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traincat · 4 years

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if you dont mind i would love to hear your thoughts on how and why peter seems to be more fulfilled by lower paying jobs (i.e photography, teaching) rather than by high paying jobs in STEM

(Sorry for the wait, anon! I did get this first ask, as you can see, it’s just that sometimes I tend to hoard asks that I want to give long in-depth answers to and then they get buried.)

So I think to best answer this the first thing we have to do is look at Peter’s 616 employment history -- what jobs he’s had when and for approximately how long. So here we have a more or less definitive list -- I may have skipped over a few minor jobs that aren’t important in the long run of the character history, but for the most part this is accurate. For the sake of brevity I am not going to count things he’s done as Spider-Man that have earned him money, like a brief bodyguard stint or his occasional time with the Avengers, because this is really more about his identity as Peter Parker and how his civilian employment plays into his life as Spider-Man than about his life as Spider-Man.

Works for the Daily Bugle on and off, through a variety of positions from part time to salaried, from the age of 15 onwards. Primarily a photographer. How good of a photographer Peter actually is varies from writer to writer, but he remains unmatched in his ability to get certain shots ranging from ones of Spider-Man (duh) to particularly high risk environments (different duh). He also briefly worked for rival newspaper the Daily Globe, the Bugle’s main competitor. His position as a full time newspaper photographer is his most well known (and most consistent) job.

A TA in grad school at Empire State University. At this point in time he labeled himself as having “the wrong temperament” for teaching -- and I would personally say I think his stints teaching college are much less engaging than high school.

Published author. His book, Webs, a collection of his Spider-Man photography, was a major bestseller that sent him on a book tour around the country. I hesitated sticking this on here because it’s very tied into his work with the Bugle -- and he was still working for the Bugle when the book was published -- but I figured it was worth including for the novelty of the fact that Peter’s technically a best selling author/artist.

Peter worked as a scientist at Galannan Alternative Research for Immunization Development (GARID) in Portland after his clone Ben Reilly took over the identity of Spider-Man. Although often overlooked in discussions of Peter’s job history, I think his stint at GARID is important in part because it illustrates how much of Peter’s time being Spider-Man took up and how a job with flexible hours was necessary for that balancing act. When he was working at GARID, Peter wasn’t Spider-Man, so it wasn’t difficult for him to keep a position at a laboratory.

I mean granted the GARID job didn’t last long and there was sort of a whole big mutated monster case going on with it but you know. Anyway he pretty quickly moved back to New York and started working for the Bugle again.

Peter’s next major job at a lab comes in another period where he’s supposed to have quit being Spider-Man. (Which he did, very temporarily, and then he very much didn’t. Anyway, you’re seeing the pattern here.) He briefly worked at Tricorp, a private brain trust. This is a really short-lived position, even as Peter’s science gigs go, because -- Spider-Man.

At this point things get dicey employment-wise as Peter heads into a weird period of canon where Mary Jane was presumed dead. She wasn’t! But everyone thought she was. It was weird. When MJ came back (and promptly left for LA, not that I blame her), Peter exited this period of limbo by becoming a science teacher at his old school, Midtown High. This is the main career, beside news photography, that I think he really shines in.

Civil War/One More Day/Brand New Day hit and completely tank the direction of Spider-Man history. Peter’s marriage is erased by the devil and also he’s not a high school teacher anymore, for some reason, even though nobody remembers he’s Spider-Man anymore which is the reason he initially lost the Midtown High job. Make it make sense. Anyway, in Marvel’s desperate scramble to take Spider-Man back to the unmarried basics, as if they even got new readers that way, Peter returned to photography. When Dexter Bennett bought the Bugle out from under JJJ while JJJ was sick, Peter began working for the newly minted “DB” as a tabloid photographer. It wasn’t great.

He also briefly at some point in here worked at a comic book store for like five minutes. Mostly he complained about people who read comic books and made jokes about how he doesn’t get along with the X-Men.

Under Slott’s run, Peter began working at Horizon Labs. Slott had a pretty major problem with Peter’s genius not being “recognized enough” and constantly had him inventing new things, showing off, etc.

Horizon Lab became Parker Industries under Otto Octavius when he bodyjacked Peter during Superior Spider-Man and made himself CEO. When Peter got his body back, he was still CEO. It was bad but Peter did tank the company on purpose so that Otto and also nazis couldn’t get their hands on it, which was sort of fun.

Peter went back to work for the Bugle, but as their science editor, because Slott was still in charge and there was some weird commentary about photography not being an adult job. Which I think is pretty weird in a medium that’s very dependent on visual art. But okay.

Then Peter got fired because he was busted for plagiarism of Otto Octavius’ work... that Otto did himself... while he was in Peter’s body... and Peter couldn’t reveal this because then he’d have to explain... and maybe I hate comics.

In MC2 he becomes a forensic scientist! I really like this for him actually. I think it combines his interests and experiences in a very thoughtful way. But I do want to note it’s after a Spider-Man career ending injury, so again there’s not a real conflict there between his work as Spider-Man and a career.

Peter I think is an especially interesting case in how his character ties into his employment history because one of the first things he does in his story is figure out how to make money, and he does this because the Parkers don’t have any. If Ben and May were comfortable -- even comfortable enough that their teenaged nephew was unaware of financial pressures -- Spider-Man’s story would be completely different. But Peter immediately feels he pressure to use his new powers to earn money, at first with brute strength. And what he says he’s going to do with his earnings is that he’s going to take care of Ben and May:

(Amazing Fantasy #15) So the concept of Peter as someone who is very aware of financial pressure and who is pretty explicitly linking money to support is present from the absolute beginning. But at the same time, there’s a kind of selfishness presented in him here -- he’s only going to take care of Ben and May. They’re the only ones he cares about here, because as he’s stated they’re the only ones who have ever “been kind” to him. Peter at the beginning of his story is very rooted in his anger and his bitterness, and it takes him losing Uncle Ben -- because it wasn’t Peter’s “job” to stop the burglar -- to get him to the point where he starts to be able to see beyond that.

Ben’s death also heightens the Parker’s financial pressures -- Ben is the primary earner in the household. (Aunt May in the original context of the early 1960s was most likely a homemaker, and as an older woman especially she wouldn’t be expected to have a job. But even moving the timescale up to a point where she would be expected as a woman to hold down a job, it’s important to note that early in Spider-Man canon Aunt May is depicted as being in very poor physical health.) While it’s not clear in the initial Spider-Man stories what Ben did, it’s clear that with his death whatever income the Parkers had coming in abruptly stops:

(ASM #1) This sets in concrete one of the central conflicts Peter and May have -- both of them lie to protect the other. Peter feigns being an ordinary boy in order to protect May from the stress of his secret life as Spider-Man, worried that she wouldn’t be strong enough to handle the danger he regularly puts himself in. But this is a learned behavior, and here we see that he most likely learned it from May: she doesn’t want him to worry about the very deep financial troubles they’re obviously in, so she pawns her jewelry, and she stresses to him the importance of his education. Again I have to note that there are some pretty significant social differences between the 1960s and today in regards to this story -- Betty Brant, for example, notes that she had to drop out of school and become a secretary because of her own family’s financial problems, something she’s ashamed of. So early Spider-Man is very rooted in money, class, education, and how those things intersect. I think it should be noted that the only early Spider-Man characters who are financially well-off are Liz, Gwen, and Harry. (We don’t know anything about Flash’s financial situation in early Spider-Man comics but retroactively we know his family situation is not well-off.) In high school, Liz’s father is a bigshot who owns a dining club, but later on the Allans experience financial hardship with Liz quite literally being on the streets when Peter reunites with her when he’s in college. Harry’s father is a rich businessman, but from the beginning he’s depicted as emotionally negligent, caring more about money than spending time with his son:

(ASM #40) “After all... I had a business to care of! Money was the most important thing of all! I had to get rich! I needed wealth... for that was the key to power!” So right away you have this link between wealth, corruption, and negligence. Norman’s pursuit of wealth is his given reason for his neglect of Harry. Later on we’d learn that Norman’s father was also abusive and that that abuse formed Norman’s ideas about power and wealth. (Spider-Man! It’s about cycles of abuse!) There’s a very contrast between Norman’s attitudes here and the Parkers loving (but poor) household. Gwen is the only exception here -- she and her father are depicted as comfortable, most likely edging into wealthy, although on nowhere the level the Osborns have been elevated to. But compared to Peter, Flash, and Mary Jane especially -- all from poor households, with MJ and Flash’s fathers both being abusive -- Gwen’s home situation is the picture of stability, both in terms of economic status and in terms of her loving and very present father.

My goal in outlining all of this isn’t to say that Spider-Man’s message is definitively “money is bad” because I don’t think it is. I think as a series Spider-Man is very aware of the comfort that money can provide. But I think there is a frequent message about excess in Spider-Man -- excess power, excess wealth. As Norman says above, in his eyes, money is the key to power. With great power, comes great responsibility. In Norman hoarding and abusing his wealth, he abuses his power. If he provides for Harry, it is solely through money -- there is no love or devotion in Norman’s money-focused world. And I think that’s important when you look at where Peter starts in his story, before Uncle Ben’s death. He’s going to use his powers to make a lot of money and he’s going to provide for Ben and May but he’s not going to care about the world outside of that. I think one of the interesting things about Peter -- and this is where Slott’s run especially fails the character -- is that he’s not interesting in getting rich. He’d like to be comfortable, for sure -- he’d like to have enough money to not have worry about it, to not have the need to hustle impede what he can do as Spider-Man, to be able to take care of his family. (And there’s some machismo stuff linked in here for him too -- in the early days of their marriage the fact that Mary Jane earns much more than him is something he struggles with.) But he doesn’t care about being rich. He doesn’t care about the money; he cares about the support that the money would bring.

That feels like a simple statement but I think it’s actually a really big distinction, especially when you’re analyzing a character. And I think it’s because Peter understands that value that it makes him so empathetic to others who have financial struggles. One of my favorite short self-contained Spider-Man stories is called Windfall, from Marvel Fanfare #42, where a mixup with a check embroils Peter in the personal affairs of a bank teller, a young single mother who is fired from her job ultimately because she refused the advances of her boss. Peter gets her her job back -- through blackmailing the boss for his other sexual affairs, which some people might think is immoral of him, but I think really speaks to Peter’s understanding of how the greater world works, and what he’s prepared to do to get bigger justice. But more importantly he uses his own money to pay the young woman’s rent, and he does it in a way where she never even knows it’s him. Because he understands her situation, the way someone who had grown up comfortable never could. And that understanding I think puts him a place where it’s more important for him to both keep that understanding and maintain that ability to act relatively freely, in the way that bigger, more prestigious positions in scientific fields might restrict him. There’s a reason he keeps getting fired from these scientific positions and it’s not that he can’t get them, because we can see from his employment history very clearly that he can. It’s because the freedom to act as Spider-Man and what he can do as Spider-Man is ultimately more important to him.

And while high school teacher is my number one favorite profession Peter has ever had, I think that his position as a newspaper photographer is also very important to the character’s history, in part because the Bugle is such a big part of his life and the connections he’s made but also because the Daily Bugle itself is important. I think it’s interesting to note that two of the biggest superheroes of all time from both of the big companies -- Spider-Man from Marvel and Superman from DC -- have had long running journalism jobs, Peter as a photographer and Clark as a reporter. I don’t think I really have to go into a whole thing about how good journalists are so important and why it matters that we have these incredibly famous mythic figures that are positioned in the roll of journalists specifically. But I do think it is important to Peter that he’s put in that position as someone who cares about uncovering the truth. So ultimately I think what I mean when I say Peter is more fulfilled by his jobs as a photojournalist and as a high school teacher than by his comparatively more high paying stints working as a scientist in a lab is that Peter gets the most fulfillment out of careers where he can actively see, day by day, that what he’s doing is helping people, and that it’s a very direct line from him to the people he’s helping. His efforts can’t be twisted, they can’t be used for other purposes the way they can within a larger organization. He has a line of control in what he can do to help other people. It’s like how Spider-Man functions best as a street level hero: what he does best is saving and helping individual people, on a case by case basis. And you can turn around and demonstrate that in his civilian life best in jobs where he gets to directly interact with people. And ultimately to Peter making that difference is more important than a better salary.

(Marvel Knights Spider-Man #9)

#peter parker #marvel comics #traincat talks comics #long post/

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wwwafflewrites · 4 years

Text

A Rewrite of History

Chapter 10—Bugs (Part 1)

The Winchesters shoved you in the back seat, handcuffed and tied. You were mostly just thankful they spared you the indignity of a gag. Anyway, you kept your mouth shut. Not like there was any point convincing them of your innocence; they'd see enough proof for a lifetime.

The silence in the car was awkward, like you had impeded on what was usually their time alone. It obviously wasn't your choice, but it still felt like they were blaming you.

Dean had his music playing softly in the background, but that was about it.

So this is how it's gonna be. Fun times.

They were silent the whole way, only finally talking when saw a town up ahead. Night was soon falling.

Dean sighed as he pulled into a bar parking lot. He asked Sam, "You wanna come with?"

Sam shook his head. "Nah. You go. I'll watch her." He proceeded to take out a newspaper and began perusing.

Dean shrugged and went on his way.

You couldn't help but peek over Sam's shoulder. 'Local Death & Medical Mystery' the title read. Looks like the public suspected it was 'Accelerated' Mad Cow disease. You both knew that that was not the case.

Sam got annoyed with you peering over him so he decided to get out of the car and sit on the hood in peace.

"Bugs," you murmured. Literally the worst episode, in your opinion. Then, you realized that the window was open and you fell silent. If Sam had heard it, he didn't react, though.

Nothing was ever resolved in Bugs. They just told them to never come back. And anyone with a brain knew that would never last. Eventually, after a few generations, people would be back at it.

You just prayed they wouldn't leave the car door open or something when the swarm came. Could bugs get into the car? You weren’t sure.

Wait. Hold on—were they just going to drag you around the country with them until they figured out how to kill you? Is that what this was?

Wasn't that just comical.

You'd save the 'I'm human' speech, then. The longer they thought you had something they needed, the longer you could see yourself surviving this. The longer you had to form a plan.

Not that you had much to work with.

///

A little while later, Dean came out of the bar laughing at the wad of money in his hand, waving it at his brother like a little kid.

Sam sighed. "You know, we could get day jobs once in a while."

"Hunting's our day job. And the pay is crap."

True.

"Yeah, but… hustling pool? Credit card scams? Not the most honest thing in the world, Dean," he scolded.

"Well, let's see. Honest…" he lifted his hands like he was weighing the words on a scale. "...fun and easy. It's no contest. Besides, we're good at it. It's what we were raised to do."

Sam was smiling, but he shook his head. "Yeah, well how we were raised was jacked."

"Yeah, says you." Dean started counting his cash. "We got a new gig or what?"

"Maybe." Sam stands. "Oasis Plains, Oklahoma. Not far from here. A gas-company employee. Dustin Burwash supposedly died from Creutzfeldt-Jakob."

Dean paused. "Huh?"

"Mad cow disease," Sam said. You muttered it under your breath along with him, shaking your head.

"Mad cow… wasn't that on Oprah?"

"You watch Oprah?"

You muffled your laugh—quiet enough so they wouldn't hear it through the window. This was the part of them you missed seeing. A side you'd likely never see directed at you, unfortunately.

Dean straightened, like his masculinity was hurt by admitting he's seen Oprah once or twice. "So this guy eats a bad burger. Why is it our kind of thing?"

Sam began explaining. "Mad cow disease causes massive brain degeneration. It takes months, even years, for the damage to appear. But this guy, Dustin? Sounds like his brain disintegrated in about an hour. Maybe less."

"Okay, that's weird," Dean admitted.

"Yeah. Now, it could be a disease. Or it could be something much nastier," Sam said.

"Alright." Dean clapped his hands. "Oklahoma."

You had to get out of here.

///

You refused to sleep on the drive there. It wasn’t far anyway: about three hours. You could tough through it. If you fell asleep they'd see that you were vulnerable—you were human, and you weren't comfortable with them figuring that out yet. Even if you had insisted so many times before.

So you kept your eyes peeled. Regardless of how tired you really were.

Sam seemed perfectly comfortable sleeping. Probably because his brother was right beside him.

You brooded, wondering if they were going to torture you for information on their dad. Information you didn't have.

"Do you even sleep?" Dean asked, breaking your train of thought. You were probably creeping him out.

You let the question settle into silence. It was one in the morning, and you were struggling to stay awake.

"No," you said softly, careful not to wake Sam. This was a conversation for you and Dean alone. If you could convince Dean you weren’t human, then he'd eventually convince Sam. Convincing Dean of your guilt would be a lot easier than convincing Sam, in your opinion.

Despite Sam hating you, he was one smart cookie. Dean was too, but he also often blinded himself with his own stubbornness, and you could use that to your advantage.

Funny, how something you were trying to prevent a few days ago was now the only thing keeping you alive.

As unfortunate as it was, you needed them to believe you were something more than human so they'd figure you had something to offer.

