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dykealloy · 4 months

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Trafalgar Law and Faith

Pre-emptive warning this is going to be another LONG metapost/analysis. There’s a lot I could talk about here but for the sake of structure I’m going to split this into three sections, i.e. the main ‘faith transitions’ that Law has gone through in the narrative thus far: 1. Flevance (catalyst for loss of religious faith), 2. Corasan (martyr that figuratively and literally saves law by giving him something to live for, introducing the will of D.), and 3. Luffy (cementing faith in this new belief system and regaining trust in the goodness of humanity through the living embodiment of everything Corasan believed in).

Before we get into all that though, let’s establish that Christianity is a thing in one piece. Speedrunning through some visual examples that come to mind; the Flevance church and nun (holding a celtic cross - censored in the anime version), a nun literally praying to God right before Marineford, Vinsmoke Sora’s grave marked with a cross (is op Christianity a northern thing?), Usopp and Chopper having crucifixes and holy water whenever ghostly stuff is brought up, Kuma and his trusty bible, the religious symbols on Kikoku’s hilt (could instead be more a reference to the Red Cross/symbol of humanitarian and medical aid as a doctor) and especially in whatever Mihawk’s got going on (though this could just be a Japanese cultural thing with Christianity being a minority religion or Oda just finding that some of the iconography, y’know. looks cool). There are also many other references to other religions e.g. hinduism, shintoism, buddhism, etc. Whether op forms of religion are the same as the real-world ones is debatable, and yes, Law being canonically raised as a devout catholic schoolboy with all the religious trauma associated with that is comical, but let’s take it all unironically for a hot minute. For fun.

1. Flevance

Law’s birthplace (Flevance) is described as being, at one point, “a very wealthy country with an unearthly beauty about it, with pure white soil and plants, like some kind of snow kingdom in a fairy tale.” The country’s wealth came from the very bedrock it sits on — white lead, which could be used to make various high quality products like tableware, cosmetics, weapons etc. When the wider world heard about this everyone wanted a piece of Flevance (the World Government also getting involved with distribution), and very quickly white lead became a “bottomless well of money”. So, hooray. Law gets to grow up in a rich city in a big house with educated doctor parents and probably gets to go to private school on weekdays and festivals with his family on weekends. One problem. In their greed, the Government and royalty have been knowingly hiding the truth about this supposed goldmine from the beginning. White lead is a toxic poison. Mining it from the ground over the last century and putting it in so many everyday products has resulted in it accumulating in the citizens’ bodies and leading to amber lead sickness, shortening their life-span with each successive generation – with the children of Law’s generation fated to die out before they reach adulthood.

In the bible (especially in the old testament), God often inflicted these insanely disastrous events upon humanity, usually as some kind of punishment for their wrongdoings or as a test of their faith. Some events of which include (but are not limited to): famine, outbreaks of disease and natural disasters (e.g. hail, wildfire, earthquakes, floods). Historically, these stories played a key role in how humanity interpreted meaning from horrible disasters (e.g. assuming bubonic plague was sent as a punishment by god). Fire imagery is very common among these disasters as a representation for hell, which is clearly reflected in the destruction of Flevance.

Sometimes these disasters had sole survivors act as messengers for God. With that context, let’s put ourselves back in the shoes of a ten-year old Law. Raised religious, freshly traumatised from losing his home, his devout family, all the comforts of his life, and having the outside world completely abandon him, this kind of event is likely going to be processed as some form of divine punishment. Law stumbles through hell, finds all his dead classmates, and the last words of sister nun echo through to him here. Merciful and salvation are huge catholic buzzwords – promises of holy compassion, deliverance and hope – and all of it fire and smoke and riddled with bullet holes before him. A genocide funded, perpetuated and covered up by the same body Law was promised was there to save them. And the only reason Law hadn’t died with them was because he wanted to stay with his little sister Lami, who was on her deathbed, and his parents, who were themselves trying to help the afflicted citizens, Law’s own father (before he was shot and killed alongside his mother) begging for more doctors, fresh blood, anything the world can offer, and asking “Why doesn’t the government announce to everyone that white lead is not infectious?”

Oftentimes (and in the case of Law), when there’s a promise of heavenly intervention or some miracle that doesn’t follow through, it results in an ultimate feeling of betrayal and anger. Unfortunately a lot of Catholic teachings also use a lot of guilt, essentially teaching people that the bad things that happen to you are your fault and there needs to be some sort of penance (queue Law’s survivor’s guilt that carries on down the road). But also, if this was supposed to be some divine punishment, for what exactly? For the town being blinded by the incredible wealth they were sitting on? Being lied to? Continuing to extract their livelihood, ignorant of its dangers? Punishment for who? His parents? His innocent little sister? For ten year-old Law? These people who believed in God, who were good people? That’s fucking stupid. None of these people suffered and died for any reason at all — certainly not for a sacred one. God hadn’t saved a single one of them. Law had to crawl out of hell himself by sneaking over the border under a mound of corpses.

Given everything that happened here, Law has every reason to fall into nihilism, and you can see how his upbringing would’ve bred a lot of the feelings of guilt, anger and resentment that you still see in Law (which would suggest that though this is where he likely cuts ties with the religious/Catholic component of his faith, growing up with these teachings in his formative years would definitely influence underlying beliefs about how the world works, and how Law behaves and subconsciously processes information), but at the same time, there’s usually some form of redemption and changes to how these patterns of behaviour can be approached later down the line.

2. Corasan

Fresh off witnessing his whole world burning down around him, Law meets Corazon at the very bottom of this pit of self-destructive rage and unprocessed grief. Rosinante himself mentions to Sengoku that the hatred in Law at this time reminded him of his brother, but beyond the anger, harsh pessimism, vengefulness, I think you have to reach to find similarities between them. You can see some fragments of Doffy in Law down the line at times, with Law seeming to enjoy violence (especially against the navy, but given what they did to Flevance, it’s some well-deserved retribution for Law imo), but I’m not so sure it’s the cruelty so much as it is the high he gets off his own flavour of justice. Doctor’s Hippocratic oath maybe, but never once does Law like seeing others die (even at this point, he’s in tears next to a dead body, even though he’s the one holding the knife), and later on in Wano he makes it explicitly clear to Zoro that he’d rather see the mission fail than have any of them end up dead.

Little Law wanted to destroy the world and everything in it, but thinking rationally, what other choice did this kid have? He had no remaining family, was doomed to die before he hit puberty due to a terminal illness, was perceived as an infectious subhuman that most doctors would’ve sooner tried to exterminate than help. To Law, the world had turned its back on him – considering him a monster for simply surviving. He has all this hatred and pain boiling away with him with no tangible target to direct it towards. And this is the first clear cut rejection of faith that we see in Law. Any concept of a merciful God had just died. What God would allow this? Why is Law alive (a question that he repeats to himself throughout his life), why are these scumbags alive, why is the world going on spinning as if nothing has happened when his whole world had gone up in flames, why does anyone at all get to be here when everything I loved is gone? And it’s far easier to fall into a despondent nihilistic stupor than it is to work through any of that, and what’s the point in trying to process and move on from it, when there’s no hope for a future for Law anyway? When the only thing waiting ahead is more pain? What was this, if not a punishment? He’s supposed to be some messenger for God? How about fuck God, or whatever entity that exists that made him suffer this. Law’s not going to be a messenger for shit, thanks, he’d rather be their monster, he’d rather watch the world burn.

Corazon survives Law’s stabbing and doesn’t rat the little shit out (to Law’s confusion). It’s business as usual for another two years, then, one day Rosinante overhears his true name - Trafalgar “D” Water Law, and everything changes. On the back of his own beliefs, Rosinante dedicates himself to making sure Law a) lives and b) doesn’t become his brother. Law’s relatively short six month stint with Corasan forms the basis of Law’s new creed going forward, and all it took was a bit of kindness, love and humanity when the rest of the world had abandoned him. In the end Rosinante doesn’t save Law for the will of D. and the storm he’s predicted to bring in the future (as Law suspects), but he certainly believes in it, and the strength of Corasan’s conviction transfers right over to Law when he forces the ope ope fruit down the kid’s throat to heal him, tells Law he loves him, then sacrifices himself to set Law free.

Law clings to that love he was given, he takes all these fundamental teachings and ways of thinking in regards to faith that were drilled into him during his youth, rejects the religion element and applies just about everything else to Corasan. He holds onto the last shreds of what Corasan leaves him with. Corasan becomes his “benefactor” (he gave my my heart), his saviour, his martyr.

And the crazy thing is, Rosinante was never really this saint Law makes him out to be. Law hated the clutz when they first met (mostly on account of Corazon throwing him through a glass window down at least two stories and into a pile of scrap). Corazon initially showed nothing but contempt for his presence (to ward him and the other children away from the Donquixote family, but these are still extreme measures). And it wasn’t until after learning Law’s name that Rosinante dragged him kicking, crying and screaming from hospital to burning hospital (not very saintlike in of itself), even after Law begged him to stop. Rosinante became Law’s saviour partly because of his belief in the will of D., and probably due to some guilt being a Donquixote, but mostly because he has always had a bleeding heart and he pitied (and had very quickly come to love) this angry, sick, deeply lost little kid. All this to say that Law’s faith in Corasan – this saintlike figure Law upholds him as in the future and the lengths he’s willing to go to avenge him/fulfil Rosinante’s purpose reflects the strength of the absolute beliefs Law would’ve been raised with in regards to God.

Whether it be out of survivor’s guilt (just one more body to heap on top of the Flevance pile), his love for Corasan, or for the sake of taking vengeance on the man that took away the one good thing he’d been able to regain in his miserable life, Law adopts Corasan’s will, the will of D. (which in of itself seems divine in nature), incorporates it into his new belief system, actively takes on the role of the divine punisher/justiciar and dedicates his life to bringing down Doflamingo.

3. Luffy

Catholicism dictates that the entirety of someone’s beliefs should be dedicated to one true cause (that cause being God) and expects people to ride on that, letting it carry them through life, give them hope, purpose, etc. But a lot of former Catholics choose instead to find that through something else. Corasan ignited the spark in Law’s faith around the will of D., but it’s not until he meets Luffy that this really becomes something that feels tangible and real for Law.

When Law saved Luffy in Marineford (putting the heart crew in danger for a stranger he met once), he said he did so “on a whim”, but that seems incredibly ooc for Law — this man that pretty much planned out how the rest of his life would go after the dust of Corasan’s death settled and he came to terms with the fact he wasn’t going to die at age thirteen like he’d originally thought. Circling back to the concept of Law being a sole survivor/messenger for God, it is interesting that Law is the one to seek out Luffy (given that Luffy is usually always the one either being abandoned by people or recruiting his crewmates), and Law is ultimately the catalyst for pulling him towards Dressrosa and Wano. There must be a REASON that led to Law deciding Luffy to be the most viable option out of the Worst Generation for an alliance (beyond blind trust in an unhinged captain that just so happens to also bear the initial D, and Luffy being one of the few captains crazy enough to go along with what Law was cooking up).

Law undoubtedly would’ve kept a peripheral eye on Luffy for some time before officially meeting him due to him being a rising competitor pirate and another “D” (I imagine the news of his utterly insane exploits would’ve made good reading material, too). The first time Law lays eyes on Luffy in Sabaody though, he still blows all expectations out of the water — crashing headfirst into the crowd of a slave auction and immediately committing a felony against a member of the most powerful upper one percent.

The world nobles are at an “untouchable God” tier in terms of class standing and believe it’s only natural for them to be entitled to whatever and whoever they want in this world that’s beneath them – the same kind of self-aggrandizing false divinity that Law has a a lot of repressed rage towards and that the will of D. is fated to oppose, so this, understandably, is a highly compelling first encounter, but it’s really only an initiating factor for what ultimately draws Law to Luffy. From their very first meeting (and probably before then, in the news stories and rumours Law likely picked up on), it’s made abundantly clear that Luffy does what he wants without a second’s hesitation, no matter the consequences, simply because he feels it is the right thing to do. Some call this an iron will, Law would be more inclined to call it willful stupidity and trouble, but time after time Luffy somehow manages to pull off what Law would best describe as “miracles”. And Law believes the straw hats just might be the ones to drum up another one for him.

Luffy’s also got a lot of passing resemblances to Corasan going for him, e.g. inherently kind, compassionate liberators with big dumb hearts and wide goofy smiles in spite of everything they’ve been through, treating Law as nakama and saving his life despite his protests etc. All of which I’m sure Law hasn’t been completely unaffected by despite the high walls he puts up. And the more Law learned about Luffy the more it probably became clear that he is the antithesis to Doflamingo, i.e. what makes Luffy so goddamn dangerous and terrifying beyond his physical power is his ability to make friends with a simple kind of unconditional love that gets reciprocated enough so that these friends are willing to die for him.

Luffy agrees to the alliance, they successfully blow up Caesar’s base, and head off to Dressrosa. Now’s the time I should bring up that it’s taught in Catholicism that self sacrifice is the ultimate heavenly deed, and here Law is undoubtedly prepared to be a martyr for his cause. Law sends away his crew to Zou before Punk Hazard with the expectations that he’d never see them. He cultivates a fierce emotional detachment against Luffy’s willingness to bring him into the fold of the straw hats, and is resolute in that when the time comes, he will handle this himself, he will carry out Corasan’s will, and if he has to die for it, he will die with Corazon’s name plastered on his back. (Note here that Christianity is contradictory in that Law being this ready to die here is a sin, because revenge and suicide are highly discouraged, so you could say that by avenging and dying for his saviour, Law would be committing both the ultimate sacrifice and the ultimate sin).

Things get very dicey for Law in Dressrosa, to put it lightly. Doflamingo reveals that he was a celestial dragon (linking back into the will of D. “enemy of the Gods” notion), puts Law on the backfoot and gives him a thorough beating before shooting Law with a couple dozen white lead bullets in front of Luffy (because even when he’s winning Doffy loves to be a cunt about it). By the time Doflamingo is cuffing Law to the heart seat, it’s all looking pretty grim, and it’s very apparent when Luffy shows up to save him, that he is ready to die.

Law here has given up. He spent years planning his revenge for Corasan, but he lost, and he has very little left in the tank (physically, emotionally, spiritually). But Luffy doesn’t listen. Luffy who doesn’t think, doesn’t care, who trampled all over Law’s carefully laid out plan from the get-go and who is willing to take on Doflamingo single handedly for the simple slight that he dared to harm Luffy’s friend Law. Law will never find peace in his own demise because Luffy doesn’t do peaceful. He does loud and unashamed and open with no rhyme or reason other than the excruciatingly simply fact that he loves people and he thinks the people he loves deserve to have good lives. Luffy chucks Law over his shoulder and drags an injured Law across the city despite his protests (sound familiar?) and in the process inspires the fighting spirit in Law again.

When Law confronts Doflamingo again with Luffy in tow, Law’s faith in Luffy confounds him. The last Doflamingo remembers of Law is this beautifully moldable dark pit of grief and rage who’d given up on believing, period – who wanted the world destroyed. Not so long ago, Law had been a candidate for Doflamingo’s next protégé. Now?

THIS is the action (grinning, staring down the barrel of a gun, flipping Doffy off as he tells him in not so many words that he may kill Law but he will never beat Luffy), Law’s unshakeable faith in the face of his own death is what has Doflamingo realising he will never regain control of Law again – is what incites Doflamingo to go from breaking Law down so he can build him back up again, to conceding defeat and outright killing him.

The trust that Luffy inspires in Law and the way he talks about Luffy (Luffy being this powerful, miracle-inducing liberator that Law can’t comprehend but follows anyway, Law laying down his hopes on him, weaponizing the will of D. to try and provoke fear from Doffy), is very reminiscent of the awe and faith talked about in scripture. Law discovers the feelings of comfort and hope that Catholicism was supposed to give him in Luffy, but Law’s belief in Luffy is a direct rejection of those teachings. Rejection by believing in a real life person as opposed to the divinity he was taught about. He’s also cementing his belief in the will of D., thus rejecting Doflamingo and all the people that embody the sort of “all powerful” divinity that he abhors (i.e. celestial dragons, Kaido, the Gorōsei/five elders) for the embodiment of hope and humanity.

When Law survives (again), he expresses he’d rather see Luffy beat Doflamingo with his own eyes or die with Luffy if he loses than leave. Then he watches, after all this talk of miracles, looking up in reverence as Luffy delivers, bright as the sun, haloed by the bars of a cage that’s haunted him for over a decade, Corasan’s words echoing at the back of his mind. God had never saved or freed Law, but Corasan was there for him, the heart crew was there, Luffy was there. And this is Law’s biggest, clearest rejection of religion – this newfound faith in humanity.

