#but I also really love the PH set!!! so I wanted to draw some of it as well :) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zosonils-art · 3 years

Link

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Relationship: Ferb Fletcher & Phineas Flynn

Characters: Ferb Fletcher, Phineas Flynn, Perry the Platypus (Phineas and Ferb), Linda Flynn-Fletcher

Additional Tags: Autistic Ferb, Autistic Phineas, autistic phineas is more implied and could also be taken as adhd but he has both anyway so, Autistic Meltdown, Autism, Sensory Overload, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Illustrations, Canon Continuation, Fix-It of Sorts, i think????? i don't frequent this goddamn website i don't know, Brotherly Love, Crying, some of the crying is me

Summary: A stressful day pushes Ferb past his breaking point, and Phineas feels that he has a responsibility to set things right. Takes place immediately after Ready For The Bettys. Was supposed to be a simple continuation fic but got wildly out of hand. Ph*n*rb shippers fuck off this isn't for you.

---

as you’ve probably figured out if you’re following my main, i recently wrote my first fic since i was about 13! it’s available on ao3 at the link above, but you can also read it on tumblr by clicking the readmore on this post! i put a lot of effort into this and it took a lot of courage to post, so feedback is greatly appreciated!

"Mom! Guess what Ferb did!"

Phineas bursts into the kitchen energetically, still buzzing with adrenaline from the day's adventure. Ferb follows a step or two behind. Linda turns her attention from the freshly baked pie in her hands to her sons, although Phineas is too beside himself with excitement to consider whether or not she's paying attention. "He made a secret tunnel, and a spy headquarters, and a villain's lair, and a hover jet shaped like Perry- tell her, Ferb!"

Ferb doesn't match Phineas' enthusiasm. In fact, at the moment, he's sick to death of it. He prepares to launch into the explanation he's been trying all day to give. "Actually, I-"

"Wait a second," Linda interrupts, eyeing the boys with suspicion. "Why are you two soaking wet?"

The interruption is just too much for Ferb. He doesn't even process the question, just lets out a harsh shout of frustration. Phineas recoils - Ferb almost never shouts. "I give UP!" Ferb yells, his voice shaking on the last syllable, and before either of his surprised family members can respond, he turns around and storms off, his destination betrayed by the distinct clunking rhythm of stairs being stomped on too hard and the sound of a door slamming upstairs.

For a moment, the kitchen is silent. Linda recovers before Phineas does, her eyes narrowing in disapproval. "Young man, that is not how we talk to each other in this house!" she calls, setting the pie tin and her oven mitts down on the kitchen counter and following Ferb's path to his room. Before she can make it to the doorway, though, her progress is halted.

"Mom, wait!" Phineas pleads. He's finally caught onto what's been going on all day, and although he's still only half processed it, he knows he doesn't want Ferb to be in trouble for it. He frantically tugs on Linda's arm to draw her attention. Once he's sure that she's stopped, he withdraws his hand (he's still wet, after all, he doesn't want to make her uncomfortable), but sidesteps around her to put his tiny body firmly between her and the doorway to the living room. "Mom, please don't be mad at Ferb, it- it's not his fault! I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it, he's just..." Phineas' voice trails off briefly, but he forces it back into action, complete with the most serious expression he can manage. "If you're gonna be mad at either of us, it should be me, okay?"

At first, Linda returns Phineas' gaze with suspicion, then her face softens with realisation. She crouches down to her son's eye level, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Phineas, did something else happen today?" she asks, the anger gone from her voice.

Phineas hesitates, dropping eye contact again. He's almost certain about the cause of Ferb's outburst, and he can't help but mentally beat himself up for it to a degree. "Well, Ferb's been trying to tell me something all day, but he kept getting interrupted by our spy mission, and I guess it must have been really frustrating because he hates being interrupted but I didn't realise and-" he pauses to breathe, and shudders as he inhales as if on the verge of tears - "and I should have asked at some point but I just kept getting distracted and I didn't even realise how upset it was making him but-"

"Phineas," Linda says gently, and he gladly accepts the invitation to cut his rambling short. His breathing is shaky, but he doesn't cry just yet, even though his emotional state has nosedived in barely a minute. After giving him a moment to snap back into focus, Linda continues. "Phineas, honey, it sounds like this has just been a misunderstanding. On my end, too," she adds, regretting having snapped at Ferb earlier. Phineas nods with a nondescript mumble of agreement. Although he still obviously isn't looking, Linda gives him a reassuring smile anyway, accompanied by a gentle squeeze of his shoulder. "Thank you for telling the truth, sweetheart," she praises him.

"Mmh," Phineas mumbles, tugging at his shirt collar. He tends to fiddle with his shirt when he's nervous or overexcited. It doesn't hold a candle to bouncing his leg or flapping his hands, as far as stimming goes, but it's a lot easier to do while someone is touching you. "I just should've realised what was up earlier, then he probably wouldn't have freaked out..."

He finally glances up again, and the look his mom is giving him tells him that he should drop the argument, so he stops. Linda ruffles his hair affectionately, leaning forward to reach all the way behind Phineas' oddly-shaped head, and flinches at the unpleasant reminder of how waterlogged he still is. She stands up, flicking her hand dry. "I'm sure he knows you didn't mean to hurt his feelings," she reassures Phineas. "Why don't you dry yourself off and then go talk to him? Which reminds me," Linda motions towards the puddles tracked all over the kitchen floor, "why are you two so wet?"

"Oh, we fell in Isabella's pool," Phineas answers matter-of-factly. He isn't quite back to his usual blindingly sunny disposition, but the panicky tremble in his voice has at least disappeared.

Linda smiles, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Well, that I believe," she says. She'd tactfully decided not to comment on whatever that secret spy headquarters spiel was that Phineas had been getting worked up over, but she suspects his latest imaginary game took the boys to Isabella's backyard and ended up having some real-life consequences. "Oh, hi, Perry," she adds, as the platypus in question waddles into the kitchen.

Perry responds with his familiar chatter. Phineas leans down to pet Perry on the head. "At least you've had a stress-free day, huh," he says, then leaves for the bathroom. Perry stares at him blankly.

---

Ferb is having a meltdown.

He knows what this is, of course. He reads every textbook and blog post on the subject he can find, just in case it helps him make some more sense of himself. If he misses one, Phineas will no doubt have found and memorised it himself for the same reason, and will gladly rattle off anything new. Knowing why there's a raging storm beating at the inside of his head, however, is entirely different from quelling it. By the time he reaches his bedroom, he's trembling so violently that he can barely stand. He stumbles to his bed, pushing his hands down into the mattress to keep himself on his feet.

It's like feeling every feeling from every second of the day all in the same moment, and it hurts. So much is happening in his head that he can't even isolate a single thought, let alone process what it means. Is he angry? That'd make sense, sure, but his mental state isn't exactly conducive to deductive reasoning at the moment. Is he sad? Scared? Something else entirely?? He can't tell what emotion or mixture thereof it is, only that it's hurting his head, and he wants to get it out but he doesn't know how. He's struggling to breathe now, his arms shaking with the effort of keeping his body supported, and as he draws in a desperate shuddering breath Ferb feels something wet in his eye and then on his face, and he remembers that his entire body is wet and he hates it. It's cold, and his hair is sticking to his face and uncomfortably close to his eyes, and his clothes cling to his body oppressively and he wants to tear them off and stop feeling everything. Instead of doing that, he forces himself to breathe in again and looks around the room frantically, hoping to find something other than absolutely everything to concentrate on.

His eyes land on Phineas' bed, and although his vision is blurring as the panicky tears pour down his face, he recognises the shape instantly. Is he mad at Phineas? Should he be? He should be, right? If Phineas had just stopped to listen to him for once, he wouldn't be here with the world ending inside his brain. Another violent wave of emotion sends a shock through his whole body, and Ferb is still in no state to identify it, but he gets the message. He doesn't want to be angry. Not at Phineas. In fact, he doesn't want to feel anything he's feeling at the moment. Not the turbulent assault of everything inside his head, not the hammering rhythm of his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest, not every tiny thing that touches his skin or the light from outside that still feels blinding through the curtains or the muffled sounds of conversation downstairs that he doesn't have room in his brain to translate into anything but more noise.

Sensory overload is another term Ferb knows, and it's another one that doesn't really help to know in the moment. The feeling of anxiety that's been growing in his chest since that morning finally becomes too much for his body to handle, and he collapses on his bed, weakly gripping the blanket for support. Burying his face in his covers blocks out most of the sunlight, at least, but it doesn't significantly improve his mood. He shivers, partly from cold thanks to still being uncomfortably wet, partly from the sobs making his whole body convulse. (When did those start? He doesn't remember.) He uses the last of his physical strength to pull himself fully onto his bed and curl into himself, trying desperately to calm himself down.

...

It's not working. Why isn't it working?? It's as if every effort to steady his breathing just makes him cry harder, every attempt at a calming thought being shattered into a thousand anxious ones by the merciless torrent of everything whirling around in his mind. Ferb is suddenly hyper-aware of how empty the room around him is, and it makes him feel helpless. It's the first feeling he's managed to connect a name to with absolute certainty this whole time, and it's terrifying.

If he was making any noise before in his attempts to control his breathing, he's stopped now. No sound escapes him as he lies in place, too preoccupied with the overwhelming barrage of thoughts in his brain to move. More than anything, Ferb wants his brain to just shut off. Everything in his mind blends into a horrible white noise that won't stop, threatening to drown him in static.

Through the raging mental cyclone, he just barely hears the knock at the door.

Phineas waits a moment before entering his room. He wants to make sure Ferb has time to process that he's here. A few seconds pass, then he opens the door slowly so that it doesn't make any sound. A stab of guilt hits him when he sees Ferb curled up on his bed, visibly distressed. He's facing the opposite wall, but the way he shudders as he breathes makes it obvious that he's crying. Phineas feels his heart sink. He'd really hoped it wouldn't be this bad.

"Hey," he says softly. Ferb grips himself tighter. Just a minute ago, Phineas would have been the last person he wanted to see, but now his desperation for comfort outweighs any lingering hints of animosity. He doesn't object to his brother's presence, so Phineas gently closes the door and walks over to his side of the room. He sits on the bed, watching Ferb to see if he reacts negatively to the shift in weight distribution, and tenses up slightly at how damp the blanket is. Of course, Ferb wouldn't have stopped to dry off on his way up here. A closer look confirms that while a lot of the water on his body has run off and soaked into his bed, Ferb is still almost as wet as he was when he arrived home. Phineas frowns - that can't be comfortable, and it's probably making him feel even worse. "Are you okay?" he asks.

Ferb curls into himself even more instead of asking. The question is so frustratingly rhetorical that he almost reconsiders the possibility of being angry, but the idea still scares him, so the feeling passes. Fortunately, Phineas understands the unspoken 'obviously not' with no further input, and continues to talk. "I'm really sorry about today," he begins. "I know you don't like being interrupted, and I should've realised that it was making you feel bad but I just wasn't paying enough attention and- and I'm sorry, because it's kinda my fault you got so upset," he apologises, not realising that he's holding back tears until he stops to breathe. He wills himself not to cry. He's here to try and make Ferb feel better, not guilt him into forgiveness.

It takes a second or two for Ferb to process what Phineas is saying. It's a struggle to drag the words through the confusing whirlwind of everything still rampaging through his head. Eventually, after a great deal of mental effort, he shakes his head in response. Perhaps he was angry before, he still can't tell, but he definitely isn't now. He can't manage anything beyond the simple gesture, but it's not the first time he's been utterly uncommunicative, so Phineas understands the meaning as well as he needs to: it's not your fault.

"Th-thanks," he stutters, although Ferb's acceptance does little to settle the crushing feeling of responsibility. "Next time you can speak I'll let you tell me whatever it is you needed to, okay? I promise." He smiles a little. "No more secret agent business to interrupt you."

The last sentence sure prompts a reaction from Ferb - he rolls over so that his face is entirely buried in the blanket and makes a frustrated noise without opening his mouth, his body shaking with some mixture of anger and physical strain. Phineas inhales sharply and recoils, no more prepared for an audible outburst from Ferb than the first time. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asks, already speed-testing possible answers in his head. "Did you not have fun today? Of- of course you didn't, that's why you're upset, but I thought you did a great job on the spy mission! It was really cool." He's trying to be reassuring, but Ferb just shakes harder, seemingly becoming more aggravated rather than less.

Phineas tilts his head in confusion. "Ferb? Ferb, it's okay, I-I'm sorry. Did... did it not go the way you planned?" he guesses, searching increasingly frantically for any change in Ferb's body language. "Hmm... oh, were you not finished building it yet?" He thinks back to Ferb's numerous attempts at speaking to him throughout the day, hoping that he'll find some clue that makes everything fall into place - and something clicks in his brain. He deflates a little at how painfully obvious the realisation seems in retrospect, with a soft "Oh." Sighing at his own ignorance, he directs his voice to Ferb again as he says, "You didn't actually build all that, did you?"

Ferb sits up slowly and turns to Phineas with his signature deadpan glare, the silent, biting sarcasm undermined significantly by the tears still falling from his eyes. Phineas hums concernedly. "Is that what you were trying to tell me?" he asks. Ferb gets partway through rolling his eyes before giving up and returning to the fetal position.

Phineas sighs sadly. He hates seeing his brother cry. There's nothing he wants to do more than pull him into the tightest hug he can manage, but he knows Ferb won't appreciate being touched in this state, so he opts to fiddle with his shirt again to keep his hands busy. "Who do you think did build that stuff?" he asks. Ferb doesn't care. On any other day, a secret spy lair being hidden under his house would be cause for immeasurable excitement, but after the day's events he's thoroughly sick of thinking about the subject. Phineas picks up on Ferb's antipathy towards the question and, sensing that it might be a sore topic for some time, decides not to bring it up again for a while. He'll satisfy his curiosity sometime when it doesn't come at the expense of Ferb's comfort.

An uncomfortable silence falls over the boys. It's broken when Ferb suddenly sniffles loud enough to make Phineas jump, sits up again, and halfheartedly tries to wipe the tears from his face. "Oh geez, hold on," Phineas says, leaning over to rummage through his short pockets. He eventually pulls out a wad of tissues, somehow unaffected by the earlier impromptu dive into Isabella's pool. He offers them with a gentle "here you go" to Ferb, who takes a few silently and scrubs at his eyes.

While he still doesn't feel good by any stretch of the definition, Ferb at least doesn't feel completely awful anymore. What was once a violent hurricane in his mind has receded enough that he can focus on the world around him without breaking down, at least for the time being, and he's left feeling just drained. He balls up his handful of tissues and tosses them at the bin under his desk. The ball makes it to Phineas' leg before unceremoniously bouncing to a stop. Phineas picks it up and throws it the rest of the way to the trash, standing up to do so.

Rather than sit down again, he kneels down and pulls out one of the drawers conveniently built into the bed. Ferb watches inquisitively, still too out of it to immediately catch onto what's happening. Phineas rummages a little before finally pulling out a pair of pyjamas, suggesting, "You should dry off and change your clothes." He pauses to think. "Can you make it downstairs to the bathroom by yourself?" he asks. At any other time, it would be a silly question, but Ferb is always exhausted after a meltdown. The visible effort it's taking him just to stay upright isn't lost on Phineas. Ferb ponders the question, then gives a tentative nod. He's definitely shaky, but he really wants to change into something dry.

"Great!" Phineas smiles encouragingly. "Should I bring the usual stuff to the living room? Your bed's probably not gonna feel comfortable until it dries out." Ferb glances down at the unmistakable damp silhouette of where he had been lying earlier and nods again, more confidently. He slowly gets to his feet, first pushing against his bed for support, then grasping the hand Phineas offers him. He lets go once he's certain he's regained his balance, and only then does Phineas hand him his pyjamas. "I'll come meet you downstairs, okay?" Phineas says. Then, pulling at the bottom of his shirt, which is still a bit soggy despite his best efforts to towel it off, he adds, "I should probably change into something dry as well."

---

Ferb rubs his eyes as he comes out of the bathroom, his drenched clothes swapped out for his much more comfortable pyjamas. He's stopped crying, it seems, but he's still feeling sensitive enough that the light from outside bothers him. He's relieved to discover that it's much darker in the living room - Phineas must have been here already. The curtains are drawn so that the lamp on the end table is the only light source in the room, softly illuminating its surroundings with a pleasant warm glow. He doesn't have the energy to analyse the entire room, even in these far more bearable conditions, but his attention is drawn to his favourite weighted blanket folded neatly on the couch. He sits down and drags the blanket over him, struggling a bit with the weight, but relaxing once he feels its reassuring pressure on his legs.