At this point, you honestly weren’t sure what side you were on anymore.

It was probably more 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend' kind of thing. The Winchesters just didn't know it yet.

Dean narrowed his eyes. "So what can you do?"

You took your shot. "I can tell you that Dustin definitely didn't have Mad Cow Disease," you said, twiddling your thumbs, which just barely jingled your handcuffs.

He gave you a dubious look through the rearview mirror. Does he ever watch the road? "What killed him, then?"

"Bugs," you said easily.

Dean scoffed, but you can feel yourself smiling. This was going to work—it would just take a little time.

///

The Winchesters still visited the gas company to confirm that Dustin never had Mad Cow Disease. You bit back your I-told-you-so when Dean came back grumbling.

They left you alone, again, when they arrived at the construction site. At this point, your legs were cramped, your arms sore, and your wrists rubbed raw; maybe later you'd ask them to loosen the handcuffs.

Maybe.

Though you had a feeling Dean would just tighten them.

When Sam came back with a dead beetle in hand, you felt a smugness play on your lips. You couldn't help the little grin. "What's up?" you said smoothly. You were getting a lot more comfortable with them, maybe because they weren't set on killing you just yet.

There was tension as Dean drove, like they were deciding whether to even consider your opinion or not. Then, Dean swiveled around in his seat, and stared you dead in the eye. "How did you know?” he demanded.

You dared to raise a cocky eyebrow at him. “Lucky guess."

Dean looked ready to punch you in the face, but Sam redirected his attention by grabbing his shoulder to point out the sign saying 'Open House: BBQ'.

Dean was silently fuming.

Amused, you couldn’t help but add, "Oh, just so you're aware, they accept homeowners of any race, religion, color, or…" You smirked. "Sexual orientation."

Dean slugged you in the jaw, and your vision greyed. Frick—

///

When you came to, the Winchesters were gone and you were drooling against the upholstery. So much for convincing him you didn’t sleep.

Once again, they had left you helpless—waiting in the Impala as they worked the case. As a current hostage of the Winchesters, you were surprised by the lack of torture, and endless waiting that you had to endure.

You lazily watched as a red minivan pulled up in front of the Impala, probably to join the barbecue. "Don't mind me," you sighed, "just a hostage waiting in the car while you go to a party. No biggie." The guy looked stiff and awkward. Almost robotic. Weird.

You shrugged it off.

Anyway, in your book, that was sometimes worse than torture.

You probably shouldn't be as shocked as you were that you weren’t getting tortured. Neither of these boys had even endured death yet. Dean hadn't gone to Hell…

If Crowley had been here, he would have agreed with you. Nobody likes waiting. Though, he was probably off scamming some poor, naive people of their souls right about now.

Demons confused you.

Speaking of… did the Minivan Guy's eyes just turn black?

You stiffened. You pulled at your cuffs. "See," you hissed to yourself, "this is why you shouldn't leave me sitting in the car, Winchesters. This is exactly why—"

The man—the demon—approached the car, and you cowered as far back into the seat as you could. But no matter how you positioned yourself, there was no hiding.

Damn—he was a big guy, too. You probably couldn't stand a chance against this guy if he was a human, let alone a demon. He was almost bigger than Sam Winchester. Not taller, just... burlier. Meaner looking.

And as much as you hated to be a hostage of the Winchesters, the demons were not a better option. Whatever they had planned, you confident you wouldn't like it.

You cursed to yourself. "If anyone's listening, I lied earlier; torture is so much worse than waiting in the car all the time. I was freaking joking!" You desperately tried to open the door, but it was locked. "I swear this universe has it out for me!"

The demon was coming straight for you. Your car was gone, as was your angel blade. And… he had a brand on his arm that looked like a cancel sign. It was a binding tattoo. So exorcisms were out of the picture—so they knew your go-to, now. And they knew you were defenseless otherwise.

Your only hope was the angels, but they definitely weren't interested.

When the demon brought up his fist, you covered your face, bracing for the inevitable.

The window spat glass when he punched it. A hand reached through and grabbed for the chains of your handcuffs. When you pulled away, he socked you in your bruised face.

The demon snatched your handcuffs. You leaned away, but it was useless. If a demon could casually open an airplane's emergency exit, it wasn't going to have any trouble uprooting you from your seat.

And with that, he wrenched you through the broken window like a whip, resulting in your head slamming into hard concrete, and glass cutting into your exposed skin.

Ow.

How was nobody seeing this?! Sure, mostly empty neighborhood, but sheesh. They were having barbecue while you got your brains knocked out on their driveway.

You wheezed on the pavement, blinking up at the Impala's broken window. The Winchesters going to think I did that, aren't they? Always my fault…

Unless you left signs of struggle.

There was already some blood on the sidewalk, but that could be dismissed. No, you needed to leave an alarming amount. And the demon could give that to you.

With what small amount of strength you had left, you pulled your arms toward your chest, and bit down on the demon's arm. You spat the blood on the ground, and his arm left puddles behind him.

The demon laughed in his deep, demonic voice, but you struggled to hear him over the ringing in your eardrums. "You think that will harm me? And you call yourself a hunter."

Who ever said I was a hunter? Survivor, maybe, but never a hunter. Hunters are supposed to be brave.

And I am not brave.

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twiststreet · 3 years

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I'd be curious for more of your thoughts on that Hibbs piece. I've read him for years and often find him insightful, but this one seems very reactionary in a very typical retailer way ("blinkered" was a good word Kim O'Connor used). Particularly, he seems to pretend that Diamond is just fine as is and that DC had no reason to want to switch distribution. I recently swore off DC, but I've noticed since the switch that those comics have been on time at my lcs each week. Diamond, not so much.

Yeah, I don’t really agree with that (I missed whatever Kim said), though I really don’t know what’s going on at a retail level. I haven’t gone regularly to a comic shop in years.

(Setting aside the health stuff, which is the most striking thing in there:) Hibbs is a retailer writing from a retailer perspective, so wishing that he was saying something else”... I mean, we know what we’re signing up for when we read it; we know how to slot it into our own personal worldviews. I’m not to going to complain that Hibbs isn’t going to tell me how long to cook a steak for, or that he’s not yelling that the Direct Market should be dismantled because if those were what I was looking to read, the egg should be on my face for pulling him up to begin with.

The question with Hibbs I think I always have is “how representative is he of retailers generally, as a store in San Francisco.” (And I think people slightly overstate how non-representative he is because if you hear him talk about his operations, he makes clear he operates differently for different retail audiences, when he had that second store going-- I don’t know if that’s still a thing, but. And also: I don’t fucking know what it means to be San Francisco anymore because what is that city even...). But generally, you know, you take that data point into consideration but still try to get at what you’ve signed up for, when you read what he says-- where are retailers’ heads at... You know, you go “well if Hibbs is at 8 then even adjusting -2 for factors x y and z, that mean Joe Median-Store might be at 6 and 6 is great / isn’t great, etc.”

Hibbs has always erred slightly worried, on the spectrum of human reactions, so you know, (even though I personally tend to be drawn to that more than optimism), I’m not sitting here going “I bet DC’s going to license all their characters tomorrow because he says so” because it’s not like the first time I’ve heard that-- though it remains entirely possible, possibly a good idea for the suits (though probably not for anyone else), who even knows. (Though if you’ve been listening to Rob Liefeld talk on Robservations about Heroes Reborn you’ll already know a significant challenge that would face-- that if they do a trial balloon, the people who already entrenched will do whatever they can to poison the trial balloon so as to make the case for not doing it and remaining entrenched...)(that becomes tougher after multiple waves of layoffs, though).

But what he’s talking about-- DC just did its own Heroes World...? As soon as I heard all that to begin with (and I didn’t pay close attention because the world was happening), my first reaction was “oh shit, Heroes World!” So a comic retailers saying “this is looking the same after __ months in these specific ways” ... I’m going to pay attention to that. I just remember how spectacularly unlikely it was that comics cleaned up the mess they’d made of themselves in the 90′s. It was a ridiculously unlikely set of events that turned things around, and I don’t think you can reasonably expect those events to happen again. (Especially after the “we learned a lesson from the 90′s” part turned out to be a lie, which is something I know I was yelling and screaming about for years and I was getting called like “ungrateful” or something by the Serious Comic Voices of Seriousness for it, there were entire CBR blog posts about how I didn’t understand how great things were now, etc, etc, etc... I don’t think they pull that “we learned not to rip people off” lie again, not this batch of assholes. Though who knows, maybe....)

I mean, sure there are criticisms of Diamond to be had, of trad retail to be had. And there’s the giant black box of “how desperate are people right now” that hasn’t been reported on. There was a time in ‘02-’04 or so when a book distributor or somebody like that went down, and it almost took out Fantagraphics with it. And this seems worse than that! Where’s the money flowing here and whose debts are getting paid first? I don’t have any idea. There’s all these systems in play that have been knocked out by COVID, and who knows who’s owed how much money or how much product is sitting in a warehouse collecting warehouse fees, etc., like this is all a fucking disaster and there’s no reporting on it (comic reporters are too busy encouraging Damon Lindelof to make Watchmen TV shows) and there’s ... DC is a black box in a black box in a black box (he said, having waited for 3 years for DC to answer an easy question once).

But even if DC had good reason to do whatever it did? It doesn’t seem to matter much if the rest of the comic market’s built around Diamond and if no one has the health of the Direct Market on its radar. And DC doesn’t if they fucking fired everyone who understands the health of the Direct Market as even being a fucking concept to begin with, which is extremely likely at this point. Or ... I don’t know-- it’s the old comic problem of people wanting to argue that “the thing is bad an we need to replace the thing.” Diamond’s bad and we need to replace it. Okay. With what? And with comics, the answer is usually “moonbeams and hopes and hugs.” There’s just a lot of wishful thinking out there that a Better Answer just shows up. I don’t know about that...

Comic retail’s built around selling Batman. For DC’s moves to be this impactful, that’s a problem at the core of the system. The undoing was in the origin. So i get that criticism, and it’s well taken (except to the extent there’s an entirely speculative argument built around it that either (a) there would be some other system that’d exist but-for and (b) there’d be some flourishing of human creativity but-for). But that’s still a lot of people and a lot of human energy that’s at issue. And the few life rafts that are out there, you’re not going to get a lot of people on them. Digital is a joke (according to me, a digital comic publisher! hahaha)-- hibbs if anything overstates the possibilities there because as a retailer, he doesn’t want to bring up that we’re in the Golden Age of Comic Piracy. (And ... I like being a digital comic publisher! I’m having fun. But). And bookstores-- bookstores are great, provided your readership expectation are 10-14 year old girls. Which might be better for comics if that became the default comic as compared to 35-50 year old bachelors that’s the DM’s bread and butter, but... I think you probably have to be okay with a lot fewer people having gigs. Bookstores can’t even remotely support the same level of human activity that comic shops can, by the look of things. (You know at some point you have a larger cultural heat death going on, that’s the part I find interesting, but...)

I don’t know. Hibbs might be to an extreme. I might be to an extreme. But having seen people voting for Biden and then going “wait, he’s going to hire racist industry-controlled centrists?? we got nothing for our vote? we’ve been betrayed!”... having seen people talk about what a great human being George Bush was (I saw a tweet fucking today that was like “George Bush was underrated because he was nice to a trans person once”)... I’ve become very cynical about the human memory or ability to learn lessons. I don’t think people remember 1995-1999 in comics, and just... how ridiculous it was when that got turned around. It was like watching them pull off a fucking heist to turn things around last time... Comics are selling-- people are buying comics. So it’s not as bad as last time. It’s nowhere close. But... People overestimate how structured the industry is, and obviously the DC layoffs suggest that the people looking purely at the bottom line don’t understand and didn’t account for the unique levels of institutional knowledge required for the industry... Other media, you don’t hear about hand-selling as much. When have you ever seen a movie because the guy who owns the theater told you it was good?? Or because you saw the director standing over a flea market table looking like they were about to cry...? Like... I don’t know.

I do know for me, I want to start thinking about a next project, and I’ve been looking again at what the Big Hit Books have been these last couple years (I kind of avoided new stuff when I was working on my things) and... You know, part of what changed things in the early 00′s was there were new voices with a new style ready to come in. Now? Jesus, I don’t know. At first blush, everybody’s writing books nearly identically, and it’s just this massive level of bombast and confidence (good for them!) and huge splash pages and hyper-emotional narration and... it all just is this blockbuster schmear that’s very impressive but entirely skippable anyways. None of it’s as a bezerk or strange or just weirdly interesting to me as 10 seconds of a Metal Gear Solid video essay... it’s a lot of big splash pages of Thanos or Thanos-for-creator-owned-comics... But it all seems like halls of mirrors-- none of it seems very outward looking... You know, Kojima did halls of mirrors by the 4th game, too, but in Death Stranding, he had like Amazon deliverypeople, and you’d play the game and go “oh shit, this gig economy is making my formaldehyde-baby cry” and like... he had something besides the hall of mirrors to him. (And I mean, the 4th game is a criticism of the hall of mirrors, according to a video essay I saw, but...). Or you know, it’s like the thing that Rebuild of Evangelion 3 is criticizing, they’re doing unironically... I don’t know. It’s weird; the books are weird; I keep wanting to ask like “what should I be reading here” because I’m mostly ignorant besides a Hulk or a Long Con or Sink or ... I never saw the end of Seeds but I thought Seeds had something...

Sorry to ramble.

#Worst Hobby or Worstest Hobby?

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forasecondtherewedwon · 5 years

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Alright on Paper Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: T (for now) Word count: 1699 Chapter: 1/?

Spideychelle Week Day 4: Fake Dating

Summary: Reading the newspaper has taught MJ a lot about the Avengers' relationships. Doesn't mean she wants to be in one.

Or, MJ fake-dates Spider-Man, but won't commit because she has a crush on Peter Parker.

MJ reads the paper.

Oh, what, she’s supposed to be above reading the paper because print is dead and the internet offers both more news (stories and outlets) and faster access to it? Tough. She still reads it because her dad still gets it. He’s had a subscription since he graduated college and thought reading the Times―tucking it under his arm and flipping through the pages while he rode the subway―was a more accurate measure of adulthood than owning a car. (They still don’t have a car, by the way. MJ is never going to learn to drive. Ugh.)

The appeal that drew her to it, at the age of four, was the occasional editorial cartoon, utterly beyond her comprehension. These days, she’s a little more interested in the articles on domestic politics, but hey, people are allowed to evolve.

So if you’re her, you’re MJ, you’re living in New York and you’re paying attention, you’re going to notice the Avengers. Notice shit like violent attacks and streets covered in rubble―although, that’s basically the city at rush hour during construction season. She’s noticing other things though, Avengers voicing opinions, reviving a feeling of civic interest, pride, and responsibility. She’s noticing the tide turning; citizens less interested in blaming superheroes for unscheduled demolition in Manhattan and more interested in who does Hawkeye’s tattooing or which karaoke bar Thor can most likely be found at on a Friday night.

And the Avengers’ relationships. New Yorkers are feeding on (super-)human interest stories with their faces so close to the pages they just about rub all the ink off with their noses.

It’s a terrible thing to know this, to be as observant as MJ is, tracking these changing attitudes and becoming an accidental expert on the path to good PR for the biologically, magically, genetically, or otherwise enhanced. Reading the paper is what gets her in trouble―sooner, rather than later―when Spider-Man starts hanging around.

Technically, he’s always hanging (that web shit is strong stuff, by the looks of it), and he’s always around. MJ figured out ages ago that Queens is his home base. Still, their borough’s just big enough and just crowded enough that she’d never encountered him in person until a few months ago. Now she sees him all. The. Time. He says coincidence, she says to-mah-to, and it really is him saying that because they’re officially on speaking terms. It’s an improvement to their interactions, mutually decided upon after Spider-Man scared the bejesus out of her when she was standing on her apartment’s balcony one day, glanced over the edge, and saw him crawling up the wall.

The deal became that if he was going to drop by, he better be obvious about it. This led to a routine MJ is loath to describe with the word ‘charming,’ but which may or may not involve her going out to the balcony or chilling by the open window of her bedroom on Saturday mornings, after her parents have left to run errands, and offering Spider-Man a glass of orange juice while they chat and she shares her paper with him. He likes the arts section. She likes watching him read it, sticking to the wall outside her window, the posters for whatever’s in theatres appearing upside down.

He joked one time about them catching a Saturday matinee together. She’s pretty sure he was joking.

The deal evolves as the weeks go by. MJ’s apartment is less of a rest stop between crime-fighting gigs and more of a superhero counselling centre with only one client. Not that Spider-Man is looking to her, a high school student, to mend whatever trauma led to him donning a formfitting red costume and babysitting an entire city, but she’s sure giving him a lot of advice lately.

It’s just… life stuff, really, and MJ doesn’t know where he sees authority when he looks at her, yawning in her jammies as she passes his juice through the open window, but he seems to listen. Maybe her dad was right about the paper; it’s possible that reading it makes her appear wise.

But it makes her act like a damn idiot in a crisis.