This faith in Luffy is put to the test again in Wano when Luffy is struck down by Kaido, but Law never truly stops believing that he’ll make a comeback. Even when the straw hats doubt whether he’s alive or not, something tells him Luffy’s not dead, and he holds onto that hope.

We also have the whole nika/joyboy backstory which really only reinforces all of this imagery/god-fearing looks of awe from Law and this idea of Luffy who is this perfect juxtaposition of empathetic and kind to incredibly fearsome fire and brimstone fighter. And regardless of whether you’re into the ship or not this is the impetus of Law’s relationship with Luffy for me, because here’s Luffy who has every right to have a chip on his shoulder and be downtrodden about all the injustices against him, here’s this little guy who against all odds, in the darkest of places, embodies light and hope and kindness and proves to Law that there will be hard times but there IS a happy ending at the end of the tunnel, despite it all. And everytime Luffy rises to the insurmountable challenge and wins, it just further cements that the will of D. is alive, that Corasan was right, that there's something redeemable in Law, a reason why he was worth saving, even if Law doesn’t understand it quite yet.

#merry christmas law religious trauma be upon ye #what’s an endearing idiot to a non-believer #long post #favourite character thesis statement. or something #ive been wanting to talk about this for a while but just been gathering my thoughts #will preface all this by saying I was not born or raised religious but the concept’s all very compelling from an outsider’s perspective #but I have had conversations about this to people like lesbianluffy who *were* raised catholic and relate to this experience #who I have to thank a lot for helping me wrap my head around this #this is a compilation of thoughts and conversations over the last two or so months #one piece #op #CJ's op watch-through #trafalgar law #monkey d. luffy #donquixote rosinante #donquixote corazon #monkey d luffy #lawlu #trafalgar d water law #gear 5 luffy #sun god nika #wano spoilers #lulaw #op meta #op analysis #one piece analysis

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tswhiisftteedr · 3 months

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Memories ☆ One Shot

☆Merchant Husband!Jamil Viper x Fem!Yuu!Reader x Merchant Husband!Kalim Al-Asim:

After your student career at NCR, Crowley had yet to find you a way to bring you back to your world. But that didn’t matter anymore, you had by now found yourself a new home in Twisted Wonderland. A family of your own, two wonderful husbands and children. But despite always moving forward, it is sometimes nice to look back to sweet moments of the past..

Warnings: Mature Content, Swearing/Explicit Language, Reader gets called slutty one time but the rest is loving and fluffy. Not Proofread. READER & THE GUYS ARE ABOVE AGE AND MARRIED KEEP THAT IN MIND BEFORE ENGAGING.

Based on this ask:

So could you do a One-Short of Jamil x F!Reader x Kalim? In which the three, now adults and married, both rulers of Scalding Sands, after a day of work and putting the children to bed (Aisha the eldest, daughter of Jamil and Y/n, and Omar, son of Kalim and Y/n), Y/n was organizing the things when he finds a photo album from the time when the three of them studied at NRC, so the three of them start to remember from the time they met, to the moment they got married (while having flashbacks of those moments), remembering all the good and bad times they had, and at the end they have an intimate moment, let's say... 👉🏻👌🏻, if you know what I mean😏

I kept imagining Kalim and Y/n laughing at Jamil, when they went to Scalding Sands for the fireworks festival, where they heard several embarrassing stories from him, including one (I made this one up) where when Jamil and Kalim met, Jamil mistook Kalim for a girl and was all in love about him

Notes: Since the al asim are a long line of wealthy merchans but not royals, I didn’t make them rulers(as in sultans) but high in the the contries hierarchy. Also I don’t know if I actually like that one, I’m not sure this fic is that good, sorry if you don’t like it.

Author Note: I have 15+ other request to work on after this one but I also have to study. About 5 are twst and rest are Hazbin hotel. I have gotten sub!vox x Succubus reader, zestmilla and a Velvette x autistic reader request, but those don’t follow my rules. Though I think I might do the Velvette one, because I hadn’t put in my rules that: I don’t think I have the writing abilities to fulfill a request like that one, when it was sent out. But I’m still not sure, it’s a maybe type of situation, anyways that’s me and my life. Lol anyways enjoy!

☆ more under the cut. ☆

It had been a long, tiring day, so much to do, and you swore to yourself more than once that you were surrounded by incompetent idiots. Being the wife of an old money merchant and a brilliant new money one was a difficult task, you were constantly on your feet, ordering around, signing off on shipments, formulating contracts and making phone calls.

Despite the discomfort and exhaustion that hard work brought you, it was inevitable that you would grow accustomed to it. Reminiscing no more about the world you had left behind, the scalding sands were your home, with your two husbands and your children.

Aisha and Omar, the light of your day. The sunshine they brought into any room they entered, that always made you smile.

Aisha resembled Jamil so much that no one could question where she had gotten her traits from, always calculating and good at keeping her emotions in check, she was truly the responsible elder daughter. Though, same could be said for Omar and Kalim. The two of them were like pees in a pot, the times they would fall to their endeavours you couldn’t help but wondered if one of them was really an adult.

But at last it was time for your little sunshines to go to bed, they had school tomorrow and you didn't want them to be sleepy in class. So after saying goodbye to their Nanny, Mrs.Miriam, you tucked them in. Sweet fairy tales and gentle lullabies to hold their hands on their journey to dreamland.

As you step out of the children’s bedroom you could help but notice the door to the storage room was croaked open, ‘must have been the kids’ you assume. After all, Aisha loved to wear your old dresses, even if they didn't fit. And have a tea party in them with her brother, Omar probably wore one of Jamil's many business suits, he loved to look professional during these play dates, even though the big fabric made him look somewhat ridiculous.

You stepped in to make sure everything was tidy, but much to your expectation and disappointment, the children had left the room a mess.

At that moment, you sincerely asked yourself why you didn't have a maid, ‘you were rich, so why were you the one who had to clean up?’ But no reason to lament on it for too long, being pissy wouldn’t clean the room.

So you reluctantly began to reorganize the chamber, despite your tired state. While doing so, you coincidentally happen to stumble onto a fancy-looking box, a rather large one at that. It had an inscription carved into it, 'Memories'. And upon opening it, you had discovered about 5 or so photo albums. Three of them belonged exclusively to Kalim and Jamil, one was dedicated to the three of you and the last one was just NRC memories in general.

Opening the album filled with shared emotions brought a delightful wave of nostalgia to your heart. Swiftly completing the room cleaning, you carried the box to the living room, eager to reminisce about high school days and enjoy glimpses of your husband's past.

After about 30 minutes of reviewing the photo albums, you had only reached halfway through the NCR one when you heard the sound of keys opening the front door.

Focusing on the voices, you recognized your husbands, you had been eagerly anticipated their return. Myriam had only prepared food for the children, so you had patiently waited for Jamil to arrive and treat you to his delicious cooking.

As the two men entered, shedding coats and shoes, you overheard Kalim sharing a laugh about his workday. At least one of you three found joy in the challenges of being successful merchants.

“Well hello there, what's a lovely lady like yourself doing all alone tonight?” Jamil greeted, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and planting a kiss on the crook of your neck.

‘Such a flirt,’ you mused to yourself, even after years of marriage, he still seized every opportunity to hit on you—an aspect not everyone would expect given his usual demeanor. “Nothing too special, my good sir. Just indulging in the pleasure of walking down memory lane,” you replied, gesturing to the open photo album on your lap.

"Mhm, I see," he responds, while your other husband explores the elegant box. Pulling out one of the albums that you didn't contribute to, he opens it and flips to the first page. Sporting a broad grin, he exclaims, "Man, this brings me back!"

After giving a glance at which album Kalim had chosen, Jamil nods in agreement. "Sure does, though I did hate you when those pictures were taken."

"That's so mean, Jamil!" Kalim protests.

"What can I say? You were quite the annoying and demanding kid. I'm glad Omar didn't completely take after you with that one." He sneakers and Kalim whines as a responds. Though it ends with both of them lightly laughing.

It's true that Jamil and Kalim once had a conflicting relationship, but after working through their dynamics, they became good friends and, subsequently, lovers.

It all began as a sort of love triangle after the winter break of your first and their second year. Kalim confessed to Jamil that he had fallen for you, not realizing that Jamil had been harboring feelings for you for quite some time. But instead of brushing off his emotions for the sake of the Al-Asim family as he had previously done, Jamil candidly admitted to Kalim that he also liked you and wouldn't back down just because Kalim felt the same.

A friendly competition ensued, as they vied for your attention by outdoing each other whenever you were present. ‘You had trouble with a certain topic in class? Jamil would help you out.’ (1 point for Jamil). ‘You wanted new stationary because the ones Crowley had provided were on their last lives, Kalim would get them for you, gold or silver encrusted? Your pick.’ (1 point for Kalim). And so on.

However, it did happen that the ever-clumsy Kalim would unintentionally disrupted Jamil's plans, such as on the before Halloween night. Jamil had prepared meticulously to ask you to the Halloween dance, crafting a special gift.

With the assisted by the ‘unexpectedly benevolent at that moment’ Professor Crewel, he concocted a bouquet of everlasting sparkling flowers. Perfecting the potion applied to the plants, creating a handcrafted card, and embroidering a sweet message on the ribbon that would tie it all up, took considerable time. Considering his responsibilities as vice housewarden, club duties, and student work, he may or may not have sacrificed a significant amount of sleep for those flowers, but despite the sleepless nights that took some toll on his health, he believed it was worth it for the girl he loved. Because ‘Hey, what’s a couple hours of missed beauty sleep when we’re taking about making happy the future love of you life!’

Everything was set to be flawless – he was impeccably dressed in his uniform, almost done with his hair, just a bouquet delivery away from asking you out. ‘Simple, right?’

However, what Jamil hadn't anticipated was that, despite Kalim growing up surrounded by gold and precious gems, he still acted like a magpie drawn to anything shiny. Walking through the scarabia hallways, Kalim noticed the slightly ajar door to Jamil's room and, feeling the urge to close it, approached. ‘He didn’t want people going in to his friend jamil’s room with his consent!’ after all.

Though, his concern for people entering Jamil's room without his agreement didn't seem to extend to himself. After seeing light reflect on something through the door’s opening, he entered, consequently spotting the beautiful sparkling bouquet on the vice housewarden's desk and couldn't resist getting a closer look.

As Jamil returned to the room, Kalim, in a reflex, hid the flowers behind himself to cover the fact that he had touched something he shouldn't have.

Obviously, Jamil immediately noticed the bouquet behind the white-haired boy; with around 100 flowers, it couldn't be easily concealed. As he was about to ask for the flowers, Jamil took a noticed to something in peculiar – Kalim was remarkably close to the desk, espagnol with the flowers behind his back. That's when it dawned on him: Kalim was currently crushing the flowers.

Seizing Kalim by the shoulder and reclaiming the flowers, Jamil couldn't help but observe the crushed petals that now marred the majority of the bouquet. As Kalim acknowledged the dire state of the plants, he looked at Jamil with a face full of guilt.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I just wanted to get a better look, and then you surprised me-" Kalim began.

"Oh, so now it's my fault? My fault you came into my room without asking, and it's my fault you touched something that didn't belong to you? Do you even know what these were for? I worked so hard to make them look that way! But now they're ruined!" Jamil emphasized, throwing the bouquet on the ground.

Now grabbing Kalim by his collar, Jamil continued, "They were for me to ask Y/N to the dance. I spent so much time trying to make them look perfect, something you wouldn't understand since you probably would've just bought something instead of taking the time to make it. You just ruin everything. Shit, you make me so fucking angry!"

The sudden yank on Kalim's collar caused him to stumble backward, landing on the edge of the desk, his legs still firmly planted on the ground. He yelped softly in surprise as he felt Jamil's breath hot against his neck, and a shiver ran down his spine at the combination of anger and... something else? Maybe it was just the closeness that made him tremble.

"L-Look I’m sorry," he managed to choke out between ragged breaths. "Please forgive Jamil, I-I didn’t mean too."

However, Jamil's grip tightened further, pulling him closer until their bodies were flush against each other. Their faces were mere centimeters apart now, and Jamil's eyes bore into Kalim's like daggers. Despite his rage, there was an underlying heat burning brightly in his eyes, threatening to consume both of them.

Without warning, Jamil leaned forward, crushing their lips together full of madness. His tongue forced its way past Kalim's surprised lips, seeking entry into his mouth. His hands moved up to cup Kalim's face, holding him in place as he deepened the kiss.

Finally breaking the kiss, “What the hell,”Tsk, “Shit! I don’t know what came over me, I was just so mad and-“ Jamil began rambling but is cut off when an audibles “fuck” came out of Kamil’s lips.

“Did you just say fuck?” Jamil question,

“You just kissed me and that’s what you’re worried about!” Kalim retorts.

“You’re right, sorry, I’m sorry. Let’s just forget about this and never speak of it a-“ Jamil starts again,

“Wanna do it again?” Kalim cuts off once more.

Meanwhile you patiently waited at the location Jamil had texted you, but after 45 minutes of silence and Jamil not responding to your texts, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

You weren't about to get stood up, no matter how pretty the motherfucker was. Heading straight to Scarabia ready for any excuse or so you thought. What you didn't anticipate was walking into both of your crushes making out on Jamil's bed.

They were so absorbed in each other that they hadn't noticed your presence in the room. To break their entrancement, you casually remarked, "Hot." Seeing the two guys you admire in appearance and personality, kissing and grabbing at each other was an undeniably attractive sight.

However, that your words did break their moment. Pulling away, Jamil spoke from under Kalim, "Um, hey, how's it going, Y/N?"

"Don't 'Y/N' me, Jamil. You texted me to meet you in front of the Seven's statues because you had something important to tell me. Then you don't show up and ignore all my texts. Now, if you want to continue your make-out session with Kalim, I'd suggest you promptly spit out what you wanted to tell me," you sternly replied, perhaps a bit too harsh. Despite your initial reaction, you quickly faced the reality that if they liked each other, you couldn't be with either of them and that hurt you. Or so you thought until their next words.

"Oh, well, the thing was that I wanted to ask you to the dance, but the bouquet I made for you kinda went south," he said, looking at the smushed gift on the floor. Following his gaze, you discovered the beautifully sparkling yet crushed flowers at your feet.

"So wait—why are you making out with Kalim if you were going to ask me out? I get the idea of going as friends, but the bouquet is a bit over the top for situations like that." You point out.

"No, it's not. Shit, it's hard to explain," he paused and collected himself, with Kalim now seated beside him.

"So, what happened is that I was going to ask you out as my date, in a romantic type of way. But Kalim accidentally ruined my gift, and that got me so angry, then we kind of just started making out. So I guess I also like Kalim in addition to you," Jamil explained.

"I'm confused as fuck... so let me get this clear, you like me, but you also like Kalim, and he's okay with it," you remarked.

"Yeah, I mean, I also like you. So it's kinda better if he also does," Kalim replied.

"Wait— You also like me?" you questioned.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, I know this is sort of really weird, and it's totally fine if you don't reciprocate our feelings. I totally get it. You are in no obligation to do so," Jamil says to you.

"You're right, I'm not obligated to do so," you paused, making their hearts stop. The rollercoaster of emotions from anger and anxiety to hot and bother to finally feeling rejected was a bit too much to handle in such a short amount of time. But your next words brought peace to their hearts and minds. "But, would it be weird if I were to admit that I also liked the two of you?"

"At this point, not at all," Jamil replied.

"So is it okay if I join your make-out sesh?" you asked.

"Of course!" Kalim exclaimed, grabbing your wrist and, consequently, throwing you onto the bed with the two of them.

And that's how the three of you began your relationship.

Now back to the present,

The three of you had migrated to your Shaftland(Alaskan) king-sized bed, with you positioned between the two. You were all in pyjamas by now, you in shorts and a t-shirt. Currently, you were flipping through the album Kalim had picked up.

"Oh, and this was the first picture we took after I realized you were a guy," Kalim said, pointing at a photo of the two of them studying as children.

"Wait, you thought Jamil was a girl?" you questioned.

"Well, I did at first. He was really pretty as a kid and had nice long hair, though, I guess he still is," he said with a giggle. You looked at your other husband for confirmation, half-expecting Kalim to be playfully trying to confuse you. However, Jamil nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, apparently he did for the longest time. We got introduced at four, and during the span of 6 years, he thought I was a chick," he explained.

“So how did he find out you weren't?" you asked.

"One day, he dragged me out in the rain to play a game of ball. I tried to tell him that we couldn't, but he wouldn't budge. After about half an hour, I finally convinced him to come back in to avoid both of us getting a cold. I had prepared a bath for both of us to use, but, of course, it had to be kept a secret. I couldn't let anyone know I might have let Kalim get sick. So once the bath was ready, I began to strip. My shirt was halfway off when he started rambling about taking responsibility as the honorable son of the Al-Asim family and marrying me after seeing me indecently. I just stared at him for a couple of minutes, in shock, and then corrected him about my gender. The looks he gave me were like I had just turned his whole world upside down," Jamil explained.

