone, stress, and rhythm. Such elements are known as suprasegmentals. Prosody may reflect various features of the speaker or the utterance: the emotional state of the speaker; the form of the utterance (statement, question, or command); the presence of irony or sarcasm; emphasis, contrast, and focus. It may otherwise reflect other elements of language that may not be encoded by grammar or by choice of vocabulary. (Wikipedia) //
I know I mention this a lot but the first olfactory whiff of a freshly cut open passion fruit is one of the best smells I know.
When my breakfast tastes like a candy bar. Which it immediately does whenever I add almond butter and cocoa nibs to porridge.
Yoga at home on a sunny Saturday afternoon. I’m often too lazy to get out my yoga mat but whenever I do afterwards I’m always so glad I practiced. Also: going to yoga class despite being extremely stressed out. It actually helped me silence some of these tormenting thoughts in my head.
Cutting my own hair. It’s kinda ridiculous and layered but I love the new bounce.
Michael Nyman - Musique à grande vitesse x // feels like it makes my pulse quicker, it’s urging and forceful.
My adventures in psychedelia - an article about the therapeutic effect of psychoactive drugs. I’m going to get Michael Pollan’s book about the topic from the library next week. So interesting.
People who are still writing letters.
My pupils. I realised that some of them have become very fine people. Open, compassionate, motivated, interested, bright, polite. Like the students who attended our first school magazine meeting in their spare time - on the last school day before the Christmas holidays - and had all these amazing ideas. Victor, being able to hold a conversation like an adult. Marks cuddling that dog in front of the supermarket. My tenth-graders being really reasonable, managable, easy to talk to.
Liza Weil’s role as Shy Baldwin’s bass player in The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel. It took me three episodes to recognize her.
A little embroidery set. I love keeping my hands busy when I’m watching movies.
Making vegan walnut lebkuchen and a very good batch of crisp bread in one go.
Roast apples with candied almonds and marzipan for Christmas dinner. Some buckwheat chocolate cookies. Actually helping out my mum in the kitchen.
Sitting at the piano with my brother, singing tunes from our childhood series, Disney songs, pop songs… We both had sore throats afterwards.
Visiting Sash’s parents over Christmas. Her mum cooked a pretty great lunch and we played board games.
Learning how to make a monkey fist knot.
Finding a new spot I like in my apartment. The chair right next to the window at the kitchen table. It’s nice and warm because you can sit beside the heater and while you have breakfast or browse through a cookbook you can see what’s going on outside.
Seeing the incredible gobelins at Kunsthalle / Fäden der Moderne exhibition. I loved the Le Corbusier ones.
Visiting Manu at his parents' place. Playing board games together, his mum feeding me with parsley potatoes and a weird _bird's milk_ dessert. Lying on the sofa, watching old movies. It's weirdly nice to be part of a normal family dynamic once in a while.
Andre saving my New Year’s Eve at the very last minute. Out of the blue he suggested a trip to Czech Republic right after midnight the day before. I was like… okay, let’s do this! So I met up with him and three people I had never met before in Regensburg and we drove to Český Krumlov, checked into our fancy hotel and walked down to the city centre. Czech food for dinner, a band playing at the city square. We climbed up to the castle for the turn of the year. This must have been the first year that started out with a proper New Year’s kiss. Afterwards we went to a weird music bar and - apparently - one of the best clubs in the country. I had a lot of fun. Even though getting Andre home was quite a challenge.
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Okay, so I was tagged by the incandescent pineapple-scented land mermaid @village-skeptic
Sorry it took me so long to do this. In my defense, I am very very lazy:
nicknames: Never. I have always been called by my full first name, even as a small child. I think I was probably too serious for anything to really stick. I love the trope of using someone’s last name as a nickname, but my last name is deeply terrible and uncool, so even though I would love to participate in that, I would cringe if anyone called me by my last name.
zodiac sign: I’m an Aries, but I don’t feel like I fit the Aries profile very well. It’s neither here nor there really, since don’t really put a lot of stock in astrology. However, I do sometimes feel kind of wistful when those “the signs as...” posts go around, and never hit the mark for me.
height: 5′1″. I will give almost anything for 4 more inches. All leg please!