She’s heading to a guidance appointment one Wednesday (it’s junior year and MJ is getting some assistance with scouting out colleges) and the halls are empty; she was given permission to leave class five minutes early. When she turns the corner towards the guidance room, there’s Spider-Man. Just standing there. Middle of the hallway. MJ drops a textbook and it strikes the ground with a deafening slap.

This is her comfortable weekend companion, the hero of Queens. She adjusted to understanding that Spider-Man can be both, but there doesn’t seem to be any room in her mind for him to also exist midmorning at Midtown Tech.

He’s staring back at her (she can tell―the aperture of the white eyes on his mask has expanded in shock), arms held away from his body sort of comically, and MJ’s trying to recall if she’s ever seen him upright before when the jarring old-school bell rings and students flood from the door of every classroom.

Spider-Man bounds towards her, grabs her book from the floor, pushes it to her chest until she grips it, and says, “I know what to do.”

Everyone’s starting to make sounds of surprise, recognizing the Avenger in their midst, but even though MJ knows Spider-Man is kind of a hero of the people, he’s not acknowledging them at all. In fact, he’s wrapping his arms around her, and her eyes―boy oh boy―are wide. There’s just one thing on her mind besides what his suit feels like against the backs of her hands…

She’s praying that Peter isn’t seeing this.

“I’ll swing by your apartment later,” Spider-Man promises, speaking quietly near her ear.

He puts another little squeeze into the hug before stepping back. Reeling, MJ watches him give their audience a polite wave as he walks backwards in the direction of the nearest exit.

“Sorry, guys,” he tells the gathered crowd. “Uh, duty calls. I just wanted to stop by and see my girlfriend.”

Heads are swivelling to stare at MJ even before she drops the book for the second time.

\\\

“How?” she demands of him that evening, pacing tightly on the balcony while her parents laugh along to a sitcom in the living room. “How could that be you ‘knowing what to do’?!”

“I was doing what you said,” Spider-Man says defensively. He’s pacing too, along the balcony’s two-inch-wide railing. (She’s too mad to be worried.)

“Excuse me? We’re putting this on me? When was I an active part of that plan, while I was holding that stupid textbook or while my arms were pinned because you were hugging me? I’d really like to know.”

“W-well, it’s what you said about public perception of the Avengers.”

“Specifics!”

“Like Iron Man,” he argues, lowering his voice after how she snapped. “People like hearing about him and Pepper Potts.”

“And have you always modeled yourself after Tony Stark, or is this sudden, public relationship announcement your first foray?”

They stare at each other for a minute, Spider-Man balancing and MJ looking up at him―which is kind of weird after they hugged today and she realized he’s shorter than she is. She sighs, regretting her harsh words.

“I’m sorry,” she offers. “I know what you did was thoughtless―”

“Well―”

“―ill-advised―”

“Literally your advice.”

“―and, frankly, moronic―”

“Hey.”

“―but I get it, you panicked―”

“I had it under control.”

“―so I forgive you.”

“Oh. Well, thanks.”

“Now, come down here so I don’t have to keep resisting the urge to shove you off that railing.”

Once Spider-Man flips down (she’s already forgiven him―what, does he think he’s getting bonus points for landing the dismount?), MJ crosses her arms and gives that red mask of his a stern look.

“Still not thrilled, huh?”

“Good guess,” she says dryly.

“I might be missing something here, but… why? I mean, I didn’t think I did anything to embarrass you. Did I hurt you somehow?”

MJ shrugs and stares at her slippers.

“People saw.”

There’s a pause.

“…We already knew that.” His tone is almost clueless enough to make her apprehensive that this is the guy she and the rest of Queens have protecting them.

“I don’t know if… if a certain person saw.”

She’s blushing hard to admit even this much of a crush and she’d be mortified if she wasn’t making her confession to this socially illiterate superhero.

“Boyfriend?” Spider-Man asks. MJ glances up to see him leaning extremely un-casually against the wall, arms folded a little less tensely than hers.

“You sound skeptical,” she accuses.

“You’ve never mentioned him.”

MJ glares for a few seconds before backing down.

“No, he’s not my boyfriend. And you didn’t know that either because we only ever talk about you.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Spider-Man immediately offers, like he’s trying to even things up.

Groaning, she lets her shoulders slump.

“You do now.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s pretty unlikely that nobody took a picture.”

“Safe to assume the students of a school called Midtown Tech are tech-savvy enough to work a cellphone camera. By the way,” MJ adds, narrowing her eyes at him, “why were you there?”

“Oh, um, gas leak in one of the Chemistry labs. They dispatch the fire department for that kind of thing and I hate for emergency services to get tied up if I can fix it myself.”

“Huh. I had no idea gas leaks were in your repertoire. Thought muggers and bicycle thieves were more your beat.”

She’s teasing him pretty lightly considering he definitely just lied to her. It’s fine, she’ll wait to crack him until he’s forgotten all about visiting her school.

Spider-Man swings his arms nervously.

“If it’s a community problem, I’m on it. I’m just a friendly―”

“―neighbourhood Spider-Man,” MJ finishes. “Yeah, I’ve heard the tagline. And you’re also my fake boyfriend until we figure out a way for you to tactfully dump me.”

He takes an excited step towards her.

“I know wha―”

She cuts him off with a swiftly raised hand.

“Don’t even say it.”

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topaztales · 5 years

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Hey! So this is my Richie x Eddie fic, titled Nightmares.

In summary, Eddie survives and comes to live with Richie after divorcing his wife. But following the events in Derry, Richie struggles with PTSD and heavily internalized homophobia that manifests in terrible nightmares. Richie tries not to show how it’s affecting him, But Eddie eventually catches up.

this one’s kinda angsty but I promise it gets happy, please check AO3 for the complete tag/warning list.

First chapter is below the cut!

NIghtmares

chapter 1- The Phone Call

Richie could taste blood. It wasn’t his blood, he knew it wasn’t. He knew because Eddie was standing above him wide eyed as the claw tore through his chest. His blood spilled everywhere. It was on Richie’s glasses, in his mouth. He was helpless to watch his best friend, his Eddie, get tossed aside like nothing. Limp. The image was seared into his mind until everything went black. For a moment, it was all gone.

Then Richie could taste blood. Then he watched happen again. Then it was gone and he could taste blood. Then again. And again. Again. Again.

Eventually Richie’s eyes shot open and he was staring at his blurry ceiling, breathing hard. His throat was tight and sore from crying in his sleep. He scrambled around for his glasses, swinging his legs over the side of his bed so he could sit up property. Shoving his glasses on his face, Richie got his bearings. He was in his small apartment, in Los Angeles, in California. Not in the Neilbolt house, not Derry, not Maine.

Richie struggled to catch his breath. Bracing his hands on his knees, he recalled Eddie’s old breathing exercises. In, out. In, out, trying to slow his breathing. In, out. Blood on his glasses. No. In, out. Blood in his mouth. Stop it. In, out. In, out. Eddies gone. Richie choked on a sob before clapping his hand over his mouth as if he was afraid of being heard. He knew it wasn’t true, that Eddie was still alive. But when Richie was alone in the dark his mind started playing tricks on him. Richie knew that when he came out the deadlights, he’d just barely knocked Eddie out of the way of the direct path of the claw, but it still did lots of damage. In his dreams, Richie wasn’t so fast. It sent a chill down his spine.

Shakily, Richie grabbed his phone and unlocked it, staring at his recent call list. Eddie’s name was at the top. They called each other often after leaving Derry. While Eddie was in the hospital, they’d talked about what came next.

Richie had joked Eddie should become a professional clown killer since he was clearly so good at it. Eddie had just rolled his eyes. He’d been in the hospital for about a week by this point, the wound in his side still requiring professional care.

“Very funny dickhead.” Eddie retorted, but there was no bite in his words.

“But seriously, are we just supposed to go back to our old lives after this shit?” Richie asked, leaning back in the chair at Eddie’s bedside. “I mean, shit has to change now. I’m going to have to start working killer alien clown jokes into my act. My manager’s gonna have an aneurism.”

Eddie laughed, and Richies heart clenched like he was thirteen again. He loved hearing that laugh.

“Yeah, shit’s gonna change.” he said. Eddie’s voice was soft, almost contemplative.

Richie huffed. “I just said that dude. Pay attention.” He reached out and pinched Eddie’s not-stabbed cheek. “Earth to Spaghetti, do you copy? Over.”

Eddie slapped his hand away with false annoyance. “Oh grow up Rich, I was literally agreeing with you. God, you’re impossible.” Richie just laughed.

There was silence for a beat. Richie was looking for a joke to fill the void, but before he could find one Eddie broke the silence.

“I’m going to leave my wife.” He blurted. Richie was a bit taken aback by the suddenness. Eddie was staring straight ahead, looking surprised at his own outburst.

“So, she told you then?” Richie asked, hesitantly.

Eddie raised an eyebrow at him. “Told me what?”

Richie’s grinned, a look Eddie knew meant a punchline was incoming. “About our torrid affair, I’ve been smashing your woman for weeks now.”

Eddie shoved him. “Oh, beep fucking beep, asshole!” Richie just laughed. “Im serious Rich! God I try to have one genuine moment and you have to fuck it up.”

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry Eds” Richie certainly didn’t sound sorry.

“Don’t call me that.”

That exchange had happened about two months ago. Once Eddie was discharged, he went to sort things out with Myra. “I faced an evil alien murder clown,” he’d said. “I can certainly face my wife long enough to leave her.” Richie had swelled with pride at how brave Eddie had been. He’d always been brave. Not like Richie, who woke up crying every night with nightmares. There was a handful of recurring ones, all involving Eddie. Eddie dying was common, so were all the deaths of his friends he watched in the deadlights. But sometimes Richie dreamt they were in the hammock again. Richie would look up from his comic book to see Eddie staring at him, smiling. Then his face would start to flake away into white paint as his features contorted and he’d start mocking Richie. You’re sick Richie! You’re perverted, I know you are. I know all about your dirty little secret. Richie couldn’t move. The voice was an awful amalgamation of Eddie and Pennywise, and it shook Richie to his core. Who’d stay friends with you? You’re a filthy fag.

Other times he could feel Henry Bowers fists slamming into him, and his head swirled with all of his insults. Freak. Fairy. Pervert. Fag. Sometimes the names were hurled by Bowers, sometimes Pennywise, sometimes Eddie.

Every time, Richie woke up crying. He’d considered telling Eddie about the nightmares, but he had no idea how that conversation would go. “Hey Eddie sorry to wake you, but my immense gay feelings for you and the traumas we’ve encountered have compounded into terrible nightmares that make my cry like a little bitch.” Yeah, no. Besides the terrible phrasing, Eddie had enough on his plate with his messy divorce. Myra had apparently not taken it well, and they’re still battling it out. He didn’t need Richie stacking more problems on him right now. So Richie would manage.

Eddie called him later in the day, just after five. Richie had been paying some bills, a terrible and grown up thing to do. He was taking a leave from doing gigs. His manager, Steve, had just about ripped him a new one for leaving on such a short notice until Richie told him an old friend had passed away, and that’s why he left so suddenly. It was also why he needed time from gigs, to “process.” Begrudgingly, Steve accepted. Hard to argue with the dead friend excuse, even if it wasn’t the whole truth. But now he ways paying bills from savings alone, so he was happy for the distraction that was Eddie’s phone call.

“Chhk, Eduardo, do you copy? Over.” Richie spoke into his cell phone like it was a walkie talkie. He heard Eddie groan on the other end of the line.

“Remind me why I bother calling you?” Eddie asked.

“Chhk, because I’m your best friend and you have to, chhk, over.”

Eddie chuckled. “Knock it off Rich, I actually have some news.”

“Chhk, You’re supposed to end all transmissions with ‘Over’, Eds. chhk, over.”

“Don’t call me that.” Eddie said, before sighing and giving in. “Over.”

Richie smiled. “See, that wasn’t so hard! So what’s the news?” he said, deciding to drop the walkie talkie bit now that Eddie had caved.

“Well,” he sounded shaky. “There’s good news and bad news.”

“I already know the bad news.” Richie said solemnly.

“How’s that?”

“Myra's pregnant and it’s mine.”

Eddie groaned. “I'm hanging up now-”

“Wait, wait!” Richie laughed, “C’mon eds, just tell me what the news is.”

“Don’t call me that.” Eddie replied on instinct. He paused for a moment, then said, “We got it finalized today.”

Richie sat up in his chair. “That’s great news! Why didn’t you lead with that?”

He could hear Eddie huff. “Because someone can’t ever shut up long enough to let me get a word in.”

Richie hummed. “Can’t imagine who that would be, sounds a bit rude.”

“He’s the biggest asshole I know, hands down.”

“Well any man who sleeps with his best friend’s now ex-wife has gotta be a huge douche.”

“Jesus Christ, Richie.”

“That’s what your ex-wife said!” Richie jumped at the chance of the joke.

“Would you let me finish?”

“THAT’S WHAT YOUR-” The line went dead as Richie laughed. He knew Eddie didn’t mean anything by the end of the call, it was just a way to tell Richie to shut up. Richie chuckled to himself as he dialed Eddie back. He picked up on the second ring.

“Got it all out of your system dickwad?” Eddie asked, sounding mildly annoyed.

Richie shook his head to himself and answered, “My humor never leaves my system, my dear boy.”

Richie could feel Eddie rolling his eyes on the other side of the country. “Do you even want to hear the bad news?”

Richie paused. Did he? “Yeah, uh, shoot.”

Eddie sighed. He sounded tired now. “Like I said, it’s been messy with Myra. She’s taking everything she can get. That includes, uhm,” Eddie swallowed, “that includes our apartment.”

Richie didn’t really know how to respond to that. The phone was silent for awhile until Eddie spoke up again. “It’s not like I’m homeless now or anything,” he hurried. His voice was a bit nervous and Richie could tell he was going into a freak-out. “Its just I really liked the place and Myra and I picked it out together and I hate apartment hunting because there’s so many factors involved and its so stressful-”

“Move in with me.” Richie blurted. Fuck. He hadn’t meant to say that aloud, but he hated hearing Eddie panic without being able to do anything about it. Now the line was silent and Richie had to resist the urge to slam his head into his desk.

“What?” Eddie asked, like he didn’t believe what he’d heard.

Richie stood up from his desk and started pacing nervously. “I- I mean, you could stay with me if you like. At least until you find a place of your own. I don't know, I just thought”-he had not thought at all- “that it might help relieve some of the stress. So you don’t have to rush the process.”

Richie paused, but the line was still silent. Fuck. He’s fucked it. Why does he never think before opening his stupid mouth? Why would Eddie want to stay with him all the way in L.A.?

His place is a mess! And Richie… well Richie is also a mess.

“Okay.” Richie was so busy panicking he barely heard the reply.

“What did you say?”

“I said okay, numbnuts. If it’s really alright, I think I need a break from NYC anyways.”

“Oh.” Richie’s heart started to race. He hadn’t seen Eddie since they left Derry. “Well, you’re going to have to give me some time to vacate the guest room.”

“Oh, do you have a guest over? There’s really no rush-”

“No, no, its fine. It’s just that your mom has spent the past few nights with me.”

“Beep Beep Richie.”

They agreed it would be best for Eddie to come the next day, give him time to pack everything and fly over. So Richie spent the rest of the day cleaning and rearranging his apartment. He did actually have a spare room, but he had made it into a rarely used office/storage room. Eddie would take his room of course. Not only was it cleaner, but Richie secretly hoped that if Eddie was comfortable, he’d stay longer. So Richie rearranged the office to fit an air mattress. Since he had no actual idea of how long Eddie would be staying, at some point he figured he’d have to buy a second bed. He was okay with that, but an air mattress would have to do for now. Then he deep cleaned everything else. He did all the dishes that had stacked up, did laundry, and spent the day swimming in his thoughts as he cleaned. Eddie would be living with him. Living with him! For god knows how long but it was happening! Richie didn’t know if he was more excited or nervous. On one hand, he’d be living with the boy he’d had a crush on since he was thirteen. On the other hand, he’d be living with the straight boy he’d had a secret gay crush on since the eighties, a very unkind time for such situations.

At least I’ll know he’s alive. Richie thought to himself. The thought made his hands freeze over his dishes. In all the excitement over the phone call, Richie hadn’t even considered his nightmares. What if Eddie heard him crying in his sleep? God, that would be embarrassing. But Richie supposed he was right the first time. At least he’d know Eddie was alive.

Richie had the apartment to a satisfactory level by two A.M., at which point he could barely keep his eyes open. Climbing into bed Richie thought about how tomorrow night, Eddie would be here. He tried to keep his mind on positive thoughts as he drifted to sleep.

Then Richie could taste blood.

If you enjoyed this chapter please please please go check out the rest on AO3! Chapters 1-3 are there now with roughly two more on the way. Hope you liked it!

#reddie #richie tozier #richie x eddie #it chapter 2 #it #reddie fanfiction #Eddie Kaspbrak #fanfiction #ao3 #angst #nightmares #topaztales #my fanfiction #adult richie #adult eddie #eddie lives #fix-it

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totalconway · 4 years

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Drinks at the Pub, ends in short film opportunity...