"Well, it felt like you did back then," Kalim commented with a huff.

"I guess props to Kalim for wanting to do the 'decent thing' and marry you," you said with a snicker.

"Ha, ha, really funny," Jamil replied sarcastically.

"In the end, it did happen, though," Kalim said, somewhat of a marvel in his eyes.

"True, maybe 10-year-old Kalim had fortune-telling abilities. You never know," you said.

"For some reason, I strongly doubt that," Jamil retorted.

You soon turned to the album filled with pictures of the three of you. As you examined the images, a hint of insecurity crept in.

"I wish I still looked like that, being 16 and beautiful," you expressed, but that didn't sit well with your husbands, not at all.

"Babes, what are you talking about! You're literally so beautiful, like really beautiful. I mean it," Kalim reassured.

"Yes, he's right. You’ll always be gorgeous," agreed Jamil, wrapping his arm around your frame.

"And besides, nobody could ever compare to you," added Kalim with a wink.

Your face gets warmer at their compliments, feeling a little better but still you couldn't shake off the nagging doubt in your mind. You knew they meant well, but sometimes it was hard not to compare yourself to your younger self or to other woman in general.

"Thanks you two, really, I appreciate it," you managed to say softly, trying to sound more confident than you actually were.

Kalim leaned in closer, nuzzling his nose into your neck and whispering hot breath against your sensitive skin. "I love how you smell so sweet," he muttered before trailing kisses down your neckline, leaving marks along the way.

Jamil followed suit, nipping at your earlobes and sucking lightly on them before moving downwards towards your cleavage. His hands traced slow circles around your waist, teasingly brushing against your sensitive flesh.

You gasp softly, arching your back into their touch, unable to resist their advances. Your heart raced faster than usual, thumping wildly against your chest as anticipation built up inside of you.

You felt your shorts being unfastened one by one, exposing your body to your husband’s hungry gazes. You closed your eyes, savoring the anticipation building up inside. Your breath hitched as you felt Kalim's warm fingertips teasingly tracing along your thighs, brushing against against sensitive flesh before dipping slightly lower towards your wet panties.

Lifting your shirt, his tongue traced circles around your nipples, sucking and licking each one until they stood erect and hardened.

Jamil's hands moved higher up your body, cupping your breasts in his large palms, massaging them roughly yet tenderly. His thumb played with your nipples, teasing them mercilessly while his lips found yours, claiming their own passionate kiss. Their tongues tangled together, exploring every crevice of each other's mouths as he continued to fondle your chest.

As things escalated further, both men began to undress themselves, revealing their cocks straining against their boxers. You could feel your pussy growing increasingly hotter and more lubricated at the sight of their hardened members, yearning for the moment they would finally fuck you. You moaned, your voice trembling with desire and need.

Kalim moved between your legs, spreading them wider apart before leaning down to nibble on your sensitive inner thighs. His hot breath fanned across your wet pussy lips, making goosebumps rise on your sensitive skin. "I want to taste you," he croaked against your panties, his hands gripping tightly onto your thighs. He did become ‘pushy’ then his usual self when it came to sex.

Before you could respond, he yanked down your underwear, exposing your pussy to his hungry mouth. He groaned deeply, savoring the scent of your arousal filling his nose. His tongue darted out, tracing slow circles around your entrance before exploring your hole, lapping up every drop of your dripping arousal. You cried out in pleasure, your body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over your.

Jamil stop you momentarily to change the position, now under you, with your back against his chest, hands spreading your thighs, his member now pressing against your entrance. With one swift motion, he thrust himself inside her tight hole, stretching her walls wide open. You gasped at the feeling, meanwhile Kalim returned to devouring your pretty pussy.

"You taste so fucking good, baby," Kalim muttered hoarsely between licks and sucks, his tongue darting in and out of your wet entrance. His fingers continued to tease your sensitive spots, finding just the right rhythm to send shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Jamil grunted deeply, thrusting faster now, his cock stretching your tight channel even further, filling you up completely. He reached down to play with one of your nipples, pinching it gently before twisting it roughly. "That's it, take all of me, my slutty little wife"

Your moans turned into high-pitched whimpers as they both relentlessly attacked every inch of your body. Your walls clamped tightly around Jamil's cock, milking him for more while you ended up squirting onto Kalim's face. The mixed flavors of their combined arousal only served to fuel their lustful hunger.

“Oh god, yes," you moaned, your voice breaking with pleasure. You felt so full, yet so empty at the same time. Your pussy clenched tightly around his thick shaft, milking him as he began to move faster and harder, slamming into your core repeatedly. Meanwhile Kalim had broke away to focus on his own erection, soon placing himself in your mouth and facefucking you. You didn’t protest, he had been so good to you, ‘so why not let him have his fun?’

"Shit, you’re so beautiful Y/N," stated Jamil, his hips moving in sync with Kalim's thrusting rhythm. You could feel yourself nearing orgasm once more, your body trembling in anticipation of release.

"Fuck, ‘it’s to much!" you cried out against your husband’s cock, though it came out as a mumble, in addition your voice was already hoarse from their passionate lovemaking. Your pleasing noises only served to fuel their lust even more, pushing them closer to climax together. You and Jamil being the first to finish, he slightly thrusted into to ride out your high.

Kalim was watching the two of you like a hawk, throwing his head back in ecstasy as he relished in the sounds you made. He soon reached his own breaking point, moving back to his original position to finish on your pussy and stomach.

After a couple minutes of heavy breathing,

"This was fantastic," Kalim remarks between breaths.

"Yeah, it was. By the way, are you still taking the pill?" Jamil asks, turning to face you.

"Oh, no. I forgot I was on a break from it," you say, a bit alarmed.

"Well, looks like Aisha and Omar might have some potential siblings on the way," Kalim says with a giggle.

"Ha ha, real funny," you respond sarcastically.

"I mean, it's not that bad of an idea," Jamil suggests.

"Okay, less thinking about more kids, and more thinking of showering now. I am beat and sweaty," you say.

"Yes, ma'am," the two of them say in unison.

And that’s how your night ended.

Thanks @Selena_Twisted_Wonderland on AO3 for requesting!

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leavesfallensparse · 16 days

Text

Cigarettes & Wine | M. Healy | 1

'I want a photo of you in my bed, to carry with me when I go out west.'

In which Sadie and Matty have a very brief, very awkward, and very anxious encounter, Sadie gets very flustered but quickly finds herself fitting in with the group of rowdy boys and too many feelings are felt for her teenage brain.

warnings: drug use, implied alcoholism, implied parental neglect, my sweet angel sadie being a sweet angel.

word count: 8.5k

a/n: soo .. hiiii! i am juniper and im begging you guys bear with me i have Never posted on here before. BUUUUTT i am vvvv nervous and excited to be posting this but it's been in the works for tooooo long. begging and screaming to be let out of the word doc its been confined to. so here we are i guess. pls enjoy sadie and matty they are my Children. if the title wasn't hint enough.. this is only part one.

Sadie has had the most stressful morning of her entire life. Her tie is untied around her neck and the only thing she cares to grab hold of is her camera. Her entire life is on that thing, and although she may be merely 14, her camera is her child. She hears her mother huffing at the bottom of the stairs and straightens up to catch a look of herself in the mirror, a mess, as she suspected. Her shirt is buttoned up wrong, her skirt is half tucked into her tights, she has on one Mary Jane and her backpack’s contents are strewn messily across her bedroom floor. With some swear words muttered along the way she is in the car within five minutes and her mum is chewing her out for being late to her first day of Year 10, which she couldn’t really care less for.

“I’ll see you tonight, mum! Love you!” Sadie slams the car door before she can hear her mums reply and heads into the school she’s grown to know quite well. She’s fallen into a friend group with some girls that she thinks will do for her high school endeavours, but Sadie already knows she’s destined for bigger than the small town of Wilmslow. Somebody else who thinks this way is Matty Healy, the boy who’s just gone into Year 11. Sadie has noticed him before, they both tend to frequent the music department, Sadie finds it visually appealing for her photo collection, whereas Matty finds it appealing to the ears, especially his own guitar strumming. Any time their paths cross Sadie bows her head and pretty much runs in the opposite direction, face as red as the wine her mum drinks when the sky gets dark.

As Sadie enters the front of the school she signs in late at the front and heads to her class, putting her camera in her backpack as she approaches her English class. She sighs and opens the door with stuttered apologies for being late, Sadie might be confident and come across as such but that doesn’t mean her 14 year old brain isn’t scared of high school teachers and their strictness. She stumbles to her seat and sits down, accidentally throwing her bag at her feet once she gets out the book the class are in the middle of silently reading. Even though she doesn’t know why the class is reading on the first day she’s thankful for it because it lets her mind wander, her dreams of being a famous photographer is what her mind favours over ‘A Tale Of Two Cities’, Sadie finds Dickens to be boring. She prefers the Brontë sisters.

When lunchtime finally rolls around Sadie is where she can normally be found, the music department. Her camera is lazily slung around her neck, her backpack having been left with her friends in the library. She favours avoiding the gossip for finding inspiration in the usual practice rooms, the ones she hasn’t found inspiration in for a while now. She spent every day before the Summer holidays begging whoever might be looking down on her for something to take a photo of. Somebody else had been wandering the same corridors as Sadie. Everyone in her year talks about Matty Healy, “the boy in the year above with a natural affinity for the guitar he’s always carrying around the school carried a naturally mysterious air.” Sadie can’t think of a single girl in her year who wasn’t utterly obsessed with every move of Matty Healy. Including herself, even if she’s very hesitant to admit it, an admirer from afar per se. She likes to think of him more in the sense of ‘his appearance is inspiring to her camera’. Sadie was looking down at her feet, frowning at the scuffed shoes she wore for the entirety of Year 9 when she felt a larger figure bump into her. As she looks up and sees Matty with a guitar case in his hand she can’t help the pink tint that rises on her cheeks.

“Oh! Erm, sorry!” Sadie somehow manages to force the words out of her mouth. She seems to have the same shyness about her when talking to Matty that she does when looking her English teacher in the eye. An interesting discovery. She loses herself in overthinking the tone she just took with Matty when she hears him reply to her, something she wasn’t expecting in the slightest.

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t paying attention, my bad.” He meets her eyes and genuinely seems like he couldn’t care less about her mistake, he seems to take more notice of her camera, his head tilts and his eyes squint in the direction of it hanging limply on her neck. She seems to grow more confident in herself when she realises he’s looking at her camera, she knows she’s good at photography, that’s something she could talk about endlessly. Matty lifts a finger and points to said camera. “You any good?”

Her eyes widen slightly at the question, and she clears her throat at the same time her head begins incessantly nodding, she is acting crazy. She then begins to overthink her nodding. Why is she overthinking so much? Maybe she’s just having an off-day. She decides that she nodded like that because she knows she’s a great photographer, why would she not be overconfident about it? Seems normal enough.

“Cool. Can I see any?” This is when Sadie’s heart rate picks up. She doesn’t know why; she doesn’t want to know why. She also does not want to know why he is asking her this. Matty’s question has sent her brain into full blown panic mode, maybe she does want to know why he’d like to see her photos. What could possibly intrigue him about her? The squint tie around her neck? Her incredibly dirty Mary Janes? In her 14-year-old brain she decides he fancies her. She’d come to find out in many, many years that she was, in fact, right.

“If you want? I’m bringing my hard drive tomorrow for my art class, they’re letting me use my photos this year, meet me at the library?” She says this with a coy smile on her face, in her head she is feeling a lot less coy because of the way Matty is smirking at her. What she doesn’t know is that he is looking down at her with a smirk because her face is so red that he thinks there’s something wrong, maybe it was something he’d said? After a beat of silence, he blinks down at her with a nod, and they bid their goodbyes. Once Sadie is sure Matty has turned the corner she lets out a silent squeal before quickly bolting to the school’s library and sitting down at the table her friends are at, she might not view them in any light, but they do love gossip. She takes a moment to catch her breath before turning to her friend sat beside her, “Matty Healy wants to see my photos. I have no idea why.”

Suffice to say Sadie didn’t sleep a wink that night. She sneaked through to her dad’s office to edit photos on the family computer at midnight when she was sure everyone was sleeping and when she was sure the photos were on her hard drive she went back to bed and tried to sleep. Unsuccessfully. She then had to drag herself to school the next morning, early, to meet Matty before classes. She had no energy to even be nervous, the eyebags on her face spoke for themselves. She all but flopped down on the seat next to the boy who held in his laugh at the sight of her. “Don’t laugh! I had to edit some of these photos before you saw them, and my bloody dad wouldn’t get off the computer last night, so I had to do it after he was sleeping! Anyways, wanna see?” When Matty nods with a smile she rifles through her backpack for her hard drive.

After silently looking through her photos for, like, three whole minutes, Matty turns to Sadie with a single nod. “So, I’m in a band. I think they’d love these. How about you come to our next practice and take some photos of us? See if they like what you do?” Sadie is now a mere puddle in her computer chair. She doesn’t speak in fear of her mouth betraying her, what would she even say? She nods for a while; she doesn’t know how long she nods for, but she knows it’s been a while.

“Yup, sounds good. Yeah, cool. Cool. Where do you guys practice?” Sadie doesn’t know what the fuck is coming out of her mouth. She is word vomiting all over Matty’s shoes. She wants to apologise but she isn’t sure she remembers the English language. Why is she so nervous? Oh, probably just because the guy that every single one of her peers fawns over is currently asking her to make him and his bandmates her next subject of inspiration. Her next muse. What even is her life.

“At my house. I’ll write the address down for you, hang on.” Sadie’s mouth has gone dry. Now she’s truly forgotten the English language. This can’t be real, and this certainly can’t be happening to Sadie. Matty Healy is writing down his home address for her to have. Not to even mention his literal famous mum and dad. She reaches her hand under the computer desk and pinches her thigh over her wool tights, it doesn’t hurt but she’s now sure this is actually happening. Sadie takes the paper from Matty and tries to process the date and time he’s reciting at her. They’re interrupted by the morning bell and when Matty holds the library door open for her she waves goodbye, bows her head and speedwalks away from him.

Sadie really tries to focus in her classes that day but it doesn’t work in the slightest, all she can think about is Matty Healy and she curses him for it. She tries to read some romance novel when she gets home but she starts picturing the characters as her and Matty and has to put it down. He has unknowingly taken over her brain, and she resents him for it. Can’t a girl even read in peace?! She took pride in being the only girl in her year who didn’t have a crush on Matty, now she can’t even hold that above his head.

By the time Friday rolls around Sadie is already over school, she never tended to like school, but she already knows that Year 10 is going to be dreadful. The one saving grace might come in the form of a boy in the year above. She leaves school and runs home to get changed before she heads to Matty’s address. She has cherished the crumpled piece of paper that held his address since she got it on Tuesday morning, she taped it to her mirror and that is where it will stay. It isn’t like she hasn’t come home every night from school and studied it, she knows exactly where she’s going.

Her shaky hand knocks on the door of said address about an hour later, she biked over from her house and actually enjoyed the ride, the early September sun was shining on her face and lighting up the bumpy country road she took to get here. Her thoughts are interrupted by a lively woman, quite aggressively, swinging the front door open. Sadie smiles up at her with squint eyes because of the sun attacking them, making the blue of her irises look probably insane. “Um, hi? I’m Sadie, Matty invited me to watch his band practice and take some photos of them.” Sadie lazily points to the camera around her neck with an awkward smile. She is coming across very poorly. But alas the woman opens the door wider.

“Oh! He never mentioned, he doesn’t tend to tell me these things though, typical teenager! I’m Matty’s mum, just call me Denise though, sweetheart. They should be in the garage.” Denise walks Sadie to the garage door where she can hear the loud laughter of teenage boys and obnoxious drumbeats. She smirks slightly and thanks Denise, accepting her offer of a can of coke. Once she takes it she enters the garage, and the laughter dies down. “Sadie’s here, boys, she’s very lovely so I don’t want to hear of any teasing or making fun.”

Sadie looks down at her feet as Denise defends her, even though the boys haven’t yet uttered a word. She hears the garage door close behind her and Matty gestures her over to him. He very casually, like it’s nothing, throws an arm over her shoulder and begins introducing her to the three other boys in his garage. She already knows George from a couple of her classes due to them being in the same year, but she lets Matty speak at her anyways. “So, Sades, this is Adam, he plays guitar and he's in the year above me, basically he’s old. That’s Ross, he does the bass, but I think he just pretends to know what he’s doing. And that’s George, obviously he plays the drums, but he just makes a fucking racket.” Sadie flushes at how casually he gestures, how casually his arm is around her, how casually he swears, and how casually he calls her ‘Sades’. That’s a new one.