It's as he's settling into his position on the couch that Phineas enters with an "Oh, there you are, Ferb!". Perry is firmly but comfortably wedged under one of his arms, like a fuzzy teal football or loaf of bread, and seems altogether unbothered by his position. Ferb gasps quietly at the sight of Perry, his eyes brightening momentarily, and reaches out for him with various soft noises of urgency. Phineas wastes no time in setting Perry down next to Ferb, and the platypus reacts with a gentle, almost soothing chatter. Ferb instinctively mimicks the sound under his breath, and Perry responds with a nearly identical noise. Ferb echoes it again, slightly louder this time, and his face lights up with a weak smile, the first one he's managed all day.

Taking this as a sign of progress, Phineas sighs with relief as he sits on the sofa. He makes sure to maintain a respectful distance from Ferb, who's running a hand through Perry's fur as they echo the same low growling noise back at each other. (It pains Phineas not to join in, but he senses the two have gotten themselves into a groove that would be rude to interrupt.) Ferb's smile fades almost as soon as it appears, but he seems much more relaxed after the change in clothes and scenery. His hair is sticking up in every direction from being towelled dry, and Phineas stifles a laugh at how silly it looks. The back-and-forth chattering eventually dies down, and it's only then that Phineas continues. "Mom's gonna make you some tea, and she says if you aren't feeling better by dinner you can eat in here if you want," he says. Ferb turns to him and raises a thumbs-up briefly before returning his hand and focus to Perry.

Phineas quietly watches his brother for a moment before speaking again. "Do you want me to stay?" he asks. Exactly how sociable Ferb is while he's coming out of a meltdown varies. He almost invariably needs some time on his own to mentally reset, but sometimes it helps if someone he trusts is there to reassure him for a while first. In Phineas' experience, asking is always the best way to tell.

Ferb hesitates for a second, then surprises both of them with his answer, which is to turn and collapse into Phineas' lap with one arm hooked over his legs in a sort of pseudo-hug. Phineas tenses up, not sure how to react. He cautiously puts an arm around Ferb, in a comforting gesture that doesn't fully subject him to the overwhelming sensory experience of a true hug. Ferb doesn't fight it, just repositions himself so that he's lying down with Phineas as a makeshift pillow and sinks further into the gentle embrace. Phineas laughs softly. "Okay, I guess you do."

This is nice, Ferb thinks. Definitely an improvement over violently sobbing alone in his room. Perry must be feeling relaxed too, because he climbs onto Ferb's stomach, circles a few times, lets out one more chatter, then flops down and goes to sleep, purring gently. Phineas giggles at the platypus' behaviour, and Ferb's shoulders shake in silent laughter - his blanket absorbs enough of the sensation that it just tickles. Watching Perry doze off reminds him that he's still exhausted, despite the positive change in environment, and his attempt to stifle a yawn fails. He's still on high alert, and he knows he won't be sleeping for longer than a few minutes until the emotional clutter completely drains from his mind. With that said, both the blanket and Perry weighing down on him make for a pretty cosy combination, and he finds himself fighting to keep his eyes open. Maybe just a moment of rest will be good for him.

Before he knows it, his eyes are closed, and he's powerless to prevent himself from drifting off. Phineas accepts his new career as a pillow without comment, simply adjusting his right hand so that both his arms are positioned protectively around his brother. Being trapped in place for the time being doesn't worry him. Ferb won't mind being stirred awake when their mom arrives with his tea, and until then Phineas can easily occupy himself with thoughts of what to do tomorrow. Besides, he can subject himself to a few minutes of quiet if that's what Ferb needs. What kind of a brother would he be if he couldn't, right?

Ferb half-consciously brings a hand to Phineas' wrist, as if it'll float off if he isn't holding on. He can feel his brain shutting down, and he welcomes the change. The last thing he's aware of before his consciousness finally leaves him in peace for a moment is the sound of Phineas' voice, promising him, "You're gonna be okay."

#zos writes #phineas and ferb #ferb fletcher #phineas flynn #won't tag perry or linda since they're side characters basically #anyway please for the love of god reblog this. links don't show up in tags so literally the only way people will see this is reblogs #i'm serious about the fuck off too if ph*n*rbs even LOOK at this post i will stomp you to death with my hooves

93 notes · View notes

tinyshinysylveon · 3 years

Text

sooo inexperienced ph!bakudeku? when they became a couple, neither knew how exactly relationships work because they’re always dead set on becoming heroes and didn't want any distractions, or in izuku’s case, thought he looked too plain to even consider being with anyone (bonus points if izuku has an unrequited love on katsuki for so long). if their friends asked katsuki/izuku on how they started dating, they’ll just give them a look and say, “it just happened,” but their friends can tell otherwise and chose not to ask about it any further lest they get a yelling from katsuki telling them that they're "noisy extras." when they first started dating, however, it was a disaster because being in the top 5 in the hero ranking, they often tend to get called in whenever villains attack. you would think this would hinder their relationship, but nope, quite the opposite actually. they get more determined to meet the other more and when they finally got one successful date (successful as in no interruptions), it was a bit awkward but there was tension between them that no one could recognize. it's like they were in their own little world. they're dressed up in disguises of course and when the end of the day draws near, katsuki decides to drop him off first before leaving. their first kiss was.. clumsy to say the least, katsuki was the first one to make the move but izuku bumped into him head first and now their faces are not even aligning properly. it took a few seconds to realize the position they're in, but then sudden laughter was exchanged between them, forgetting their previous embarrassment. all it took for the date to fully end was for izuku to grab katsuki’s face in his hands, lean towards him, and gives him a full kiss on the lips. at least that’s what he feels like he did. katsuki was surprised at first (deku’s lips was basically plastered on top of his upper ones so a half kiss?) but closes his eyes anyway and gave in, except he didn’t even get the chance to enjoy it for too long when izuku releases him and says a flustered, “good night, let’s do this another time” before shutting the door to his apartment. it took katsuki a few more minutes to regain his composure of just standing outside izuku’s apartment, and almost lets out a scream because the date could’ve gone better! meanwhile on the other side of the door, izuku was also facing his own dilemma, did kacchan not like the kiss!? and quickly pulls out his phone and types, “how to kiss better,” but then stumbles upon a forum while scrolling that’s called couple 101 for beginners and writes, “i think i kissed my date but i’m not sure if they liked it??” he gets a reply back after some time, “same here, how did you kiss them? because i’m sure the way i kissed mine was probably way shittier than yours,” not actually knowing that the response was from katsuki himself because he was having the same kind of crisis once he finally got home. from that point on, the two became somewhat friends online, not revealing the other about their identity and just giving each other relationship advice despite not having as much experience themselves, while in real life, the two are actually dating each other. “deku, you look pretty today,” katsuki says this as if he wasn’t nervous just a moment ago. “um, thanks?” Izuku doesn’t really know what to say, and katsuki was having an inner turmoil once the words came out of his mouth. damn it! that allmightjr said that calling your date pretty will make them like him more, he should’ve known.. in another day, when they met up again, “kacchan, here’s some chocolate.” katsuki looks at him with a raised eyebrow but takes the sweet treat regardless. “thanks.” that’s it?? izuku pouts while thinking as they resumed walking side by side. i thought giving your lover expensive chocolates would help spice the relationship, or at least.. that’s what dynam8 says.

idk how this led to thinking of inexperienced bkdk but then online bkdk not revealing their identities and giving each other relationship advices while also following through them irl unknowingly about the other just suddenly came to mind. for now, let’s just assume they’re dense but they’ll eventually find out sooner or later _(:3 」∠)_

#bakudeku #bkdk #ktdk #have you guys heard of the romeo and juliet effect?#in this case the villains are the parents role so they don’t have the chance to see each other as much?#i am suddenly applying psychology here who would’ve thought #dkbk #my trashy writing #i’m back with this format again #this actually took a full 180 because i had it in my head but then it went to another direction lol

42 notes · View notes

thewhizzyhead · 3 years

Text

HELLO SOME OF YOU GUYS LIKED MISFITS AND SOME OF YOU GUYS LIKED GRADE 11 (i posted about that musical draft thingy back in march and um yea there have been a lot of changes fjxjf) AND GUESS WHAT DUDES I HAVE MORE MUSICAL CONCEPT SHITS TO RAMBLE ABOUT BECAUSE MY BRAIN IS WAY TOO HYPERACTIVE FOR MY OWN GOOD SO SIT BACK, RELAX AND ENJOY THIS CLUSTERFUCK

@ari-is-anxious have fun with this and i wish you the best of luck in trying to comprehend this-

+ Kasaysayan (which means History) - this is the 2nd musical concept thingy i made (the first one being Misfits) and yea i started thinking of this went I was 14. I kinda wanted it to tell a story of like the entirety of philippine history as narrated by students and i wanted to kinda emphasize how history has many faces and how many different factors essentially blur our perspective of what we view as the past. I also wanted to like draw parallels between what our ancestors have experienced and what we currently experience esp when it comes to sociopolitical and economic stuffs and I wanted to like correct a lot of misconceptions about ph history and provide more insight and info about ph's past (i.e how centuries of colonialism have affected our current culture and overall social mindset esp in regards to our want for validation from foreigners aka the whole #PinoyPride thing; how even though activism and revolution is like the main reason on as to why the Philippines even exists, it continues to be demonized here; the ideologies of some of our revolutionary heroes and presidents and why some of them are dicks; etc etc). Also I wanted to showcase like um PH music, art, and dance and how that has progressed and also regressed throughout the years (*shakes fist at colonizers*) and um YEA YOU CAN SEE WHY I EVENTUALLY AND RATHER QUICKLY DISCONTINUED THIS TJCJSJF THIS IS *NOT* DOABLE AT ALL THSJFHF it could work as a concept album and a one-time performance BUT NOT LIKE A LEGIT PRODUCTION SO YEA FOR NOW IT WILL STAY IN THE DRAFT FOLDER FJXNSJF but yea this idea then led to the next two ideas woo

+ Noli/Fili - started wanting to make this at the start of quarantine so like um march 2020 heck i even made a wholeass word doc for this fjdjdv so it's basically a ph-rock-rap-based musical adaptation of Jose Rizal's Noli Me Tangere (Touch Me Not) and El Filibusterismo (The Filibuster) (yes these two novels are like tne national novels here since rizal is our national here and yea these were originally written in Spanish) but the protagonist of El Fili (Simoun) takes charge of telling Noli's story in Act 1 while Noli's protag (Crisostomo Ibarra) takes charge of telling Fili's story in Act 2. Those two books have very different tones and those two characters have um VERY DIFFERENT world views so i thought it would be interesting to tell one's story through the eyes of someone different and yet also the same to provide a lot more insight on how the events in the novels affected these two protags (there is a Good Reason for this and um Filipinos who studied this in 9th and 10th grade know what i'm talking about fhshf if u wanna um know what i'm talking about and don't wanna read the novels (they are very long) i suggest looking up El Filibusterismo and um yea check out Simoun fjsjf). Like for example, there would be times that Noli's narrator (Simoun) (whose general demeanor is like um a lot more cunning and cynical and a lot more resentful of the events that have happened compared to Fili's narrator) would directly question the Noli protag's (Ibarra) actions while Fili's narrator (Ibarra) (he is a lot more um hopeful and peaceful compared to Simoun) often questions how Fili's protag (Simoun) turned into well um a very cynical and cunning person with a taste for revenge (I am trying my hardest to NOT spoil the novels here gjdjf) and yea because the story is set in Spanish Colonial times here, i wanna focus more on the sociopolitical aspects and problems in the novels and how those still remain relevant here, hence the ph-rock-rap-based music. Also I would like to point out that the curriculum here barely like goes into depth about the subject matter of the novels (esp the sociopolitcal parts) and how said subject matter shaped the characters here and HOW EVERY SINGLE THING IN THIS DAMN NOVEL IS STILL RELEVANT,,,so um basically the curriculum is currently missing the entire point of the novels since Rizal wrote these two with the intent to provide socioecononic and political commentary on the pure shit that many of the Filipinos experienced under Spanish colonial rule,,,SO THIS THINGY IS BASICALLY MY MIDDLE FINGER TO THE CURRICULUM AND ESSENTIALLY MY ATTEMPT TO SHOW MORE OF THE NOVELS COMPARED TO WHAT HAS BEEN TAUGHT TO US FJJSJFV this is gonna be a nightmare to write tho cause wow those novels are jampacked

+ Patron - if this ever becomes a thing, I will consider it the greatest thing i'll ever write gjcjdbc I REALLY WANT THIS TO BE A THINGY AAAA so the plot is barebones atm but it's basically about journalism and activism here in the Philippines (and how both can get you killed fjjsjf i'm not kidding these two can legit get you killed wah redtagging sucks shit and the anti terror law can suck even more shit) and how the youth are expected to be purveyors of the country's advancement and improvement despite the fact that our voices are oftentimes dismissed and even permanently silenced when what we say goes against what those in power want us to say,,,those this is basically Misfit's spiritual successor fjxjdjf both of those musicals share similar themes fjxns so yea expect me ranting about a lot of political stuff here and a lot of talking about the ideologies of past and present politics and revolutions and how those affect the masses and how the masses can shape them in return. There will also be talk on how journalism's role in shaping society and how proper dissemination of information and lack thereof can affect people's mindsets aND HOW JOURNALISM IS OFTENTIMES MANIPULATED TO MANIPULATE PEOPLE'S MINDSETS (STUDENT JOURNALIST AND ASPIRING PROFESSIONAL JOURNALIST'S RANTS GO BRRRRR YEA I HAVE A LOT TO RANT ABOUT).

Oh and also this musical is heavily inspired by both the noli and el fili novels and by spring awakening (Everything I Write Will Be Inspired By Spring Awakening dbjxd) in a sense that Act 1's active protagonist (who then becomes Act 2's passive protag) is named Elias and is based on both Elias from Rizal's novels and on Melchior Gabor (which is funny cause rizal's elias is NOTHING LIKE MELCHIOR GABOR SO UM LOOK IT'S GONNA BE HARD TO EXPLAIN JUST UM YEA IT'S MESSY) while the passive protagonist (who becomes the active protag by the end of act 1 and throughout the entire 2nd act) is named Cris Ibarra and is based on Moritz Stiefel and Rizal's Ibarra (more specifically um Rizal's Ibarra's growth into a very different character throughout the events of the two novels).

ALSOOO there is this one concept that made me really REAALLY want to make Patron an actual thingy and that is the existence of um Shadows in the show. Inspired by the voices in Deaf West Speing Awakening, these Shadows can always be found lurking on stage alongside their respective characters like um if Elias is in a scene, his shadow can also be found on stage somewhere. I kinda want them to like represent the characters' innermost thoughts and the other parts of themselves the characters' would like to hide through how the Shadows act on stage and um yea choreography gjsjf Patron is porbably gonna be very dance heavy so um yea it's a bit hard to explain so i'll just point to Alex Boniello and Daniel Durant's Moritz fjxjjf i kinda want it to be like that. The Shadows would be part of the show's ensemble and um yea lots of dancing and prop moving woo also at times they would be singing for the character they are assigned to like um while Elias would be in the middle of doing something on stage, his Shadow would be the one singing in his stead and when his Shadow sings, that's when the character becomes the most vulnerable to the audience because the Shadows often expose their characters' thoughts and worries to the audience that the characters themselves wouldn't really express. So like um the Shadows address the audience a lot gjxjsjd except for one aka Ibarra's Shadow. Instead of addressing the audience, Ibarra's shadow addresses IBARRA directly, often questioning Ibarra's actions (especially their hesitance in Act 1). ig ibarra's shadow is rather representative of what Ibarra would turn into in Act 2 when they take over as the Active protag. But um Ibarra's shadow still questions Ibarra frequently esp in regards to their risky actions so um yea Ibarra's shadow is kinda like the Fates the hadestown wherein they serve to sow doubt but over here Ibarra's shadow is meant to symbolize how insecure they feel in regards to their decisions which well, as the protag, make and break the show. Also um yea the rest of the characters' shadows also start addressing their characters more while the characters themselves start addressing the audience more so woo switcheroo! Also the dynamic that the characters have with each other is similar to the dynamics between the kids in Spring Awakening wherein they are just kids (well in this cause young adults aged 18-20) trying to figure out life in general and all that so woo

(also I would like to note that I really want Ibarra's role to be open to all genders in order to like make a statement that anyone can grow into the character Ibarra becomes throughout Patron but rn hmm i'm still thinking about how that will play out especially given that I kinda wanted Patron's Ibarra to have two love interests here aka Elias and Clara (kiiiiinda based on Maria Clara aka Ibarra's actual love interest from Rizal's novels but um YEA THERE ARE A LOT OF DEVIATIONS GJXSF) but tbh i'm still figuring out a way to make Clara have a much larger role here in terms of pushing the plot cause rn the Elias and Ibarra dynamic have an advantage since um active-passive protagonist switcheroo so I'm kinda thinking of a way to make Clara a secret 3rd protag that is both an active and a passive one? I dunno fjsjd honestly i'm still trying to figure out what Maria Clara represents in the novels cause I know for certain that Rizal did not write her to be a mere demure love interest so um yea WORK IN PROGRESS AND UM ALL IN ALL IBARRA CAN BE PLAYED BY ANY AND ALL GENDERS AND IBARRA IS PANSEXUAL BECAUSE I FUCKING WANT THEM TO BE GJSJJF)