So a little back story first, I started performing stand up comedy in 2012 and by 2013 I was lucky enough to win the state leg of Australia’s largest open mic competition Triple J RAW Comedy and headed to Melbourne to perform on the ABC.

Following that experience I was given a lot of opportunities to perform support spots purely based on that RAW comedy credit.

One case of this was performing at Rottnest Island for their Rottofest summer comedy which was held every Friday during the summer. Rottnest Island is a hot bed of local and international tourist, and the Island’s Gov’s Tavern where the gig is held would often sell out (120+ People) the crowd was always a mix of high profile people and obnoxious drunks (most of the time both)

On one particular Friday night, I was performing, and not to brag blowing the roof off the joint and in the crowd was none other then the President of my favorite sporting team the Fremantle Dockers Football Club.

At the time, the Fremantle Dockers board was facing backlash from the supporter base because they wanted to move the Dockers training ground from their spiritual home of Fremantle Oval to a state of the art, purpose built training facility in Cockburn (Yes Cock Burn) which is about a 30 minute drive up the road.

So after the gig on Rottnest Island, I get introduced to the president of the Dockers with the intro line “Hey Sean, tell him what you think of the Cockburn move” and you can see his look go from chilled and calm to “I seriously got to deal with this shit on my holiday”. I just told him “I’m pumped for it” and I was, its been a good move for the Dockers and I started reeling off the benefits for the move etc etc. We hung out had a few beers and the whole night I was spun out that I was hanging with the president of the Dockers.

I went back to work on Monday telling people I got to hang out with the President of the Dockers, with a bit of fake bravado swagger to jokingly let them know I only hang with A-Listers now! After a couple of days I didn’t think anything of it and went back to gigging and working.

A few months down the track I get an email from the booker of Rottofest Summer comedy asking if I’d be keen to Star in a short film for the Dockers. Its not paid but if the film is one of three winners of the competition I’d receive one of the tickets to the USA which was up for grabs. Honestly, they had me at “Star in Dockers short film”.

Apparently the opportunity was between myself and a Perth duo called Henry & Aaron. Henry & Aaron are film makers/comic actors who pretty much went viral on youtube with every film they made (Talking millions and millions of views) and they lost out to my RAW comedy set that had about 12 views purely because I had a few too many beers with the president of the Dockers.

When I got the call to go meet them about the project I was incredibly nervous. I had a whole pitch prepared about why I was the best candidate for the job “I fucking bleed purple” because I was still thinking I had to audition for the film but essentially I had already been cast in the film. Their only concern was whether or not I could fit in the costume because I’m a big fat dude they had to see if I would be able to squeeze into it. The whole time I was terrified of ripping it because it’s a $3-$4K costume.

Once the costume fit (just) it was straight to work. It was a great project to work on because they gave me a lot of creative control of my character, and I really wanted to portray a David Brent (The Office) like character, like a really fat black sheep in a white herd.

So we started filming in September of 2013, just after the Dockers had beaten Geelong in an away game in the first week of the finals. So the Dockers had a weeks break before they played Sydney in Fremantle’s first home preliminary final in two weeks time. This was a huge moment for the club because If we win this it will be the first Grand Final the Dockers have ever been in.

The first day of shooting was super intimidating, not because I was meeting some of my football idols but because the night before the first day of shooting I watched a documentary called Catching Hell about the Chicago Cubs fan Steve Bartman who was blamed for the Chicago Cubs not winning a game that would of sent them to the world series. Not the best film to watch when you’re about to work with you’re sporting idols on the eve of the biggest game in the clubs history. To say it made me super paranoid the whole shoot is an understatement, and it didn’t help that the first shot of the day was with the Dockers marquee player Matthew Pavlich. The scene was me jumping on his back, FUCK RIGHT OFF. I’m twice the size of Pavlich and you’re dreaming if you think I’m jumping on his back. If you watch the scene I take the “mark” and I’m nowhere near Pavlich.

It was a great shoot because everything was time sensitive, the players had their other appointments so we literally only had 10 minutes for each shot with the players so we flew through the script.

I got to meet a lot of the players I was fans of like Ryan Crowley, Nat fyfe, I didn’t get to meet Michael Walters but the scene he’s in, my fat is hanging out of my footy jersey and I did hear him say to David Mundy “That dude looks like a bag of oranges” which was funny, but Ideally I would of preferred he made the joke to me so I could of gained a fan when I busted his balls back, but unfortunately it wasn’t to be.

The last shot of the film was me gate crashing a press conference with Michael Barlow . Barlow did the interview and the CEO at the time did a big speech thanking the media for their support throughout the year and if they wouldn’t mind hanging around for 10 minutes so we could get our last shot. We smashed out the shot in 2 takes, boom we’re finished, I’m told not to tell anyone about the film until it airs the following week, easy enough right.

Wrong, the next day I’m back at work and people are looking at me like I’m the biggest piece of shit in the world, because one of the media outlets had filmed me gate crashing the Michael Barlow press conference, and passed it off like I was genuinely gate crashing the press conference.

I had to tell people it was for a film which didn’t help the situation because they thought because I do comedy it must have been some Jackass type movie I was doing. It also didn’t help the situation that Radio talk back shows were crucifying me saying how unfunny I was and how big of a dickhead I was for gate crashing the Barlow press conference, but I didn’t care too much because I knew the film was coming out the following week. It didn’t stop my Mum and my sister writing a long scathing letter to the radio station about how they should do their research before they try to shame their baby boy on the radio. Luckily I was able to stop them from sending it out.

The film came out the following week as well as the entries for the other films that we were competing against, the winners would be based on who had the most likes, shares and views. The first film we were up against was by the St Kilda Saints who managed to get Eric Bana to star in their film, it still makes me chuffed to think I starred in a film that went head to head with an Eric Bana film. The second film was by the Melbourne Demons which was a documentary about a child fan who was very sick, third place was us, and the rest of the films were Essendon Bombers which was fucking terrible and a few other teams who I can’t remember.

The film was released the night the Fremantle Dockers played Sydney Swans in a game which would determine who would be playing Hawthorn in the grand final the following week. Literally the clubs biggest game in their history at that point so the game was sold out and 50,000 people got to see me make an ass out of myself and it was humbling how much the Dockers supporters loved it. But more importantly the Dockers smashed the Swans and were headed for their first ever Grand Final.

Being the Dockers fan I am, there was no chance in hell we were missing out on seeing the Dockers play in their first Grand Final. I had cousin’s overseas who cut their holiday short to make it back in time for the Grand Final. It was such an amazing experience heading over for the grand final, and thanks to the film I was a bit of a star amongst Dockers supporters. I was flying over with my dad and at the same time One Direction were flying in and all these young preteen girls were waiting for them with signs and screaming for One Direction. I’m chilling with my dad waiting to board our flight and a family of Dockers fans came over and asked for a photo. All of these young preteen girls were looking at me with a confused look on their face wondering who I was and while they were distracted by me, One Direction walked past the crowd of fans with out any of them noticing.

The morning after we arrived in Melbourne we went straight to the Grand Final Parade which is one of the biggest events of the AFL Grand Final week. All the fans line the street to watch the two competing teams drive through the streets of Melbourne and ends with a big speech on the government steps and the captains of each club holding the trophy in front of their screaming fans. When the event finished all the Dockers fans turned to walk away and saw me in the street. Everyone stopped to shake my hand and to get photos, treating me like a full blown celebrity, even a girl who I had a crush on in High school asked me for a photo and I got to experience all this with my family watching. It was a very surreal and amazing experience to say the least.

The next day was the Grand Final, all the Dockers fans met at Federation Square before the game so we could march to the Melbourne Cricket Ground like soldiers marching to war. It was a sight that Melbourne people have never seen by an interstate club, which made me incredibly proud to be a Dockers fan. Being apart of the film, Dockers fans continued to stop and cheer me as we all marched to the MCG.

When we got to the MCG I was starting to get anxious for the game, my cousins could see me becoming more anxious, which is why they started screaming out "Look it’s the Unsung Docker” every 5 minutes. I had Dockers fans lining up to get a photo with me and then Hawthorn supporters and famous AFL commentators would walk past with a look on their face like “Who the fuck is this guy”

The Dockers ended up losing the Grand Final and we headed to the Dockers after party which felt more like a wake. After the Dockers lost the game I also found out that we also finished fourth in the film competition behind the Essendon Bombers who got the fucking Janoskians to pump out their film amongst their fans and got their views up with comments like “I’m only here because I like the Janoskians” (I’m still bitter about it). In one afternoon I managed to see my favourite team lose the ultimate prize and have my payment for the film pinched from me by some shit head kids, it was a rough way to end what was otherwise a truly amazing experience.

I wasn’t too disappointed though, the film helped me get an acting agent in Sydney which has lead to some amazing acting opportunities. I’ll share some more stories down the track. The Dockers unfortunately haven’t made it to another Grand Final since 2013, but hopefully one day I’m at the right bar at the right time to have a drink with the new president of the Dockers and we can get the wheels moving on The Unsung Docker 2

youtube

#afl #fremantle #fremantledockers #films #youtube #shortfilms #comedy #standupcomedy #careers #acting #lucky #drinking #rottnestisland #perth

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davidmann95 · 5 years

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So, what's the deal with Kingdom Hearts? I mean, it's a Disney/Final Fantasy crossover, right? Hard to see why would that cause such dedicated whatever.

I’ve had this in my drafts for a while, and given today’s the series’ 17th anniversary it seems like the time to finally get back and finish it. Simple answer: the music slaps and you just want the soft children to get to go home.

Long answer: Even now people joke about the baseline absurdity of a universe in which Donald Duck can go toe-to-toe with Cloud, and while I think 17 years in we’re past the point where it’s time to accept that this is just a part of the landscape for these characters, yes, that does remain objectively bonkers. It’s not a natural, intuitive combination like your JLA/Avengers, this is Mortal Kombat vs. DC Universe-level “well, I suppose they both exist in…the, uh, medium of visual storytelling” stuff, other than I suppose that they both tend towards fantasy in this case. And then that whole wacko premise got hijacked by Tetsuya Nomura for an extended epoch-spanning drama driven by labyrinthine, (occasionally literal) dream logic mythology where it’s genuinely impossible to tell at this point what’s being thrown in by the seat of the creators’ pants and what was planned out since day one, pretty much casting aside the franchises that were in theory the main appeal as relevant parts of the plot even as you still hang out with Baymax from Big Hero 6. Step back even a touch, and there will always be a whiff of derangement about the entire affair - it’s simply baked in at this point.

My controversial opinion however: it’s actually good. There are structural issues and awkward moments and aspects ill-served, I’d never deny that, but even diehard lifelong Kingdom Hearts fans tend towards prefacing appreciation with at least two or three levels of irony and self-critique. I suppose it’s in part a response to the general reaction to it I mentioned before, but no, I absolutely think these are genuinely good, ambitious stories build on a foundation that’s still holding strong. An important note in service of that point: Winnie the Pooh, maybe Hercules, and with III Toy Story aside, I have basically zero childhood nostalgia for any of the properties involved. Wasn’t a huge Disney kid outside maybe very very early childhood, and only dabbled with Final Fantasy after the fact (still intend to play through XV someday though). It won me over young, yes, but on its own.

The building blocks help: the characters designs are great, the individual Disney settings in their platonic representations of various locales and landscapes make perfect towns packed with quirky locals to roam through on your quest, the Final Fantasy elements are tried and tested for this sort of thing, the original worlds each have their own unique aesthetics and touchstones and come out lovely, by my estimation the gameplay’s fun adventure/slasher stuff even if it’s had ups and downs over the years, the actors largely bring it, it all looks pretty, and as noted, the score is as good as it gets. They’re games that look, sound, and play good made up of component parts that unify into a sensible whole. And for me, the scope and convolution of the plot that so many leap at as the easy target - with its memory manipulations and replicas and time travel and ancient prophecies and possessions and hearts grown from scratch and universes that live in computers and storybooks and dreams - is half the appeal; I live for that kind of nonsense. Not that folks aren’t justified as hell in taking jabs at it, but I’ll admit I often quietly raise an eyebrow when I see the kind of people I tend to follow having an unironic laugh at it given *gestures toward the last 40 years of superhero comics*.

All that through is ultimately window dressing. The most powerful appeal of Kingdom Hearts is I suppose hidden if you’re going by commercials and isolated GIFs and whatnot, and even the bulk of the content of the average Disney world, charming as they are. It’s deceptively easy to pick out something else as the fundamental appeal too; even if I’d call them incredibly well-executed examples of such the character archetypes it deals in are relatively broad, and while it handles the necessary shifts in its tone from fanciful Disney shenanigans to apocalyptic cosmic showdowns for the heart of all that is with incredible skill - and that might be its most unique aspect, and certainly a critical one - a lot of that comes down to raw technical ability on the part of the writers, appropriate dramatic buildup, and demarcation between environments and acts of the story.

The real heart of the matter, to speak to my typical audience, is that Kingdom Hearts in a profound way resembles 1960s Superman comics and stories inspired by the same: it’s 90% dopey lovely cornball folk tale stuff, until every now and again it spins around and sucker punches you in the goddamn soul with Extremely Real Human Shit. Except here instead of being lone panels and subtext, it builds and builds throughout each given adventure until it takes over and flips for the finale from fairytale to fantasy epic.

That can probably be credited directly to Final Fantasy creator Hironobu Sakaguchi suggesting to Tetsuya Nomura to try treating this weird gig seriously instead of as the licensed cash-in it seemed destined to be, since if this didn’t have a soul the target audience would recognize it. But in spite of that seriousness, it’s perhaps its most joyfully mocked aspect in its entirely unselfconscious dedication to making Hearts and Feelings and Light and/or Darkness the most important things in the universe that lets it do what it does. It’s childish in the most primal way, absolutely, but what that translates to is that there aren’t cosmic or personal stakes that swap places as major or subsidiary at any given point, because in this world they’re always literally the same thing. There’s no major relationship where the fate of a primal power or a last chance at salvation doesn’t ultimately hang in the balance depending on how it shakes out, and there’s no prophecy or ultimate weapon or grand scheme that doesn’t have direct, fundamental ramifications on the life of an innocent or the memories that define them or whether they’ll ever be able to find a place to call home. ‘Hearts’ is an all-encompassing theme, whether in strength of will or redemption or questions of personhood or the ties that bind us, and by making it a literal source of power, it lends personal dimension to the unfathomable universal and the grand weight of destiny to whether or not someone can come to terms with who they want to be or apologize to those they’ve wronged. It’s a world where emotional openness and personal growth ultimately works the same way and achieves the same results as doing calisthenics in five hundred times Earth’s gravity does in Dragon Ball. and it’s tender and exuberant and thoughtful enough where it counts to take advantage of that as a storytelling engine.

That’d be why Sora works so well as the main character, because he straddles the line most directly between those poles. He may stand out as a spiky anime boy when actually next to Aladdin and the rest, but when it comes down to it he’s a Disney character, just a really nice, cheeky, dopey kid who wants to hang out with his friends and go on an adventure and believes in people really really hard. As the stranger in a strange land he’s a tether to a wider, sometimes more somber and weighty world when he’s sticking his head into the movie plots, but when he’s in the midst of stacked-up conspiracies and mythic wars that make all seem lost, he’s the one whose concerns remain purely, firmly rooted in the lives of those connected to him. Other characters get to go out there into bleak questions of self-identity or forgiveness, but while he might wrestle with doubt and fear Sora’s the guy who holds the ship steady and reminds all these classic heroes and flawed-yet-resolute champions and doomed Chosen Ones what they’re fighting for by just being a really good dude.

Given superhero comics are my bread and butter it doesn’t come up much, but Kingdom Hearts is really about as foundational to the landscape of my imagination as Superman and company, and while 100% that’s in part because it came into my life early it didn’t take hold by chance. It manages its stakes and its drama in a way and on a scale unlike just about anything else I’ve ever seen (even prior to getting to the weird mythology stuff that’s so profoundly up my alley), and somehow the aesthetics and gameplay and dialogue and all the million and one details that needed to come together to facilitate that story joined together into something that’s become one of the most curious, beloved touchstones of its medium. It’s a small, lovely bastion of warmth and sincerity in a way that only feels more like a breath of fresh air with time, playing out over decades a bunch of kids’ journeys to try and find the people they love most and help them and go home together when everything in the universe seems to be against them. It’s special in ways that will for me always be unique and meaningful, and I’m glad it seems to have plenty more in it before it’s through.

And seriously THAT MUSIC.

#Kingdom Hearts #Sora #Analysis #Opinion

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tisfan · 5 years

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Title: From Russia with Purrs Square: A3 - FREE SQUARE Warning: no animals were actually harmed in the writing of this fic Rating: Gen Pairing: Peter Parker & Ned Leeds / background Bucky/Tony Summary: Spider-Man doesn’t always get called in to help with the Avengers stuff, but when Peter is given a special, urgent mission from the Winter Soldier, he needs to call in backup Link: A03 Word Count: 2505 For @tonystarkbingo

The spidey-sense was a bitch, really. Bad enough all his senses were cranked up to eleven and a half, but then he was on edge constantly for the first year, or more. Spidey-sense wasn’t common sense. It wasn’t directional. About half the time it wasn’t even useful. Had him ducking spitballs by diving to the floor like there was an lone shooter on school grounds.