“Um, hi, I’m Sadie it’s nice to meet you guys. Matty was singing your guys’ praise on Tuesday morning. Been looking forward to this since.” Sadie’s forearm has suddenly become very itchy, and she busies herself in looking around the garage in an attempt to avoid eye contact with any of the aforementioned boys. She notices a few posters on the exposed walls and a couple of guitar cases strewn across the floor, the last thing she notices is a battered leather couch against the wall, facing all of the boys and their many instruments and poor cable management. Sadie leaves Matty’s side and takes a seat on it, placing her coke on the floor and taking the lens cap off her camera.

The practice is well under way and Sadie’s mind has been racing with thoughts of how she’d shoot the band at an actual show. She finally gains the courage to stand up and has failed to notice Matty’s eyes on her the entire time he’s been singing. None of the other boys seem to notice either, Matty doesn’t even realise what he’s doing. When they finish up the last song they wanted to practice (for probably the tenth time), they start chatting about things they should do differently, and Sadie busies herself by looking at her photos on the couch. She gets caught up in them and doesn’t feel the sofa sink next to her, she looks up and sees George looking over her shoulder. “Any good photos of me?”

Sadie can’t help the pink on her face as she nods and turns her camera to him, showing him the few photos she got of him. She found it difficult to get good angles of George considering the size of the garage they were practising in, him being shoved into the back corner. As George was flicking through photos Sadie couldn’t help but study his face, his brows were slightly furrowed as he fiddled with the buttons on her camera, not knowing how to work it. He smirked at a few photos and his eyes scanned over the rest, when he looked up Sadie was suddenly very interested in the opening of her can of coke. She has no idea why she can’t look at any of the boys without her heart rate picking up and her face going bright pink. Maybe because she thinks they’re actually quite cool and she has no idea why she would possibly be sitting in Matty’s garage with them all. But she is.

The next time she has a run in with the band is a week and a half later when they all spot her in the lunch hall and wildly gesture her over. She had spotted them first and tried to look around to avoid them. She really wishes she knew why her subconscious was forcing her away from the boys. (She’s terrified she’ll embarrass herself. That’s why). She gets herself together and heads over to the table they’re sat at, awkwardly placing her bag at her feet. She murmurs something that could be perceived as a “hi” but honestly it could have been anything. “Have you edited the photos yet? We are highly anticipating them.” Sadie nods her head excitedly, glad that the topic is on her photos, something she actually is passionate about.

“Yeah! Yeah, they’re on a hard drive that you guys can have, I forgot to bring it with me today though. I’ll bring it tomorrow?” Matty nods and falls into conversation with the boys, who also include Sadie, sitting there helpless, unsure if she should get up and go to her friends. She dares to glance in their direction and when she sees them blowing fake kisses because of the curly haired boy she’s sat with she rolls her eyes and turns back around. She reminds herself that they are her surface level friends, they have nothing in common whatsoever, they’re too caught up in gossip. Sadie is too caught up in her camera. They don’t gel.

Sadie manages to fall into a conversation with Ross about English and their mutual enjoyment for the subject, she finds it incredibly random but she’s glad to have something in common with one of the boys. She relished in the conversation not being surface level drama that brought a yawn out of her throat, she also relishes in her slight ranting about her passions actually being listened to. Sadie likes Ross and his listening skills. When the bell rings she finds herself bewildered at the fact she doesn’t want to get up from the table, she’d quite like to stay and timidly laugh at the boys’ jokes and general noisiness. But, alas, she must head to the aforementioned English class, she makes a joke to Ross about how she’d rather go anywhere else. They share a hatred for Sadie’s teacher, him having had her for the previous school year. She finds herself falling into step with George, they’re already five minutes late.

They wave a goodbye to the rest of the boys who all disperse into different classes and walks silently with George. They pass by a few people that make them share glances to each other, grimaces present on their faces. Anytime this happens they both laugh and shove into one another until they reach the fated English hallway and George reaches into his bag and pulls out two sheets of handwritten papers. Sadie’s face basically turns into a question mark. “What? It’s the homework?” Upon seeing Sadie’s heart basically fall to her toes George can’t help but let out a baffled laugh. “Don’t tell me you haven’t done it.”

“Shit, George.”

The colder the weather gets the more Sadie begins to feel like an integral member of the group. She’s the one to tell the boys to shut up when they’re talking too loudly. She’s the one to shove Matty anytime he makes another member of the group the butt of his jokes. She’s also the one to tell him when his singing sounds shit. Sadie has been quite the talk of the town recently because of this, her old friends are spreading all kinds of rumours due to her gradually dropping them in favour of the boys. Although anytime Ross catches wind of these in the school corridors he’s quick to shut it down, whether it be defending her or physically getting involved… at least he's there!

The band are meeting up for their last practice before Christmas Day and Sadie is beside herself with excitement, she hasn’t seen the boys since the school broke off for the holidays on the 17th. She wakes up that morning already excited but when she opens her curtains and sees snow she swears under her breath, she couldn’t possibly drag her bikes weak tyres through the thick snowfall. So, she slides her panda slippers onto her feet and heads downstairs, finding her mum in the kitchen with a cup of tea and a cigarette in hand. “Morning, mum! Would you be able to give me a lift to Matty’s later? I was gonna bike over, but it must’ve snowed pretty hard last night.” When she hears the sigh escape her mum’s mouth and the slight thud of her palm on the counter she knows she’s not getting a lift.

Denise was expecting Sadie, she’d grown to expect the young girl’s presence around the house at any given time. But what Denise wasn’t expecting was to open up the door to Sadie, bike in hand, tears staining her bright red cheeks, and no hat on her head. This just wouldn’t do. “Oh! Sadie, sweetheart, what happened? Come in, out of the cold now, just dump the bike, that’s fine. Why did you bike here?” Sadie tries to speak but her brain seems to think that letting a sob rack her body is the smarter way to go about this.

“Mum wouldn’t give me a lift, said she had more important things to be seeing to. Had no choice.�� Denise immediately puts the kettle on and wraps the girl up in a blanket, rubbing her shoulders after forcing her to take a seat at the kitchen island. Sadie can hear the boys upstairs and is glad of Denise calming her down and talking to her before she has to face them. After Denise gives her a telling off for not, at least, putting on a scarf, she turns to Sadie with an eyebrow raised. She just sighs. “She does this all the time. Feel like a nuisance at that house. Always in the way.”

Upon hearing this Denise circles the kitchen island and crowds her into a hug which she can’t help but accept. After a beat of silence occasionally broken up by Sadie’s sniffles, the two part, Denise keeping her at arm’s length. “You shouldn’t feel like a nuisance. Listen, any time you come here I’m delighted, probably because you balance the testosterone levels a bit, but not just that, you’re the kindest young lady I’ve ever gotten to meet, and it’s always a pleasure to have you at the house, you keep my boys in check. Now, if you ever feel like this again, phone my number from your house phone, and I’ll come pick you up, can’t have you biking in the snow anymore.”

Sadie nods her head at Denise’s words, letting out a slightly weepy laugh anytime she makes a dig at the boys. She feels strangely warm inside, despite the subzero temperatures she was just faced with, and she doesn’t know why. She’s never felt safer than when Denise took her hand on the kitchen island. Matty’s house is now her safe space she’s decided. Speak of the devil, Sadie hears a clatter from the stairs behind her and when she turns she sees Matty’s eyes light up. “Sades! You made it! I thought you weren’t gonna come because of this snow, glad to see you though, George is chatting shit about your English teacher again. Something about holiday homework, help me take some juice up?”

Sadie takes the blanket with her and with a smile in Denise’s direction she waddles over to the fridge. She makes sure to finish her tea before grabbing a can of coke. Another thing she likes about the Healy house is the constantly stocked fridge, anytime she needs a drink there seems to be one on hand. Almost akin to Mary Poppins handbag. She takes one of the cans Matty is juggling with a giggle and bids goodbye to Denise before heading up the stairs. Matty entertains this journey by telling her that his dad had taken Louis, his younger brother, out to build a snowman a half hour ago and Sadie laughs at the image of his rosy cheeks and tiny hands grasping at snowflakes. She dotes on Louis, always having wanted a younger sibling, she treats him like her own brother.

When the door to Matty’s bedroom opens she smiles at the sight, three boys strewn across the room in one big, lazy mess. They all seem to perk up at the sight of Sadie, George especially. “Thank fuck you’re here, need help with this homework, my mum told me to have it finished before Christmas. And Ross, miserable bastard, is refusing to help me. Have you done it?” Sadie sets down Adam’s can of coke on the desk, cracking her own open before sitting criss-cross on the floor beside George. She nods at him over the can, and he can’t help but cheer and push it towards her, struggling on the carpet. “You’re so much better than me at English. Read what I have.” She sets down her can and skims over what George has written.

“Oh dear, I’ll help you after practice.” At this the boys all glance at each other and the room falls silent. Did she say something? I mean, they’re here for practice, right? Right. Sadie has just missed it, her treacherous journey to the Healy house took longer than usual, and she left late. “Have you already practiced?” When faced with four nodding boys, Sadie sighs and nods too. “That’s okay, we can just hang out, then.” Matty looks at her with a sympathetic grimace. He overheard more of her conversation with his mum than he originally let on.

Matty decides that changing the subject entirely is the best thing he can do in this situation, he doesn’t want to force her to talk about why she was crying to his mum. “We liked the most recent photos you took, really cool. Think you left some of your ones for art on the hard drive, there was a random shot of some leaf in the middle of Ross’ closeups.” Sadie shakes her head, feeling her eyes roll involuntarily. “I mean it was a good leaf photo, I just don’t think it’s our vibe.” Her head is thrown back in a giggle as she takes another sip of her coke.

“You should consider yourself lucky, getting to see my leaf photos. They are very close to my heart.” All Matty can do at this is scoff, he is now the one rolling his eyes. Sadie’s attention is diverted by a sheet of paper being waved in her face. She turns to George with a slight glare, and he backs into himself a bit. “Fine. What do you not understand? It’s just English.”

“I just don’t get it. English doesn’t make sense, I think you’ve forgotten that I am a well-travelled man, Sadie. I’ve been all over the place.” Sadie fixes the boy with a sigh, a straight-faced sigh. She lets his sentence linger in the air as she readjusts on the bedroom floor. She lays on her front as she reads what George has written. It’s not bad, but it’s also not great. And so, she tells him such.

“I mean, it’s not bad, but it’s not great. You could maybe, I don’t know, sprinkle in an adjective here or there, don’t think that would hurt.” Is all she manages to get out before a pillow is lobbed, quite forcefully, at her head. In retaliation she throws the paper back at George. “Well, you can do it yourself then, can’t you?”

“No, no, no! Sadie I didn’t mean it! My hand slipped!”

As the day turned to night the boys gradually left until it was just Matty and Sadie left sitting on his floor, sharing chips that Denise had cooked for them. Sadie put one in her mouth and glanced out the window, noticing it was snowing again, the sigh that came out of her mouth wasn’t meant to sound quite as pathetic as it did. Matty stopped strumming on his guitar and turned to her with furrowed brows, at the sudden silence she met his eyes. “I can’t bike home in this weather.”

“Why did you even bike here in the first place? And why were you crying?” Sadie shakes her head and breaths out a laugh. How does she even answer this? She could be honest, lay her cards on the table, and tell him all about her mum. Or she could be partially honest and tell him that her mum just doesn’t make time for her. Or she could blatantly lie, she’s on her period or something like that. As she weighs up her options she lets out a barely audible hum and Matty cocks his head at her.

“It’s just my mum. She never makes time for me. Refused to give me a lift and I didn’t want to cancel so I biked here. That’s all, I’m okay now, spending time with you guys makes me okay.” Matty’s head falls to rest on Sadie’s shoulder silently. He doesn’t know what to say to her, so he just starts strumming the guitar again. A smile rests on Sadie’s slightly pink cheeks as she hums along to the song Matty is playing, she doesn’t know it to name, but she definitely knows it. “I didn’t think I’d actually make friends in high school.” Matty doesn’t say anything for a minute, processing Sadie’s words.

“Of course you were gonna make friends. I think you’re too good to just be our friend, frankly I’m shocked you put up with our bullshit.” Another beat of silence falls upon the pair. “Just come here if your mum’s being a pain, we’ll cheer you right up.” Sadie smiles at this and feels tears brimming her eyes, and she doesn’t know why. At the sudden sound of the door opening Matty lifts her head and Sadie rubs at her eyes.

“Right, Sadie, I’ve just tried phoning your house phone three times to no answer, so the spare room is set up for you, let me know when you pair decide to sleep.” Sadie doesn’t hear much of what Denise said after hearing that her house was phoned three times, and nobody answered. What if something had happened to her? She sighs and smiles up at Denise from the floor, thanking her before picking at the loose pieces of carpet on the floor. When the door shuts, the tears flow. Matty has never been more panicked in his entire life, he thinks. How the fuck do you comfort your crying best friend?!

“Hey, hey. Come here.” He wraps an arm around her shoulder and all she can do is sigh. She knows if she speaks it’ll end in even more tears, her voice will refuse to work. She gives in and leans into Matty’s touch, the weather outside is a stark contrast to how she feels under his arm. After a few minutes of her silently crying, she dares a glance up at him and sees him staring at the wall across from him with slightly widened eyes, the sight makes her giggle, breaking him from his trance. He looks down at her and joins in the laughter, not knowing why they’re laughing but glad she’s not crying as hard anymore. Yet his eyes widen again when she stops laughing and opens her mouth.

“I want to know why they don’t care about me. I haven’t done anything.” Matty sighs at this, a sick part of his brain wishes he could relate just so he’d know what to say. He looks down at Sadie who is now lying on his floor, upside down from where he sits. He lays down next to her, top and tail, both teenagers looking up at the ceiling, feeling things too big for them to even comprehend, things they shouldn’t have to feel. “Sorry, I feel like the mood is ruined.”

“What mood? You’ve been off all day, making me feel sad. I wish I could make it better.”

“I wish you could, too.”

Sadie has no desire to celebrate her 15th birthday that following Summer. But she’s been faced with no choice. In George’s words they “had to because you only turn 15 once.” George had turned 15 earlier that year and didn’t seem to share that sentiment on his birthday, all they did was go to Matty’s house after school and sit in his living room for six hours. But he was insistent that the group had to go out for dinner, he’d gotten Denise on his side which ultimately led to Sadie agreeing. Her mother wasn’t best pleased, but she��d grown to not care, and her mothers grown to know she can’t fight her anymore.

She got dressed in rapid speed, desperate to get out of the house and reunite with her best friends. She hadn’t even gotten as much as a card from her parents and that says more to her than any words could have, she isn’t even sure they know her birthday is today. Pulling on her jeans, probably quicker than the speed of light, she grabs her jacket and runs down the stairs, she shouts a bye to anyone who cares and hops on her bike to Matty’s house. They’re all meeting there for some big surprise before they go out to dinner.

The August sun is beaming down on her face, she pauses and squints up at the sky and notices how blue it is, she smiles and looks back down at her bike. She decides that draping her jacket over the handlebars is a better idea, her backpack is half on her back because she was in such a rush. When she bikes the familiar back road she takes note of how the trees have turned from pathetic twigs to bright green scenery, she shuts her eyes for a second and let the Summer air infiltrate her lungs. She is grateful to be alive.

When she biked round the corner at the end of Matty’s road she could see all the boys engaged in a water fight, her urge to turn right back around grows stronger the closer she gets, George’s pathetic screams and Matty’s maniacal laughter grow louder, and she can’t help but laugh to herself. She hears Denise scolding Ross for going too rough and shakes her head as she throws her bike down on the driveway, climbing off and running away from all the boys who immediately turn on her with their water attacks. “Hey!! Stop, it’s my birthday!”

George laughs louder than Sadie had ever heard someone laugh before, probably because the boys weren’t targeting him anymore. She squeals and tries to run into the house, but Adam blocks the door, and she feels more water shooting at the back of her head. She hits his chest and tells him to move at least fifty times, but he doesn’t budge so she runs. She runs round the house to the back garden where she knows Matty keeps the water guns, just as she suspected there’s a pile of them, half-full, on the grass. Sure, they’re the shit ones, but they’ll do the job.

She hears a gasp behind her. “She’s found the pile, run.” She laughs and whips herself around, gun in each hand, to the pathetic squeals of four boys who run back around to the front of the house. There’s a knock on the kitchen window which distracts Sadie for a second, she sees Denise waving wildly at her, she waves back and sees her saying “Happy Birthday!” She laughs and runs round the house to get the boys back.