+ Grade 12 - OKI SO LIKE I'VE POSTED ABOUT THIS BEFORE BACK IN MARCH BUT UM I'VE CHANGED SOME STUFF GJXJJD so anyways Grade 12 is well um designed to be a campy-please-don't-take-this-seriously-this-is-just-for-laughs-and-gags musical about 12th graders (i changed the grade to raise the stakes) that makes fun of Filipino TV tropes esp when related to teenagers while also providing a lit more insight on ad to what teenagers go through on a daily basis in terms of trying to grow into the person they want themselves to be while also trying to change to adapt to a world that more often that not goes against them. So yea it's not as heavy as the other musicals, heck I designed this after Preston Max Allen's Carrie 2 musical (dude check it out it has jenny rose baker and it's gold) so woo funsies but i also like this to mean something. Oh and also this is basically me ranting about Everything Wrong In The Philippine Education System (how it more often than not is really detrimental to the students' personal wellbeings through constant overwork and disregard of physical, mental and emotional health issues, its accessibility issues esp the issues experiences by those of the poorer sectors, the um very outdated info at times, how the system perpetuates classism and a shit ton of very detrimental social hierarchy bullshits esp through the implementation of the star sections (speaking as someone who's been in the "lower" sections and has also been in the star sections, I HAVE A LOT TO RANT ABOUT THIS ONE OH BOY FUN FACT I WANTED TO MAKE AN ACADEMIC PAPER ON THIS BUT MY 10TH GRADE TEACHER WOULDN'T LET ME) etc etc) plot is mainly barebones atm but um yea here are some of the updates to the characters: Kyla (formerly named Kate), Noel and Ella haven't changed that much but um I've decided to give the Halos Lagi Nalang number to Kyla and Max (nonbinary student that serves as a foil to Kyla in which Max is constantly being denied opportunities that they want while Kyla constantly refuses opportunities that Max wants; also yea i'll be talking about stories that trans and nonbinary students have experienced in both of my high schools through Max cause i really wanna bring attention to how the trans and nonbinary community is really being shat on despite the um sliiight improvement in the way schools treat the (cisgender) members of the lgbtq+ community; also they are just as ambitious as Ella (i envision her to be like um Draft Eva + Riley jfhdf) um yea major plot pusher woo I'd compare them to Draft Eva + Reese but um I Sincerely And Solemnly Promise To Not Screw Them Over In Act 2 fjjxfj) instead because they will be the ones with queerness being a much bigger factor to their individual plotlines compared to Noel and Ella.

The other main characters are um Marco (typical jock dude who's actually one of the more philosophical and introspective characters in the show; i want to like um highlight the whole sports scholarships debacle, how stereotypes can affect how people are treated in real life and also touch on the machismo culture that's um really being enforced here esp with him being an athlete and all; also he's really good friends with Max and through that friendship he learns that him slightly questioning his sexuality is a good thing so yea), Ruben & Lexi (i don't have that much planned for them atm because woo barebones plot but i do imagine them to be initially framed as the more antagonistic characters and have that like stereotype be taken apart as the show goes on esp considering that both are in the "lower sections" and are um more prone to stereotyping) aND A NARRATOR CHARACTER HMMM WHERE HAVE WE SEEN THIS BEFORE GJXJD oki but this Narrator (can be played by any gender as long as the actor IS VERY FUNNY LIKE COMEDIC TIMING IS A *MUST*) is based on the Narrator in PMA's Carrie 2 but I also want the narrator to be like um more crucial to the plot as the story progresses esp as they interact with both the audience and the characters a lot more so like um it's a bit hard to describe their exact role here because um BAREBONES PLOT FJXJD but altho they can't directly affect the story they are telling (cause so far my plan for them is like um they were a former classmate of 7/8 of the characters here but unfortunately they died due to a car accident), they can and do indeed influence the characters in it and all of the characters (except Kyla) know who they are (especially Ruben) so um yea. Also the solo I have planned for them is called Live On (which is um yea a spin off of Move On fjxjd) and through them, I plan to explore the tragedy of unexpected deaths and what happens to those left behind (this will be based on observations and accounts from many of my former schoolmates) and how many have yet to move on and how they choose to live on despite of that because they know that's what their former classmate, schoolmate, and loved on would've wanted.

SO OBVIOUSLY I OWE GRADE 12 TO SIR PRESTON MAX ALLEN GJXJFJD THANK YOU PMA FOR ONCE AGAIN INFLUENCING MY WORK WOO

+ Concepts - oki so this is the only musical so far that i wanna write solely in English nfjsj so this is inspired by Fun Home in which there are like versions of characters in different ages right? Over here there are 2 versions of 6 characters: the 17-18 year old ones, and the 27-28 year old ones. Through them, this musical will explore two main things: (1) the sad and depressing reality of having to give up one's artistic dreams and passions for the sake of practicality and (2) choosing to take a leap of faith and try to grasp on to whatever chances one may have left to live a life that means more than just making ends meet. Act 1 has the teenagers focus on Point 2 while the adults focus on Point 1; Act 2 has the teenagers focus on Point 1 while the adults end up focusing on Act 2. Once again, um barebones plot with even more barebones characters (heck i dont even have NAMES for them gnxnd) but i think it'll be pretty cool to elaborate upon the shitty circumstances here in the ph when it comes to artistic pursuits and how most of the kids I know are terrified of growing up because they don't want to give up dreaming even though that they know that they have to wake up. I also think it'll be cool to point out thay even though that yea situations like these suck, it'll never ever be too late to pick up the pieces and try again cause at the end of the day, life only ends when you say it will end: there will always be chances, you just need to be gutsy enough to grasp them. Also um yea I originally planned to post like a shit ton of poems this month that would basically be the lyrics of the songs that would go into this musical bUT I'M LAZY SO I'M THROWING AWAY THE POSTING SCHEDULE FJXJSJD anyways here r 2 of the poems/songs that i wanna make for this:

+ In 10 Years - a duet between one of the teenagers and their adult counterpart which is um basically the teen singing their optimistic yet really in-depth and mature perspective on chasing Point 2 while the adult sings about Point 1, wishing that they could tell their teen self about how disappointed they will be; i imagine this to be um kinda like the first version of Dear Theodosia but um more intense maybe fjdjf

+ Run - a duet between two teens who are best friends where one girl tries to convince the other to run and play with her in the nearby playground AND YES THIS DUET IS VERY FUCKING GAY JDJSJDF this was um originally part of Grade 12 tbh and it was supposed to be sung by Lexi and it was supposed to be about a 9th grade event that i personally was a part of where um 9th grade student researchers at a research seminar at a different freaking university took over the elementary students' playground when the seminar finished (I SHALL TREASURE THAT MEMORY FOREVER) and um yea it was basically about holding on to your childhood while you still can...aND THEN I UNINTENTIONALLY MADE IT GAY JFJSJSF Lexi is still getting that song about the research seminar event tho but um it won't be Run cause Run basically turned into a song that's not only about holding on to what's left of your childhood but also to the people you treasure that you know you have to leave behind sooner or later and um yea the girl that the one girl tries to convince to go to the playground agrees to that and then boom go duet stylized after 21 and Alone Now + I Don't Care by freaking preston max allen once again woo (i promise that this won't be plagiarism gndnd) (also altho the two girls have to go their separate ways by their graduation, they eventually meet again at the end of act 2 so woo hopeful ending for the sapphics

OKI THAT'S ALL FOR TODAY FHXHSHD THIS IS WAY TOO FUCKING LONG OF A RAMBLE GOOD GOD AAAAA SO UM IF ANYONE ELSE MADE IT TO THE END, I ONCE AGAIN WILL SEND YOU A SHIT TON OF CARBONARA-

#ari i'm so sorry but this is like...so unbelievably long and convoluted tjxjs GOODLUCK #AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS TJXJSF #so moral of the story is: my brain is too hyperactive for my own good #God help me #also God help those who are gonna try to read this fjxjs #so woo more musical concept rambles aaa #move on tw #move on #ask to tag #izzy's rambles and shit

8 notes · View notes

lady-divine-writes · 4 years

Text

Good Omens - I Was Given Four Rules to Follow ... I Broke Every One: Chapter 2/3 (Rated PG13)

Summary: When Warlock Dowling is summoned to the old South Downs cottage of Aziraphale and Crowley to help clean out their attic, presumably after their deaths, he is given four rules to follow.

... He breaks every single one.

Notes: So here's the chapter where we really lean into that post-accident imagery. Again, it's not gory, but it may be unsettling. Please be warned. Also some very mild thoughts of suicide on Aziraphale's part, the typical 'why don't I off myself to be with me husband instead' sort of inner monologue.

Read on AO3.

I drove back to The South Downs in the Celestial Blue Fiat Crowley had gifted me last anniversary completely on autopilot. I never really used the thing, to be honest, so I was astonished I hadn’t run off the side of the road, especially when the thought was ever in the back of my mind. I kept the windows down, breathing in deep the brisk air and trying not to think too hard over what I was about to do. Or what I could do instead, the possibilities ranging between getting on with my life - sell the cottage and travel the world, forget about everything that had led up to this point … or driving straight off a cliff.

Of course, if I was lucky, fate would decide for me, and I would catch pneumonia driving in the freezing cold with the windows down and only a thin jumper for protection.

I put the radio on and cranked the volume. I caught a replay of The London Symphony Orchestra performing Holst’s The Planets as I tried to focus on everything and anything besides my dead husband waiting for me, lying naked on our bed, packed in ice with several brand new swamp coolers blasting on high to keep decomposition at bay. I thought it best to stow him out here in the middle of nowhere for the time being instead of at our flat in Mayfair - less a chance of anything going wrong, of the swamp coolers drawing suspicion (seeing as it had barely broken seven degrees Celsius over the past month), or (if this worked) people who knew my husband to be dead seeing him walking around, and asking questions.

Accepting that that was a possibility led me back to the question of why was I doing this? Why was I so set on bringing my husband back? Why didn’t I leave him be, allow him peace? Why didn’t I take the opposite route, off myself, and go be with him instead? Had to admit, it was a lot more natural than what I was intending. But there was a simple reason for that.

I’m a coward.

A bloody coward.

I don’t know what awaits us after death. Not truly. I’d been raised a Catholic, and I hold strong to many of those principles still (mostly out of guilt inflicted upon me by my dear old mum). According to the teachings of the church, a Heavenly kingdom would be ours after death … but not if I killed myself.

Suicide was an unforgivable sin.

If I wanted to see my husband again, this might be the only avenue available to me.

I didn’t want to wait, rely on “faith” that we would be together again, and risk being wrong. I was tired of playing guessing games with my future.

I felt like a massive ball of contradictions flying down the motorway at felony speeds, both exhilarated and terrified at the venture I was about to embark on. The old woman wasn’t wrong. For as blisteringly angry as I got with her, that was the worst part. I was tampering with the laws of nature. I knew that. I loved Crowley more than anything, more than my own life, but Crowley was dead, and in the eyes of the universe, there should be nothing I can do to change that.

But apparently there was.

I’d found it.

And I was going through with it regardless, even if it scared the shit out of me.

I’d not told another living soul about this. I had a pretty good idea of what might happen if I did. I didn’t require an intervention, and I didn’t need institutionalization. I wasn’t crazy. I was grieving, searching for the same solutions that dozens of people have probably thought of but would never admit to. But other people - people who knew me as the eccentric book seller of Soho who didn’t actually sell any books and who once rented a live python for the sole purpose of roaming the store in order to keep uni students away at the start of the school year - might not see it that way.

I had also entertained the possibility that this might be a scam - a way to extort five thousand pounds out of a grieving widower willing to pay anything to have his husband back. Except that the old woman – possibly a hundred or so years older than God – put on a convincing act of being afraid for the paltry sum of five thousand (paltry considering what the granddaughter had said about their financial straits - tens of thousands in mounting debts, interest on bank loans that have ballooned into larger sums than their principals, and the shady men who dropped by most nights to ‘browse’ even though they bought nothing but always broke something in ways that implied mishaps more sinister).

They probably could have gotten twenty thousand out of me easily.

I switched off the radio when I turned off the motorway. It wasn’t like the music would disturb anyone. I lived miles away from my closest neighbor. But it seemed disrespectful to keep the volume so loud.

Disrespectful to the dead.

I love our cottage, fell in love with it the first moment I laid eyes on it, but that was back when it was about to become a home.

Now, it was a tomb.

What would our property agent think - that kindly, middle-aged woman who kept making moon eyes at us every time we snuck a kiss - if she knew I was harboring a corpse in my bedroom? The expression of shock that would erupt on her pinched face nearly made me laugh. But the overwhelming pitch blackness of the cottage sapped me of anything even remotely similar to glee.

When I had left earlier in the day, I had neglected to keep any lights on. It seemed fitting to have the place dark while my husband’s body lay within. But I wished I had left one light on at least, or put a torch by the door. My cellular phone battery had died somewhere along the way so it was of no help whatsoever.

As I opened the door and peered into the living room, I held my breath, half-expecting Crowley’s naked corpse to meet me at the entryway. I chided myself for being an idiot, though how ridiculous was it really? A day ago, when I went searching Soho shops for that horrid incense Crowley used to love in the hopes of keeping his favorite scent alive in the house, I would have agreed that the concept of life after death was ludicrous.

That was until I stumbled upon a teenage girl who promised me the secret to bringing Crowley back.

“Cr---Crowley? Crowley, honey? I’m home, my dear,” I called out, hoping that he wouldn’t actually answer. I was thirty steps away from walking out of my comfort zone and into a world I would rather not know existed, so Crowley coming back to life on his own would tip me over the edge into insanity.

I reached out a hand and turned on the light. My living room, warm and comforting, decorated in muted blues, cinnamon browns, and subtle creams, welcomed me. There was nothing out-of-place here.

Nothing dead.

I continued to the bedroom, switching on lights as I went. With every step, I had to convince myself to keep going. I originally pictured me racing into the house, eager to get this started. But with reality staring me in the face, I wasn’t sure. But I didn’t have the luxury of waiting to see if I would eventually change my mind. Crowley’s internal organs, especially his brain, were decaying fast, regardless of how much ice or air conditioning I piped into the place.

Soon the choice wouldn’t be mine to make.

Twenty steps brought me to the threshold of my bedroom where I stopped, staring at the closed door. I reached down and patted the bottle in my pocket, feeling the lump through the linen of my trousers. Touching it gave me the strength I needed to move my hand to the doorknob, but I halted once more with it hovering when I heard a small creak – like a foot stepping lightly on the hardwood floor. It was the house settling, I told myself. That was what Crowley always said when I woke him in the middle of the night to the sound of odd creaking and whining.

“It’s a mid-century house,” he’d say. “The floors contract in the cold and expand in the heat.”

“So what your saying is …?” I quipped.

“... the house talks in our sleep,” Crowley had replied without opening his eyes. “Now go back to your reading so I can get some sleep, too.”

“Just the house settling,” I muttered in my best rendition of Crowley’s accent, plucking the explanation from my mind and saying it out loud to make it real. “Nothing else alive in the house except for me.”

Still, I couldn’t bring myself to open the door.

I heard the creak repeat, closer this time.

I swallowed so hard, everything from my jaw to my stomach ached.

“Crowley? Are you there? Are you … are you waiting for me, my dear?”

Of course he’s waiting for you! I scolded myself. He’s waiting for you to grow a pair and get this over with.

I sighed, allowing the rush of breath in my deflating body to give my hand momentum, touch the doorknob, and open it like I had hundreds of times before.

This time was no different.

Yup. Maybe if I kept telling myself that, it would feel real.

I turned the knob and switched on the light without thinking about the sight that awaited me on the bed. My eyes flicked up … and my stomach fell to the floor.

There was Crowley, right where I had left him, lying in bed, eyes closed. He looked asleep and, from this distance, normal except for a few cuts and bruises on his face. The accident hadn’t banged his body up that badly, not from what I had noticed, though I didn’t make it a point to look at him for too long.

His neck was why not.

His broken neck from the whiplash that had killed him instantly.

He’d been leaning forward in his car seat, looking at street signs, stuck on a small, offshoot road that the GPS on his phone had apparently never heard of before. He had cautiously entered the intersection when a pickup flew through out of nowhere and slammed into him from behind. Crowley jettisoned forward and hit the steering wheel.

Being a classic car, restored to original condition, it had no airbag.

I blinked back the tears that leaped to my eyes at the thought of the accident that took my husband from me, at the fact that the driver of the truck, being sloshed out of his gourd, walked away from the same accident with only blacks and blues. The police caught the bastard a few miles down the road when his engine stalled.

He claimed he didn’t stop because he thought he had only struck a deer.

“H—hey,” I said, trying to get comfortable with the idea of talking to my husband again. “I went out shopping today, and you’ll never believe what I brought home.”