Not that Peter didn’t already have a rep for being a bit of a spaz, and at a school for top academics, that was saying a lot. There were many ways to bully people, and shoving them into lockers was only for the most uncreative.

Which did mean, after the first year or so, he got sort of… used to it. The spidey-sense tingling didn’t have him bolting upright out of bed at three in the morning to cling to the ceiling like a terrified bat.

Usually he woke up long enough to blink at his clock, pause a moment to see if whatever it was actually planned to break through his window, and then went back to sleep.

Not this time.

His skin rippled and electric jolts went up and down his spine. Spidey-sense was like licking a nine-volt. Not painful, but impossible to endure for long, and freaky-weird on top of that.

Rap-rap-rap.

Peter rubbed at his eyes. “I swear,” he muttered, pushing himself up from his bed, “if I’m getting danger signals because there’s a pigeon at my window, I’m going to hurt someone.”

(more below the cut)

He reached under his bed and grabbed one of his spare web-slingers. Not one of the fancy things that Mr. Stark had set up for him with five hundred and seventy-six possible combinations, but the regular old one. Because he was tired and he was pretty sure it was a pigeon, but he wasn’t sure, so--

Rap-rap-rap.

Peter was just peeking through the blinds when a hand shoved his window up. A metal hand, with black and gold fingers. A moment later, the blinds shifted aside and there was a man in his bedroom.

A familiar man.

“Hey, aren’t--”

“Hush, kid,” the guy said in a deep, smoky sort of voice. The kind that spies used in meetings with their contacts.

“Aren’t you the Winter Soldier?” Peter hissed, excitable. Better to keep his voice down, though. Aunt May would completely freak out if there was a superhero in his room. Especially one that had been wanted for war crimes.

“Look, kid,” the Winter Soldier said. “Stark told me you could be trusted.”

“Mr. Stark said--” Peter squeaked. “Yeah, I mean, yeah, he… we do missions. Sometimes. Together. We’re a team. Partners. Like that.” He crossed his fingers. “You can trust me, yes sir.”

“Great,” the Winter Soldier said. “I need you to watch this cat for me.”

“What?”

The Winter Soldier reached outside onto the fire escape and brought in a cat carrier. It wasn’t an ordinary, plastic PetsWorld thing, either, but a fancy, modular box. Shiny and sleek and bearing the Stark Industries logo. “This is Alpine,” the Winter Soldier said. “Don’t let anything happen to this cat. I’ll be back in about a week.”

Peter looked into the carrier and saw a pair of blue eyes looking back at him.

“Okay--?”

The Winter Soldier was gone.

At least the multilayered cat carrier had come with supplies.

And the highest high-tech litter box Peter had ever seen, which was not saying a lot, because Peter had never lived in a rental that allowed pets, much less ever had one. Aside from a goldfish he’d won at the fair one time, but that had died within a week, and really, the less said about that, the better.

“You--” He told the cat, pointing at it, “--had better not die in a week.”

The cat came forward to sniff at his finger, and then brushed her head under his hand.

The Stark-Box came with a very fine layer of particles -- like crystals, really, in red and gold, because sure, why not, let the cat poop on the Iron Man colors. That was probably a bet that Mr. Stark had lost, or something. Or a joke that he didn’t want to know about -- and did a quick removal of feces or urine, put it in a little air-tight bag like they were on the International Space Station, as well as performed basic medical analysis on the output and sent a text to Peter’s phone, telling him that Alpine was in perfect health.

“What are you, some kind of spy cat?” He couldn’t imagine Mr. Stark going this far out of his way for a housepet.

There were also several tins of food, packets of a semi-soft food, and some hard kibble. There were feeding instructions and an admonishment to water the cat (that also went directly to his phone and he wondered if there was some sort of bluetooth connection and onboard computer in the Stark Carrier.

There were enrichment activities -- including a miniature of Cap’s shield that zoomed around the room under its own power and Alpine chased it a few times before batting it into Peter’s laundry basket where it stayed, buzzing fitfully, until Peter put it away.

A cat brush that Alpine turned her nose up at, and proceeded to attack his hand when he tried to use it. “Well, I went a week last year without brushing my hair-- don’t look at me like that, it was finals -- and it didn’t hurt me, so you’ll probably be okay.”

Alpine turned around and curled into a ball on Peter’s bed and went to sleep.

Which was great until Peter considered the fact that it was now four in the morning, he’d spent the last two hours poking and playing with the Winter Soldier’s cat, and he still had school in the morning.

And the cat… was laying in his bed. In the center of his bed. Where he wanted to sleep.

He poked her a few times. “Get up, that’s my sleeping spot.”

She ignored him.

Peter sighed, considered moving her. She opened one blue eye and gave him a Look.

Psychic cat, maybe?

“Ug, whatever.” He slung a web hammock and climbed in. He’d slept in worse places.

“You look like crap,” Ned said, sliding into the desk next to Peter. “Busy night crime fighting, rescuing stolen bikes? Giving directions? Oh, oh, I know, stopped a mugging?”

“Cat.”

“What?”

“I have a cat,” Peter explained, through a yawn. “The Winter Soldier showed up and left me a cat. A special cat.”

“Like, a lion? Or a radioactive housecat? Do you think if it bit me, I might get powers?”

Peter almost laughed.

Almost.

“I don’t think so?” Peter opened his textbook and turned to the page the teacher required. “I don’t know, he didn’t say much, just that it was important, and--”

“Mr. Parker, is there something you’d like to share with the class, or can I get on with our history lesson?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Peter said. “Go on, it’s fascinating.”

“Sarcasm, dude,” Ned hissed at him.

He waited until the teacher turned away again. “So, come over and help me out?”

“With a cat?”

“Dude, you have pets, I need advice! Help!”

“I have sea monkeys that I ordered from a comic book,” Ned said, with vast patience. “That’s not exactly the same as keeping a mutant cat under control.”

“She’s not a mutant,” Peter said, “at least I don’t think so. I don’t know, maybe she’s housing nano-tech or something. Just come over and help me out, okay?”

“Mutant nanotech cat,” Ned said. “And yet, somehow, this seems like work.”

“You’re the one who wanted to be a hero, pal,” Peter told him.

“Guy in the chair, Peter,” Ned corrected. “Q to your Bond.”

“Why is your room covered in webs?”

“She keeps knocking stuff off the shelves.”

“Really? Like that’s an actual thing, I thought it was just a meme,” Ned said.

“Sure, sit something there-- just on the edge of the desk.”

Ned pulled out his cellphone and put it on the side of Peter’s desk.

“Now come over here, so you don’t scare her,” Peter told him.

And sure enough a few seconds later, Alpine hopped up onto the desk. Sat next to the phone.

And knocked it on the floor.

Alpine was strong, Peter discovered. After pushing over Ned’s phone, a pile of algebra books, the casing for Peter’s old computer, a few dumbell weights that he’d used back before the spider bite and rarely even thought about now…

“This cat can push fifty pounds,” Ned said in awe. “Maybe it’s got the super soldier serum in it!”

Peter scoffed. “I can pick up an eighty-thousand pound cargo truck.” For a few seconds, at any rate, and really, it was more like he caught it. And it had kinda knocked him on his ass. A bit. But Ned didn’t need to know that.

“Well, not everyone can be Spider-Man,” Ned said, philosophically.

“Peter, you need to be -- are you listening to me?”

“Yes, Aunt May, “ Peter said, grabbing a bag of granola from the drawer and emptying into his mouth, chewing like a chipmunk. The worst thing about the whole Spider-Man gig was how he was always freaking hungry, no matter how much he ate. And he knew they couldn’t afford it. MJ had gone on a tear a few months ago about a diet that the goal was SNATT -- slightly nauseated all the time -- to obtain the perfect beach body.

One time his stomach had growled in biology so loudly that the whole class turned to stare, and Peter had said he was doing the kimkins diet. Almost everyone had stopped worrying about it, then, except for MJ, who started bringing him articles about eating disorders.

“--you need to be more careful about leaving your window open. There was a cat in your room.”

Slightly nauseated all the time.

The granola turned into a rock in his stomach. “So--” casually, casually “--where’s the cat now?” And how the heck hadn’t she noticed the cat box and food and litter if Aunt May was in his room?

“Her owner came and got her,” May said, blithely unaware that she was single handedly destroying Peter’s entire existence. “Nice man. Michael-- what did he say his last name was? I don’t remember. He said he saw her in your window, and came over to get her. I said we didn’t have a cat here, he must be mistaken, but when I opened the door to your room, she ran right to him. Says she’s his companion animal -- suffers from a rare blood disorder and she can smell it when he needs to medicate. That’s so smart, you know, having an animal that can do that.”

Morbius.

His aunt was less than six feet away from someone who drank human blood? Peter just about swooned.

“Peter, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I mean, you know, cat. In my room. I should go check and make sure she didn’t leave any presents.”

Aunt May made a fair enough sort of shrug and Peter bolted, leaving the rest of his snack on the kitchen counter. Threw on the spider-suit, stashed the Stark KatCaddy in his closet, and was out the window in a moment.

“Now, aside from a castle, if I was a nasty old vampire with a cat that I wanted for some reason, where would I go?”

Alchemex.

Alpine was, of all crazy things, asleep in Peter’s lap. He’d webbed her twice trying to get her back from Morbius, she’d spent half the day with a crazy vampire, and then she’d taken a trip across the city via the spider-street.

That she was curled up in his lap, absently kneading his thigh and purring little cute snores while she slept was…

“This cat is something else,” Peter said. He scratched between her ears and she opened up one eye to peer at him, then mewed softly and went back to sleep.

“So, like a mutant cat?”

“Well, no,” Peter said. “I’m not sure. Morbius thought she might have been injected with the super soldier serum. He was planning to drain all her blood and analyze it, with the idea of making a cure for himself.”

“A vampire who wants a cure,” Ned said. “Why is he a bad guy again? I mean, if I was a vampire who could go out in the day time, I’d go to high school every day and be cool and broody. Like Twilight.”

“Ned, you do go to high school every day,” Peter pointed out.

“Oh, right, yeah…”

Spidey sense didn’t wake him up.

The knocking on his window did, though.

Peter groaned. “What’s the matter with you? Can’t you just come by during normal daytime hours?” He shoved the window up to let the Winter Soldier in.

“You look tired, kid,” the Winter Soldier said.

“Yeah, well, your super cat’s like super useless,” Peter said. “Three villains, two nights of knocking all my stuff on the floor, one day of puking on my bed, and a partridge in a pear tree. Does she have any abilities, because you should totally train her up some.”

“Villains?”

“Dude, your cat got catnapped -- and not like in the cute, sleeping in my lap way -- four times. Twice by Morbius, who either wants to drink her blood or test it or something.”

The Winter Soldier’s eyebrows went up and his face took on murderous intent.

“Look, I got her back, everything’s cool, you do not have to get Cap to drop another 18-wheeler on me,” Peter said. “Everything’s perfectly fine right now, we’re all fine here, how are you?”

“I’m still stuck on villains,” the Winter Soldier admitted. “What’d you do, take out an ad in th’ papers that you were cat sitting?”

“I don’t know how Morbius knew,” Peter admitted, “but once the Sinister Six saw that Spider-Man was rescuing a cat, they decided the cat had to be important for some reason, I guess.”

“Well, shit, kid,” the Winter Soldier said. “I didn’t think that would happen. I just-- Tony… last minute--”

“You had a mission?”

“I had a vacation,” the Winter Soldier said. “Vacation. I love the sound of that word. Va-caaaay-shun.” The Winter Soldier rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck and --was that a hickey?

“I thought you had healing factor,” Peter said, “so-- who-- I mean, how har-- you know what, don’t answer that. You had a good vacation, that’s all I need to know, it is not my business if Mr. Stark was gnawing on your neck like a starving vampire, we have enough vampires around here, that’s all perfectly normal and fine.”

The Winter Soldier laughed. “Somethin’ like that, kid,” he said. “Sorry about the trouble, though. She wouldn’t have liked a kennel and I jus’ didn’t have anywhere else to take her, to someone I trusted.”

“You know what, Mr. Winter Soldier, sir, any time,” Peter said.

#tonystarkbingo2019 #bingo fills #Alpine the cat #Peter Parker & Ned Leeds #background WinterIron if you squint #no animals were harmed in the writing of this fic

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thotyssey · 6 years

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On Point With: Peaches Christ

A trailblazer of San Francisco drag and a prolific director of stage and screen horror-camp to boot, Peaches Christ is one of those nightlife warriors that have shaped (and continues to shape!) our culture. On the eve of her performance in the New York revival of the Wigstock festival, Thotyssey is honored to take in the Teaches of Peaches.

Thotyssey: Ms. Christ, what an honor to speak with you! So as of this writing, where are you and what are you looking at right now?

Peaches Christ: I am in Provincetown, looking at this computer screen and just behind it an almost full moon sitting over the beautiful bay.

You are of course one of the legendary queens of the western hemisphere! What is the biggest thing that has changed about drag since you first began, for better or for worse?

I think the biggest change is that back when I started, drag wasn't coo--not for gays or straights, or really anyone. It was gritty and underground, and our audiences were truly niche. It's been incredible to see how popular drag has become over the years.

Bianca Del Rio recently caught heat for making a “rape joke…” Is it dumb for audiences to be offended by jokes made by a drag queen, or should queens be a little more mindful of what they say or do on stage?

Hmmm... I'd say that if you're going to buy a ticket to see a Bianca Del Rio show, you should know that she's an insult comic with a wicked tongue and no boundaries. One of her tours was even called "Rolodex Of Hate.” I mean, hate and being rotten are what made her so successful--it's her brand. So if you buy a ticket and then she makes an off-color offensive joke and you're surprised by that, or it upsets you--well, then that's dumb.

How does San Francisco drag differ from the drag of other cities?

I think probably the biggest difference is that because we're children of the Cockettes, we've been a drag community that's been inclusive of bearded drag, cis women doing drag, straight people doing drag, trans folks doing drag since the late 60's. I hear about other drag communities where these concepts are still considered controversial, and it sounds so different from San Francisco because all of this has been normal in the drag world for over 40 years now.

You first developed Peaches after appearing in a drag role for your student thesis film Jizzmopper: A Love Story! Will Jizzmopper be hailed a masterpiece by film historians in the near or distant future?

Nope!

You also directed a bona fide cult classic horror campy comedy, All About Evil starring Natasha Lyonne and Cassandra “Elvira” Peterson! What’s directing a feature like, and will there be more in the future?

I'd say directing a movie is really similar to when I direct a stage show. It's all about storyteling and working with a big team to tell the best story possible. I loved making All About Evil, and am hoping to get to direct a new feature called Slay Gardens that will star Jinkx Monsoon and myself.

I was watching clips from Mommie Queerest, a live stage parody of Mommie Dearest you did with Heklina at her club The Oasis. You’ve written and performed in many such parodies throughout your whole career, and these are huge productions! It must all be very time-consuming.

I have so much fun doing what I do for a living that I sometimes forget how time consuming it all is. I feel really blessed I get to do what I love.

youtube

Where can we most likely see you in San Francisco these days?

My shows are almost always at the historic Castro Theatre now. Although, I'm producing my first ever giant haunted attraction called "Terror Vault" that will happen at the (also historic) San Francisco Mint.

So, thrilling news! You’ll be front and center for the Wigstock revival, courtesy of Lady Bunny & Neil Patrick Harris! It’s Labor Day in NYC, and you’ll be on stage with Heklina and New York legacy queens like Shequida and Sherry Vine, plus amazing up and coming NY stars and some Drag Race stars as well! Who are you most excited to see?

Wow, I'm just so excited to see so many old friends all in one place. But I'm a really big fan of Sugga Pi Koko and am really looking forward to seeing her performance.

What do you think you’re going to do… a lip sync, a parody, a spoken word piece?

Bunny asked Heklina and I to do a little mini-Roast of some of the girls, so we'll be doing a spoken word thing.

Will you be doing anything else in NYC, drag related?

Sadly, no! I'm literally getting on a goddamn bus in Provincetown at 5am on Saturday morning with a bunch of clowns (Jinkx, Varla, Liza Lott, etc.), and then driving straight to NYC to do Wigstock... and then they're putting us back on the bus when the show is over and are sending us back to Ptown.

Okay, final question… Cynthia “Miranda” Nixon is running for governor of New York. Should we vote for her?

YES!

Thank you, Peaches!

Peaches Christ is a San Francisco-based queen. Follow her gigs there on her social media: Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, YouTube and her website. And check Thotyssey’s calendar for any upcoming NYC appearances.