hogwarts house: All signs point to Ravenclaw, but with a VERY STRONG Hufflepuff rising. I’m super brave to the point of recklessness, but only on other people’s behalf. I would probably let you murder me out of, you know, not wanting to be impolite to a murderer, but look at one of my friends funny and I will throw down in the street! I’m the mom friend who gets tequila drunk and then threatens offers to fight all the dudes - creepy or otherwise - who are hitting on my girls.
last thing i googled: “Anthony Perkins.” Over the holiday weekend I had a big argument with one of my friends about whether Anthony Perkins was in a movie version of Hello Dolly! I knew it wasn’t the Barbara version, but I was sure there was something. I’m going to claim victory, because he was in The Matchmaker, which is the play Hello Dolly! was based on. Did you guys know it was written by Thorton Wilder? !!! And OMG what a cast - Shirley Booth, Robert Morse, Shirley MacLaine!
fave musicians: Too many to list. I generally like everything, except really commercial country music, and even then I could probably be tricked into liking something if the lyrics are good. The musicians I’ve seen live the most include: The Pixies, Metric, Fishbone, Decemberists, Matthew Sweet, and John Prine. I also really love Baroque music.
song stuck in your head: This is actually @village-skeptic‘s fault for posting it earlier: Personal Jesus. Also, I may have mentioned before I wanna [redacted] Dave Gahan. Like a screen door in a hurricane.
following: 138
followers: 40. I’m gonna quote Mike Conovan here: Not much meat on her, but what's there is cherce. Every single one of my followers is a g-d delight. You make my life better!
do you get asks: Almost never! Not sure why. I hope it’s not because ppl find me off-putting, but I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t kind of fear that.
amount of sleep: Generally I get 7 1/2 or 8 hours a night, but my body would really much prefer 9 or 10.
what are you wearing: My pajamas! Which go on almost as soon as I get home from work.
dream job: Well it depends on if this is a magical-wish-fulfillment dream job, or just a what-would-have-been-realistic-if-you’d-made-better-choices dream job.
Magic-enabled dream job is definitely character actor/comedian/member of Mike Schur’s repertory company. Famous enough to support myself and my extended family/treat my friends whenever I feel like it, but not famous enough for the paps to stake out my vacation/wedding. (guys! is Jenny Slate my dream job?)
“Achievable” dream job is Rare Book Librarian/Archivist. This is actually what my background/training is in, but alas you can’t support yourself in the most expensive real estate market in the known universe on a librarian’s salary.
dream trip: Since college I have had a dream of visiting every continent. Where’d You Go Bernadette kinda cured me of wanting to go to Antarctica, but I haven’t completely given up on everywhere else. So far, I’ve only made it to 2 (including the one where I live). Somehow I keep going back to Europe instead.
instruments: Sadly none, but I would love to be able to make music with all of my heart.
languages: English. I used to be fluent in French, but I’ve lost almost all of it.
favorite songs: This one can’t be answered. However, I will offer up Phoebe Snow’s No Regrets, (I believe it’s an old jazz standard though) as the song I am most likely to sing if I am showing off (this is more French 75-drunk than tequila drunk though).
random fact: My Bacon number is 3.
I’m kind of a recovering theater kid. In my callow youth, I won a regional drama competition, the prize for which was a small part in a play that was touring, and had a 2 week stop in my city. The lead actor was Ian McKellen. This is pretty much ancient history, so he wasn’t nearly as famous then as he is now, but he was still a little bit famous. At any rate, he was nothing but charming and encouraging to me, despite the fact that I was basically a glorified extra. He low-key hit on my dad at the cast party. My dad was utterly charmed
aesthetic: I like a close juxtaposition of whimsy and minimalism. Like if Chrissy Hynde and Audrey Hepburn and Carol Kane had a baby, that baby would be my aesthetic. A fitted black jacket, over a Betty Boop graphic tee, boot cut jeans, vintage charm bracelet, and chucks. A motocross jacket over a ruffled circus-print blouse, velvet pants, suede booties, giant cocktail ring, and day-3 hair. LBD, kitten heel, big chunky silver rings, and an Olympia Le-Tan clutch. Sparkly things in the dark - the Eiffel tower after sundown; the Christmas tree after everyone’s gone to bed; city lights from your fire escape when you’re too worked up to sleep; fireworks on the Fourth of July.
And this isn’t so much an aesthetic, but rather a mood that pervades my life. To quote Dolly Parton in Steel Magnolias: Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion.
I think most of you have probably been tagged already, but if not and you want to, consider this your invitation!
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