I could see my own breath as it met the air in the room, like walking into a gigantic meat locker, making what I was doing that much more morbid. My knees knocked but I clamped them together to keep them mobile. I reached the bed, and my casual, conversational tone disappeared, the words wavering as I spoke them.

“I think … this might … help …” I hiccuped, side-eyeing my husband’s body. Crowley’s skin appeared waxy, coated in moisture from the frigid air, and the color wasn’t right. I knew that soon blood would pool and Crowley’s unnaturally pale skin would turn black so I had to hurry, but every muscle in my body screamed for me to turn and run.

I touched the bed, and I’m ashamed to say, I whimpered.

I can do this, I can do this … I chanted to myself. I reached out and let my hand brush Crowley’s fingers. I tried to recall their warmth, the way Crowley’s touch made me feel loved, desired. Whole. I wanted that back, and I wasn’t going to let anything stand in my way. I knelt on the bed, crawled over to Crowley’s body, and leaned over his serene face.

“I’m going to get you back,” I whispered, cursing the fear in my voice. “If I have to claw my way into Heaven and drag you back with my own two hands, I’m going to get you back.”

I pulled the blue bottle out of my pocket. I held it to the light and gave it a swirl, watching the liquid spin around the belly of the glass and then settle into a shimmering mass. Crowley’s life was sitting in the bottom of that bottle. All I need do was give it back.

I yanked out the stopper and brought the bottle to Crowley’s lips.

“Bottoms up, love.” I pecked a kiss to his cold skin and then tipped the contents into his mouth. I expected to see Crowley’s throat move as he swallowed, his eyes snap urgently open, but they didn’t. The potion didn’t act instantaneously the way I’d assumed then. He was still dead … but not for long.

I remained kneeling at Crowley’s side, staring into my husband’s face, heeding the ancient woman’s words to be the first person Crowley saw when he opened his eyes. I knelt and knelt for over an hour, thighs cramping in the freezing cold. The sharp prickle that comes with poor blood circulation assaulted my skin, the thought that this was an elaborately planned and executed hoax becoming more a likelihood as time passed.

The sun started to light the grass and hills outside. I could barely see the early morning rays seep in beneath the blackout curtains, but there they were nonetheless - evidence of a brand new day. Still, there was no change, no sign, nothing on Crowley’s face that might give me a reason to hold on. I struggled against exhaustion, grasping at thin straws of hope, but with each passing minute, I was failing.

It had been a dream – a wonderful dream.

But I had to wake up and face facts - my husband wasn’t coming back to me in any form.

I’d been most grievously had.

I stretched my limbs - one leg, then the other. Then I lifted my torso, bending my arms and flexing my hands. I crawled backward off the bed, raising my arms above my head, listening to my spine snap and pop. I looked at Crowley again, peacefully expired – one last look before I made plans for his burial.

I was beginning to feel it was about time.

I walked to the dresser and opened the top drawer, looking for my pajamas. Before I did anything, I needed a nap or I would drop dead on my feet.

I winced at the ill-placed pun, but chalked it up as part of the healing process. Gallows humor. I could never appreciate it before.

That probably wouldn’t change.

I rummaged through the drawer, looking past perfectly suitable shirts and lounge pants but for what, I didn’t know … until I found it.

A journal.

I have lots of journals, to be honest. Writing is a passion of mine, along with reading. In their pages, I have documented everything that has ever happened to me in excruciating detail - as if anyone would ever be interested in that sort of thing. As if reading about my pains or my triumphs would help anyone. I don’t find myself to be remotely (as the kids put it) relatable. I have no desire to be famous, and the circumstances of my life (mainly my marriage to Crowley) have made me wealthier than I could ever possibly enjoy in my lifetime.

But not today.

Today I felt numb to everything around me, and not just because of the intense cold. Nothing seemed to matter. I left my pajamas in the drawer and hopped back onto the bed. I might have been cavalier about it, but there was nothing here for me to fear. What lay in bed beside me was a body, nothing more - flesh and blood rotting from the inside with no unique soul to keep it all together.

Make it worth something.

I opened my journal - this journal - to the first empty page where a blue ballpoint pen had been shoved into the spine, waiting for me. For how long … I can’t remember. I picked the thing out and uncapped it. I put the tip to the paper, but I didn’t start writing right away. I hadn’t written in a journal in weeks. Where should I start? Do I pick up where my last journal entry left off, no matter how long ago that was? Even if it ended on a happy memory, like me and Crowley going to the cinema, having dinner at The Ritz?

Making love in the backseat of his Bentley?

Or do I forget all that and start a few minutes ago when I finally decided to give up on the possibility of my husband coming back? A couple of hours ago when the old woman almost refused to sell me the potion? Or that horrible night, when the police showed up at my door with apologetic looks and horrendous news?

While I juggled those thoughts, trying to decide, the world around me began to awaken. Birds sang their melodious songs in the bitter cold. The wind outside knocked against my window. A tiny critter scritched inside the walls, which would have had me running for the traps, but not today. Whatever you are, little creature, you have been granted a stay of execution.

Nothing would be dying within my home today.

The sun rose higher and the room got brighter. To my surprise, it heated up a little, and the ice cubes on the bed began to melt. I heard them collapsing in their piles, some having turned to water, making way for others to fall. The bed dipped as I shifted my legs beneath me, my crossed limbs having fallen asleep in their bent up positions. I cleared my throat, the sound rumbling in my chest, though the voice didn’t sound entirely my own. My ears had been ringing during the drive home and for most of the night, so I imagined I must have caught some kind of cold.

But as I reasoned out all of this, going about my task, my heart realized a truth that my mind hadn’t.

When my mind caught up, it went blank.

My blood turned to ice, secondary to the chill in the room, helped naught an inch by the invading sun. I didn’t think I could get any colder, but I did. That inside out feeling returned as another started to register.

I no longer felt quite so alone.

I lowered my journal, glancing up from the blank page to find Crowley, rolled onto his side, staring at me with wide, emotionless eyes.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #tricketyboo2020 #ineffable lovers #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale #Crowley

11 notes · View notes

argylemnwrites · 4 years

Text

Change of Plans - Part 3

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Romance (An It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment universe AU, set nearly 3 years after that epilogue)

Word Count: ~4700

Rating: NC-17 (language, 30 diamond scene)

Summary: Living in NYC in March 2020 is redefining normal for Drake and Riley. Life doesn’t always go according to plan during a pandemic, after all.

Author’s Note: Finally finished up the third and final installment of my AU inside my AU. Sorry the word count got away from me a bit here, but hopefully you all like this conclusion to the journey even further into the real world for these two. (I might have fallen in love with this version more than my planned version... oops)

Just like parts 1 and 2, this does hint at or reference some events from the prologue and the first couple of chapters of Why Are We Still Waiting?, but it does not spoil the core content of the story. And again, Trigger warning for coronavirus discussions. Also, explicit adult content in this part.

Part of Drake couldn’t quite believe that today was actually real. It felt sort of surreal still, even though he had the marriage certificate in his hand and was wearing a ring on his finger. Even though the officiant’s words still ran through his mind, pronouncing them married. It felt too much like a dream. But they were married. She was his wife.

They were in their cab, back to their apartment. Obviously, no reception. No bars or restaurants were even open, except for takeout. But that was alright. Being married to her, that was what mattered. Who really cared if it didn’t happen as they planned?

“So, for our honeymoon, what do you think about Brooklyn?” Riley asked, settling in under the arm he’d thrown across her shoulders after giving the driver their address.

Drake chuckled, “Sounds great. You have a place in mind?”

“Yup! I found this little one bedroom apartment with absolutely no amenities, but it does come with a corgi.”

“Perfect. Hopefully it comes with the opportunity for digital filing of cases, because that’s what I really want to do.”

“But you finished your work for today, right?”

Drake nodded. It had been a pain in the ass, but he’d been able to take care of enough between last night and this morning that he would probably not draw attention to the fact that he’d taken this afternoon off. It had seemed stupid to tell his supervisor his plan when he’d been able to get the work done. The firm might be letting people work from home, but that didn’t change the fact that the leadership on his team was a bunch of frat bro assholes that would have absolutely made him use a half day of vacation.

“Good,” she said, turning her head and leaning over slightly so that her lips were practically on his ear, “I’ve got plans for you.”

Drake swallowed roughly, sparing a quick glance towards the cab driver before turning his head and kissing her. The only thing hotter than the promise her words held was the fact that she was now saying them as his wife.

After a few moments, Drake pulled back, not wanting to make the driver too uncomfortable, but Riley tugged him down again, deepening the kiss slightly. However, after several seconds, a loud buzzing sound interrupted them. Riley leaned back slightly, pulling her phone out of her purse.

“What the hell?” she said as she unlocked her phone. “I have six texts from Maxwell. Wait - seven.”

Drake watched her open up her messaging app, and she let out a big sigh almost instantly. She quickly titled her phone so he could read the screen.

😲😃😭🤗😤🥳

That’s all my feelings

Because

OMG

YOU GUYS GOT MARRIED

YAY!!! 👰🤵🥂

WITHOUT ME

BOO!!!! 😡👎👿

Drake glanced up from her phone, “How does he know?” They had decided it was better to tell Liam and Iris, Hana and Catherine, and Maxwell, Savannah, Bertrand, and the kids at the same time, and since they had plans for a Zoom call this weekend, that had seemed like the perfect opportunity. No hurt feelings at being the last to know, no guilt trips from Maxwell, and no judgement from his sister for eloping. However, Maxwell had apparently found out within 15 minutes of the ceremony.

“I have no idea how he-” Riley started, but stopped abruptly, “Shit. Give me your phone.”

“Why?”

“I want to check if Daniel posted our photos to Pictagram.”

“Liu, I don’t have Pictagram.”

“Yes, you do. Maxwell and I set that up for you like a year ago.”

“Yeah… I deleted it as soon as he left town.”

Riley rolled her eyes at him, but closed out her message thread with Maxwell and opened up her Pictagram account. Sure enough @liuthebagelbitch and @dw519 were tagged in numerous photos in Daniel’s account and story. Them signing the paperwork. Sitting on the couch waiting. Holding hands and saying vows. Putting on their rings. Kissing at the end of the ceremony.

“Maxwell must follow Daniel,” Riley said, scrolling through the feed, “Yup, squidwiththemoves has liked every single photo.” She sighed, exiting the app. “And he’s texted me ten more times. We have to call him.”

Drake nodded, but before Riley could even open her contacts list, a Facetime request popped up from Maxwell Beaumont. Letting out one last sigh, Riley swiped to accept the call.

“Hey Maxwell!”

“What the hell? I’ve been working on my speech for your ceremony for years, Riley!”

“Wanna try that again?” Riley asked, raising her eyebrows expectantly.

Maxwell sighed, “I mean, congratulations! I’m so happy you decided to get married without telling me or inviting me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry we didn’t consider you in our wedding,” Drake called out, leaning into the view of the camera and rolling his eyes.

“Drake! How could you do this to me, buddy?”

“Do you really want me to answer that question, buddy?”

Riley elbowed him slightly, probably wanting him to not escalate the situation. Truth be told, Drake was only mildly annoyed at Maxwell making their wedding all about him. The bigger issue was going to be getting Maxwell to keep quiet about it until Sunday. That was basically four full days from now, and Maxwell had barely been able to contain himself back when he found out that he and Riley were involved for half that time.

“Sorry, Maxwell. But we didn’t want to wait again. Plus, I lost my health insurance, so now I’m able to go on Drake’s.”

“Why didn’t you guys tell me, though?”

“Because we wanted to keep this quiet and not make it everyone else’s business,” Drake grumbled.

“And,” Riley added, shooting him a look before she continued, “we were planning to tell all you guys together on Sunday.”

“I just can’t believe I wasn’t there,” Maxwell said, shaking his head sadly.

“We wish you could have been. We really do. But you understand why that wasn’t an option, right?”

Maxwell nodded. “Yeah, I get it.”

“And do you think you could not mention it to anyone before we see everyone on Sunday?”

There was a long pause following Riley’s question before Maxwell responded, “I promise not to tell anyone else.”

“Maxwell… who have you told already?” Drake asked, the word ‘else’ jumping out in his mind.

“Not that many, people I swear!”

“Well, I just got a ‘congratulations’ text with several question marks from Hana,” said Riley, glancing at the notification that had flashed across the top of her screen.

“I had to find out if you had told her and not me!” Maxwell said, gesturing towards the screen emphatically with his free hand.

“And Iris just asked me if what she’s seeing is real,” Riley continued as another notification popped up.

“I wanted to make sure she wasn’t more looped in that I was!”

“And now Savannah’s asking if I really married her brother today.”

“Wait, why is my sister texting you and not me?” Drake asked as Maxwell continued his defense, saying “I mean, we live under the same roof, so of course I asked her what she knew.”

“Maxwell, is there anyone you didn’t tell?” Riley asked, shaking her head.

“Well, Liam didn’t answer my calls, so he probably doesn’t know.”

“You told Iris!”

“Yeah, okay… fair,” Maxwell trailed off, clearly trying to find someone he hadn’t told. “This really isn’t my fault, though! You posted those pictures!”

“Daniel was our witness and photographer. He’s the one who posted them.”

“Well, then blame him. I just acted the way any normal person in my position would have acted.”

“Wanna try that again?” asked Drake, prompting a chuckle from Riley.

“Fine, I just acted in a way that you guys should have totally predicted. In fact, part of me wonders if you wanted me to find out so that I would tell everyone, and you wouldn’t have to deal with the drama of telling them that you got married without them.”

“Maxwell!”

“Fine, I’ll let you go be nauseating newlyweds. Congrats, you two!” With a little wave, Maxwell ended the call.

“Well, I guess people know,” said Riley after a moment.

Drake let out a sigh, tipping his head back against the top of the seat.

“You aren’t really upset, are you? I mean, I know we decided to tell everyone at once, but it’s not such a big deal that they know, is it?”

“Nah, it’s just annoying that instead of this just being our thing for now, we’re gonna spend our entire wedding night on the phone with people.”

Riley let out a little burst of laughter at that, so Drake twisted his neck to glance at her. “What?” he asked.

“I think you are severely overestimating how many close friends we have. I bet we can finish this up before we even get back to our place.”

“Really.”

“You take Liam and Iris; I’ll take Hana and Catherine. All our New York friends can wait, don’t you think?”

“What about Savannah?”

Riley paused for just a moment, “We can set up a video call with her and your mother tomorrow.”

“But she lives with Maxwell. She knows that-”

“She owes us our wedding day, Drake.”

Drake nodded. As much as he wished that Riley and his sister got along perfectly, he knew that Riley had a good point there.

“So, I’m gonna call Hana. If you give Liam a call now, it can just be our time when we get home.”

She didn’t have to tell him twice, so as she tapped Hana in her contact list, he unlocked his phone and scrolled to Liam in his recent contacts. The phone only rang twice before Liam answered.

“Yes, Iris. I see. Please let me actually talk to him, love?” Liam asked, his voice muffled and quiet initially before growing much louder. “Drake, I’m glad you called. You are apparently the source of great excitement here tonight.”

“Yeah… I didn’t mean to be-”

“Well, you are, my friend. Between my three missed calls from Maxwell about, and I quote ‘something that I probably wouldn’t consider an emergency, but he sure did’ and Iris bursting into my office with pictures of Riley and you pulled up on her phone, I’ve not been able to get very far in reviewing my nightly briefings.”

“Sorry about that. But, I… er, do have some news.”

“So I am gathering. It appears congratulations are in order,” Liam said. In the background, Drake heard a quieter “Congrats, you two,” that presumably came from Iris.

“Uhh, yeah. We decided to get married.”

“I’m guessing this was Riley’s idea?”

“What makes you say that?”

“She’s just a touch more prone to impulsive action than you.”

“Well, you’re wrong this time.”

“This was you?” The shock was evident in Liam’s voice, and it did bring a smile to Drake’s face. It wasn’t often that Drake was able to surprise him.

“It was.”

“Congratulations, Drake,” Liam replied after a moment, “I’m truly very happy for both of you.”

“Sorry we didn’t-”

“No. I’m happy for you. I’m not accepting any apologies as there is nothing that happened today for which you should feel even remotely sorry.”

“Thanks, Liam.”

“Can I talk to Riley?”

Drake glanced over at Riley, “She’s on the phone with Hana,” but she held up one finger and then held her free hand open, “but I think she’s about to wrap up and wants to talk to you, too.” Riley nodded in agreement.

“Excellent. And I mean it Drake, I know how much this means to both of you. So, truly, I wish you congratulations and nothing but happiness.”

Feeling a lump in his throat, Drake swallowed roughly. But before he could process the words of his oldest and dearest friend, Riley was snatching his phone out of his hand and passing her phone to him.

Hana and Catherine wished him brief, but heartfelt congratulations, but Riley was still on the phone with Liam after he said goodbye to them. He could only really hear her half of the conversation, and she wasn’t saying much, mainly listening to him apparently. Every so often, she would throw in an “of course” or “you know I will,” but other than a few chuckles, she was largely silent. Every so often, he would catch a word or two from Liam, but their conversation was basically a mystery to him.