On Point Archives

#onpointwith #peacheschrist

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dailyfeartwdgifs · 7 years

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‘Fear The Walking Dead’ Exiting Co-Creator On ‘TWD’ Crossover & The Finale

“My personal feeling is that the story is strong enough in Fear, that we could have easily have continued for another two seasons, without the need for the crossover,” says departing Fear The Walking Dead co-creator and showrunner of the upcoming crossover with The Walking Dead that Robert Kirkman made public at New York Comic-Con on October 7.

Pivoting toward a fourth season that Ian Goldberg and Andrew Chambliss will run, with longtime TWD showrunner Scott M. Gimple now joining Fear as an EP, the Canterbury’s Law creator offered his own theories about the highly-hyped crossover, the drawbacks, why now and which character could provide the bridge. With the eighth season and 100th episode of TWD set to debut on October 22, Erickson delved into how Fear reset itself after a wayward Season 2, what’s next and how they got Avatar sequel-bound Cliff Curtis to return for tonight’s finale.

DEADLINE: So, looks like Madison survived but Strand, Alicia and maybe Nick and Daniel are either drowned or in little bits after the dam blew up?

ERICKSON: Well, if I were doing Season 4, I could say safely that they’re not dead, but I’m not. So, the suggestion that Alicia’s dead, and that we actually see her grave in the flash forward fantasy sequence, yeah, that’s really all from Madison’s POV, and sort of her worst-case scenario. So, everything we see, and all the suggestions that we have in that, it’s Madison drowning, it’s Madison in her death throes. I’d say just because we don’t see Alicia or Strand, don’t assume that they didn’t get to shore in the same way that Madison did.

DEADLINE: And Daniel and Nick, they were right at Ground Zero, so to speak. No?

ERICKSON: I think they’re a little bit safer because we wanted Daniel to arrive in that moment, and the suggestion being that Daniel can now drag Nick away if need be. I think Nick was ready to go. I think if the dam fully collapsed, he was not going to move because in the final moments he’s too worried, and he’s too — you know — desperate to see what happened to Madison and Alicia because he’s staring down at them as they’re drawn into the cataract. That said, I’m not sure what the guys are going to do.

DEADLINE: With your departure from running Fear announced back in the early spring and now seeing this two-part, two-hour finale, it feels like you were doubling down for what could have really been a series finale, with that last “Hola” the child says to the gasping but alive Madison by the waterside…

ERICKSON: I will say, it was an interesting balancing act because as we got closer to the end of Season 3, the more I got in, the closer I got to the end, the more I could imagine how Season 4 would manifest. You know, and there were suggestions, obviously, I think that Proctor John is a character that I would love to see explored more.

But also — and I think the finale shows this — I wanted to have a sense closure for myself. It was important to explore the emotionality connected to the violence, and the moral choices that Madison’s made as a character and that Nick and Alicia have made. Still, I still think there’s enough of an open-endedness to it, and I think that allows for Scott, Andy, and Ian to do whatever they want.

DEADLINE: Speaking of whatever they want, what about this long-awaited crossover that Kirkman made official at New York Comic-Con last week? If you were around running Fear for another year, who would you have the crossover character be if it came from this show?

ERICKSON: God, in terms of the crossover character? I have no idea. Honestly, your guess is as good as mine.

I do think it’s an interesting challenge. I think it’s something that the audience, the fans are definitely going to lean into until they reveal how they’re going to manage it. I also think the larger challenge logistically, and we’ve always talked about this beginning in Season 1, is from a narrative standpoint and from a timeline standpoint. And a geographic standpoint, it’s tricky too. How do you bridge that?

One of the things that I hope we’ve accomplished over the past three seasons is that we’ve created a show that’s totally specific. We live within the larger universe, and we have to abide by its rules. But that we have a look, and a tone, and a feel that’s valid unto itself. That to me is a challenge because I think you have to now find a balance between the two different tones. Then you have to figure out the narrative and the aspects of how do you get one character thousands of miles, from point A to point B.

DEADLINE: Well, there is this notion that Season 4 will see Fear at least somewhat located in Houston and we know that’s part of Michael Cudliz’s Abraham Ford journey into the world of TWD – he even tweeted a teaser of sorts after the crossover announcement was made…

ERICKSON: Look, that city is a happy coincidence. The idea of Texas really came from the Proctor John character, nothing more planned there.

DEADLINE: I’m not sure I think anything is a coincidence in this franchise, but with all the clambering for a crossover ever since Feardebuted, do you worry, that now with one finally in the cards, it will take away from the singularity of Fear as well as provide greater stakes and a ratings surge?

ERICKSON: Not necessarily. I think it’s going to be a big turn, and it’s going to be something that’s going to pique interest. I think that it’s definitely something that’s going to juice ratings. There’s a lot of reasons why you’d want to approach it this way.

My personal feeling is that the story is strong enough in Fear, that we could have easily continued for another two seasons, without the need for the crossover. But that said, I don’t know how that’s going to manifest. It could be something more amazing than anything I have imagined. So, I don’t know that it taints it. I just think that it’s an interesting narrative challenge. You know, it’s a lot to juggle, but I’m sure that Scott and Robert have a good line on it.

DEADLINE: With that in the future, looking back over three seasons of Fear, what are you most proud of as co-creator and showrunner?

ERICKSON: I think you just spoke to it. I mean, the thing I’m most proud of is this sense that we arrived at a place where the show justified itself. I think that Season 2, if I could go back and change anything, I think it’d be a lot less boat and a lot more Mexico. I think if we would have arrived, and sort of grounded and anchored ourselves in Mexico sooner, the first half of Season 2 was far more episodic than I think that I am comfortable with. I also think that we didn’t allow ourselves enough story.

DEADLINE: No boat jokes but you clearly changed course in Season 3 …

ERICKSON: Thanks. My intention, going into this season, was to adjust off of mistakes in Season 2 and try to put the show in as strong a place as I could. So from that perspective, I think we did that, and I feel like we’ve got a rhythm that we’ve really started to find as a show, and as a story.

DEADLINE: Sounds bittersweet with you exiting…

ERICKSON: That’s the bittersweet part because I do feel like I have got a pretty good line on what Season 4 might be. It’s hard to cut the cord, and walk away from that, you know.

DEADLINE: Talking of walking way, in a way, we saw a glimpse of Cliff Curtis’ Travis in one of Madison’s death hallucinations that weaved throughout tonight’s finale. Will he back again and how did you pull him out of James Cameron’s schedule?

ERICKSON: (Laughs) I doubt it because the character’s definitely dead, and also, I think he’s going to be hanging out with Mr. Cameron for the next 17 years, shooting four movies.

In terms of schedule, it was just a phone call. I mean, Cliff was a full-time member of the show. So, he was available pretty much for the run of the season. I called him and sort of explained what it is we wanted to do, He definitely had started production, I think he had some prep stuff that he was doing for Avatar, but he was around. So, it was an email, a phone call, and a plane ticket.

DEADLINE: [...] as your Fear chapter closes, how are you feeling, what are you missing?

ERICKSON: I feel good about it. I mean, look, like I said, it’s bittersweet. I mean I am going to miss the busyness. I am going to miss the sort of the all-consuming aspects of the gig.

I was very lucky. I mean, it’s an amazing cast and an amazing crew. I’ve got friends. I’ve got people I’m hopefully going to stay in contact with the rest of my career, and hopefully, you know, and hopefully beyond. And Andrew Bernstein’s our producing director, who’s an amazing talent, and an amazing guy. You know, I talked to Kim this morning. Coleman Domingo took my parents out for dinner because he’s directing a play in Boston, and got to spend time with them. You know, it’s rare to find a group of people who are as talented as these folks are, but are also just really decent, good, kind people.

It’s humbling, you know. So, it’s been a really good run, and I think I learned a lot, Now, I’ll take those things I’ve learned, and apply them, hopefully, for whatever the next show is.

#ftwd #fear the walking dead #season 3 #spoilers #dave erickson #interview #article #news #deadline #aheartfulloflexa #camila #read everything you guys #it's pretty interesting

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anneshirlei · 7 years

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Stydia + art school AU?

This is going to be an all arts school, not just only visual art.

Lydia is an art major and Stiles is a music major. He has a band formed by Stiles (drummer), Kira (lead singer), Scott (guitar), Isaac (bass/ sometimes guitar) and Danny (key board and bass player as well). Lydia, Malia and Allison are an art, dance and photography major, respectively.

They meet because Malia is dating the lead singer of Wolf Pack, Kira, a smol cute who is so different from Malia so the girls are dying to meet her. Malia takes them to a gig the band is having to see Kira.

They are only able to meet her after the show, so the girls get a good spot in to watch them, and they’re drinking and dancing and having a good time and the cute drummer and Lydia are totally eye-fucking. So hard. Getting to a point where she’s drinking her fruity drink and sucking the straw that actually makes Stiles miss a beat or five.

After the show, Malia takes them backstage to meet her girlfriend. They all love her and she’s so smol, Lydia and Allison can’t get enough of her. And then she introduces them to the band and the drummer (oh, the drummer) is there. He chokes on his beer when he sees her (and Isaac obviously is like “Wow, calm down Stiles, they won’t bite you) and Lydia answers “Only if he wants to” and like, Stiles basically dies

The bad and the girls hang out the rest of the night (Malira making out 80% of the time, Allison and Scott talking and playing darts and Lydia, Stiles, Isaac and Danny are in a very heated pool game)

Lydia is destroying all of them. Danny is not surprised at all, Isaac is regretting for betting so much money and Stiles loves it because he knows he sucks on the game but it’s so hot

When she finishes them (taking a lot of money with her), she and Stiles start to talk and get along so well, even though they’re drunk af and prob won’t remember the next day

It takes them a few weeks to get back in touch. Lydia and Stiles hadn’t had a chance to talk more because of classes and life, but things change when Lydia needs a model for her next project. The problem is that it’s a naked project and most people she asked said no

obviously i was going to the ‘naked pose au’ bc how couldn’t I?

But Kira, who’s in their place a lot, tells that Stiles would prob do it bc he needs the cash since his job pays poorly. Lydia gives him a call and he agrees, setting up to meet her that weekend.

For some reason he thinks the naked thing is a joke????? so when he meets her to help her do the project and she asks to take off his clothes, his mind goes in a total different direction???????

“Don’t you think we should go a little slower?” he asks, but Lydia shrugs and says “Hm... No, I have something tonight, so this needs to be quick”

I mean... Stiles is just... so clueless.

He takes his clothes off and looks at her, waiting for her to do the same, but she doesn’t. She just... looks at him. He feels a little weird about it because he thinks none of his hook ups ever examined him like that. After a while (Lydia surely took her time looking at the end of his happy trail) she nods and Stiles just.. walks towards her and tries to kiss her.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing??????????”“Um... kissing you?”“Why?”“.... I don’t know, isn’t what people do before having sex?”

Lydia blinks twice just looking at him. He’s so confused. Then she says “... We’re not having sex. I’m here to pain you. Naked.”

STILES IS SO EMBARRASSED. He doesn’t know what the fuck to do. He wishes that Scott is there to rescue him. Or that the earth could pull him into it’s center and let him die of embarrassment. And Lydia sees how he wants to die but she sighs and look at his face “Look, do you want to do this? Because I really need that grade and you’re getting paid, so..”

And Stiles is mortified, but he does need the money so he lets her paint him but refuses to look at her for his life. Not that she minds, because she’s also not looking at his face at all. And for some time they think it’s fine like that, but the atmosphere is so tense, so awkward and Stiles hates it so much. So he opens his mouth.

Like, comic relief is really his thing.

“Are you painting me like one of your French girls?”

i swear if you do not get this reference, unfollow me, please

Lydia stops. She looks at him. He’s with his brows raised, looking at her waiting for her response. And she notices he’s trying to make the mood lighter, so she cracks a smile, making him relax.

They spend the rest of the afternoon chatting and flirting when she finishes, he gets dressed and checks out her work. It’s amazing. She draw him perfectly, every single part of his body looks authentic, she even got his moles in his face and the res of the body. It’s kinda weird seeing him exposed like that but she did an amazing job.

“I’m sorry I assumed we’d have sex… I just… I thought that there was something going on when we met at the club, so…”“Oh, there was.”“Oh… oh” He truly doesn’t know what to say or do, so Lydia smiles at him. “But like I said, I have something tonight, so feel free to call me any time soon.”

Do I need to say that they end up fucking? Because I think it’s pretty self-explanatory.

#stydia headcanons #stydia #teen wolf #my hc #answered #i'm not very fond of this one but it was the best i could do #so #i hope you like it #frostedfleur

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thisisheffner · 4 years

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Pet Shop Boys: 'The acoustic guitar should be banned' | Music | The Guardian

The new Pet Shop Boys album is, they say, the third in a trilogy. Hotspot follows 2013’s Electric and 2016’s Super, all collaborations with producer Stuart Price, all examples of the duo’s return to “electronic purism” after a succession of albums where, as Neil Tennant puts it, they variously “pretended to be a rock band” (Release), “made a zany one with everything and the kitchen sink on it” (Yes) and “went to LA and made an album about being old” (Elysium).

“That was your big idea, being old,” says Tennant, nodding in the direction of his fellow Pet Shop Boy Chris Lowe, who is sitting alongside him on the sofa in a record company office in the City of London. “He explained that to our manager and she was absolutely aghast. She looked completely horrified.”

It is worth noting that in recent years the Pet Shop Boys have also written scores for Eisenstein’s 1925 silent film Battleship Potemkin and a ballet based on a Hans Christian Andersen fairytale (2011’s The Most Incredible Thing), as well as premiering A Man From the Future – a kind of pop oratorio based on the life of Alan Turing – at the Proms. They also provided the music for a theatrical adaptation of Stephen Frears’ film My Beautiful Laundrette and a one-woman Edinburgh festival show by actor Frances Barber, based on the character of Billie Trix, the washed-up pop star she played in the Pet Shop Boys’ 2001 musical Closer To Heaven. Its revival was also noticeably more successful than the critically savaged original production. “It was a very outrageous piece for 2001, loads of drugs in it, somebody dies,” notes Tennant. “Andrew Lloyd-Webber’s company produced it and I remember him saying: ‘Well, sorry guys, I guess it was a bit too much for everybody.’”

Set against this backdrop, the Electric/Super/Hotspot trilogy does seem like a return to what you might call Pet Shop Boys basics. They began their career in 1984, working with hi-NRG producer Bobby Orlando, transforming the predominant sound of the era’s gay clubs into a very British and brainy brand of pop music, shot through with a streak of social comment so subtly done that people frequently missed the point entirely. Thirty years of the duo patiently explaining that Opportunities (Let’s Make Lots of Money) was a satire of 80s excess doesn’t seem to have dimmed TV documentary directors’ enthusiasm for playing it in the background during footage of yuppies shouting into enormous mobile phones or spraying champagne; 1987’s Shopping was a withering portrait of London consumerism between the Big Bang and Black Monday, so shrewdly drawn you could imagine a City boy of the era banging the wheel of his Ferrari and bellowing along, oblivious to its real intent.

A lot has changed since 1984, though. For one thing, the Pet Shop Boys have sold 100m records. But while the vast majority of their 80s contemporaries have long been consigned to the nostalgia circuit or vanished entirely – “down the dumper,” as Tennant memorably put it while working as a journalist on Smash Hits – the Pet Shop Boys have become a kind of curious national institution. Still close enough to the heart of pop that younger stars flock to work with them – Hotspot features Olly Alexander of Years & Years, who, Tennant dryly notes, “is of a different generation to us, sings in a different style, more R&B, whereas Chris always says I sing like Julie Andrews” – and yet sufficiently highbrow that all the ballets and oratorios and scores for silent films feel like a natural fit rather than an affectation.

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The duo long ago reneged on their refusal to play gigs, although, as Tennant points out, his celebrated 80s line about how he “liked proving that we can’t cut it live” was meant as a joke, on account of their inability to make their grandiose plans for shows work financially – their first US tour was both a vast success and lost half a million pounds. Now, however, they are a reliably stadium-filling, festival-headlining act – a 25-date greatest hits tour of European arenas begins in May. It’s a state of affairs they seem to enjoy, but it’s not without its hiccups. “I announced I was going to retire,” sighs Tennant, “when we played a half-empty venue in Grimsby on my birthday in 2002.”

And yet here they are, in 2020, roughly where they were in 1984, occasional residents of Berlin (they own a flat in the city, its kitchen converted into a recording studio, complete with “a vocoder which we never use because I don’t know how to plug it in,” says Lowe), making music at least partly inspired by the city’s nightlife. They are regular visitors to its notoriously hedonistic techno mecca Berghain, although their approach to the club seems impressively genteel, as befits men in their 60s. “We go on Sunday lunchtimes,” smiles Tennant, “around 12 o’clock. We treat it as pre-lunch drinks – we go up to the Panorama Bar and have a glass of prosecco. You get the people who’ve been there all night, they’re absolutely twatted, but then there’s a fresh crowd coming in as well, and it’s a very interesting atmosphere. And it’s great to walk in from daylight on to the main dancefloor, which is completely dark, there’s just a kick drum playing four-to-the-floor, and it’s really, really exciting in an alienating way.”