A half hour later Denise calls out the front door for them to come in. They all race into the house, Matty being shoved by George and Sadie laughing so hard she stops in her tracks. She gets stopped in her tracks even further when she sees the pile of gifts under the TV. She gasps quietly and barely hears everyone wishing her a happy birthday in unison, the tears pricking her eyes are stinging the back of her throat. This is the most anyone’s done for her birthday. George puts an arm round her shoulder and shakes her slightly, then slightly shoves her to the presents. “Save the one with the pink wrapping paper for last.”

Sadie’s bottom lip wobbles and she lets out an exasperated laugh. “Guys, this is too much. I don’t even know what to say.” She moves towards the gifts as if they’re going to jump out and scare her. She sees the three cards on the top and picks them up, sitting down on the floor in front of the TV. The boys, Denise, Tim, and Louis are all scattered across the couches and the floor too, just watching. She opens the one from Denise, Tim, and Louis first and smiles through teary eyes at the kind words written on the page. She has the same reaction to the other two cards, one from all the boys, one from just Matty.

After a while Sadie’s face is wet with tears, she’d laughed at some of the funny gifts, and with her new necklace round her neck she looked at the last gift, the pink one, cautiously. “Is it alive? Am I gonna be scared?” Matty laughs and shakes his head. She lifts it into her lap and looks at the tag, it reads that it’s from the boys. Before she opens it Denise cuts in.

“They all saved up for this on their own. Came up with the idea and everything.” Sadie looks to the group of boys on the other couch who all look very smug, she rolls her eyes at their faces and turns back to the gift. She carefully unwraps it and can’t help the sob that comes out of her mouth. The new Sony camera is sitting in front of her. When she gets hold of herself she opens the box and gasps at the sight of it. “Guys, oh my god. I can’t take this, you’re kidding.”

“Well, none of us know how to use it.” Sadie tackles the four of them into her arms, jumping on top of them all on the couch, muttering a hundred thank yous under her breath. She doesn’t even know how the boys managed to afford it, maybe some of Matty’s odd jobs he was doing helped, or Ross’ job down at the shop. She didn’t know, but she knew she would never forget this. Sadie felt that same feeling again from earlier. She was grateful to be alive.

By the time Matty’s 18th rolls around, the rest of the group have a plan. They’ve all saved up enough money to buy tickets to Leeds festival, and they’ve all chipped in to get one for Matty’s birthday. Sadie wasn’t allowed to go before, but Denise gave in this year and let her tag along with the group. She makes all of the parental decisions for Sadie now, since she pretty much lives at the Healy’s house. Denise’s reasoning was that it would be after her 17th birthday, deeming her old enough to go. Matty, Ross, Adam and Jamie had gone last year but all they had talked about when they came back to Sadie and George was how excited they were to go next year, the full group.

Ross, George and Sadie were currently sat in Matty’s back garden, waiting for Matty and Adam to get home from work. Sadie and Ross were sharing a cigarette and talking about the lineup for Leeds. More like arguing. George was observing with a cigarette of his own, he’d only spared one to the duo because he’s stingy. “No, Sadie. Nine Inch Nails are more exciting than the fucking Smashing Pumpkins. Think of it, you’re in a muddy field what would you rather listen to.”

Sadie looks at him like he’d grown a second head. “The Smashing Pumpkins.” Ross just groans, George laughs loudly. “What?! I would!”

“You’re actually fucked in the head, Sadie. George, please back me up.” He passes the cig back to Sadie who takes it and looks at George with a raised eyebrow. He takes a sip of his coke and looks away from the pair, whistling at the sky. Sadie laughs and passes the cigarette back to Ross. He tells her to finish it, so she does.

“No, to be fair to both of you, I’d rather be at Paramore. If I had to choose.” Sadie and Ross both share a look and collapse into each other laughing.

“Okay, one, Paramore is on Sunday, we’re talking about Friday. And two, they weren’t even in the equation to begin with.” Ross nods at Sadie’s words and George just sticks his middle finger up at the pair, who laugh at him again. They hear the back door opening and turn to see Matty, they shut up about their prior argument quite quickly. The trio share a look and have to hide their laughs.

“Hello boys. And Sadie.” They nod up at Matty who cracks open his coke and pours it over the ice in his glass. He looks at the three that have gone silent and squints his eyes slightly before taking a sip of his coke and lighting a cig. Sadie looks at the other two who are giving her looks as if to say, “Say something.”

She turns back to Matty, who turns to her. “How was work?” George lets out a barely audible groan and she looks at him incredulously. Matty nods around his glass and then kind of shakes his head.

“It was okay, not busy, boring. I like it there, though.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome for getting you that job. I’ve been there for like a year now. Remember when I walked in one day and George was just standing in the kitchen? That was stupid.” George laughs at her and she turns to him. “No, I was so confused.”

“I was working, where did you want me to stand?”

“It would’ve been nice to know you were working at the fucking place?” George shakes his head.

“Wanted to surprise you.”

“Some surprise that is, George!” He, yet again, sticks his middle finger up at her. This time she does it back. Matty scoffs and leans his head back with a sigh, he stretches his arms and one of them comes to rest on the back of the bench behind Sadie.

She points up at the sky, the sun is setting behind the clouds which cast a pink hue down on the group of four. They stay outside until the sun is probably in the middle of the sky in Australia. Adam arrives not long after Matty and Sadie gives him a subtle nod and thumbs up, trying to tell him that they got the Leeds tickets today. He looks confused at first, but he gets it after a minute. When Matty goes inside the four speak in whispers about how they have to tell Matty, because George is unable to keep it a secret. The back door swings open again and the four sit up straight. “Right, you guys are hiding something from me.” Sadie can’t help herself.

“We’re going to Leeds.”

Leeds was a fucking nightmare. Everyone fought. Everyone made up. Then they fought again. They all got so high they probably couldn’t see. Ross and Sadie ended up seeing Nine Inch Nails together after losing everyone else, and despite being in the clouds, Sadie remembered to act like she didn’t want to be there. Until she actually started enjoying herself. And George got to see Paramore. Almost. He passed out and Sadie shouted at him in the medical tent after he just came to because she was missing out, she was forced to take him to the medical tent.

Sadie was sick on some girl’s shoes at the Kings of Leon set. It was her, George and Adam having the time of their lives until some older girl started flirting with George, obviously he was loving it, but Sadie was already having a bad high and when she saw the way that girl was looking at George she just couldn’t help it! It all kicked off when George and the girl teamed up and tried to fight her. George was forced to take her to medical and as she was thrown over his shoulder he was yelling about how she’d ruined the weekend.

Safe to say the drive home was silent. Matty had the biggest hangover behind the wheel and Ross was cradling Sadie in the backseat as if she were his child, George was practically hanging out the window on the other side of Sadie. The one memory she has in the car is when they were all sat on the grass, ages away from any music, when Matty turned to the boys and said, “Reckon we’ll be on one of these stages soon?” The question was ringing through Sadie’s mind.

A few days later the group were all sat in Matty’s garden (like usual) with drinks in hand, reminiscing on the festival after they’d all taken some much needed time away from each other. Anytime Matty’s eyes caught hers she felt her heart stop. She isn’t sure he remembers but the day after they got back Sadie jolted awake with a vision of her kissing Matty. She doesn’t know when or if it actually happened, but it seemed too real to be something she conjured up in the middle of the night. Ever since, she’ll wake up in a cold sweat with visions of Matty’s lips on hers. She remembers it being a life-changing kiss, though, so there’s that at least.

Sadie makes a point to be the last to leave Matty’s house, she’ll probably end up sleeping here tonight, like usual. It’s a rare sight to see Sadie sleeping in her own bed these days, it probably occurs once a month at most. When Adam shuts the door behind him, Sadie feels her heart fall out of her ass, the silence is less than comfortable. If she can feel the shift in energy surely Matty can. He sits down beside her and turns to her. “Do you remember?”

Sadie feels like she’s died in her seat. Her eyes have practically fallen out onto the dining table. She spins her glass on the table awkwardly, thinking of what to say. What would he say if she lied? Would he pretend it never happened? She decides not to lie, because when his face is as close to hers as it is right now, she thinks she’d like to kiss him again. “Yeah… Do you?”

“Wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t, hmm?” Sadie feels like her 14 year old self, meeting him for the first time. Her face is flushed pink, she’s picking at the tracksuit bottoms on her thighs, and she’s avoiding eye contact. She wishes the ground would eat her alive, because one thing about Sadie is she doesn’t know how to flirt. “Hurt me seeing you kiss that other guy the next day.” As he says this his hand has come up to play with the loose strand of hair that had fallen out of the front of her ponytail. She looks up at him through her eyelashes. Her voice is no louder than a mutter.

“Sorry, didn’t know what I was doing, don’t even think I knew where I was.” Matty laughs softly at this and looks down at his lap, but his eyes catch Sadie’s nervously picking at the loose thread on the seam of her tracksuit. He feels his heart skip a beat as he grabs it. This makes her face him, looking into his eyes. The silence around them is suffocating and Sadie feels like she might pass out on the floor. When he makes the move to shuffle slightly closer, she smirks at his face. She doesn’t know where she grew the confidence but when she mutters, “Just do it.” He breaks the distance.

The butterflies in her stomach feel cliché, the way the kiss picks up in pace feels even more so. His lips on hers feels like coming home to your own bed after you’ve been abroad for a week. It feels like the smell of your own house after being away for a while. She knows that when her hand comes up to the back of his neck that it holds an ulterior motive, this is confirmed by his hand on her hip, guiding her closer. She wants to consume him in this moment. When they break away for a breather, Sadie doesn’t open her eyes, she doesn’t want to face this moment, but when she feels a squeeze on her hip she can’t help but open one eye. Matty laughs and leans his forehead to hers.

“Sleep in my room tonight.” That’s all that Sadie has ever wanted to hear.

The slight fling between Sadie and Matty didn’t really last for very long. The group all moved into a flat together and the flame between them just kind of flickered out. George noticed the change in Sadie’s demeanour ever since. He was the only other person who knew about Matty and Sadie, but because he was the best friend of both he had to be there for both. It was eating him alive. He was laying in Sadie’s bedroom, joint between his lips. They were sharing it.

“He fucks anything with legs. But I can’t move on. What’s with that?” Sadie plucked the joint from George’s mouth, and he rubs his eyes his face with a groan. He watches the smoke leaving Sadie’s lips intensely, staring at the way it clouds up in the air and dissipates into nothingness, this is how Sadie and Matty’s relationship felt. He sits up slightly on the bed with an indignant sigh.

“His way of coping, I suppose. He didn’t exactly get an explanation as to why you stopped sleeping in his room. Now he just needs someone sleeping there to fill that void for him.” It’s Sadie’s turn to sigh now. She knows George is right, but she doesn’t like the answer and she doesn’t want to hear that he’s suffering. He’s being a bitch and he should just come and speak to her. Silence falls over the duo and George stubs out the joint gently before opening his arms for Sadie.

She isn’t feeling very grateful to be alive.

#my babies !!!!!!#they're free in the world.#matty healy x reader #matty healy imagine #matty healy #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic #writing #matty healy fic

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marmot567 · 22 days

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bitter orange — okkotsu yūta [1/3]

pairings. okkotsu yūta + f! reader/original character (main); past!orimito rika + f!reader; past!okkotsu yūta + orimito rika warnings/themes. mentions of death, jealousy, hints of obsession and possession. just a lil dark romance practice (which is barely any dark romance tbh who am i kidding) sprinkled with food motifs but i dont know what im doing im just here for the vibes :P mostly sfw with nsfw themes but nothing sexual bc im too scared to go down that dark path (also no use of y/n bc i started writing with an original name and it unfortunately stuck lawl... can be treated as either or it doesnt matter tbh i cant write anything outside of 2nd person anwyay) word count. 2.8k words nothing too crazy xd playlist. knuckle velvet, ethel cain; velvet ring, big thief; pure, cigarettes after sex; only in the dreams, the marias; be my mistake, the 1975; mary, alex g next

it’s been a long time since i have seen my beloved. the moss has grown on that abetachibana tree

PART ONE: ichigo daifuku

Gojō Satoru tells you that love is the most twisted curse of them all.

He had said it in passing after your first solo mission, right as you were entering the car back to Jujutsu Tech before talking your ear off with his lame jokes. The mission had consisted of exorcizing a curse that had persistently haunted an abandoned apartment complex in Omotesandō, assigned to you by the higher-ups in accordance with your newly promoted rank as a Grade 2 sorcerer, having decided that a Grade 1 was doable enough for someone of your caliber. The curse itself wasn’t anything special, though, only repeating gargled confessions of its love to some ‘Chiyo-chan’—whoever she was—the whole time you were dodging its attacks, which was incredibly annoying. You liked your battles in silence, quick and succinct, but curses make that difficult to achieve.

Gojō muses it could have been a past lover, this Chiyo-chan—its love for her having cursed itself. You didn’t really care. If you keep up the good work, complete your required missions and get another recommendation, you could be ranked a Semi-Grade 1 by your second year, then a Grade 1 by your third and nothing else after that because unless you were someone like Gojō Satoru, then you are capped forever at Grade 1.

“So anyway—snacks you like?” said sorcerer asks, finally done with his previous tale. Something about an old coworker. “Mochi, senbei, or taiyaki? Personally, I'm a mochi ice cream type of guy!”

You look at him.

“Why are you here again?”

“... Is your memory that small, Ume? I was proctoring you,” he tuts, mouth turned downwards. “Congrats on the promotion, by the way.”

You shrug. “Ichigo daifuku is good, I guess.”

He smiles, wryly.

“You’re joking, right?”

The building facing your childhood home had been home to Orimito Rika, an unsuspecting property with a decent front yard and the occasional street cat or two often shooed away by her irate grandmother. “Mean granny,” you’d often call her, the insult drowned out by your hushed giggles as you played with your dolls. Rika wouldn’t say anything about it, wouldn’t dare verbally agree with you, but she would always nod her head down, the corners of her lips turned up too high.

You didn’t particularly hate the old woman, but there was a certain kind of satisfaction to saying it behind her back after all the times you’ve caught her looking at her granddaughter in unbridled scorn, your own little form of revenge. You could never understand how her only remaining family could look at her like that, not when Rika was so beautiful and kind; like the cherry blossoms during spring, falling gently along with the wind. Sure, she could be a little cunning at times, and none of the other kids at school liked her because “something’s odd about her, can’t you just hang out with us instead?”—but that’s what makes her interesting, right?

Rika isn’t weird, she’s pretty, and you’re the bee drawn to her. She’s only older than you by a year, ten instead of nine, but she always played with you, taught you how to make flower crowns at the park, and when you walked home from school she’d always hold your hand. Her smile is blindingly bright, the sound of her voice a song you couldn’t stop listening to. Selfishly, you wish it would always be the two of you together; playing with your dolls, walking home with your hands intertwined.

But when she came back from the hospital, so did Okkotsu Yūta.

You could never see what she saw in him; he was short and just a little bit pathetic, always trailing after her like a lost puppy at first. You could push him off the swing and he'd move on with a sniffle, the kind to give up the plastic shovel even though he desperately needed it to finish his sand castle because he didn’t want to fight a girl. He smiled shyly and hid his hands behind his back, looking at you like he was looking for your approval. Of course, you never gave him the time of day, because it felt like he had stolen Rika—your Rika. It was supposed to be just you and her, but that wasn’t the case anymore. Now there was Okkotsu Yūta, who held Rika’s other hand after school, who took away her attention from you so easily.

“He’s so cute, isn’t he?” she asks often, a light blush dusting her face.

“I guess,” is your reply.

“Ne,” she calls, presenting to you a small, black box. You look at it in apprehension, wincing when she eventually opens it. “What do you think of this ring? It was my mom’s. I’m gonna give this to Yūta-kun, do you think he’ll like it?”

The ring was immensely simple, a silver-colored band with a small diamond in front, glinting under the light. Nevermind the fact that it was too big for a child’s fingers to fit in, Rika presented it to you as if it held all the answers to the world. Although her parents were dead, and she had definitely stolen it from her grandmother’s dresser, the ring spoke full of promise. When she takes it out of the box and lets you inspect it, it feels heavy.

“... You really like him, don’t you, Rika-chan?” you ask, quietly.

Rika looks at the stupid piece of jewelry, painfully smitten.

“Mhm,” she affirms. “I really like Yūta-kun. I want to be with him forever! Of course, I like you too, Ume-chan. You and Yūta-kun are my favorite people in the world!”

You close the box, handing it back to her. When Rika looks at you expectantly, you realize then that you could never bring yourself to take that happiness away from her.

The koinobori flies.