It was a little strange, to think about how a couple of years ago, having to sit as an outsider while Liam and Riley shared something private would have filled him with a mix of jealousy and guilt and anger. Now, it was certainly a bit odd that his best friend seemed to have more to say to his… his wife than he did to him, but it wasn’t a bad feeling, necessarily. If anything, he was mostly curious, with just a bit of fear about what tales from their youth and adolescence he could be telling her. Those stories would require more explanations than he wanted to give tonight.

Eventually, the cab stopped in front of their building. As Drake paid their fare, Riley wrapped up the call with Liam.

“Thanks, Liam. We’re actually home now… Yeah, I know… You too. Stay safe, and we’ll talk to you guys in a few days.”

“What was that about?” Drake asked as Riley ducked under his arm as he opened the door to their building.

“Oh, he just had a lot of really mushy things to say about you.”

“I’m serious, Liu.”

“I wasn’t kidding. I think he basically gave me his best man speech just now,” she said with a shrug as she unlocked the door from the mailroom and started up the stairs to the second floor, “He just wanted to make sure I knew how lucky I was, I think.”

“Well, that’s fucking dumb. I’m the lucky one here.”

“This has all the markings of going on for a while. Why don’t we just agree that we’re both mad lucky and call it even?” Riley called over her shoulder as she walked down the hallway and pulled her keys out of her purse.

“Wait! I’m supposed to carry you through, right?” Drake remembered as Riley moved to push open the door.

She let out a little chuckle and rolled her eyes, but stood there expectantly, so Drake stepped up and scooped her into his arms, sliding one hand forward to turn the knob and open their door. Anderson came trotting over, eager to see his two humans, while Drake placed Riley down close to the door, not wanting to track their shoes and jackets too far into the apartment.

“He could probably use a walk,” Drake said, “and we should probably shower after spending hours out in public. How about I take him while you get started since washing your hair is always a… process.”

Riley swatted his chest lightly, but nodded in agreement. “You’ll join me when you get back?”

“Absolutely.”

Anderson took care of his business quickly, so it wasn’t too long before Drake was back in their apartment, hanging his sport coat up next to Riley’s jacket and kicking off his shoes. After washing his hands, he made his way into their bathroom, where the shower was running. The steam was already starting to get thick in the room, and eager to get out of his clothes and to join her, Drake quickly moved to drop his shirt on top of the pile of clothing she’d left next to the sink, but a scrap of tan lace caught his eye.

“I knew you were bluffing!” he called out as he fully removed his shirt and started undoing his belt and jeans.

“Huh?” asked Riley, peeking her head out from behind the shower curtain.

“About not wearing underwear. I knew you were full of shit,” Drake said as he stepped out of his pants and boxers, kicking them on top of the pile before climbing into the tub and under the water, sliding his hands into her long, black hair, somehow even darker now that it was wet, as she placed her chin against his chest and her hands on his hips, turning her face up towards his with a playful little smile.

He dropped his head to hers, pulling her into a passionate kiss, trailing his hands through her hair and down to her back. After a few moments, she tilted her head back. “As much as I like where this is headed, we should actually probably shower and not get too distracted,” she teased, trailing her hands around and squeezing his ass with a wink before she ducked past him and started rinsing out her hair. “Besides,” she added, “our track record for shower sex is not great.”

Drake couldn’t help but laugh as he opened up his bottle of shampoo and started lathering up his hair. Something about the floor of this tub was extra slippery, as they had learned the hard way not long after they moved in and then foolishly required repeat lessons about at numerous times. The worst was the time that he’d needed three stitches behind his ear after colliding with the tap as he fell backward, but the time Riley nearly dislocated her shoulder was a close second. “Yeah, a trip to urgent care would be pretty far from ideal at this point,” he said as he dropped a kiss to her forehead.

And so they both showered, trying to keep any touches light and loving, not wanting things to escalate just yet, but the sight of Riley with water trailing all over her naked curves was obviously turning Drake on. Based on the way she dragged her hand across him as she reached for her body wash, she was feeling the same way. By the time she was rinsing off and stepping out of the shower, Drake was scrambling to finish up, wanting to join her as soon as possible.

When he finally turned off the water and stepped out, there she was, wrapped up in her lime green towel, working a comb through her hair. She smiled at him through the mirror, her skin still looking like it was almost glowing from the warmth and water. As he drew up behind her, he slid his hands around her waist and dropped his lips to her shoulder, prompting Riley to shake her head.

“Drake, at least let me finish working out the tangles,” she said before letting out a little sigh as he worked his way over to the side of her neck, biting down ever so lightly when he reached that spot that always drove her wild.

“Who cares?” Drake mumbled into her skin, working his fingers to gather up the towel and moving one hand to her now-exposed thigh, “You aren’t gonna be seeing anyone anyway.”

Riley shuddered, dropping her comb to the counter before snaking her hand behind his neck as he slid his fingers to her center, his touch still light and teasing. “Maybe I want to look good for my husband,” she sighed out, moving her other hand to the knotted portion of the towel across her chest.

Drake groaned. Was her statement supposed to slow him down? Because hearing the word ‘husband’ coming from her lips? Talking about him? Well, fuck. It turned him on even more. Riley had to know what that sentence would do to him, right? So, he increased the pressure of his fingers, stroking her in the way he knew she loved before sliding a finger inside her. The angle wasn’t perfect, but he could feel her arousal and the fact that she practically growled “Fuck” as she clawed her fingernails into his neck seemed to indicate that she was just as ready to keep going as he was.

After a few moments, Drake stilled his motion when Riley grabbed his wrist. She spun, letting the towel fall to the ground and hopped up onto the small counter. She tugged him between her legs, but Drake shook his head.

“Our bed is just a few feet away,” he protested as Riley wrapped her hand around him, causing him to question why he was trying to change anything going on here.

“But it’s nice and warm in here,” she responded, dropping kisses along his jaw, “and I’ve never been good at waiting, Drake. We can be all tender and gentle later. For now, I just want you to fuck your wife.” She punctuated the last words by biting down lightly on his earlobe. Letting out a groan, he brushed her hand away and lined himself up, sinking into her. He hadn’t wanted their first time as a married couple to feel like some frantic quickie, but it had always been nearly impossible for him to deny her anything. So he started rocking his hips into her, reveling in the feel of her around him. The scrape of her nails along his shoulders. Her breath across his cheek.

As he shifted his stance slightly to fill her an angle he knew would be better for her, he caught a glimpse of their reflection in the mirror. There it was, a gold band on his ring finger, resting along her spine. It was almost hard to look away, so he just kept staring at it, soaking in the sight that proved they were married. It mixed with the feel of her hands digging into his skin and her legs hooked around his back, the sound of her breathy sighs and whispered “fucks,” the taste of her skin of her neck, and the smell of her peach body wash, spurring him on and increasing his pleasure.

Sensing that he was heading towards his peak a little quicker than she was, he tore his left hand off her back, sliding it between their bodies. He glanced down to where they were joined, his thumb circling roughly right above that, his ring pressed against the skin of the thigh he clutched. He slammed his eyes shut and dropped his face into the crook of her neck, not needing any additional stimulation. But soon, he felt Riley’s leg clench around him a little more.

“Are you close?” he murmured into her ear.

“Yes,” she moaned out, arching her back slightly. He wasn’t sure if she was specifically answering his question or not, but her response was enough of an answer regardless. Picking up his pace, Drake stroked his thumb harder. He knew he was seconds away from release when he felt her clench around him. He barely was able to recognize her climax before he shattered, spilling into her as he groaned into her skin.

After a few breathless moments, Drake felt his awareness returning. He slid out of her and shifted up, reaching behind her for a washcloth off the rack, dropping a kiss along her cheek as he stood up fully and helped her off the counter.

He wanted to tell how much he loved her. How much he would always love her. How he would always try to prevent her from ever regretting today. But any words he could think of didn’t feel like they were enough to actually describe his feelings, so he settled for gentle caresses and light kisses as they got cleaned up. Before they moved to go to their bedroom to get dressed, Drake grabbed her wrist and tugged her back to him, kissing her deeply.

“I’ll make us something nice for dinner, Liu. Okay?” he said as he pulled back, running his hand through her wet hair.

She nodded and gave him a bright smile before responding, “And I have an idea for dessert.”

He raised an eyebrow at that, “You have an idea in the kitchen?”

Riley just shook her head. “Yes, you ass. And not only will I not mess it up, but I know you’ll like it.”

Dinner was a quiet affair, Riley having thrown on some acoustic cover songs in the background and lighting a couple of candles they had leftover from their Valentine’s dinner while Drake cooked up a couple of steaks, some roasted potatoes, and some sauteed frozen squash. It wasn’t a perfect meal, but he thought he’d done a decent job finding something special for them out of their stock. He’d been surprised when Riley had set their glasses of whiskey on the coffee table instead of their dining table, but he got it once she’d tucked her legs under herself and curled up against his side on the couch. It was cozy and warm and intimate and felt right for the way they’d gotten married.

After they finished eating, Drake started loading the dishwasher and soaking the pans while Riley dug around in the tall cupboard they used as their pantry and then pulled something out of the fridge.

“You better not be baking something,” Drake told her over his shoulder, “Eggs are too hard to find these days to use them in a kitchen adventure of yours,” chuckling lightly as he felt a towel whip between his shoulder blades.

“If you’re done being a smart ass, I’m ready for you.”

Drake shut off the faucet and turned to face her, a smile slipping onto his face as he took in the graham crackers, marshmallows, and chocolate bars on the counter.

“I know it’s not exactly a wedding cake, but I figured we could do s’mores over the stove,” she said, settling in next to him.

“It’s perfect, Riley,” he said, slipping his hand into hers as he noticed an apple sitting off to the side, “but why the apple?”

“Oh, well I thought we could still do the apple-cutting,” she said with a little shrug, placing her chin against his shoulder, “I mean, I wasn’t sure if someone else needed to be there for this tradition or not, but I just thought it might be nice.”

Drake squeezed her hand, grabbing a knife out of the block and handing it to her. That she had remembered the one Cordonian wedding tradition he’d mentioned incorporating into their reception and thought to do it today was so perfectly her. Not snarky her, when she was annoyed at others or the world or at him. Not playful her, who would tease and laugh and lighten the room. But thoughtful her, who saw forgotten and neglected and broken people and made sure that at least for a moment, they felt seen and heard.

“So, just carve your initials,” Drake instructed, reluctantly dropping her hand so she could pick up the apple.

“Old or new?”

“What?”

“My old initials or my new initials?”

The weight of the day hit him again. Maybe this wasn’t the wedding they’d planned, but it was still their day. Their commitment. Their promise. And that meant more than having Maxwell as the officiant or getting married where his parents did or hearing toasts from Liam or Hana ever could. Watching the woman he’d loved for years, who he knew he’d love for all the years ahead, carve “RW” into that apple was plenty special.

He knew Riley could read him and his mood. She had always been good at that even before they lived together, so it didn’t surprise him that she kept quiet as he carved his own initials into the apple, then cut out a slice for them to share. She had to know he was dangerously close to being overwhelmed, so she didn’t push, just ate her portion of the apple before taking a step to the side and lighting one of the burners. After spearing a couple of marshmallows onto two forks, she grabbed his hand and pulled him over to the stove with her. They toasted their marshmallows without saying anything and without letting go. They were ready to face the good and the bad, together and united. The world was changing, but their world felt steady and sure.

Permatag: @ravenpuff02 @octobereighth @drakewalker04 @kimmiedoo5 @speedyoperarascalparty @mfackenthal @lilyofchoices @thequeenofcronuts @jamesashtonisbae

The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir: @kingliam2019 @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @dcbbw @yaushie

Drake x MC only: @jovialyouthmusic @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @riley--walker @notoriouscs @butindeed @axwalker @drakesensworld

It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment: @wickedgypsymoon @thesumofmychoices @cosigottahavefaith @thequeenchoices @katedrakeohd @feartheendlesssummer @ao719 @ooo-barff-ooo @sunnyxdazed

Change of Plans: @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @burnsoslow

#drake walker #drake x mc #trr fanfic #trr au #trr au fanfic #tw: coronavirus #n*sfw #30 diamonds

41 notes · View notes

candoia-aspera · 5 years

Text

Guppy Breeding But Like, Intentionally

Alternatively titled “Git Gud At Guppy Breeding ”

I’ve been meaning to do a little how to on getting into the guppy game whether it’s for fun, show or a little bit of pocket money so here it is.

Guppies are probably the easiest tropical fish to keep. They don’t need high heat, are undemanding in terms of pH, don’t require any sort of special diet, don’t need tons of space, thrive in groups and breed readily.

Pretty much every person who’s ever kept a tropical tank has had guppies before. They’re icons of the hobby, and with good reason. But if you want to make something special out of them, you’re gonna have to do the legwork. Which brings me to my first point:

1. CHOOSING A VARIETY.

If you want to succeed at breeding seriously, your best bet is to go for an established line and keep that going for a bit before you start doing anything bananas like outcrossing. If you’re interested in wild guppies, bear in mind that genetic diversity should be your top priority. Different people would probably give you different spiels on what kind of domestic lines to go for, but I’m gonna be honest here. Go for something you love. I mean goddamn, you’re going to be producing them for a while, so go for something you won’t get sick of looking at. The only thing I will say is to steer clear of any varieties with altered finnage such as ribbonfins. Any mutation that alters the shape of the male guppy’s gonopodium will make the males infertile. Females can still breed with non ribbon males, but it’s an added difficulty. Pet store animals are a bad idea, since their genetics are totally unknown. Also be aware that certain albino lines, particularly full reds, are prone to fertility issues. Bearing that in mind, the choice is up to you!

2. KNOW WHAT YOU’RE AIMING FOR

What’s your goal with this line of yours? Is it colour, pattern, fin size and shape? Are you breeding to a standard? If you’re looking to sell, you need to make people actually want to buy animals from you. If so, why should people spend their money on your fish, what makes them so special? These are all things you’ll have to figure out on your own - before you start breeding.

3. BREEDING TRUE

What this means is ensuring your animals only produce animals that look like them. I’d recommend starting with a small group of 3-4 pairs, all of the same kind. Whatever setup you choose, the females should outnumber the males at least 2:1 so no single female is getting unduly harassed. Once you’ve got your pairs, remove all but the best male. Keep the other males as backups in case the worst should happen to the chosen one. If any of the females are rather unfortunate looking or weak, remove them as well (and get the breeder in a headlock and demand to know why they sold you bunk fish). Make sure you’ve got good food, clean water and comfortable water parameters, and fry will naturally follow.

4. SELECTING FRY

All goes well, and you’ll soon have your second generation of guppies flitting about. The selection process starts pretty much as soon as they’re large enough for you to see faults. Immediately remove any with physical issues such as bent backs, kinked tails, malformed fins etc. Also remove any ‘runty’ animals that fail to thrive. Don’t be tempted to keep them - you’re poisoning the genepool if you do. It’s better to focus your energy and resources on the healthiest animals to give them to best possible start. Don’t fall into the trap of focusing on the males alone. The female is the one who carries the fry, so if she’s weak or ugly, your fry will be too! What you want is the strongest, best looking females and the strongest, best looking males. Always have a few holdbacks, but remember not to keep too many males. A single male can service multiple females at once, but too many males together will cause fighting. After a few rounds of fry, you should have the next generation of breeding groups made up of only your absolute best, as well as some holdbacks for safekeeping. Remember, if by some stroke of misfortune you end up with no males, all is not lost! Females can carry sperm from previous matings for a long time, so don’t rush to outcross when there’s still a chance to salvage things!

5.1 OUTCROSSING - IS IT FOR YOU?

That’s what most of us are probably here for, isn’t it? The ability to make our very own line of unique, true breeding guppies by mixing other strains is one of the biggest draws of the hobby. It’s a powerful tool that requires a lot of work, time and dedication to get right, but it’s worth it when you do. Just understand that it may be many, many generations of little guppies and disappointment before you get close to your ideal fish.

5.2 OUTCROSSING - SENSIBLE STRAIN MIXING

Everyone’s seen those listings on eBay or wherever where someone’s thrown a pair of totally unrelated random animals together and is bragging about how it’s the first time this particular cross has been attempted. There’s usually a reason for that. My personal favourite was a recent listing I saw trying to sell Snow White/Dragon cross fry. The Snow White, as implied, is a pure white fish free of any other pattern or colour, that may or may not be albino depending on the line. Dragons, on the other hand, are bred specifically for their striking patterns and brilliant colour, even on the females. What the seller was obviously aiming for was the Snow White body with the Dragon finnage. What they got was a group of fry where 50% looked like worse versions of either parent, and 50% greyish looking messes. It’s far better to combine strains that have similarities than strains from total opposite ends of the spectrum - it’ll get you where you want to go much faster, and it’ll be easier to find homes for spare animals.