If the duo’s penchant for satire seems less present on Hotspot, says Tennant, that’s because it was “siphoned off” on the 2019 EP Agenda, home to Give Stupidity a Chance and What Are We Going to Do About the Rich?, by some distance the angriest songs the Pet Shop Boys have ever recorded. “What was the reaction to them? Probably generally negative,” laughs Tennant. “I mean, if you’re doing something to wind people up and they get wound up, I suppose your job’s been done.”

In fact, a careworn song about the refugee crisis aside, the tone of Hotspot is often rather romantic. “Berlin’s quite a romantic place,” says Tennant. “People in Britain tend to think of Berlin, even now, as the wall and Bowie making ‘Heroes’. But it’s got 80 lakes in it, you can be in the countryside in 20 minutes, it’s such a beautiful place in the summer, you have pubs on the river. So that’s why I think it sounds warm and romantic.”

The duo are famously entertaining interviewees, Tennant’s background as a music journalist clear both in his theorising about “the discipline of the pop single” and an awareness of how things look in print. When talk turns to the current crop of earnest post-Ed Sheeran troubadours, he first, perhaps rashly, suggests: “I think the acoustic guitar should be banned, actually.” Then offers a headline for a feature based around that quote: “Pet Shop Boys Blast Lame Rock Rivals”.

Lowe, meanwhile, contrary to his public image – stony-faced and silent beneath an unending selection of preposterous hats – is drily funny about everything from his partner’s singing voice (“Neil is not from the gospel tradition, despite having been an altar boy”), to the Americanisation of British culture: “I can’t believe schools have started having prom dances. As if school isn’t bad enough anyway without a prom at the end of it. They never end well in films, do they? We’ve all seen Carrie.”

But nevertheless, an old-fashioned element of mystery and distance remains intact: what they do when they are not being the Pet Shop Boys remains largely unknown, their private lives off limits throughout their career. They don’t do social media, or rather they did, then reconsidered when they realised that it involved “interaction”, a word Tennant says with comic horror. “We were early adopters of Twitter,” says Lowe, “and early leavers. The only thing I liked about it was blocking people. I loved to block.”

“Chris,” smiles Tennant, “is the sort of person who, if he’d been a pop star in the 1970s, would have posted a turd to someone he didn’t like.”

They do feel a little out of place in the current pop climate’s obsession with authenticity and ordinariness (“authenticity is a style,” notes Tennant, “and it’s always the same style”), its lyrical penchant for what they waspishly term “narcissistic misery”.

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“We’re always looking for euphoria and excitement in music,” he says, “that sort of feeling we got the first time we heard Bobby O’s records, or Helter Skelter by the Beatles, or even She Loves You, going right back to being a child. That euphoric thing came back in with the rave scene in the 80s, but it isn’t really at the core of pop music now. Its context is social media; social media has actually created and defined the form of popular music and I think, unfortunately, that takes it down the narcissistic misery route. It doesn’t have the importance it once had, and that’s been the case for quite a while. It’s become a facet of social media. You know, everything we do, there’s people working out how to edit it down to 10 seconds, literally everything. I wonder what would happen now if you released Bohemian Rhapsody.”

Then again, says Tennant, they never did fit in. “When we started off we really did think we were going to create our own world that might reference other things, like a novelist writing a series of novels set in a particular era or something like that, where we were characters. And when we did collaborations, we judged them very carefully. So our first collaboration was with Dusty Springfield [on 1987’s What Have I Done To Deserve This?]. Our label didn’t want us to work with her, they wanted us to work with Tina Turner or someone like that. I remember the director of EMI going: ‘I can get you Streisand!’ But” – he thumps the coffee table before him for emphasis – “we wanted Dusty. Then we worked with Liza Minnelli and that was sort of politely greeted with horror, but everyone went along with it and it worked, because it’s our world.”

Of Top of the Pops, he says: “We were never the kind of performers who were going to enter into it wholeheartedly. Chris established early on that we weren’t allowed to look thrilled to be there. Whenever the camera came over to us, he’d say: ‘Don’t look triumphant!’ But we used to quite enjoy Top of the Pops, you know, being glared at by some singer because you’d said something nasty about them in the press.” He laughs. “I always liked the way that British pop stars always hated each other. When I worked on Smash Hits, I remember the editor saying: ‘We should do a piece on Paul Weller, because he’ll slag everyone off.’ The feuds! Duran Duran and Spandau, Boy George and Pete Burns arguing about who had those sort of gay dreadlocks first.”

“I don’t think bands do that now,” nods Lowe. “When we tour, we’ve got this band, young musicians, and it’s so refreshing because they’re so nice. They feel part of a musical community, they all know each other, they play on each other’s records, they’re all linked in. It wasn’t like that when we were around.”

But, of course, they are still around. Their albums – if not their singles – are inevitably Top 10 hits and sprinkled with songs that rank alongside their best. The Billie Trix cabaret show, Musik, is about to transfer to London, and there are excited rumours abounding that they are playing Glastonbury this year – “which we can’t talk about, which is annoying” – after their guest spot on the Killers’ headline set in 2019.

“Making music, there is still a magic about going into a studio and finding that sort of euphoria and excitement of something new,” says Tennant. “There’s a magic to realising there’s nothing more you can add to something, it’s finished, and then judging its value or whatever. It’s a supremely enjoyable and satisfying career, and, you know, you can’t stop doing it. I mean, if you run out of ideas, that’s when you stop.”

“I’m quite looking forward to that actually,” nods Lowe. “Running out of ideas.” He grins. “Because that’s when you go and work with Brian Eno.”

Hotspot is out today

This content was originally published here.

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ramajmedia · 5 years

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Supernatural: 10 Hysterical Sam Winchester Logic Memes That Only True Fans Will Understand

Within the world of supernatural TV shows as well as within the fictional world of Supernatural itself, Sam Winchester is a literal icon and legend. His exploits fighting the demons and monsters that would send an average, sane person running scared have earned Sam a lot of admiration within the world of hunters, while his character has secured him an insane amount of fans. While Sam typically likes to keep things very serious, his fan base is more than happy to get downright silly.

RELATED: 10 Things From Supernatural That Haven’t Aged Well

With 14 seasons under its belt, Supernatural has given its fans a whole lot of material to have fun with. What is the most thing that any hardcore fans can do with their favorite characters and TV show? Well, make them into memes, obviously! There is a never-ending list of Sam Winchester memes to keep fans and casual viewers entertained, but here are ten of Sam's best.

10 Well He Had To Get Those Muscles Somehow

Supernatural has evolved in directions that no one would have ever expected. Earlier on in the series, surrendering yourself to anything demonic for your own benefit was very strongly frowned upon. Therefore, the fact Sam Winchester essentially allowed himself, along with some help from Ruby, to become a blood addict as a way to enhance his abilities was a dark secret, one that caused Dean to lose his mind once he found out.

Of course, it all went wrong in the end, but at least Sam seemed to have a good time while he was doing it!

9 Sam The Murder Puppy

I mean, can anyone really argue with that? It's actually a borderline miracle that Sam, as well as Dean, are both still as good looking as they are.

RELATED: Supernatural: 10 Times Destiel Was Canon

Sam has a bit of an advantage because at least he eats healthy, but after spending literally his entire life getting his face and body bashed in by demons and monsters, you'd think there would be more readily apparent damage to his relatively fragile frame. They're both lucky though, as looking like sweet young dudes certainly has its advantages both in demon hunting and just living life.

8 Too Soon

That's not cool, man! Jess didn't deserve the awful end that she met at the hands of Yellow Eyes and Sam certainly didn't deserve to witness it either. Jessica may have only survived literally one episode, but Sam and the rest of the Supernatural fandom will never forget her.

Also, we all know that Gordon Ramsay's shtick is to be loud and angry, but if he ever let these fighting words fly then undoubtedly the entirety of the Supernatural fan base would be coming at him like a freight train. Even someone as tough as Ramsay doesn't want to make that mistake.

7 It's Hard Being The Normal One In The Family

Considering everything that Sam is, everywhere he's been, and everything he's done, it's a little crazy to realize that he's actually the relatively normal one in the family. However, if your family is made up of antisocial demon hunters and angels, "normal" is rather subjective.

RELATED: Supernatural: 10 Reasons Why God/Chuck Is The True Villain Of The Series

We can see why Cas might be confused by something as mundane as a voicemail and realistically, anyone who calls him is going to know that Cas is an unsocialized weirdo. Same goes for Dean, yes his voicemail message is weird, but will anyone who calls him be confused or surprised by it?

6 You Hear That Yellow Eyes?

Or you killed my girlfriend, prepare to die. Or you killed my mother, prepare to die. Or you killed that random person I hung out with a day and a half, prepare to die. Anyone noticing a theme here? Sam is definitely always on a mission for revenge like Inigo Montoya, however, the hunter's kill list and "people he knows who have been killed" list is about eight miles longer than Montoya's.

With this particular coif and facial hair, Sam really does look like the long lost brother, son, or cousin of the incomparable Inigo Montoya.

5 Is He Laughing Or Crying?

There are many memes made for many things, but this meme seems a little extra special because it's such a painfully, hilariously accurate representation of Sam and Dean's relationship. Yes, they have a million things worth crying over, but they try to deflect all of that pain with their dark senses of humor.

Then they cry anyway. If they were ever looking for a side gig then writing monster and supernaturally based jokes could be a very lucrative deal, that is, if they can get over their pedantry and don't feel the need to correct every piece of lore information out there in the world while they do it.

4 Anything But The Hair

Even if his hair was blue or he was completely bald, no one would ever say that Sam Winchester looks busted. With that said, clearly, Sam holds a deep interest in the appearance of his own hair. It's easy to understand considering what lustrous chestnut locks adorn his head, but he really doesn't need to be quite so worried about the upkeep of his tresses.

It's actually quite an impressive achievement though, you'd think his hair would be in incredibly rough shape after the constant torture Sam's entire body is under, and you'd think extra long hair would be a hindrance in the job.

3 Not The Brightest Lightning In The Sky

Look, after dedicating his entire life to heroic pursuits, no one should be surprised Sam Winchester is capable of lifting Thor's hammer. Yes, it's supposed to be one of the rarest gifts in all of Marvel Comics' history, but Sam is definitely one of those who may just be worthy.

RELATED: Supernatural: 10 Times The Show Broke Our Hearts

However, Sam really dropped the ball in leaving it behind. It is supposed to be one of the most powerful weapons of all time, and almost no one in the world can actually use it! Furthermore, a lore expert like Sam should have known that!

2 Planning Ahead Always Helps

Isn't it weird to think back to the very beginnings of Supernatural and remember that at one point in his life Sam Winchester was the kind of guy who might be brought to tears at the thought of his homework being late? While he probably wouldn't cry, Sam is also an obsessive school freak, so anything is possible.

Everyone on earth can relate to Sam in this instance, sometimes you just drop the ball and once you realize it's too late, all you have left to do is give the teacher a sad face and hope they show mercy on you.

1 Ancient Demons

Sam's experience with the supernatural world is so insane that even the lives of angels and gods can't compare to what he's seen and done. After what he's seen and done, undoubtedly nothing is too crazy to completely write off.

However, if Sam were to share his reality with the rest of the world, he would 100% be seen as someone even nuttier and weirder than the guy from Ancient Aliens. That said, if Sam and Dean ever had their own History channel show detailing the supernatural world, it would be a sure-fire success.

NEXT: Supernatural: All the Angels And Their Powers

source https://screenrant.com/supernatural-hysterical-sam-winchester-logic-memes-true-fans-understand/

#screenrant

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toddbirchard-architect · 5 years

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A Question Unanswered: "Why Did You Want to Become a Product Manager?" https://ift.tt/2TgGxLf

I've painted some pretty grim personal perspectives on Product Management in the past- perhaps comically so. There was that one time I dared make the sweeping generalization that most PMs have no interest in technology itself, but instead favored the glory of power and implied intellect. Or that other time, when I suggested oversaturation of the space could push the title towards meaninglessness... similar to the fate of marketing departments recent fall from grace to what is best described as “MailChimp Coordinators.” Brutal stuff.

That was around the time I decided to distance myself from Product. I figured this bubble of egotistical hustlers would pop at some point. I’m afraid I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Product Management: Bigger and Badder Than Ever

I mean “bad” in the literal sense, of course. Let’s rest on that for a moment to acknowledge what is objectively true: Product Management is certainly getting bigger. Bigger not only in the sense of volume, but salaries as well; reports are showing that average product management salaries have been on a steady upward trend (I'll post those them here once I find them). One report had the average salary of senior/director PMs overtaking Data Scientists: a perceived front runner for “sexiest job” thanks to a stupid article the Harvard Business Review wrote a hundred years ago. (On a side note, can we please never reference this article again? It’s excruciating to read field-based work without some subtle reminder that the author is “sexy.”)

In terms of volume of product managers, I don’t need to search for data to know something is wrong. Of the teams I’ve worked with in the last 10 years, whether they be external clients or departments in my org, it’s overwhelmingly common to see technical team breakdowns have as many or more Product Managers than actual engineers. In extreme cases, I’ve lobbied, begged, and cried for more Engineering staff in exchange for guaranteeing deadlines. The response, of course, is always the same: hire more managers. The thought process I imagine happening is “hey, there’s something going on there, we better bring in a Skilled Manager to figure that out!” Assuming that poor management is a company’s culture, the safest thing any upper-manager can do to hide their own cluelessness is place more buffers between themselves and problems.

My moment of Zen came to me after I had just started with a large company. Our team had a product team, as did the other (hundreds?) of teams in the same firm. With a straight face, our team’s Head of Product delivered the year’s initiative: to teach all the other Product Managers the concept of Agile Development. I paused. Looked around. Raised my hand, and could do nothing but say:

...Are we not addressing the more significant problem at hand here? How have we somehow managed to hire hundreds of PMs, each without the slightest clue as to how to do their jobs?

One person chuckled. As the head of product gave a political no-answer, I watched a room full of people trying not to internalize that statement. I was “taught” agile 4 times that year. I had been implementing Agile Development practices for 8 years prior.

Why Do You Want To Be a PM?

Ask any PM how they got into the profession, and I’ll almost guarantee you’ll receive some story of transitioning out of marketing or recruiting (neither of which have anything to do with product) because an opportunity opened up way back when. My personal answer to this question started by defining what I didn’t want.

It was a rainy day in Philadelphia. Now 10 years ago, the Comcast headquarters had just been completed as the tallest building in the city, and I held a gig on the top floor... as a Flash Developer. I was nearing the end of my contract, and a bit relieved to know that “White Shirt Wednesdays” and “Blue Shirt Mondays” would no longer remain in my vocabulary. As a favor, one of my bosses asked me to deliver a USB drive to a fellow on my floor whom I’d never actually met. After some quick directions to this gentleman’s office, I was beginning to see why he’d be hard to come by.

I was directed to what must have been a hallway perhaps 3 feet wide, and 10 feet long. One of those big-office “alleyways” to connect two sides of a floor. Strangely, one wall of this alleyway had a door- no, an entire office, looking out into the blueish grey wall 3 feet away. This was the guy.

I explained my business and delivered the USB drive. “The guy” wasn’t worried; in fact, he immediately laid back in his chair, hands folded behind his head, and let out a breath of self-satisfaction. “So you’re a developer, huh,” he asked. “Let me ask you this: what you want out of life?” Before I could think to respond, he continued: “I mean, look at all this,” gesturing around his 8x8 foot office. “If you stayed here at Comcast, all this could be yours too someday, you know.”

So there I was, on the 50-somethingth floor of the city’s tallest building, shrouded in storm clouds, sitting in a fluorescent-lit closet in a corporate office back alley. As the seconds ticked by, it became evident that this wasn’t a hilarious joke. At that moment, one thing was clear: I wasn’t sure what I wanted out of life, but I sure as hell didn’t want to be that guy.

(...And I definitely didn’t want to get to be that guy by building throwaway corporate apps in Adobe Flash).

Finding What I Wanted Out of Life

From that moment, I thought a lot about what I didn't want out of life. I knew that I loved coding, but after having picked up handfuls of Flash contracting jobs, I began to realize a trend. The more I created things for other people, my sense of autonomy diminished, the less individuality I had, and therefore, the less I enjoyed the act of coding. In a board meeting, one company referred to me as "the secret weapon." Another dubbed me the "the bullet," both of these things implying the same truth: when assigned a project, I would dissect it, refactor any nonsense, and over-deliver under time, and under budget.

That's all great, but I didn't want that. The problems I had with this type of heads-down work were the questions I had no authority to ask, such as:

Why are we building this in the first place? Is it really worth this much budget, as opposed to a simpler and cheaper solution?

Does anybody honestly believe that this feature will resonate with users? Imagine yourself using this app, except it wasn't your app. Is there any point of building this feature other than a stakeholder's personal need to have a sense of ownership over something?

We have meetings every week about problem X. Why don't we consider building Y to solve this issue?