“It’s so pretty!” Rika exclaims, eyes wide and staring up at the sky where the huge, windsock carp moves around. It’s bathed in all sorts of colors—from red to blue to white to green—dancing along the azure expanse in commemoration of Children’s Day. The weather is just right, not too hot nor too cold, and the wind caresses your skin gently, the sun not too harsh. It makes the color of Rika’s hair shine in all the right ways, adds more sparkle in her already bright eyes. She’s wearing a yellow sundress, a nice change from her usual blue one. The cream-colored hat you let her borrow covers her face with the shade, but her smile remains bright and blinding. She looks pretty.

She gives you all of her ichigo daifuku, and shares Yūta’s snacks. She doesn’t even like chimaki.

“Are you sure, Rika-chan?” you ask, looking at the two sweets in your hands.

She beams. “You like them, don’t you?”

You keep them with you until the end of the event.

The day passes by incredibly fast, your little trio having exhausted yourselves from running around the park alongside the other children. Yūta chases Rika around the park, and you watch them squeal and laugh at each other and hold hands. You watch them take a nap under the shade, their pinkies intertwined, and you watch as the ugly color of green blinds your eyesight. You leave them be.

Sometimes, you wish you’re the colorful koinobori flying in the sky. You’d let Rika hold on to you, let her fly and hear her amused laugh as the wind tickles her skin. Sometimes, you wish Yūta slapped the ring away from her hands when she handed it to him. Wish he stomped it on the ground and at the same time stomped on her heart. Wish he didn’t take it with a huge smile and agree that he’d marry her when they get older; he’s not the one who’d wait long lines just to get her the best ichigo daifuku, not the one who’d jump at the other kids when they so much as think of insulting her, and he won’t be the one who’d choose to stay with her when she’s all gray and old cause he’s a boy, and boys would never do that.

Sometimes, you wish he never liked her at all—because he never deserved her in the first place.

Okkotsu Yūta could never love Orimito Rika like you.

He sits beside you at lunch.

Rika’s been bedridden for the whole week, which subsequently ruins your week. Yūta doesn’t seem to mind her absence all that much since he doesn’t see her a lot during classes anyway, but they’re supposed to be engaged. He should always be thinking of her, should be acting as miserable as you even at the unripe age of nine. He looks too okay with her absence when he shouldn’t be.

“What’s this?” you ask, pointing at the small bag of snacks he had placed on the cover of your bento.

“Hm?” he looks up. “Oh, it’s norimaki senbei.”

“... And?” you prod.

He tilts his head. “You don’t want it?”

“... I don’t want it.”

He looks at you thoughtfully.

“But you like them, don’t you?” he asks though he’s acting like he already knows, like you’ll take it regardless of what you say. It’s annoying.

You look at the seaweed-wrapped rice crackers—the stupid norimaki senbei—in mild contempt. “Why are you giving it to me?”

Yūta’s smile is small, knowing. “Because you don’t like sweets.”

You frown.

She’s a sweet girl.

You think of Orimoto Rika like that because it’s true—she smiles sweetly, she speaks sweetly, and she likes sweet things. She tells you that her favorite snack is ichigo daifuku, the very same confection you always begged your parents to buy for you just so you could share them with her. It pays off all the time because then she’d look as sweet as the daifuku itself, her cheeks as red as the fruit within it. She also likes hanami dango, but she doesn’t like the green part because she doesn’t really like the subtle taste of yomogi, so you eat the rest for her because she doesn’t want to waste it. She likes cold tea instead of hot, sweet instead of savory, like yuzu iced tea or bubbly ramune in comparison to the nutty taste of hōjicha. When you go to the store, she always gets the kompeitō with some random anime character on the packaging because those were the “cutest kind of kompeitō,” and Rika likes cute things.

She also likes the color pink, but when you ask her what her favorite color is she’d say it’s blue. It’s blue not because she wears that blue dress all the time, but blue because it’s the color of Okkotsu Yūta’s eyes, bright and round and always looking at her. Rika likes it that way—she likes how Okkotsu Yūta is always looking at her with his blue eyes, unwavering and full of adoration for her and her only.

You think Orimito Rika is a sweet girl, but sometimes she’s more than that. Sometimes, when the other kids get brave enough to drag you away from her, tell you to stop hanging out with her, they say it’s because Rika doesn’t like anyone else but Okkotsu Yūta.

Sometimes, when they tell you that, you wonder if Rika liked you at all, way before Okkotsu Yūta came into the picture.

But most of the time, you don’t really care. Even if Rika didn’t like you, you’d still like her. Even if she’d only have her eyes set on Okkotsu Yūta with his stupid blue eyes and his stupid norimaki senbei and stupid chimaki that he shared with her on the fifth of May, you’d still like her because she’s Rika—beautiful, kind, and wonderful Rika.

She has things she doesn’t like, too, such as other people but never Yūta-kun or Ume-chan! She likes it when people compliment her and praise her looks and give her free stuff like ramune or ichigo daifuku or Sailor Moon-themed kompeitō from the store, but sometimes she tells you that she dislikes this certain group of girls from Yūta’s class, dislikes the boy assigned as your seatmate, her homeroom teacher, the “weird” guy who works at the konbini a street over, and dislikes it even more when her grandmother looks at her and tells her she killed her own father without even saying anything at all.

You know all those things because you know Orimito Rika. You like her even if she holds intense dislike for the people outside her circle, people who tick her off just a little for you to see her smile crack at the edges and go stiff, the little twitch of her brown eyes, and most importantly, you still like her when all she wants in the world is the attention of the boy who wears her deceased mother’s ring.

You’ll always want sweet girls like her.

“Where’s Rika-chan?”

“Her grandma won’t let her go out today,” Yūta says, sitting next to you on the bench. “So it’s just you and me.”

He says it dejectedly, but it’s not enough for you. If he was really sad, then he’d be as sad as you are, so you start packing your belongings. “I’m leaving, then.”

He startles, standing up. “Huh? W–wait! Don’t leave just yet!”

“But Rika-chan’s not here,” you frown. “There’s no point in hanging out today.”

He falters, looking down at the ground.

“Even if she isn’t here, we can still play together…” he offers, looking up at you timidly. “We’re friends, too, aren’t we?”

The green-eyed monster stares at the silver chain wrapped around his neck, the ring acting as its pendant tucked underneath his shirt—like an unattainable treasure trapped inside a chest with the key thrown away somewhere you cannot find it. We’re not friends, the monster says with a snarl, stay away from me.

If there is one thing you know, then it’s that you have never wanted to be friends with Okkotsu Yūta, not after he took everything from you. He can butter you up by sticking to you during class and sitting next to you at lunch and even offering you some of his not-ichigo daifuku, not-yuzu iced tea, and not-colorful anime-themed kompeitō but you will and have never liked him for the green-eyed monster will always sit on your shoulder so long as he wears that ring on his person, a physical manifestation of his promise with Rika. Your Rika, even if that’s not really the case.

You will never like Okkotsu Yūta, because—because he—

“... What’re we even gonna do?” you ask, slowly.

He immediately brightens up.

“… Wanna get ice cream?” he offers. “There’s a new flavor I wanna try!”

His suggestion does not entice you at all, but when he stands there with an outstretched hand waiting for you to take it, like it’ll matter if you reject him, you find yourself at a crossroads. But you make your decision soon enough. Like it’ll matter, like the green-eyed monster isn’t there, staring.

“Okay,” you say, moving past him to start walking. He blinks incredulously at the blatant rejection before gathering himself and following after you, a prep to his step regardless of your actions.

You try to ignore the warmth of his body next to yours.

He’s too close.

“Yūta-kun’s birthday is in a few days,” Rika announces, lying on your spare futon. “Did you get him anything?”

You didn’t. “... Yeah.”

“Really? What is it?” she cranes her neck to face you. “What’d you get him?”

She doesn’t want your gift being better than hers, it checks out. “Um… just a toy. A garbage truck.”

“Oh, okay,” she turns back to face the ceiling. “I made him a scrapbook with photos of us. I worked really hard on it… do you think he’ll like it?”

“He’ll like anything you give him.”

She’s already given him a ring—what else could compare to that?

Rika smiles. “I guess… you’re right.”

Soon enough, she goes to sleep, breathing softly beside you as your fan fills the silence of the night. You continue staring at the ceiling, making out the little dents despite the lack of light. You squeeze the hand that holds your under the cover, before closing your eyes.

You hear her softly breathe on a steady beat alongside the fan whirring in the corner, and you close your eyes, squeezing her hand tighter underneath the covers of your too-close futon.

You’ll have to ask your parents for some money tomorrow.

“Rika-chan isn’t here again,” Yūta says dejectedly. “Her granny’s too strict.”

“She hates her,” you say quietly.

Yūta looks at you, confused. “What’d you say?”

“Nothing. Your birthday’s coming up soon, what are you doing that day?”

“Uwah—you remember?”

“Rika-chan told me.”

“Oh, well,” he smiles sheepishly, “we have school that day, but after that I’ll be celebrating at my house. I’m thinking of just inviting Rika-chan and you over… um, so, will you come?”

“I’ll go if Rika-chan is going.”

He blinks, before a smile blooms on his face. “Okay! I’ll see you, then.”

It happens when you aren't there.

It never should have happened at all.

Orimito Rika is pronounced dead at the age of eleven, her body unrecognizable under the heavy weight of a blue truck.

#yuuta okkotsu x reader #jjk #yuta okkotsu #jujutsu kaisen #jjk okkotsu #jjk x reader #yuuta okkotsu x you #yuta x reader #okkotsu yuta x reader #okkotsu yuta x you #okkotsu yuuta #yuuta okkotsu smut #jjk imagines

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project-sekai-facts · 11 months

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Do you have any info on the schools?? Any new stuff you wanna say or links to old facts but I need as much stuff on kamiyama for a fic,,…, but any info on miyama would b appreciated too!!!

I haven’t posted any facts about them before so this is just what I can remember off the top of my head.

Kamikou is a co-ed school that is more accessible to lower income backgrounds than Miyajou is (inferred; Harumichi wanted to send Toya to a private school instead, An and the Shinonomes attend who are implied to be from a lower socioeconomic background). The school is actually relatively new and a flashback in The Vivid Old Tale shows that it was being built while An was a child. She even hides on the building site at one point during the story.

Kamikou also offers evening classes, which Ena attends. It has a middle school as well, which Rui and Mizuki attended (Akito might have attended I can’t remember rn, everyone else is confirmed to have gone to middle school elsewhere).

Kamikou clubs include film, soccer and various other sports, while its committees include student council, disciplinary, library, and gardening.

Miyajou is an all-girls academy located on the other side of Shibuya to Kamikou. It is described multiple times as being a “school for rich kids”, meaning that it probably has a high fee (I don’t remember it ever being referred to as a private school).

Miyajou offers a credit-based pathway, where students who are busy with work or such can acquire credits until they have enough to graduate instead of attending formal lessons. Haruka took this pathway when she was in ASRUN, and all of MMJ recently decided to change to this course. It also has a middle school, which was attended by the members of Leo/need and Mafuyu.

Miyajou clubs include tea ceremony, home economics, soft tennis, rhythmic gymnastics, archery, dance, and swimming, while its committees include student council, school festival organisation, beautification and animal caretaking.

Aside from that, both schools follow the policies and structure of a typical Japanese school, so I suggest looking into that if you need more information.

#this is attempt 2 because tumblr ate the first and I had to rewrite it in full #project sekai spoilers #<- retie frienship reference again #project sekai #asks

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checkoutmybookshelf · 5 months

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From Criminial Mastermind to Fairy Tale Hero: The End of Artemis Fowl

Here we are, everyone: The final Artemis Fowl book. It has been a journey revisiting the first series I was old enough to follow and fandom, and it's wild to me that we're finally at the end. Especially since I picked up the first Artemis Fowl book in late elementary school (I'm genuinely not sure when though, because the first book came out in April of 2001, when I was in fifth grade and it's very possible I didn't pick the book up until sixth grade, which would have put me at 11, same age as Artemis in that first book) and the final book came out in 2012, when I was in my junior year of undergrad. So at that point, Artemis, Holly, and Butler had been part of my life for a long time. And now here we are, to say goodbye to them again after this leisurely re-listen/read. Let's talk Artemis Fowl: The Last Guardian.

Artemis grew and changed so much across eight books, which makes sense because holy cow do kids change a LOT between 11 and 15. We get so busy living life in those years that we don't really think about how much we truly learn and grown between prepubescence and full-on teenagerhood, but that is a time of massive change, and I think that more than anything else really justifies how Artemis goes from a chillingly vampiric child to a teenager with enough compassion and empathy to understand that sometimes the right choice is a heroic self-sacrifice for the people that your people (both humans and the people, in this case) love. Artemis also did a really interesting version of that thing so many teenagers do where they hit a point where they can't just phone in their abilities anymore and have to actually put effort in, but for Artemis it was emotional rather than intelligence. And yet even when making said heroic sacrifice, we have the absolutely beautiful callback to the end of book one, where Artemis drugs his mother, Butler, and Juliet to keep them from being harmed by the bio-bomb. To stop Holly from preventing him from stopping Opal, Artemis sedates her. The more things change, the more they stay the same...

Except where best villain ever Opal Koboi is concerned. By this book, Opal is so disconnected from reality that she is willing to risk literally going nuclear to escape captivity, and then just...casually sparks off the apocalypse because if there is one thing our girl wants, it's to be Empress of the World, and if that means using spirit zombies and an ancient fairy doomsday device, then I guess it's a good thing she's already versed in black magic. Or something. Opal is fully and completely off the rails at this point, and if you catch yourself referring to yourself as "Mommy" in reference to the spirits of several scores of ancient elven berserkers who would--barring a geas--murder you for it, you might want to stop and take a long, hard look at your life choices. And maybe don't forget that you've cloned yourself, because that's the kind of little detail that can completely ruin your chances of being Empress of the World.

Holly quite possibly deserves every medal that exists for managing to drag Artemis's extremely out-of-shape butt through increasingly dangerous and high-stakes missions while navigating fairy politics and *checks notes* breaking up with her commanding officer after a disastrous date where they both got kicked out of a crunchball match. (And once again...HOW DARE Colfer leave this in exposition and not show us this amazing disaster of a date!?!?) Holly has also just been through the emotional wringer with Artemis and every time he decided to double-cross or lie by omission to bring off a plan and every time he does something infuriatingly human that drives up her blood pressure and yet makes the mission succeed. And then she has to sit there and watch him die to save humans and fairies. Seriously, the fact that Holly Short is a functional being rather than a hot mess is nothing short of a miracle.

And then we come to Butler. Long-suffering, super fucking over it, broken-hearted Domovoi Butler. Artemis got DAMN lucky that the whole "put my spirit in a clone of me" plan panned out, because if it hadn't, Holly was entirely correct: Butler would never have recovered. Butler and Opal might be my two favorite characters in the entire series at this point. That's not where I started--for a very long time, Holly was my favorite character, and Commander Root still gets an honorable mention--but as a grown-ass adult (I'm not doing that math for you, if you want to know that I'm old, you do the math), I cannot escape how dedicated, competent, kind, and just AWESOME Butler is. I feel like the vibe here is very similar to the thing that happens when you watch Sound of Music as a kid and either Maria or one of the kids is your favorite character, but when you come back to it as an adult, Captain Von Trapp is EVERYTHING (RIP Christopher Plummer, we loved you). Butler has a similar vibe but in a different genre.

So, I was an adult and had enough experience of watching fandoms to see the mixed reactions to this book being released. People were sad the series was ending, people were disappointed because the series had seemingly drifted, and people loved it. My reaction was pretty mixed, because I had a lot going on, I knew there were good things here but I was also kind of missing the heisty, criminal mastermind vibes, but also OPAL KOBOI. So I was pretty unsure how to feel about this book when it came out, and then I didn't reread it for literal years because I went to grad school.

Returning to this book now, I have suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuch respect for how Colfer tied up the series and how he pulled off a new Irish mythological cycle, but updated for the twenty-first century. I have enough life on me to appreciate the changes Artemis goes through, and enough literature degrees to have a new and deeply fulfilling perspective on the series structure. Last Guardian is not my favorite book of the series--it's not even in the top three--but I think that what it does is genuinely impressive and I love how you can finish this book and go instantly back into the OG Artemis Fowl. The story does not, strictly speaking, have to end. And that is a vibe I can 100% get behind.

I deeply love the Artemis Fowl books, and I cannot recommend the series enough. They have so many strengths, are incredibly well-written, and they live rent-free in my head even now as an adult.