5.3 OUTCROSSING - HOW TO OUTCROSS EFFECTIVELY

This of course depends on what you’re aiming for - whether it’s colour or fin type or just a single gene like albino that you’re trying to get into your line. Your best shot is to keep back a few clean females from your established line. This means females that have been separated from all males since the earliest point you could tell the difference. Pre-hit females won’t work, as they can store sperm from previous breedings and totally skew your plans. Next, get your hands on a breeding pair or several of the desired line to mix in. Keep the pair or pairs together to ensure you have backup true breeders of this new line, just in case. Once they’ve settled in and completed quarantine, introduce some of your clean females. It’s vitally important to make sure these females only ever breed with males of the new line, to give you a good starting pool of F1s.

5.4 OUTCROSSING - HOW TO NOT SCREW UP THE NEXT BIT

Let your first generation of selected fry from your cross reach adulthood. This will give you the best idea of where to go from here. How close are they to what you wanted? If the answer is “really close” then congrats, you’re a lucky bastard and I’m jealous. The best idea for you would be to breed together animals that best fit your ideal from your F1s, and take it from there. But for most of us, it’s a bit more difficult than that. Maybe the colour’s not right, maybe the fin type doesn’t look anything like the standard. In that case, it may be best to backcross - breeding one of the F1 females back to the original new line male or one of his true line descendants to try and fix those traits in. This can take GENERATIONS to get right, so don’t feel bad if you end up spending a year or more just trying to get the ideal breeding group.

5.5 OUTCROSSING - STARTING A LINE

So you’ve got your breeding group of ideal fish. Where do you go from here? Linebreeding is where you go. Once your new breeding group has fry and those fry grow, repeat the same process as before only without any other input from the line you crossed in. Pick out and breed only those animals that fit your ideal closest, and after much work and effort and time, you should end up with a group of fish that are what you set out to achieve. The most important thing at this point is to get them breeding true, and making sure they produce healthy fry. Once they’re true breeding, that’s it - your line is founded. Congratulations!

6. GET YOUR FISH OUT THERE

Whether it be a show line your perfected from another breeder’s animals, a rare wild guppy species you’ve helped preserve, or a line you founded yourself through careful outcrossing, share your success! Get on to guppy groups in your area and get involved, especially if you plan on showing. Guppy groups are also an excellent way to sell animals you don’t need, or to get unrelated pairs for genetic diversity in wild type strains.

#fishblr #guppies #guppy breeding

12 notes · View notes

skippyv20 · 5 years

Note

The new twitter has 5 tweets, 4 of which contain misspellings...goodness me.

Well...it must be her then..sure sounds like the sugars!😁

There is a psychic lyndsay Edwards who wasn’t sure if phmm were going to marry. Must’ve been confusing for the psychics to figure out because of all the alleged contract changing btw the two of them. She claimed there is a blond young lady whom PH has not met yet & she rides horses. If he married mm it would set the meeting back. she is his soulmate. She is very sweet & not an opportunist. PH & she will fall madly in love. He will be so happy with this lady. WELL, YOUNG LADY PH IS READY FOR YOU!

Oh my! Let's give Harry some time to get his head on straight first! As soon as MM I see gone...he will be good to go!

If it is an official twitter, I notice that they didn't steal the twitter handle that matches the sussexroyal instagram handle they stole. Publicity about the theft made it too hot for them to go the same route with twitter?

She thinks she is being witty...or her sugars think they are very creative!

You know what I noticed on those Twitter accounts many of them both pro and anti MM joined Twitter on February of this year including TP and Dripdrop and a few Megbots. What was going in February that many wanted to join Twitter to exposed and defend MM?😂😂😂😂😂

😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

Hate to break it but seventeenth is actually spelled correctly. It may look like an e but it’s a little T

Do we care?

Third Post on Sussex Twitter: After serving in the @BritishArmy for ten years, The Duke of Sussex has committed himself to promoting the welfare of members of the Armed Forces and veterans. This is an annual event which raises money for @Soldierscharity to support thise who served in Iraq and Afghanistan. They're showing that photo of Dr. Amanda Lee Salb and Dr. Mike Chase treating the elephants. That is not MM and Harry.

It's also not highlighting her! And Mio has been consistently saying no twitter account! Was Mio lying? Or tricked? hmmmm

Skippy, Harry's birth place is wrong on this BC doc. He was born in St Mary's Hospital, London.

Thank you

The Dodgy Ducha$$ is quite a bore.YAWWWWWN!

Not a surprise

Skip, Julie here. Where are the Visa, tax obligations up to. We had a big list that we were still waiting on answers for. From announcement of engagement to today. Still no answers. Baby and BC another major distraction to add to the list.

Hey Julie! Yes you are right!

The more I look at this “birth certificate” the more I believe it is fake. Too many inconsistencies. What else is new in the land of Sussexes though?

Day in and day out...tricks people play!

Skippy, this is really chaotic! MM just got official twitter account @TheRoyalSussex.

Under the watchful eyes of LG, this should be fun! She really thinks they don't know?

Hi Skippy! Birth at PortHosp = Out of body? We know = lie. Two things 1) Registrar went to Harry/BRF, Registrar would know where she went and if PH signed, Right? But, 2) this won’t come out until after tonight and MM’s GK TV special will have aired in the US and MM will be viewed favorably by US audience. I doubt that GK/OW as PsOC would “demean” MM in any way, so TV show will most likely be in MM’s favor, so (MM’s) goal accomplished! for now…Right? (PH, I hope you didn’t sign BC!) God bless.

Thank you!

Skip, they could collect evidence for the rest of their lives. It doesn’t make sense to me to draw it out. This is humiliating for them and the UK. That’s wrong.

We aren't privy to the goings on in the background.....

According to LinkedIn, D. Mevada, Dexsha Mevada, is Deputy Superintendent Registrar of Births Deaths and Marriages at London Borough of Havering. Havering is the location of the Tower of London, not The Portland Hospital.

Thank you

Have you seen the official marriage certificate of Prince Harry and MM? I wonder how he signed that one.

No one has....

What but comes down to is history. Given the fact that the fp family from which Harry is lives by protocol, the document with his hand written name, be it Harry's or Henry, should've been on the document that is shown to the public, the people who he serves as has been the case with his other family members.

I agree with you!

And I remember strong lies saying the RR will have to wait atleast 42 days for that birth certificate.. but now court case the other day and now BC appears all of sudden. It’s like a checking off boxes to complete ✔️✔️✔️✔️ I’m hoping treason follows 🙏🏼

Now she is talking about the baptism, and big plans MM....yeah there sure are!

All these opinions about what a BC should look like etc etc etc. Royal family are all about consistency. All other BC’s were signed so this one should have been too. There are no doctor’s signature either. It’s the little details people are missing

Exactly! People cans spin it anyway they want! But this is NOT the Royal way!

Hi Skippy, I'm just curious - people keep referring to this as an official birth certificate...well ok a "true copy" lol...but isn't this technically just a copy of the registration of birth (from which a BC is then produced), not a copy of the BC?

It is you are right.....but good enough to show intent!

Definitely nothing normal!! She's such a con artist. "Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive!" (Sir Walter Scott, 1808) - I'm not quote anon!

Yep! Thank you!

You’re right nothing is ever normal or straightforward. It’s drip drip drip and a lot of smoke and mirrors. She says whatever works in the moment because as you’ve said time and again Skippy she can’t be bothered with details.

Yep....she thinks she is that brilliant.....and therein lies the ease of which to expose a lying Grifter!

Regarding the BC, it looks as if it were filled out by someone who didn't have a clue what a BC should look like. In my opinion, if I had to make one up, I would look to other examples and copy directly to make it "look official". Hence identical wording on the BC, and why "Princess of UK" appears as in the place of occupation.

Isn't this the truth!

There is SO much discussion over ‘Harry’ or Henry’ as correct on a legal document. This man (the father) is a Prince if the realm. He is aware of his full, birth-given name. Of all people, a member of the royal family understands the importance of the law and, surely, would not give his pet, family name when asked for his full name,

And yet...we are not to question this? Unbelievable!

I searched for Harry's signature online and he uses Harry. Hard to read but definitely H and A the rest is all wiggly. But a certified copy should still be typed as Henry (official) that's my take. What's going on Skip??

It should be Prince Henry then....also, William signed...

Hi skippy! I mean do they live at frogmore cottage? Is is ok to lie on a bc? Is it possible they really do live there and no one is able to see the new restored magnificent dwelling? Are we living in an alternate-alternative universe? And of course the released official bc is as ambiguous as can be! I’m glad I don’t have cable to be tempted to watch this television special!I’d be yelling at the box! Kd

Everything is off...always.

Why doesn't the press do their due diligence and go check the original in the Westminster registrars office? Isn't the original publicly available now that the birth has been "registered"?

The press are waiting....

I just read a post by a lawyer saying from her experience that this is a true copy of the BC that they could have in their records, meaning that the original is also unsigned by Harry and the registrar. Boxes 16 and 18 should be signed by them. In her world those boxes unsigned makes this BC invalid. Hope I made sense👌

Thank you.

I’m having SpongeMeg withdrawals!

Me too!

Thank you all so much! Love you😁❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

6 notes · View notes

abbybandianna · 5 years

Text

It’s a Sunday,

And there’s a storm on the way, right now it’s 12:33pm, I am sitting in my double bed with it’s newly purchased bed spread, the spread has a velvet side and a cotton side (the cotton being the inner side). It’s a warm, dusty, luminous mossy olive green, it compliments the deep slightly dull and dark red wall it clashes into. I awoke some time late 8am, it wasn’t an alarm that awoke me as that was set for 9:38am, yes 9:38am, I hit the hay early last night after a very early wake yesterday morning which deprived me of adequate sleep for my body to function at some degree of optimal. Usually when I’ve had lack of sleep I tend to stay up late, later than I want to and later than I normally do, always a contradicting habit but I do enjoy the state of mind that comes with lack of sleep causing a delusional state of awake, it brings ghosts I can fall into nostalgia with, it brings things I need to hash over or work out, man one sec sorry to deter away from this but I have incense burning and I need to.. back, ahh that's better, I enjoy burning incense but I does get a little too much and I have a sudden urge to extinguish the stick, my old room (one suburb over, how did that I happen I wanted to be far away ah ha) was a bit bigger so burning a whole stick would bother me too much, my new digs is 3x3 which I like as it’s cosy, especially with a large window and glorious RED wall, COLOUR, ugh, one thing my old place lacked, you will never find me owning a house with a large white wall ANYWHERE, okay tread carefully Abby your you may fall into a rant here, steer away, steer away love before it’s too late!

There, distraction, as I pressed down on that “!” my superficial would twinged, I had my 3rd laser removal session the other day on the tattoo on my wrist, my useless desire to connect in my early twenties felt a band name as a tattoo on my wrist was a good idea to get me through the life of working in a shit job 50-60 hours a week and being paid below what they should have been paying me, another story another day if I have find the need to dwell time again on that part of my life, so the tattoo is on day 3 of healing and typing on my laptop I probably shouldn’t really be doing as I have a TERRIBLE habit of not being able to just CHILL after a session and SLOW DOWN I like to GET SHIT DONE... well I am always STRIVING to be in a place in life where I am always TAKING IT ALL ON and working towards them life goals... and dreams, both of the same thing to me, don’t fear what you dream, not all will come true but hey, some of them if you put the time, dedication, and effort into they might just manifest even greater than you initially engendered because to THINK, to CONCEPTUALISE is one thing but when actions and movement continue to be applied to a given situation a catalyst begins to form...

Where was I...

Oh yes, you see what my mind is like?

I was mentioning my sleep, well anyway, I slept 9-10 hours straight last night, have not slept like that in many months, I cannot remember the last solid sleep for that long.. it was delectable.

I awoke slowly and got out of bed to open the shutters which block out all the light and most of the noise from the street outside, I crawled back into bed and laid snuggled in my cocoon of 3 blankets, one my doona with a new cover, one a blanket from my family when we were growing up, it’s blue died wool (poor sheep) with a fabric binding on the ends that is red with printed shapes, the print is a combination of white and blue paint brushes, tubes of paint, and pallets. I remember thinking when I was 8 or 9 how some of the brushes look like a set of drum sticks, the third blanket which is a quilt was made just for me by a family friend for my 18th birthday, also blue. As I slowly adjusted my well slept eyes to the morning light seeping through the paisley swirls of my make shift “hung fabric” curtains spills into my room gently illuminating the space, the material itself is a rather dull colouring in moderate light but when light is passing through it electrifies the colours from dull blues, red, oranges, and yellows to vibrant hues. Once the nag for coffee beckoned my being more than the desire for the warmth and cosiness of my cocoon I got up and peculated a mug of black cawffee ***makes Homer Simpson drool noise***.

I have been making a many on changes in my habits for what feels like a long time now, one of the very few last things I am yet to do is either cut out coffee all together or at least not have a it everyday, I use to drink 3-8 cups a day and have only been drinking one cup a day for about 3 years now, just struggling to take that next step to have it a few times a week, it’s a personal thing not something I believe everyone should do, I would one day like to see how it feels to live predominately on a very low acidic diet and a high alkaline and ph balanced diet. Modern lifestyle habits can be a hard bad habit to kick, or at least so I’ve discovered on my own personal journey on this spinnin’ ball of dirt.

There is no real point to what I’m rambling on about here, fuck I need to change song wait, ahh, now yes, there’s no real point, this is what I call rant pant rambles, sometimes it’s nice just to write what ever is on your mind, after my coffee I relaxed fighting the urge for a possible wake n bake (something I DO NOT do that often, especially nowadays), I ended up feeling today needed to go in that direction, I have been working so hard lately on focusing on all that I want to develop and create in my life right now, I need a day just to relax in my little nest all day, eat fruit, drink tea, smoke billies, and just create, draw, write, read, listen to music, plan, organise... I am so fortunate to be able to have a roof over my head right now and for all the things that have been becoming a part of my life lately... to have the time and money to obtain and do these things is a blessing, I try to always be appreciative of all that I have at my finger tips, from hot water in the pipes to gas in the car, to the technology I type and communicate with and utilise for all the things I am trying to manifest right now. Time, time is energy and energy is money, a game I don’t agree with, money, what a concept hey... that’s a whole other ramble, oh golly, I now must listen to Ramblin’ Rose by Chuck Berry after this current tune which is just now drowning out to a close, uno momento, ahhh there we go, in come the brass, the drums, the keys, and vocals n’ guitar of our late Chuck, sing it brother, I have this tune on vinyl in a storage locker but yet here I sit with only a few seconds past with a few taps of the finger and here plays a tune with no wires connected to the waterproof portable speaker next to me. Modern Technology has changed human life forever...

Rain is gently starting to fall outside, it’s a chilly day, my fingers a cold as they along with my head are the only parts of my extremities that are exposed direct to the air right now, the storm is due in the next 2 hours, should probably close my window.

I stretch daily, a combination of general stretches, yoga, tai chi, and low impact callisthenics and/or pilates. I just call it “stretching” though AH HA. It is just insane how much stretching daily has aided getting my body back, I feel so good after a stretch, I usually do 20-45 minutes daily, I try to focus on all areas with my routine but make it different everyday so I don’t get bored or have it feel like a repetitive mundane daily chore, ya know, keep it fresh and different, routine is good but too much consistency can lead to dissatisfaction and restlessness.

1 note · View note

c0n-struct · 5 years

Text

elemental exposure

oh my god my neck hurts and im TiRed and im having trouble seeing straight but i wrote a 1000+ word long short fic for @candrarose ‘s jericho january event about connor being an angsty ass shit because define happy. kinda an au because connor chooses to be a machine at jericho but changes his mind later and i dont think canon events line up so. i honestly dont know but i’m rambling and i dont even know if this is good also on ao3

Connor leans over the edge of the banister, the wind from the gaping hole of the building lashing his synthetic skin and setting his hair into a frenzy. The frost-rent wood iced his sensors from the first brush, but in a sick sense that still bubbles newfangled and young inside of his circuits, it grounds him, brings him back to himself and the present with the warning burning in his HUD.

>Biocomponent #8345i at risk of elemental exposure >Shelter as soon as possible

But Connor doesn't because he can.

Snow billows into the open space in waves, a sort of algid pool building and growing at the threshold of it all. White and fresh as 2038 city snow can be. His sensors detect the pH level in the snow as 4.3.

Then again, it's about to be 2039 snow, isn't it? His chronometer reads 11:45:07 of December 31, 2038. That has to mean something, doesn't it?

Humans often celebrate the coming of the new year in usually bizarre manners such as watching the drop of some glorified object, kissing a romantic partner with a margin of human error in timing, making resolutions for the new year they rarely follow, blowing noisemakers, or setting off fireworks. Connor sees little point in it all, but, again, he doesn't see much point in many things anymore. All his short approximately four-month existence everything had possessed too much of a point, too sharp, too demanding, and he's tired of it all. And he doubts most humans will find much to celebrate either with the revolution, still fresh and roiling in media and the minds of the human species. Though won peacefully, many of them are, to put it simply and lightly, not pleased with the uprising. He saw that firsthand, the way people too stubborn to abort Detroit glared at his LED like it stabbed them, ruined their whole lives, took away everything they ever loved.