As I analyzed "what I wanted out of life," I began to notice other things happening around me. I was putting in 18+ hours a day of work attempting to save a final project for University, which happened to be a video game. Thanks to some administrative nightmare, 6 people of our 9-man team became virtually unreachable midway through the project (it's a long story). I found myself taking point and scheduling check-ins (standups?) with the remaining troops. Despite their limited coding experience, we found ways to play to our strengths. We had one man on audio and soundtrack, one guy on visuals, and me on... everything else.

I lost the better half of a year and a relationship to that project. It was miserable. Meanwhile, the other fully-staffed projects were doing fine; in fact, they were flourishing. It didn't matter that the other teams didn't deliver anything technically impressive, or in some cases, finished. The teams which did best were significantly rewarded for the idea they had, despite being virtually unchanged from day 1. What's more, those receiving the highest credit contributed nothing but the concept itself (typically stolen from a project at another university, mind you).

Nobody cared that I personally pushed the limits of web browsers at the time to create a multiplayer RPG. Nor should they, in retrospect: nobody had attempted to do this; thus, nobody had any barometer for the effort or complexity involved. That was Lesson 1: Nobody Who Matters Cares How Impressive Your Code Is.

Meanwhile, professors were euphorically celebrating projects they could understand: which were typically simple apps which leveraged social media somehow. Word on the street was that each of the "idea guys" got taken out for drinks in celebration of their genius. Lesson 2: Hard Work And Originality Does Not Equate to Success.

Our project got abysmal scores. Begrudgingly, we went along with an event to showcase all projects that year and set up a station where anybody could sit down and play. We had 4 computers running the app over a local network, and the crowd loved it. Despite being cast into a dark shadowy corner of the room, it turned out users knew what they wanted more than professors. Lesson 3: The World Has Too Much Clueless Leadership. If you're not careful, you could spend your entire life programming something that had no place in the world to begin with. 9/10 startups fail, which I think is a high success rate considering 9/1000 ideas I hear regularly are abysmal.

How I Became A Product Manager

I didn't become a Product Manager because I was transferred, or promoted as an intern, or failed as a developer. I became a Product Manager by searching for Product Manager jobs out of college, and I landed it.

Everything I had learned from that final year of University taught me so many things that lead to a single conclusion: I am not happy in my career unless I am:

Collaborating with intelligent people.

Always having a say in defining what it is being built.

Building something meaningful.

I became a Product Manager because I was born to be a Product Manager. I love to code, but there isn't a single job description that reads "code what you think is best for the company." In fact, if we were to translate most job descriptions, they'd probably be closer to "code the thing that will get the person above you a promotion." I couldn't bear to watch my hobby become something I hated, and I knew the world is filled with developers who live that reality daily. I wanted to help them.

I would challenge all organizations to ask PM candidates why they've chosen the path. If a candidate cannot articulate a purpose which is unselfish, or legitimately speaks to their interests, they should not be hired. End of story.

Transitioning to a technical lead role allows me to do some of the things I set out to accomplish as a PM, but perhaps not as much as I'd like. The notion of switching back feels uneasy: the world has far too many Product Managers as it stands, regardless of how mediocre they may be. And let us not forget the "walled garden" effect: PMs can only become PMs because they know PMs. Shitty PMs hire more shitty PMs, and so on. I can say this from my personal experience interviewing at shitty companies I had no intention of joining: shitty PMs hate me. Misery loves company.

If I truly want to stick to what I love, a Principal Engineering role or equivalent feels like the next logical step for somebody like me to take. I can only hope the world's Product Management Hyenas can stay off Google Calendar and Slack for long enough to not to kill hope in the people I hope to help before then.

March 20, 2019 at 11:12AM

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kyotohub-ktv · 5 years

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金貨 | The Idol Watch

With a bow hinged at his waist, he gripped Kenta K’s outstretched hand with as much enthusiasm as he could forfeit. They exchanged a brief few pleasantries before he turned his attention to Mitsuri, with her hand delicately dangling forward, the other pressed comically to her cheek. Shino graciously lifted his palm beneath the woman’s to gently lift it in a more romantique fashion. “Oh my! What a gentleman!” Mitsuri teased as she fluttered her oversized lashes. After a sly wink in the female hosts direction, he nearly leapt to his seat out of fear his knees could give at any unwilling second. The rest of the SNOW crew made their ways passed the host greeting checkpoint as he firmly planted himself at the first (much too short) stool on the first row. If it weren’t for his throbbing nerves, he would have remembered how uncomfortable the seats were.

He should be thrilled, engulfed by the swell of applause and the privilege of this moment none of them would forget. If SNOW’s success were to blossom as much as Mr.Inoue had reassured them time and time again, neither would the many...many viewers. Unfortunately, the last thing on Shino’s mind before he entered the stage was the scene he’d witnessed behind the privacy of stage curtains.

‘Deep breath…’

SNOW’s frontman urged to himself, abusing the generic mantra to restore some of his fleeting composure.

‘You’re not smiling...’

Shino’s lungs expanded slowly as he inhaled the humid air beneath the spotlight. His ridged lips loosened enough to restore a pleasant smile as an unsteady breath huffed from his mouth. The singer felt the need to slap himself any time he had to be personally reminded of basic human interaction. He rolled his shoulders as he straighten his posture, trying not to fidget while their rivals filed in after his band-mates. If he were being honest, the only member of WISH aside from Daichi that he’d remembered was Mina.

A jolt of anxiety ricocheted from his knees to his elbows, threatening his persona as it crept it’s way up his legs. The hailing audience begun to hollow out like the curl of ocean waves, tumbling through Shino’s ears like lost sea shells. He couldn’t take his eyes away as Daichi took Mitsuri’s hand within his own, much resembling what he’d witnessed a few moments earlier.

“Wow! A bold move from WISH’s Daichi! Am I sensing a loooove connection?” The outlandish Kenta K teased at the blonde’s predetermined gesture.

Shino swallowed the knot in his throat as he refused the urge to pull at the collar of his shirt, the action probably suited for the faux display. As Mitsuri and Kenta awaited the audience to settle, the stage lights began to alter to set the tone for the procession of the program.

“Now that everyone’s introduced, let’s get to prying! Shall we?”

‘Here we go…’ The vocalist cursed to himself.

“I second that! Let’s start with SNOW. So how are you guys feeling tonight!”

The white spotlights rounded their way to the collection of musicians as the crowd silenced with the anticipation of the interview. Regardless of the numerous times the group had stood before those bright stage lights, he still hadn’t quite gotten used to their blinding quality.

“It’s so exciting to be here!” Nami exclaimed as she clapped her hands together, the crowd erupting once again.

“It seems like everyone’s just as excited!” Kenta responded, wrangling the applause.

“How about you, Okita?” The male host continued down the row.

The blonde guitarist could hardly sit still, clearly fueled by adrenaline. “It’s like a dream come true!” He said with stars in his eyes as he glanced around the stage.

Mitsuri then turned her attention to Shino with her hand cocked at her hip. “Shino-san, you seem pretty quite over there!”

‘Damn it…’

The studio was struck with silence, obviously anticipating the vocalists response. He swallowed passed the knot in this throat and offered a smile before he spoke in a low voice. “I guess you could say I’m a bit shy.” High pitched squeals echoed from beyond the stage. “Wooow~ Who would have thought SNOW’s lead singer was shy!” Kenta extended on Shino’s response.

‘The guys are probably laughing their asses off right now…’

“So being more reserved, how do you prepare yourself to perform on stage?”

“Well…” The singer started as he rubbed at his chin in thought.

----

“Listen, I got you guys a spot opening for Momento Mori at The 86.” The gruff male spoke candidly as he swiftly lit the cigarette between his lips. The quartet gawked at each other before Shino broke the silence. “You w-what?!” The vocalist slammed his hands atop the bar as he nearly fell off his stool. “You guys have only improved, so I think you’re ready for the big crowd.” Mr.Inoue tapped against the ashtray before sucking in another breath. “I’ve also got a few old friends coming in to check you guys out, so don’t fuck it up.” He said lightheartedly. “Oh, great! As if playing before Momento Mori wasn’t enough…” Okita piped up as he ran his fingers through his hair. Shino gestured a hand towards Okita, an attempt to calm the guy down. “So who are these ‘friends’ of yours?”

“Just a couple of colleagues or more fondly known as drinking buddies from my days with K Talent.” He said as he gripped the top of his low-ball glass and gave it a swirl before taking a professional sip. “That’s good, so maybe you can get them hammered so they won’t notice if we bomb this!” Okita responded, only half joking. Mr.Inoue clattered the remaining ice chips in his now empty glass and chuckled. “I can’t make any promises, but I’m confident in the four of you, so don’t sweat it so much.”

“Was Mr.Inoue being nice just now? How how many drinks has he had?” Nami mused with laughter between her words.

“Irrelevant!” Mr.Inoue spoke, his voice rising in volume. “Drunk or not, I am putting all my faith in SNOW. You guys are going to be huge.”

A Month Later…

Shino’s statuesque silhouette stood plastered in front of The 86 for a solid hour before anyone could drag him away from below the matinee. The letters were smaller than the headliners, but that’s all his starstruck eyes could see.

Momento Mori

Featuring

SNOW

It was their first big show in front of a crowd that was more than just 50 drunken fools in Tozai. Evidently, those small monthly gigs lead their current manager Kenji Inoue, who moonlit as the owner of Tozai, to take notice. Back in his day, Mr.Inoue had represented some of the biggest groups and solo artists to come out of Kyoto. Long story short, Mr.Inoue had put his managing days behind until he witnessed SNOW’s raw potential and decided to take them under his wing.

The 86 was the House of Blues equivalent in the dirty little nook of Kyoto, Yoba. Shino recalled the many times he and Okita had snuck in to see some legendary shows. The pair of delinquents would dote all the way home how they’d be up on that stage some day. But to kids like Shino, a daydream typically remained just that. Perhaps that’s why anxiety was crippling the vocalist to his core as he gripped the tarnished porcelain sink of The 86’s bathroom.

‘Don’t fuck this up.’ Mr.Inoue’s meant-to-be teasing words had been stabbing at his confidence for the last 24 hours. He knew the guy was only kidding, but the phrase had gained in weight as he relentlessly continued to dwell.

‘Deep breath…’

Shino bore into his reflection in the mirror as if to search within himself to rip out the strength he needed. His fists clenched against the sink to stabilize the shaking in his limbs. The trembling singer watched as his shoulders lifted and his chest swelled to draw in a long inhale.

3….

He recalled each and every moment he’d practiced this little breathing ritual, which was often enough to have faith in its ability. As the oxygen filled his lungs, a voice from his past echoed in the empty spaces that began to make room in his head. “Shino, carefully exhale through the mouth, and count to two.”

2…

“Then slowly open your eyes as you take another inhale through the nose. Suddenly, the nostalgic words were the only thing on his mind as he calmly took another in another breath.

“As the air fills your diaphragm, that is your moment.”

As he opened his lids, his hands had loosened to a relaxed position at his sides and his shoulders had probably dropped about two inches. Without a second to waste, Shino turned from his reflection and gripped the door handle with enough confidence to take the stage.

“We got this…”

---

“Sometimes I do still get quite nervous…” Shino spoke honestly. “When I started taking music lessons, my instructor really helped me through my nerves.”

“Ahh! They must have been quite the teacher if you’ve come this far!” Kenta K said enthusiastically into his microphone.

Shino smiled in response as he spoke. “Yes, I’m very grateful to them…”

“Hopefully they’re watching tonight!” Mitsuri said before she began to transition through the rest of the Q&A session and turned her attention to WISH.

“So, WISH! How are you feeling about tonight’s show?”

Another eruption of applause flooded the studio as each opposing band member perked up in their chairs. As their leader, Ryuu, had begun his intro, Shino faded back behind the spotlight and into his own train of thoughts.

With hindsight to all of the internal stress he’d been put under, (which was no one’s fault but his own) he’d totally fucking forgotten about the live performances that they’d be doing after the interviews. He suddenly felt like the focal point of the eruption of laughter that bellowed from the audience as he spiraled into a brand new dose of self consciousness.

Not only was it their first ever television debut of their latest hit song- but he’d surely be under the microscope by their controversially dubbed “rivals”… and most importantly Daichi. Shino felt a dryness in his throat, a sensation extremely troublesome for a lead vocalist.

Having to play the piano, or even speak in front of the guy was already stressful enough, he mulled over as sweat began to build along his brow. And now he had to sing?

Another trait he’d noticed about this Daichi was that he was absolutely impossible to read, even to his band-mate Mina.

“What does he really think about me?” The questioned burned as he slyly stole a glance at the blonde on the opposite side of the stage.

“And the next question goes to Shino!” The sound of his name pulled at his attention like a choke chain as he snapped his gaze to Kenta K.

“Where did this ‘rivalry’ title between SNOW and WISH begin?”

‘Shit.’ He got possibly the most controversial question of all of them!

“Well-..” The singer started as he clasped his hands together, lowly clearing his throat before he answered the loaded question.

“I think that certain people enjoy that kind of thing, but as musicians that just want to bring people together, we would like to become allies.” He knew it was pretty daring to speak for the nine of them, but nobody could complain if he kept it positive, right?

His assumption appeared to be right as he peered at his fellow musicians for confirmation as they nodded with approval with his statement. Another round of applause praised the stage as their rumored rivalry continued to simmer down.

‘Phew, glad that was a good response…’ Pleased with himself, Shino sighed while host’s attention continued down the line.

The more answers his ears were a tuned to, the more he actually began to warm up to the quintet behind them. They were passionate, funny, and respected a lot of the same principals and values as he did. Perhaps the media had a bigger influence in their first impressions than he realized.

Then the spotlight landed on Daichi.

“In light of the perceived rivalry between your two bands and in order to quell some of those rumors (if you can), what is one thing you admire about SNOW?”

The question he’d asked himself earlier came crawling back with another god forsaken jolt in his chest.

“What does he really think about me…”

Shino kept his eyes forward as he subconsciously began to fiddle his thumbs with anticipation.

“I think that SNOW’s lyrical prowess is something to be admired. They always find unexpected ways to word something or make an ordinary phrase musical.”

Was that an indirect compliment!?

He prayed to whatever gods were out there that the small flush that arose on his pale cheeks wouldn’t be obvious as Daichi’s statement hit him way harder than it should have.

He admires my lyrics?!

Shino nearly bit his lip open trying to conceal the smile that fought against his cool persona. Just about everything that followed fell on deaf ears as the guy was about to crack.

He was just so damn happy.

---

As the show proceeded, it was obvious the collection of musicians had loosened up considerably compared to the stress of being in the hot seat. They’d made it through the Q&A without a hitch, something Mr.Inoue would probably already be celebrating with a toast to himself. The little ice breaking games and activities (albeit embarrassing at times) just added to a successful debut.

Before he knew it, the blinding spotlights had dimmed to a now acceptable level as a beaming Kenta K and Mitsuri headed over to congratulate them.

“Awesome show, you guys. I think this’ll be one of our highest rated yet.”

“Yeah! For sure,” Mitsuri added, placing a hand on her sharply hip. “We can’t wait to hear you guys perform. That’ll set the ratings off for sure.”

Finally, Shino could allow himself to smile a toothy grin under the guise of receiving their appraisal.

“That went way better than I expected!” Okita blurted out as everyone stretched their legs and exchanged a few pleasant words to each other before their chatter was interrupted by what he’d assumed was one of the producers.

“Alright, we’re back on in seven minutes. SNOW, you’re up first. WISH, we’ll be moving you to the gallery area there-...”

The mans words came out a little too fast for Shino to process, leading him to really take in their meaning in a delayed few seconds.

“Everyone clear?”

His could hardly respond as the four of them were quickly whisked off to the separate stage in which they’d be performing their song “Butterfly”. Shino couldn’t allow his thoughts to stray from his focus, he hadn’t spoken a word since the interview had ended, even when Satsu had wished him luck as he applied a few last second touch ups to his appearance.

Shino was the last person to reach his mark as the other SNOW members were contently preparing their instruments with a breeziness that never failed to impress him.

“You guys look like you’ve done this a thousand times.” He joked at the confidence he envied of his band-mates.

“We probably have if you included all the times we imagined it.” Wataru called out to their front-man as he gave him an encouraging smile. Shino gently slid a finder up the base of the stand in front of him before caressing a sturdy palm around the microphone. With literally seconds to spare, Nami, Okita, and Wataru collected to the front of the stage for a last little good luck ritual. The group bumped their fists together as Shino whispered a low “We got this.”

As they retreated back to their marks, Shino turned to face the direction of the overwhelming cries of anticipation which chanted their names.

3….

The deafening calls of the audience sent a shiver down his spine in a way that ignited his soul on fire. Shino inhaled the air as he used each of his senses to engulf every second.

2…

Gradually, the stage lights returned to their former glow, releasing that inner flame that began to burn in his chest.

Nothing beyond the microphone seemed to matter as the piano chords began to swallow the silence. His heart beat at a steady pace with a nostalgic thrum as the vocalist briefly shut his eyes and released an even breath through his parted lips.

#Shidai #shino-pov #shino #idolwatch #ktalent

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