#artemis fowl #eoin colfer #artemis fowl the last guardian #artemis fowl and the last guardian #domovoi butler #holly short #opal koboi #children's literature #children's books #books and reading #books & libraries #books and novels #books #book recommendations #middle grade sci fi #middle grade books #middle grade fantasy #middle grade fiction

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jamiesfootball · 5 months

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☔️

Now that I've actually read The Beautiful and Damned (essay still incoming), I've been thinking of an AU fic that explores what if Jamie did read the book in season 1. It....intrigues me for a number of reasons.

The fact that Jamie was the only one of the group to receive what is essentially a cautionary tale (no we didn't see most of the picks, but it feels safe to say that Jamie was the one Ted thought needed 'correcting')

The protagonist ends up a bitter, angry, abusive alcoholic. Granted Ted could not have known about Jamie’s dad at the time, but ough. Ted.

Giving this book to anyone and going 'here, this reminds me of who you are' is frankly insulting. I think if Jamie were to confront Ted about that, Ted would consider that half the job done. He clearly just wants Jamie to think about his actions and how he treats people. Unfortunately I could see this backfiring on Ted. He may not mean it personally, but I think Jamie would take it personally, especially because--

Aside from the fact that the protag is rich and full of himself and found to be charming, that guy is nothing like Jamie. In fairness to Ted, those are basically 3 of the 4 things he knows about Jamie. In unfairness to Ted, the other 1 thing he knows is that Jamie is a professional athlete who by definition had to work hard to get to where he is. Meanwhile the protag for TB&D has never worked for anything in his life -- the opposite of Jamie, our battler. In fact one of the defining traits and the reason the protag falls into being a penniless drunk is because throughout his life he was given many chances, and he ignored them all.

I think Jamie would likely get bogged down in the details. On the idea that the book was meant as a critique of him, rather than a lesson he could learn by. Another example of how Ted bringing up topics in a roundabout way tends to get misconstrued by Jamie as mind games.

Bonus round: the protag is very classist. The book occasionally alludes to the unfairness of this, but it is very much an ongoing topic for the protag on why he deserves all his money.

Bonus round: the protag is exceedingly misogynistic. The book almost never disagrees with this. Even season one Jamie 'women can do anything' Tartt would never.

So I think that a fic that explored Jamie's journey while reading this book would be fascinating. From the beginning where it's clear from the start that this protagonist is a spoiled, snobby twit to the end where the protag ends up a functioning alcoholic who yells at his wife and reminisces that by preventing himself from treating her in a physically violent manner, it makes him hate her even more. By the end of the book I can see Jamie being actively triggered by what's on the page--

--which would serve in a number of ways to kickstart Jamie's troubled history a good three episodes before the curse fire.

So yeah, this fic idea is less than a week old and I am still working on it but. Intrigued, I am.

Also I keep envisioning a running gag like that episode of The Office where Michael is watching The Devil Wears Prada and Pam is keeping track of where he is in the movie by what he's quoting at her. Except in this fic, Ted (Pam) would not know what the hell Jamie was talking about for a good long while, because he hasn't actually read the book since early in high school.

Why do I think Ted hasn't read it since early high school? Because if he'd read it later, he'd probably remember that there's a guy in the book who kills himself by shooting himself. It's literally one of the last parts of the book, and it's meant to serve as a punctuation on the consequences of the protag's actions.

Just a thought, but I think if Ted had read it after his dad dying, he might not suggest it to someone. Even if the meaning of the book fit.

For fic related reasons though, this means that Ted's trauma could ALSO be introduced way sooner. In season one even! This fic could have so much bonding through book-relevant trauma it's crazy to think about.

So. Yeah. New wip thoughts in progress. Whoops.

#in other news i got halfway through writing that essay and had people come over and I have not gone back to it -.-#ask game #wip game #suicide cw #abuse mention cw #ted lasso #jamie tartt #jamie tartt book club

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pinkmoondoll9shihtzu · 3 months

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My Old man's tale about benetint (product) & review:

in summer 2008 i was 14 & my best friend's family took me to Vegas w them. she had only just moved to my school for 9th grade & i hadn't met her older sister til this trip. She was 21 & soooo insanely beautiful like if barbie was a hollister model she had the look so refined in every sense, i was dazzled by her.

& she was so sweet to us, my friends parents went & did their own thing so the whole trip we spent with her but she wasn't annoyed about it at all she seemed content to hang w us & protect us from vile men along the strip.

On this trip i went to sephora for the first time. hadn't heard of it before. it had huge windows so everything was glowing from sunlight & it was sooo overwhelming. my friend's sister liked this brand benefit so i picked out a little starter kit that came w bad gal mascara, high beam highlighter, booing concealer, and benetint.. Let me tell you for the next year i cherished this kit like it elevated me a new level towards Prestiged Adult Woman status. but the makeup was noticeably nicer quality for sure! from my memory at least.

the thing i remember most was benetint cus i wore it soooo much for the rest of the summer & beyond, i stretched that tiny bottle as far as it wld go cus i luved it sm.. but after it ran out i never tried to use it again idk just being a teen moving onto the next thing. But lately i jst rly wanted a goood lip tiiiint cus i dont wanna b wearing lipstick or gloss all the time its too much i just want chapstick but i like a little more color too.. usually i wld use lip liner but it always felt like it wld smudge off so quick n its kinda drying.

so i tried benetint again bcus i remember it being so easy to put on n then just forget about, it didnt get on ur clothes or teeth or nothin. after wearing for a couple weeks i can say this is still tru! i rly like it, very convenient, chapstick goes gr8 over top so my lips r never dry from it. its kind of expensive but it lasts a long time , for me i dnt have much makeup rn so felt nice to get st i actually use ^^ the taste & smell of it are mildly rosey, rly brings me back to those times..

being in vegas those 4 days w my friend n her sis are definitely a core memory for me it was totally surreal. i wish i had photos still but no clue where to find them, my friend's fb account got hacked years ago n had to get deleted, so many photos gone </3 we stayed at treasure island & across the street was this huge mall that was repeatedly playing an ipod commercial with the song Shut Up & Let Me Go by the ting-tings, like... ON REPEAT, ALL DAY & ALL NIGHT, so that song gives me the wildest flashbacls like i'm literally There. In the august heat. i can smell it like. its amazing thank you advertising :)

this is not an ad btw i mean obviously LOL i honestly just got thinking so hard about vegas '08 after purchasing The Product. oh yeah there was thunderstorms too... i went to hot topic at the mall which was wild for me since they didnt have one any where near my town.. i got some shorts from hollister i remember, also a rarity. friends sis got me my first ever drink, a peach daquiri...just one <3 it was such a nice break from my woeful home life lol i wanted to live in america so bad after this xD

thats my story...o and benetint is chill i mean i genuinely wanted to recommend it to ppl who want st simple it looks rly pretty cus until this i was struggling to find anything worthwhile. theres other shades too. Yup. Thanksyou for reading my LiveJournal Entry tonight minasan ^_^ Hope you're well x

-PMD9

#frossworld #pochitareviews

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prokopetz · 2 years

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It might still be too early for this kind of question, but what have been your favorite video games you've played in 2022? :3c

Given what the release schedule over the next three months looks like, yeah, it's probably jumping the gun, but what the hell. I'm going to arbitrarily restrict my consideration to games actually published in 2022, or else we'd be here all week, though.

(I make no apologies for the high concentration of sequels on this list. I know what I like!)

Amber City is a spiritual sequel to 2017's Flood of Light, and its gameplay is in much the same vein, being an atmospheric walking sim with light point-and-click puzzle elements. If you enjoyed the idea of The Witness but wish the puzzles didn't hate you personally, this might not be a bad one to check out.

Blossom Tales II: The Minotaur Prince isn't going to break any new ground for those who’ve played its predecessor, though it's somewhat more adventurous in its dungeon design; if you enjoy casual 2D Zelda-likes, you'll probably enjoy this. Fans of 1980s fantasy media may also get a kick out of its pop culture pastiche elements – let’s just say the narrator is definitely taking advantage of the fact that his grandkids have never seen Labyrinth!

COGEN: Sword of Rewind is a Mega Man Zero style hack-and-slash platformer that does one of the first interesting things I've seen in years with the time manipulation formula, essentially merging your "mess with time" gauge with your health bar. The damage-boost routing in the speedrun is something you need to see to believe.

Curse Crackers: For Whom the Belle Toils is a retro platformer from the makers of 2020's Zelda-like dating sim Prodigal. Comparisons to Celeste are, perhaps, unwarranted, as the mechanics are very different, but I felt something familiar in the role of momentum in its flow of play. Visually, it's incredibly pink, which is something I always appreciate in a game.

Dungeons of Dreadrock is a short logic puzzler that one could be forgiven for mistaking for an old-school roguelike at first glance. Each level is a set-piece that borrows from the conventions of the grid-based roguelike genre to create situations where only one sequence of actions leads to survival, and challenges the player to find it..

FAR: Changing Tides swaps Lone Sails' landship for, well, an actual ship. The engineering sim gameplay remains largely unchanged in spite of that. Some of its elaborations on the previous game's formula don't work as well as they might have, being challenging more due to the limitations of the physics engine than anything else, but the frustration factor wasn't high enough to ruin my fun.

A Game with a Kitty 1 & Darkside Adventures is me flagrantly breaking my own rules, since everything in this anthology actually came out in 2005–2008 – it's just the anthology itself that's a 2022 release; I'm mostly throwing it in because this list was otherwise light on free-to-play titles. It all held up remarkably well on a replay earlier this year, though.

Gunborg: Dark Matters is a run-and-gun precision platformer that seems to have flown entirely under the radar, having just 11 reviews on Steam at the time of this posting. I'm not sure why – I mean, it's got a great soundtrack, and you play as a woman with a sword the size of a surfboard. What else do you want?

Jack Move is a JRPG-style title that blends self-consciously silly 1980s cyberpunk with contemporary anime aesthetics. I have to confess that I'm cheating a bit by including this one, as it's been out for all of three days at the time of this posting, and is the only game on this list I haven't played; I have, however, followed its development for some time, and I've had a lot of fun with the various demos the dev team has put out over the years, so I'm confident in plugging it here.

Recursive Ruin takes a page from 2019's Manifold Garden and basically asks "what if it was super fucked up?" The recursion here is fractal rather than directional, with progress "inward" eventually leading right back where you started. The story is naturally pretentious as hell; whether that's a criticism is a matter of taste.

RUN: The World In-Between wears it Celeste influence on its sleeve, but really takes more from classic endless runners like Canabalt. The "procedural generation" is just the same dozen or so puzzles for each zone being strung together in various orders, and the story is thinner than the trailer makes it look, but if you're a fan of the "running from left to right set to awesome music" genre, you could do a lot worse.

Submerged: Hidden Depths picks up where 2015's Submerged left off. The gameplay is substantially similar, though with a heavier focus on exploration puzzles and fewer linear set-pieces. Even so, it's not exactly what I'd call challenging – it's better approached as a pretty walking sim with light parkour-puzzler elements.

System Purge is about as basic as it gets for a precision platformer. No fancy moves here: you run; you jump; you get your face melted off by a laser. There's actually quite a bit of blood and gore, which is something I rarely have the stomach for, but the game is short enough that the lurid bits don't overstay their welcome. Fair warning!

Taiji is... well, remember when I said Amber City is a good one to check out if you like the idea of the Witness but wish the puzzles didn't hate you? This is one to check out if you do enjoy it when the puzzles hate you. There's a lot here that will be familiar to fans of the latter, though the puzzles are somewhat more varied owing to the fact that colouring grids is a more flexible game mechanic than drawing lines.

Vain Ascendance is a a roguelite precision platformer whose art style and mechanics put me strongly in mind of 2018's Overclocked, though the dev teams are unrelated. When I've plugged this game in the past I've been teased that my obsession with games about red haired women who can air dash is showing, but this I must protest: her hair is purple.

As for unreleased games available in demo or early access versions that I've tried out in 2022, I'll keep it brief, since these aren't proper recs, but you might have a look at any of Dormiveglia, Garbage Girl Louise, Gigasword, Keylocker, Koa and the Five Pirates of Mara, Little Witch in the Woods, Rebel Transmute, Rose & Locket, Ruin Valley, Shards of Gravity, Star Hearts: Launch Point, Undergrave, Venus Looks for Jupiter, Vermillion Descent or War Girl.

#gaming #video games #video game recommendations #violence mention #swearing

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maniculum · 4 months

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Google Docs vs. Geoffrey Chaucer

A while back, just for fun, I pitted Google Docs's fancy new (read: hilariously inept) machine-learning spellchecker against a chapter of my dissertation that contained a lot of quotations from Le Morte Darthur:

At the time I suggested I might go back and do the same with the chapters that included substantial quotation from the Canterbury Tales and (shudder) Piers Plowman... and today I find myself with little better to do, so let's give it a go. Below the cut.

Extremely helpful there, thanks. For the curious, gilofre is a plant; in Modern English it's gillyflower. Clowe is just "clove". "Clowe-galofre" is nowhere on Google or in the OED, but it seems "Galofre" is an attested surname, so Google thinks maybe that's what I meant.

Fascinating choices here. That is of course meant to be nutmeg, and Google Docs has seemingly decided that putting in a space to turn one misspelled word into two words, one of which is spelled correctly, is a positive development. That or this is a continuation of the previously-observed trend that Google turns things into brands and corporation as much as possible -- apparently there is a company called "Emuge-Franken", which is the only result for "emuge" on Google Search.

It hasn't gotten anything right so far, by the way -- all those red underlines I haven't screenshotted anything for, it either suggests a word that is wrong but unremarkably so, or fails to suggest anything.

(Never mind, it got a couple right in between the last one and this one.)

This is interesting in that it shows Google Docs interprets things differently based on capitalization. This instance of bityde is capitalized because it's at the beginning of the line; the other one in the phrase bityde what bityde, which isn't capitalized, Google is able to correctly interpret as "betide". However, it seems to think the first is a proper noun and makes different suggestions. (Blyde is the Afrikaans name of the Motlatse River in South Africa, it would seem.)

I am reluctantly forced to hand it to Google Docs with this one. Like, no, that's not what Chaucer meant of course, but I can respect the shot being taken. Also interesting that it gets the blue underline because you can't really spell a transliteration wrong, but that's not how the system we normally use renders it. Not sure why spere "spear" (Google suggests "sphere") and vestiments "vestments" (Google gets this one right) are also marked as blue (style/grammar) rather than red (spelling), though.

... and now I'm taking what I just handed to Google Docs back away. WTF is this? Why...? you know what, we're moving on.

Bafflingly, Google thinks there is nothing at all unusual about that first line. Yep, that's normal Modern English there.

And here's our first example in this post of Google Docs trying to suggest a spelling that is also in Middle English, because I very much suspect the data it uses has been contaminated. Actually, come to think, if their machine learning system bases its judgments on what other users write rather than the old system with a set dictionary, I bet all the people writing papers about pre-standardized-spelling English literature are really screwing up the data. Which is hilarious -- if true, that would mean that I'm actually part of the problem for writing this whole dissertation full of Middle English quotes in Google Docs.

You might think this is another example of the same, but in fact the change from -ioun to -ion makes that suspect, and the Middle English Dictionary doesn't recognize it without the <u>. And if you Google Refleccion, all the results are in Spanish. However, I can't seem to find it in a Spanish-English dictionary, and those same dictionaries tell me the Spanish for reflection is reflexion -- maybe this is a variant spelling? I only have basic high-school Spanish to draw on here, so if any of my followers are fluent and can explain refleccion to me, I would be interested to learn.

Hm... no, that's not right either. Although a quick Google search tells me that there is a YA book called Physik, so that's probably what's screwing up this one. Probably not ideal for that sort of thing to happen.

And this one, it seems, is French. (Again, according to the Middle English Dictionary, all the attested Middle English spellings have the <u> -- but the French cognate is in fact spelled just like Google suggests, as far as I can tell. I don't speak French at all, though, so grain of salt.) I wonder how that happened -- do non-English words just kind of drift into the machine-learning system's vocabulary? Possibly through the same mechanism I speculated about with the Middle English above -- i.e., people write documents that are mostly in English, but contain some quotations or something in other languages, and if that happens enough, Google starts to think it's an English word?

Wait, is that maybe what's screwing a lot of this up? Either Google's system is going "This document is in English, so all the words in it are English words" and thus stuff just keeps bleeding between languages and screwing up the dictionary, OR Google's system is just kind of language-agnostic and sees no issue with suggesting French words in a document that's mostly in English? Is this why there are so many words that aren't correct Modern English spelling, but which Google Docs doesn't mark wrong? Like, they happen to line up with words in other languages, so Google just thinks you're borrowing really haphazardly throughout?

Also, side note, it tried to correct "hir" to "hirt", which is not an English word, but apparently stands for High Impact Resistance Training. Moving on.