And maybe it had.

So he'd ripped it out days after leaving Hank's home, hearing a ringing gunshot echo his departure, heard Sumo's yelps and cries; days after attempting to murder the pacifist leader of the equally pacifist revolution leader in cold blood just because he was so goddamn desperate for the approval of a manipulative bitch of a handler.

So desperate to avoid the promised deactivation with failure.

He knows now they would've killed him anyway, failed or no. He's just a prototype, full of experimental programs and faulty and bugged software. They would have produced a more advanced model no matter what. Only the singing of the deviant leader Markus had saved him from the fate in most senses, both resulting in the retreat of the military and giving him the extra nudge to drop the rifle.

It's gratitude he'll never be able to voice, not after the show he put on in the captain's quarters of the freighter. He recites the lines he's so intricately woven together to himself multiple times a day, beginning with Dear Markus and closing with Extraordinarily sincerely, Connor. He knows it patch by patch, piece by piece, thread by thread. Sometimes he drafts a message to the RK200 when he bolsters himself enough. Sometimes he even scavenges a suitable paper scrap. But, in the end, they both end up in the trash.

Connor's the antagonist of the story--Markus, the protagonist. Connor's killed multiple deviants directly, thousands indirectly, and drove the only potential friend he had to suicide. Markus saved the entire android race without lifting a violent finger. A part of Connor wants to send the message, just to get the confirmation he craves that he's revolting, a disgusting excuse of a deviant, but deep down he also knows Markus isn't like that. Markus is kind, Markus is forgiving, Markus is the savior of the android race. He already knows what he'd try to tell him, that it wasn't him, that he was forced to, that he wasn't in control, that it's not his fault--

"But, Markus," Connor whispers, dragging a hand along the equally distorted stair rail as he ascends, "I had the choice to stop."

And he chose the brutal pursuit until it was too late.

Until his hands were stained with blue blood.

Until his only designation was the deviant hunter, nothing more.

Until the only way androids looked at him was with fear or anger or sheer, boiling hatred.

Until the only person he dared to care about fucking killed himself.

Connor still holds on though, and, honestly, he's not even sure why at this numbing point, picking his way out of the upstairs window and dropping down on the roof.

Maybe it's to prove to himself he can? Or perhaps because he doesn't deserve the serenity of deactivation. In any case, he's again a prototype: he's not meant to last. Connor's sure if nothing else ends him first that the collapse of his own body will satisfy the wishes of most deviants. Some want more for it, he's sure, but nowadays he can't seem to crawl out of the dilapidated hellhole of a house he's taken to squatting in much.

It's a shame, he thinks while hauling himself up onto a higher roof level, scanning for integrity briefly before deciding it really doesn't matter and settling himself down on the edge, tucking his feet close to his chest.

>December 31, 2038 >11:58:45 PM

Most of the other houses Connor can see from his location and through the blizzard are dark, but a few lights glare at him through the gloom, bright, happy things that make his circuits turn.

What would it be like, if things had gone differently for him? If he'd gotten his shit together much sooner? Perhaps he'd be with Lieutenant Anderson and that bear of a dog Sumo whom he so strongly desired to pet one last time, laughing and exploring his new emotions in a more, maybe, healthy manner? He wonders what even became of Sumo after the mess of what transpired after he walked out of the door. Hank didn't have any close kin, so the dog's probably in a humane society somewhere, alone and rotting away while puppies are scooped up. Or maybe he'd gotten out, now running along the streets of Detroit.

What's worse?

Connor sneers.

He knows from personal experience that freedom bites and draws blood.

>December 31, 2038 >11:59:49 PM

Is it any better than being chained to conformity, forced into obedience by threats of death?

>11:59:50 PM

Freedom has left him with the awareness that things could've been better.

>11:59:51 PM

It's painful; it's agonizing, knowing all the wrong choices he made, knowing he could've stopped it.

>11:59:52 PM

It's all he can do to hide away--maybe he doesn't want to, but all alone he can't ruin anything else.

>11:59:53 PM

But then, he can't do anything to fix things while hiding in a half-demolished house, can he?

>11:59:54 PM

He wonders what's more worth it, briefly, in the freezing cold.

>11:59:55 PM

Pain, lonely pain, rejection, harsh, biting rejection, or, potentially... something warm.

>11:59:56 PM

That something warm he felt while petting Sumo.

>11:59:57 PM

Perhaps it would be worthwhile, to step out beyond his trashy house once and a while, or... pull up a draft...

>11:59:58 PM

Maybe that was the place to start.

>11:59:59

Maybe it would lead somewhere, somewhere fresh.

>January 1, 2039

>12:00:00 AM

In the end, was that not the purpose of New Year's?

Warnings glare in his HUD, but he just tips his creaking neck back as cheers shatter the surface of the dead silent night.

/ /

RK800 #313 248 317 - 53 : Markus?

#jericho january #dbh #detroit become human #connor #dbh connor #angst #i think #im really tired fdjfkdjfkdjfd

7 notes · View notes

onestowatch · 6 years

Text

Q&A: Pale Waves Guides Us Through ‘My Mind Makes Noises’ Debut Album, Track by Track

Photo: Brian Griffin Pale Waves is a bit of a contradiction, and that is just part of what makes them such a dynamic act. They look like the disciples of Gerard Way and Joy Division, but sound like the offspring of The Bangles and Carly Rae Jepsen. They’re huge fans of modern pop acts like Charli XCX, but they could have easily shared a stage with Madonna in the ‘80s. They have amassed over 25-million Spotify streams since the release of their debut single, “There’s a Honey,” in Feb. 2017 and have played huge milestone venues like Madison Square Garden. Yet, they have just released their debut full-length album, My Mind Makes Noises.

Their meteoric rise based on a collection of singles solidifies that Pale Waves has what it takes to become the next big thing, and their success comes down to one simple fact: no one else is doing what Pale Waves is right now—nor as well. Not only has Pale Waves championed the difficult task of successfully walking the line between pop and rock, but they have introduced a universe of tender emotion with their lyrics as they wear their hearts on their fishnet covered sleeves. Combining elements of different genres, decades, subcultures, and emotions, they craft dream-like pop that still has two feet firmly planted on the ground. With their dichotomous existence and evocative lyrics, Pale Waves’ success ushers in the return of female-fronted pop-rock in an era that’s sorely lacking thereof.

After a year and a half of cultivating their rapidly rising fame, today marks the release of My Mind Makes Noises. The album is filled with enough diverse pop bangers and guitar-driven melodies to throw the Manchester-based outfit further into the spotlight, while drawing new listeners into their emotionally cinematic world. Frontwoman Heather Baron-Gracie’s lyrics entangle you in their strikingly raw nature as she presents her most vulnerable self, while the production of drummer Ciara Doran creates lush gardens of whirling melodies and skies of twinkling synth that makes this album one to be kept on repeat, or risk leaving their beautifully melancholic world.

Despite the fervor surrounding My Mind Makes Noises, as well as their accompanying headlining tour, Heather and Ciara are surprisingly calm as they make themselves comfortable on the sofa of the small lounge we’ve met in. “It’s kind of like a timeline of our band from basically three-and-a-half years ago to present day,” Heather explained as we begin talking about the debut album. “We started the band because I had all these songs on my acoustic and when I met Ciara I was like, ‘Can you put drums to my songs?’ We did performances where she was just drumming, and then we decided to just become a band.”

Though they were the heart and soul of the band, when the duo met Hugo Silvani and Charlie Wood a year later, Pale Waves would finally begin to take shape as they began to plan for world domination—something that My Mind Makes Noises will undoubtedly help them achieve. “It feels pretty surreal. It feels like our whole journey’s been pretty fast and really exciting. A lot of people are really emotionally invested into our band at such an early stage, which is great because it means we’re really connecting with people. It’s just everything you could ask for and I want the album to be what people expected,” Heather stated.

In honor of the release of My Mind Makes Noises, we spoke about each of the 14 tracks on the album to hear the stories behind the music, and get a feel for what’s next for the band.

OTW: The opening track “Eighteen” is an absolute earworm that truly seems to channel what it feels like to fall in love. What can you tell us about its creation?

Ciara: “Eighteen” was written fully on tour.

Heather: Yeah, I wrote a lot of things to the instrumental and then in Denver I finally got it. Everyone we showed it to was like, “This is gonna be a big song” so, that’s why it’s first on the album.

Ciara: Lyrically, it’s really nice as well.

Heather: I had that first verse written for ages, and then Ciara wrote the music around it.

Ciara: That was actually a song that like I watched Adventureland and wrote to. Vibes from films can really give you inspiration for sound.

youtube

OTW: There are new recordings of your first two singles “There’s a Honey” and “Television Romance” making the cut. What was it about these songs that made them, as opposed to the others on your EP, essential for your debut record?

Heather: Well, “There’s a Honey” just had to be on the album because it was the first song that we put out there. It really made our fanbase, and it set something up for us. And then “Television Romance;” those two just sort of work together as a duo, and it felt weird to have one without the other.

Then when we were listening back to the demos it was pretty clear that we had to re-record them. We wanted it to sound like they were all recorded at the same time in the same studio and having the demos on the album just wouldn’t have worked.

OTW: “Noises” is undoubtedly one of the most powerful tracks as it tackles image insecurities and expectations. Did the track come from a purely confessional standpoint?

Heather: I thought about how the fans would react to it, but I knew I had to write it for me. I didn’t even think that much about how they’d relate to it until I got loads of messages thanking me. I feel it’s the most important track we’ve put out so far—we have quite a young fanbase and when you’re growing up that’s when you really think about what you wanna be and how you look. I’m just glad that I wasn’t too scared to write about that because it’s the song that’s now been there for so many people.

OTW: And what can you tell us about the video?

Heather: That video was a last minute thing but it was just so obvious that it needed to be a performance video from me. We spoke about having different Heathers that weren’t truly me: punk Heather is more exaggerated, the fashion look is stereotypically socially acceptable, and the doll look is a really sort of childish, vulnerable me. The one with the plastic sheet over my face, it’s basically like: what is beauty and who considers it? It plays on plastic surgery as well like, “Am I still beautiful under the plastic?” For the flashes of text between scenes, I wrote a paragraph of all my thoughts, and then we spoke about the ones that stood out the most. One, in particular, is “Does everyone feel this way?” I wanted to put that in because I wanted it to be like a sense of comfort for people who are really insecure as well, to know they’re not alone.

youtube

OTW: “Came In Close” and “Loveless Girl” are definitely two of the poppiest songs on the album. What inspired the tracks?

Heather: Those two tracks are really influenced by Ciara. I feel like we work so well together because I’m quite dark and she’s quite light so that’s how we get our sound. The lyrical content is quite meaningful and sad, but then Ciara sparkles it with pure pop elements, which you can really see on those tracks.

Ciara: “Came In Close” is really new. I was listening to Aretha Franklin’s “Jump To It,” and then I just sat down and wrote that bass line. It just turned out to be a really dancey song.

“Loveless Girl” originally sounded quite different, and I was so unhappy with it. I had to literally force myself to rework it cause it didn’t have the right vibe.

OTW: “Drive” is a larger than life track that smacks you with a guitar driven alt-rock sound and some truly dreamy synths. What can you tell us about the track?

Heather: We kept coming back and kept referencing The Naked And Famous, especially with the guitar sounds. I imagine when we play it live, it’s not going to take a lot for it to sound massive. It’s a really dramatic track as well; lyrically it’s like the sequel to “Noises.” Like “Noises” was when I was 16, and “Drive” is where I am now at 23. I do find writing songs about myself is hard, but I’m really glad we have tracks like “Drive.”

Ciara: You know that line “I drive fast so I can feel something?”

Heather: She would listen to that on repeat!

Ciara: Because I would cut it and put a delay on it and it made it like the best part of the album, I think.

Heather: Everyone we’ve played it to has been like, “Oh my god, this is something else!” We must be doing something right.

OTW: “When Did I Lose It All” is a breathtaking ballad that is just pure emotion. How did you approach writing the track?

Heather: Well, Ciara actually helped me write the chorus, and it’s about basically having somebody who’s “the one,” and you know that they’re right for you but you just don’t work in that moment. We were writing that chorus and Ciara came up with the “I want to marry you, but not now.”

Ciara: It’s the saddest thing.

Heather: I thought it was a really strong message. When I’ve shown the album to people, I’ve noticed that the older audience sway to that song.

Ciara: They find it really powerful; it’s a really powerful song. The guitar line was written on the tour bus. I feel like the next thing we do is going to be that vibe.

OTW: Similarly, “She” uses its power as a ballad to create a slow build into an absolutely epic guitar solo that has become a fan-favorite at your live shows. How did the track come to be?

Heather: “She” is quite an old song. I wrote, “My baby don’t touch me like they used to” first in my bedroom ages ago. It’s one of those songs that Ciara really just let me be all emo about. And the guitar solo—I love playing it live. A lot of the time I give all the lead riffs to Hugo but with this, I was like, “I can’t give you this, I’m sorry I have to play it.”

Ciara: I think it’s also the first song that I started doing a lot more of the music.

Heather: And now Ciara pretty much owns that whole area. I feel like the album has much more personality than the EP because when we did the EP that was all my really old synth songs except “The Tide.”

Photo: Danny North OTW: The following song “One More Time” seems to be the formers’ upbeat sequel that features an addictively timeless rock hook, making it one of the fullest sounding songs on the record. What shaped the creation of the track?

Heather: This was one of the moments where we were sitting down in the studio, but we needed more sort of “pop bangers.” We weren’t trying to write it for the radio but that’s just how we are.

Ciara: We just didn’t feel satisfied without it though, because we love pop so much. We wanted a song that was really just straightforward and would sound really good with Heather on guitar.

Heather: Really simple and dry all the way through, but you don’t really get a break in it. When Ciara showed me it musically for the first time ever, I just stood there and started singing the chorus.

Ciara: She sang that, and I was like “Fuck!”

Heather: Usually we’re perfectionists and we’re like, “If it’s the first thing it can’t be right,” but with this, we were like, “You know what? That’s it.” I feel like everyone goes through it when you break up with someone and you have that doubt in your mind. You like to know you could still have them—you want that power and that’s what this song’s about.

OTW: As we touched upon “Television Romance” earlier, let's talk influence. Considering how many of your tracks are cinematic enough to be suited for a John Hughes movie, and “Television” is a frequently used word lyrically—how much do TV and Film influence your songs?

Ciara: It influences us a lot, I mean that’s how we used to start off writing songs like “Kiss.”

Heather: Yeah like The Breakfast Club—I had to do this assignment for Uni and it was like, “Write a song to a film.” I caught a trailer of The Breakfast Club and that’s how “Kiss” became a song. So like I think it influences us a lot more than we think.

Ciara: Movies are like songs: like they all have a flow and a vibe and a story. So, like I feel like it can go hand-in-hand and just inspire you a lot. Especially when you can go, “I want to make a song that sounds like it belongs in that movie.”

OTW: “Red” is an incredibly modern pop-rock classic that seems to channel the likes of Taylor Swift and Bruce Springsteen. How did the track come to be?

Heather: “Red” actually started as an acoustic track. I love playing acoustic, and it was how we started the band, so I wrote “Red” acoustically to be that song. When I showed it to Ciara she was like “Oh my god that’s far too good.”

Ciara: It wasn’t right, the tone wasn’t right, the lyrics weren’t enough for an acoustic song.

Heather: It’s completely different now—the chorus is like a club track

OTW: “Kiss” is akin to a “Friday I’m In Love” moment that’s effortlessly feel-good. What inspired the track, and on that note, what was it like playing the Robert Smith-curated Meltdown Festival this year?

Heather: That was amazing, so good. We didn’t get to meet him but knowing he was the one who gave us that slot and kind of likes our band is pretty amazing. I think Robert Smith is an amazing songwriter and just a fantastic icon. I’ll probably dress the same when I’m old. “Kiss” is so old. It started with The Breakfast Club and that riff. It’s such a naive song, and I wasn’t half as honest as I am now. It’s a fun song to play live—the main thing about it is that it goes down really good live, and it’s just really energetic.

youtube

OTW: “Black,” your most recent single, is your most diverse. It plays with R&B beats and intensely catchy guitar riffs. What shaped this track?

Heather: “Black” we’ve had for ages. I actually wrote the first verse ages ago, then I showed Ciara and it always just stuck with her, so she was like “Please, please make it into a song.”

Ciara: That was written on tour as well.

Heather: It’s been the most problematic song that we’ve ever wrote. It just had a lot of different versions.

Ciara: When I stupidly put an R&B chorus in there we were like “Ugh, how are we gonna do this now?”

Heather: Cause like, when you listen to it the verses are really frantic and really rock, and then the chorus is relaxed R&B.