Shenden is a Middle English verb that basically means "to damage or destroy". You don't really see it much in Modern English, though the OED has a couple examples of 20th-century usage. Anyway, I thought this was another case of Google bringing in different Middle English words, but a quick search tells me "Sente" is a skincare brand. That's probably more relevant.

Google Docs again just ignoring whole lines.

Odd choice there, sight being closer than site in terms of spelling. Maybe the algorithm assumes that if you end with an <e> you probably mean the second one.

Interesting, Google Docs. Why do you think that should be "night"? (Oddly, it actually gets all the red-underlined words in this line correct, meaning it pretty much has the context of the word.) Somewhat weird suggestion there.

I'm about a quarter of the way through the document and I think this is long enough for now; I'll probably come back and reblog with additions later. Before I go, however, here are my lists of "things spellcheck should be able to fix but can't" from what I've gone through so far.

First, spellings that differ from Modern English by only one letter, but which completely stump Google Docs (i.e., it marks them wrong but only gives the "why am I not seeing a suggestion?" message):

Goute ("gout")

Herbes ("herbs")

Melodye ("melody")

Smale ("small")

Swete ("sweet")

Syde ("side")

Ther ("there")

Wel ("well")

And second, words that are not correct in Modern English but that Google Docs does not mark wrong:

Anoon ("anon")

Attempree ("a temperate")

Beautee ("beauty")

Bowle ("bowl")

Dar nat ("dare not")

Daunce ("dance")

Dede ("dead")

Doon ("do")

Dronke ("drank")

Dronken ("drunken")

Fyr ("fire")

Gyse ("guise")

Hadde ("had")

Hir ("her")

Hir ("their")

Hond ("hand")

Lak ("lack")

Lakked ("lacked")

Lordes ("lords")

Maad ("made")

Pyne ("pain")

Rasour ("razor")

Sayde ("said")

Shere ("shear")

Som ("some)

Sondry ("sundry")

Spyces ("spices")

Styward ("steward")

Syk ("sick")

Thencens ("the incense")

Usshers ("ushers")

Wente ("went")

Wyf ("wife")

Y-goon ("gone")

#damnable machines #middle english #medieval literature #geoffrey chaucer #canterbury tales

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rockybloo · 4 months

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Hi, feel free to ignore this ask, or point me wearily to the FAQ if i missed it, but can I asked what inspired the world of Lore? Specifically the holistic nature of it, where different tales live side by side. I am a…hopeful, one-day fairy and folk tale scholar, and in my studies I’ve seen this concept pop up in a lot of more modern retellings/reimaginings, and one of my projects has been to see if i could find a source. When i say inspiration/source, I don’t mean singular piece(s) of media that gave you the idea (if you have one id love to know it though!) i more mean sorta your own internal source, the emotional trigger that led you to grouping separate fairy tales into one larger world. I know theres a lot to be said for the simple concept of “because it fucks, thats why” (some of my favorite interpretations of tales spawn from similar concepts) but if you have the time or energy, id love it if you’d be willing to ponder deeper motivations.

Sorry for the long ask, im absolutely obsessed with your characters and the worlds you create by taking archetypical settings and twisting them into something new and intriguing. Thank you for sharing your art (in all senses of the word) with us!

Thank you! And I very much love overthinking fairy tales and their existence SO I SHALL DO EXACTLY THAT!

For me, the reason I just plopped down every fairy tale into the same world, aside from a simple "Because everyone else does it and it's my favorite type of fantasy world" is because it makes so much sense to me.

There's a ton of repeated themes and characters in fairy tales to the point they have a classification system to make folklorist's lives easier when categorizing them. There are so many different Cinderellas, and I don't mean just the European one, as it's a fable that has been found all around the world. There are very much big differences in each story but the literal age old tale is still noticeable.

I took a mythology and fairy tale class in high school where we talked about "The Hero's Journey" which is like a template nearly every story falls into regardless of where a story is from. And for me, it was wild seeing just how many shared tropes humanity has as a whole in our storytelling.

A character that pops multiple times, aside from Prince Charming, is the Big Bad Wolf. OF COURSE it's because wolves were (and still are somewhat) dangerous animals and so that is how they are characterized in fables such as Little Red Riding Hood and The Three Little Pigs. But it's still noticeable that these stories overlap with each other so fitting them into a single world just makes a lot of sense.

Another gigantic reason is that we all live in reality. There's a general understanding of what can and cannot occur on Earth. We know we can't fly without some machine to aid us or talk to animals and have them speak our language back to us. And many mythical beings can potentially be traced back to specific interactions early humans had with rare instances in nature and a need to have a reason "why?".

In fairy tales, reality is fantastical. Numerous tales have talking animals, super natural beings, shapeshifting, characters defying death and recovering from "should have been" fatal injuries, and being able to live happily ever after with never ending love.

We humans don't really get that. Especially that last part with happy endings and love. Sure, we can live a peaceful life or try to but there's this level of joy in some tales that only exists in fairy tales. And love so so much more complicated than the typical "love at first sight that lasts forever without problems".

With all these elements that land fairy tales in a different realm of reality than us, I thought it made sense to actually make a realm (or rather a planet) that explains why things in the world of fairy tales are so much more different than us and even somewhat explain why our reality doesn't have magic in it.

It basically traces back to that age old human urge to explain the unexplainable with some story.

#ask #ask: beanstalked

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where-fading-princesses-live · 3 months

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Hot take. As much as I'm excited to see the new Mean Girls (2024) adaptation of the 2018 Broadway musical (I'm a big fan of both the 2004 movie and the musical), I really hope this doesn't start a new trend of ''musical movie adaptations of Broadway musicals based on movies''.

The 2017-2018 Broadway season saw a lot of new musicals based on classic movies.

Amelie, Anastasia, A Bronx Tale, Groundhog Day, and The Band's Visit (which won the Tony Award for Best Musical in 2018), just to name a few.

Not to mention the more recent ones like Beetlejuice and Back to the Future. The list goes on.

Now if you take movies like Amelie and Groundhog Day for example which became instant cinema classics, the stage versions only enhanced the source material which is what a good musical does.

However, by re-adapting a musical that's based on a movie back into the original medium it started with, it always runs the risk of being an exact repeat of the original movie with added musical numbers, and therefore, feels entirely unnecessary to exist.

I guess that's the main criticism of the new Mean Girls, especially with its weird marketing to hide the fact that it was a musical to not dissuade the old Mean Girls fans or the average movie goer who doesn't like musicals (and this was the main negative response I was seeing from people who went in to the movie theater blind and left halfway through because they were surprised it was a musical and didn't expect the actors to burst into song and this turned them off). But then the absence of musical numbers--narrowing it down to 12 shorter more cinematic pop versions of the original songs and cutting out 14 of the most beloved songs from the stage version--ended up alienating the musical theatre crowd who were expecting a more faithful adaptation of the Broadway musical. Like it's a musical that doesn't even want to be musical.

So who was this movie for exactly? If not for the musical theatre crowd who didn't like the changes to the songs, and if not for the non-musical fans who didn't like the songs regardless, who was this movie for??? It seems the producers wanted to market it more towards non-musical fans, but they really shouldn't have concerned themselves with trying to attract old Mean Girls fans who already know the 2004 movie by heart and wouldn't have accepted a remake, songs or no songs either way. If it was a MUSICAL adaptation, the target audience should have been the dedicated musical fanbase, which is more than the producers give it credit for. Mean Girls the musical has been licensed to high schools and performed by performing arts schools and has gained a lot of popularity that way. There was no shortage of people who would have gone to see this movie, myself included.

My point is, if one is going to go through all the trouble of adapting a musical based on a movie back into a movie, the least it can do is preserve the musical theatre genre.

On the other hand, the new Mean Girls is actually gaining mostly positive reviews despite its flaws, and some are even calling it the best Musical Movie since Chicago.

I've been following its production and I've been listening to the soundtrack non-stop (the changes don't bother me that much, in fact, my only complaint is that the songs are too short like they really should have had the full versions of ''Meet the Plastics'' and ''What's Wrong with Me?'' including its reprise and I just wish they maintained more of the original songs, like I understand cutting out the filler ones like ''Who's House is This?'' because no one would seriously miss that one but songs like ''Where Do You Belong'', ''Stop'', ''Fearless'', and ''More'' would have benefited the score in my opinion because there's so much character development that's missing otherwise). I'm still excited to see it, but I do hope its success doesn't cause a new cinematic trend. I really don't think I want to see Groundhog Day as a musical movie for example, because the Broadway version is so perfect and I would hate for them to ruin both the original movie and the musical.

Mean Girls made some interesting choices to re-adapt its story with mixed results, and I don't think it's a bad thing. But things like this are usually one-hit wonders and I don't want to see Hollywood jump the bandwagon on this one and just leave well enough alone.

#mean girls #mean girls musical #mean girls (2024)#personal shit

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alexturne · 2 years

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Arctic Monkeys' Alex Turner on Sinatra, the tao of Natalie Imbruglia's 'Torn,' and the songs that make him cry (Entertainment Weekly)

On the eve of their new album, The Car, the Britpop giants' frontman shares the soundtrack of his life.

By Leah Greenblatt, October 19, 2022 at 03:00 PM EDT

Soundtrack of My Life is a recurring column in which musicians recall their favorite songs, artists, and albums.

Seated in a shabby-chic hotel lounge on a blazing September day in New York City, Alex Turner looks like the timeless picture of a louche, untouchable rock star: slick swoop of chestnut hair, fine gold chain glimmering on his neck, indefinable swagger. Even his late-summer sweater, some kind of gossamer knit rendered in the rich sea-foam green of Pantone swatches or private Aegean islands, looks both expensive and effortless.

But the frontman of arguably one of the biggest bands of this millennium is endearingly uncool when it comes to showing up for the assignment — in this case a look back at the songs and artists who shaped him as a boy growing up in Sheffield, England, the only child of two secondary school teachers. "I was racking me brain for this," he admits in his undimmed Northern accent, holding up a little piece of paper covered in hand-scratched recollections. (Mistaking the hotel lunch menu for his notes at one point, he even cracks a self-deprecating joke; Tuscan kale, he knows, is not quite the answer we came for.)

Turner's deep-dive instincts and attention to detail track in his songwriting — bracing, immersive tales of late-night longings and intergalactic space stations, rendered in grand Cinemascope — and in the electric headlining sets the Arctic Monkeys have become known for, after 15-plus years of live shows and more than 25 million albums sold. In advance of their seventh studio release, The Car, the 36-year-old singer dug deep into memories of the Beach Boys, Natalie Imbruglia, and the stuff that middle-school crushes are made of.

My first musical memory

"It's always about being in the back of the car at that age, isn't it? There's a lot of things from that [era] I remember. Pet Sounds, certainly. The Carpenters. In me dad's car, less so with my mom at the wheel, there'd be a lot of Sinatra as well... My dad was a science teacher when I was born, but around that time he stopped teaching physics and started teaching music instead. He played in swing bands and stuff, so that was his thing. And the song I remember asking him to play when I was really little was Sinatra doing this song about how 'there's an awful lot of coffee in Brazil.' What always impresses me is the way Sinatra delivers the vocal, the timing of it all. And with the Beach Boys, too, there's something involuntary about the reaction, hearing those harmonies. It's magic. I mean even the name of it, Pet Sounds, and the sleeve, I think is kind of mad. Them feeding the animals on the cover? Now you can't think of those two words without thinking about all the harmony and the imagination that's in there."

My first time performing in public

"I didn't start playing guitar till much later. I used to go for piano for lessons once a week from about 8 years old. But I wouldn't say I really took to it. I don't think they were thinking, 'That's it, we found the thing! Here he is.'" [Laughs]

In high school you had to pick music, art, or drama, and I went for the drama, funnily enough. I don't think I particularly excelled in dramatics. But I remember in primary school, me first big moment on stage was when I was given the job of the narrating donkey for the nativity play. I mean, it was a lot of responsibility at that age to be given the job as narrator. They were like, 'But there's a catch: You're the donkey.' I was like, 'All right, well, I'll take it.' Matthew [Helder], our drummer, in fact, was also in that production. He might have had a more senior role. But his mom found some footage from it, which hopefully is under lock and key somewhere. [Laughs] Yeah, you'd need a retina scan to get into that vault."

The first album I bought with my own money

"I think it was probably the third Oasis record, Be Here Now. I was too young for the one before that [(What's the Story) Morning Glory?], though I do remember being aware of it. You used to always be able to get records in the supermarket, so I'd be in the store with me mom, and you might go around to that section and be like, 'What's all this?'

The first single I can remember buying is 'Torn' by Natalie Imbruglia, but it wasn't with my own money. No, wait, I might have done — I might have mowed the grass to get 'Torn.'" [Laughs]

My first concert

"I remember getting the train to Manchester to see the Vines in October 2002. It was me, Matthew, Nick [O'Malley, the band's bassist], and another friend of ours. I mean, funny that three out of the four of what became the Arctic Monkeys lineup were there. It wasn't usually like that. I saw that other friend a couple of weeks ago, actually, and we still talk about it now, getting the train in the morning, going right up to the front. And all the opening acts — this band called the Bandits and this band called Nada Surf.

That was really the start. We were going to shows whenever we could after that. We'd just started playing together that summer, in me parents' garage. We'd be trying to play 'Get Free' by the Vines. And the Datsuns — they had a song called 'Harmonic Generator,' and we used to do a cover of that. I'm sad that I missed [seeing] the Strokes in Sheffield for Is This It, though. I was a little bit late to the party there."

The song that reminds me of my first crush

"This is one of those things you're always supposed to remember fondly, isn't it? Sadly, I was sort of struggling to pin it down. But there's someone called Andreas Johnson, and the song was called 'Glorious.' It was on the radio a lot at the time. It had this big guitar and orchestra parts; it's hard to describe. And also maybe the song 'Crush.' I mean, it's a little too on the nose possibly, but the artist is Jennifer Page. Yeah, I may have listened to it yesterday — there was a line it in that made me smile.

I can't remember really talking to anyone about music at that time. A few years later I probably wouldn't shut up about it. I do remember we'd have these dances every now and again at school, and there used to be this one called the Snow Ball or something where two people would stand in the middle and were supposed to dance, but they didn't. So there'd be like a girl and a guy holding hands, but as far away as possible, and then the song would stop and they'd go and get another two people, and this sort of really uncomfortable line would form. I hadn't thought about that for a really long time."

The first song I ever wrote

"There's one that springs to mind, but it's a melody rather than the words. I had a dictaphone — you know the one where you have the little cassette inside — and I found that again recently, a few little scraps of ideas. Do I have songs that haven't found their way into things yet? Definitely. There's one that's tried to get on a couple of records and didn't make it, and it's probably coming up on 10 years old now.

One of my favorite songs ever is 'The Beast in Me' by Nick Lowe. A friend of mine was lucky enough to bump into him on vacation and he asked him about it then, and apparently he said that was [a song] for him that was sticking around for ages. So hopefully I'll find a way to get some of [my own] out there at some point."

The songs that make me cry

"'Les Choses de la Vie' by Philippe Sarde is from the movie of the same title — it's the main theme. It does a pretty good job of stirring up emotions without getting anywhere near words, which is something I'm becoming more interested in as time goes by. That's a beautiful piece of music.

And 'Where Did Everybody Go?' from Nat King Cole has incredible, incredible vocals. The way it's laid out, it's got this introduction and this sweeping instrumental section that segues it into another song almost. It's a really simple, straightforward set of words, just done in an excellent way."

The song people might not expect me to love

"I think George Michael's song 'Outside' is brilliant. I remember saying how good I thought it was, and somebody was maybe surprised. Just melodically, that bit in the chorus, 'I know you want to, but you can't say yes'? It's pretty exciting."

The musical moment I wish I had a time machine for

"The Last Waltz with the Band and Dr. John and everyone, that would have been an interesting night. Unique. I'm a big fan of that movie and the performances.

There's a live album with Sinatra at the Sands that is a favorite of mine that I feel would be an interesting show to be at in a different way. There's this song on there, 'Don't Worry 'Bout Me,' that he introduces by saying he thinks it's one of the best standards. There's a bit where the band is just ripping, and he sings this note that sort of slides up. I don't know what it is — it's a dolphin thing, it's a quack. And the way he makes his way through it? Beautiful."

The song I want played at my funeral

"I was talking about this with the guys in the band, and 'Dance Commander' by Electric Six is the one that sticks. We're kind of back in that 2002 region again, aren't we? But the lyrics on some of that shit are brilliant. Depends what kind of funeral you want, I guess." [Laughs]

Arctic Monkeys' new album, The Car, is out Friday.

This interview has been edited and condensed for length and clarity.

#arctic monkeys #alex turner #interview #id take some of this with a grain of salt #slso i cant fuxking beliehe he saw nada surf

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