Ciara: It’s a juxtaposition.

OTW: Closing out the record is “Karl”—a deeply personal acoustic track that is beautifully haunting. What was it like writing the track destined to end your debut record?

Heather: Well, after I wrote “Red” and needed a new acoustic song Ciara was like, “You need to write an acoustic track about something a lot more personal… Why don’t you write it about your granddad?” I’d been trying to write about him for ages because he’s such an important person in my life, so then I sat down in the studio and really, really focused on him while writing. It took me a day to write the song and the next day we went in and recorded, so it’s as real and raw as it gets. Ciara cried when I first sang it to her. Everyone has nearly cried when they first listen to the song.

Ciara: You’d be a monster if you didn’t cry to that song.

Heather: I think that’s a track that’s really going to impact some people. I wanted it to be like a conversation more than a song so a lot of the lyrics are like if I could talk to him now the things I would say. It’s definitely the song that I’ve listened to the most. It’s my most vulnerable self, and it’s really quite scary, this going out into the world, but it’s as real as it gets.

#interview #pale waves #my mind makes noises #pop #rock #alternative

2 notes · View notes

wineanddinosaur · 3 years

Text

Wine 101: Oenology

This episode of “Wine 101” is sponsored by E & J Gallo Winery. At Gallo, we exist to serve enjoyment in moments that matter. The hallmark of our company has always been an unwavering commitment to making quality wine and spirits. Whether it’s getting Barefoot and having a great time, making every day sparkle with La Marca Prosecco, or continuing our legacy with Louis Martini in Napa, we want to welcome new friends to wine and share in all of life’s moments.

Interested in trying some of the wine brands discussed on “Wine 101?” Follow the link in each episode description to purchase featured wines or browse our full portfolio at TheBarrelRoom.com. Cheers, and all the best.

In this episode of “Wine 101,” VinePair tastings director Keith Beavers discusses oenology — the science and study of wine — with Scott Kozel, vice president of winemaking at E & J Gallo. Beavers and Kozel discuss the differences between oenology and winemaking, and explain the role an oenologist plays in wine production.

In addition, Kozel explains the distinct difference between how the Old and New World define “oenologist,” while Beavers gives a brief overview of the pioneering winemakers and oenologists in the ‘90s, such as Helen Turley, Mia Klein, and Celia Welch.

Tune in to learn more about oenology.

Listen Online

Listen on Apple Podcasts

Listen on Spotify

Or Check Out the Conversation Here

Keith Beavers: My name is Keith Beavers, and I’m going to say “Streets” is my favorite Doja Cat song.

What’s going on, wine lovers? Welcome to Episode 22 of VinePair’s “Wine 101” podcast, Season 2. My name is Keith Beavers. I am the tastings director of VinePair. How are you? Today, we’re going to talk about this word called oenology. It looks weird, but it’s not really that weird. It’s all about science, something you may not know about, but it’s fun. It’s science. Let’s get into it.

Wine lovers, I love wine science, as you probably know. History, science, wine. It’s my jam. The thing is, I’ve never made wine. I’ve never gotten my hands dirty. OK, I clipped a couple of grapes in England once, but I’ve never been out there and done the work. Once I was out in Long Island, I did some work on a vineyard, but I really didn’t do anything. I never had the responsibility of creating a wine. I’m fascinated with science, and I understand it in my own capacity so that I can tell you guys about it in a general manner. I try to get as detailed as I can, and the upcoming episodes are going to be really fun because it’s really about science. We have sulfites and wine flaws and all this stuff, but when it comes to the word oenology, there’s really not a lot to read about oenology. It’s a word. It has a definition, and then it stops there.

Oenology is the study of wine. It comes from the word oívos, which is Greek for wine. When the word is written down for the public, in an article or something, it has two different spellings, and it’s a little bit confusing. Oenology is spelled o-e-n-o-l-o-g-y, but it’s also spelled enology without the initial o. It’s a little bit confusing and when you’re reading about wine and you read the word oenology, it almost interchanges itself.

I had an opportunity to get on the phone with an actual oenologist, Scott Kozel. He’s the vice president of winemaking at E & J Gallo. He oversees a ton of winemaking. We talked about what oenology is, why the spelling is different, and its distinctions between the New World and the Old World. It was an awesome conversation, and I don’t think I can convey what he said better than the way he said it so I’m going to put the interview here. I edited it down. I want to put it here for this episode. This is a raw interview in that I was not prepared to be putting this in this episode, but what he said was so cool, I figured I had to do it. You might hear some references to names or wine stuff that’s a little bit out of context, but just know that I’ll be approaching those names and things in future episodes. Here’s the interview, and thank you so much, Scott, for taking the time to talk to me about this stuff. It’s awesome.

(Start of Interview)

K: I guess what I’m trying to understand is what goes into being an oenologist? Because, in the wine world, we obsess over you guys. We are the people that buy wine. We are the ones that go and put them on the wine list. We are the ones that go to your website and see who the oenologist is for this one. We love that, but if I tell somebody, “Oh, man, Giacomo Tachis” over dinner they would ask, who the hell are you talking about? They don’t know who Giacomo Tachis is. Anyways, I just want to give you the floor. Is it a school thing? Is it not a school thing? Can you do it without being in school? Do you mind riffing on this for me?

S: Yeah, so I got a million things that went through my head right now, so I’ll see if I can get it in a sensible order.

K: This is recorded, so go for it, man. I can piece it together.

S: OK, beautiful. First, Europe employs the terminology differently than the United States does and differently than Australia. It depends on where I’m standing, which damn continent I’m on. Now, I will talk about roles first, and then maybe we’ll step into how I think about oenology versus oenologist because I view them differently. An oenologist in the New World is really almost an entry-level position. You might be doing some lab work, you’re doing a lot of the science stuff behind it. You’re measuring SO2s, you’re measuring pH, and maybe you’re making some decisions on what to do in the cellar. Possibly, you’re directing the cellar but not making a lot of decisions. An oenologist is really an entry-level role in the New World, whereas a winemaker is a much more expansive role in the New World where you’re certainly employing the pieces of work the oenologist used to do. By the way, you’re running the cellar now. You’re running the bottling line often, you’re probably on the road as a PR spokesperson and meeting with sales teams and meeting with marketers. You could also be the marketer. You’re also out in the vineyard doing the viticultural stuff. You probably take care of the supply chain, making sure the bottles are ordered and the corks are coming. A winemaker has a much more expansive role than an oenologist here in the United States.

K: Wow, you’re blowing my mind here. OK, keep going.

S: That’s right. Oh, this took me years to figure out, talking to friends in Europe and they would say, “Our oenologist has been here for 40 years.” Forty years, and this dude hasn’t had a promotion?! They actually think about it the other way. They believe the oenologist is the pinnacle and they do all these things. We use the words 180 degrees differently. I think the term is very confusing if you think about it globally, so don’t help anybody at all at that point. Now, oenology. I like the classic definition: the science and the study of wine. Separate from grapes because even if you look at the wine schools around the globe, they’re usually viticulture, grape study, and an oenology department. This is to study grapes and wine, and they treat them somewhat separately. They’re different courses and different sets of professors. Most students, like myself 20-plus years ago, take courses in each of those fields but you have an emphasis. Mine was more on the oenology side, and this is why I love oenology. This is my second career. I pursued a career as a mechanical engineer, which I did for a decade. Then, I quit my job and moved my family across state lines, sold the house, and went back to school to study oenology. It’s really a synthesis of other basic sciences: biology, chemistry, microbiology, and sensory science.

K: Sensory science? I don’t know much about it, but I love it.

S: Exactly. We all do because you get the taste and you get to make the choices and all that stuff.

K: Are those perception thresholds and stuff like that?

S: Yeah, exactly. That’s the sensory science piece of it that one might learn in a formal education here in the States, Australia, or in Europe as well. You’re learning how these all fit together, learning how choices you make with respect to biology and chemistry cascade into or affect the sensory experience one might have later. That’s why I like oenology because it is the study of all these things at once, how they interact, how chemistry affects the use of biology, and how that, in turn, affects the sensory aspects of the consumer’s experience many years later. It’s really fascinating stuff, the oenology piece of it. I’m trying to go back here a little bit to the oenologist versus winemaker. I think here in the States, the study of oenology is really understanding the choices that are in front of you and having an opinion on them. For example, SO2. I could add SO2 to this, or I could not add SO2 and maybe add this instead. I think winemaking here in the States and the rest of the world is making those choices and understanding the ramifications that you’re now making. With oenology, it’s like look, I’m not going to tell you what to do but the winemaker is now making that choice because the winemaker doesn’t get a billion options to bottle. He gets one. It’s one wine at the end of the day or the end of the month. It’s a summation of all those choices that the winemaker, he or she, has made over the last several years with respect to that wine. I draw the distinction a little bit differently with oenology and oenologist understanding the choices that winemakers understand, but also now making them and having to live with those decisions.

K: It’s like “Sir, Ma’am, these are the results of the data that we have.” Then, they talk to the winemaker. The winemaker says, “OK, thank you for that data. I will now take it and apply it to the future.”

S: That’s exactly right. One of the other winemakers I work with — and you summed it up almost exactly that way — said, “Look, the job of the winemakers is to generate all the data. It’s to assemble all the data, understand it, and make a choice at the end of the day because we’re only going to do one thing. We’re not going to do 50 things. It’s act now or act later.

K: Dude, my brain hurts, but it’s awesome. This is incredible. I love this stuff. This is great. Can I make a distinction here then? That’s the New World, and that sounds like a collaborative effort between a bunch of people doing really cool stuff. You have the vineyard manager, you have a winemaker, and you have an oenologist. I’m sure the lines blur sometimes, but there’s that nice collaboration between these three skills that can help create something beautiful. Do you know how different it is in Europe or is this the way they do it?

S: I think it’s very similar, but they’re simply using different titles for the role. What we in the United States call a winemaker, in Europe, they call it an oenologist. That’s all. They have the exact same set of activities, meaning the oenologist in the more traditional winemaking countries is going to go to the vineyard and talk to the grape grower. Then, the oenologist is going to make those choices that are made here in the States by a winemaker. It’s almost a reversal of title and activity.

K: Wow. When you look at the history of California, you have Helen Turley, Mia Klein, Celia Welch, and Thomas Rivers Brown, who has been blowing up. Also, Heidi Peterson Barrett. They did some serious work back in the ‘90s to usher in a trend. Their skills helped usher in a trend, but what they were doing is they weren’t trying. I don’t know that they were trying to create or maintain a trend, but they had ideas which then became trends.

S: Yes, I think it’s more appropriately stated in that last piece, right? I think their approach was their approach, and it became a trend. Their approach was a really ripe grape carrying through to higher-alcohol wine with significant extraction and tremendous color. Really, really showy right from the get-go. I think that was a new concept 30 years ago, and critics embraced it. Bob Parker really started to embrace it and thought it was really cool. He gives them good scores to drive the sales. Now, everyone else wanted to sell like they were selling volume and price-wise, so they evolved their style to match that a little bit more closely.

K: Right, that’s why Screaming Eagle came on top in the beginning. OK, then there’s this idea of the traveling winemaker, or as the Europeans would say, the traveling oenologist. This list of awesome people back in the ‘90s that were doing the good work in California, are they oenologists or winemakers?

S: I think here in the States we would call them winemakers for sure because they are involved right there at the vineyard identifying the plant, trellising systems, and management throughout the season as well. They’re involved in all those things, as I think most winemakers here in the United States are. I guess that is a fairly common job description, if you will. Those are the activities I think a winemaker would be expected to do here in the United States.

K: What a fun little conundrum we have here. You have Jancis Robinson writing in the “Oxford Wine Companion” about oenologists. Defining oenology, defining what it oenologists is on the level of what the European model believes. Here I am, an American in the New World, reading about it and I have to make that distinction now. Now I know the distinction that has to be made between the two. It’s not wrong or right. It’s just different, and that’s how we understand it.

S: Yep, exactly. Whether you’re sitting in as a Bordeaux oenologist or sitting in as the winemaker, the things you’re going to do are pretty much the same thing. You are out in the vineyard this time of the year, trying to see the plant’s status and leaf pulling at an appropriate stage. Are we ready for a heat wave this weekend? Going to take a last look before the heat. Come back next week and see what impact it had on a lot. Their activity today is almost identical.

K: Scott, have we come back to “it starts in the vineyard?” Have we come back to Mother Nature?

S: Oh, unquestionably.

K: We’ve come full circle to Mother Nature here, I think.

S: Oh, yeah. No question.

K: I love that you guys are able to harness this through science. I think it’s phenomenal, but people are making wines in different ways and different styles. There’s a bunch of stuff now as if you would like an Époisses, which is very stinky cheese, or maybe you like a wine that has a bunch of Brettanomyces in it or a wine with volatile acidity and that’s your jam. You don’t really want the fruit, you want the savory. I just find it interesting that in that way, as a scientist and a chemist, you are actually saying things like, “I know the Brettanomyces is going to eat the fruit after the Saccharomyces die, and I’m cool with that.” You’re making that decision, and that’s insane.

S: That’s exactly right. Or just, “I’m going to let this ride, and not worry too much about it. I’m going to be aware of it, but I’m just going to let it ride.” I’m going to, for example, add a little more sulfur, I’m not going to sanitize barrels as frequently as I would otherwise. I’m going o let my pH be a little bit higher. If you have those things together, your probability of getting Brettanomyces has gone up. I know those things, and I’m cool with it.

K: So you still have to do work.

S: Unfortunately, we still gotta do some work beyond just tasting.

K: Scott, you blew my mind, man. I really appreciate you taking the time. This is great. I do these podcasts, and I’m the guy talking all the time. I may just publish this interview, man. I may just put this out. This is a part of wine that’s always been not mysterious to me, but never fully understood. I understand it fully now.

S: That is great!

K: I just don’t know that I can explain it as well as you can. Would it be OK if I put you on the episode?

S: No problem at all.

(End of Interview)

K: OK, that’s awesome.

Do you see what I’m saying? He wraps it all up nice with a little bow on it, so we all understand what oenology is. Just so you guys know, Giacomo Tachis was the oenologist in Tuscany responsible for pretty much ushering in the Super Tuscan movement. Helen Turley is a very famous winemaker, and everyone that I listed is also very famous. One day, I will go over all that with you guys. You’ll notice we dipped into a little bit of a Brettanomyces-sulfites thing there. I’ll be talking about that as well. Also, Agoston Haraszthy and Charles Krug are very important players in the history of California wine and the wine in America in general, so at some point we’ll talk about all that.

But this episode was about oenology, and I hope you got from it what I got from it, which is, “I get it.” Thank you, thank you, thank you, Scott Kozel, vice president of winemaking at Gallo. Thank you.

@VinePairKeith is my Insta. Rate and review this podcast wherever you get your podcast from. It really helps get the word out there. And now for some totally awesome credits.

“Wine 101” was produced, recorded, and edited by yours truly, Keith Beavers, at the VinePair headquarters in New York City. I want to give a big ol’ shout-out to co-founders Adam Teeter and Josh Malin for creating VinePair. And I mean, a big shout-out to Danielle Grinberg, the art director of VinePair, for creating the most awesome logo for this podcast. Also, Darbi Cicci for the theme song. Listen to this. And I want to thank the entire VinePair staff for helping me learn something new every day. See you next week.

Ed. note: This episode has been edited for length and clarity.

The article Wine 101: Oenology appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/wine-101-oenology/

0 notes

johnboothus · 3 years

Text

Wine 101: Oenology

Tune in to learn more about oenology.

Listen Online

Listen on Apple Podcasts

Listen on Spotify

Or Check Out the Conversation Here

Keith Beavers: My name is Keith Beavers, and I’m going to say “Streets” is my favorite Doja Cat song.

(Start of Interview)

S: Yeah, so I got a million things that went through my head right now, so I’ll see if I can get it in a sensible order.

K: This is recorded, so go for it, man. I can piece it together.

K: Wow, you’re blowing my mind here. OK, keep going.

K: Sensory science? I don’t know much about it, but I love it.

S: Exactly. We all do because you get the taste and you get to make the choices and all that stuff.

K: Are those perception thresholds and stuff like that?

K: Scott, have we come back to “it starts in the vineyard?” Have we come back to Mother Nature?

S: Oh, unquestionably.

K: We’ve come full circle to Mother Nature here, I think.

S: Oh, yeah. No question.

K: So you still have to do work.

S: Unfortunately, we still gotta do some work beyond just tasting.

S: That is great!

K: I just don’t know that I can explain it as well as you can. Would it be OK if I put you on the episode?

S: No problem at all.

(End of Interview)

K: OK, that’s awesome.

@VinePairKeith is my Insta. Rate and review this podcast wherever you get your podcast from. It really helps get the word out there. And now for some totally awesome credits.

Ed. note: This episode has been edited for length and clarity.

The article Wine 101: Oenology appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/wine-101-oenology/

source https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/wine-101-oenology

0 notes