#AND DONALD'S BITING SARCASM

[breedaboyd]

Putting on a Show — Donald Pierce

Pairing: Donald Pierce × M!Reader.

Word Count: 2,057.

CW: Anal sex, public sex.

The room hums with a mixture of tension and anticipation, the energy palpable as you engage in your little game. You can practically feel the eyes of the other mercenaries on you, their amused glances stoking the fires of your rebellious nature. Your gaze flickers to Don Pierce, his stern expression a clear warning that you're pushing your luck. But the thrill of provoking a reaction from him is too enticing to resist.

"Oh, c'mon, Pierce..." You purr, your voice dripping with honeyed sarcasm. "Just a little bit of attention? Pretty please?" A few of the mercenaries chuckle, while others exchange knowing looks. It's clear that they enjoy the dynamic between you and Pierce, the power struggle that simmers just beneath the surface. Pierce's jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing as he shoots you a warning glare.

"No." He growls, his voice a low rumble that only serves to stoke your desire to push him further.

"Just a little, Pierce. I need you." You purr, a small, mischievous grin playing on your lips. The mercenaries exchange amused glances, the tension between you and Pierce becoming the focal point of the room. But you're not satisfied yet. You want to see him lose his cool, to provoke a proper reaction.

Your antics escalate, each move more daring than the last. You saunter closer to him, your hips swaying with purpose, a challenge in every step. The mercenaries watch with anticipation, their smirks telling you they're enjoying the show. With a calculated move, you land in his lap, your legs straddling his thighs as you lock eyes with him, the proximity undeniable.

"Please, Pierce..." You whine, your voice a desperate plea that's meant for his ears alone, even though the mercenaries are watching your every move. His hands land on your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he struggles to maintain his composure. The mercenaries watch with a mixture of fascination and amusement, the tension in the room almost tangible.

You've been pushing Pierce's patience to its limit, a need to provoke him simmering just beneath the surface. But now, as he quickly slaps a pair of anti-mutant handcuffs around your wrists, his expression dark and his demeanour no longer under control, a part of you wonders if you've taken it too far. The handcuffs are cold and unforgiving against your skin as he secures them in place. The mercenaries watch with a mixture of amusement and curiosity, their smirks telling you that they're thoroughly enjoying the spectacle. But their presence fades into the background as Pierce's attention becomes all-encompassing.

His lips crash into yours, a punishing kiss that's equal parts need and frustration. The taste of him is electrifying, cigarette smoke and gunmetal. His fingers dig into your hips, his grip bruising as he pulls you closer, his body flush against yours.

With a sudden, swift movement, he pulls away from the kiss and his teeth sink into the tender skin of your neck, a bite that's possessive and demanding. A gasp escapes your lips, the mixture of pain and pleasure igniting a rush of sensation that leaves you trembling. He leaves behind a bright, bruising bite, lips still against your throat, threatening to leave another mark.

"Li'l', fuckin' brat..." He snarls, his breath hot against your skin. The handcuffs are a stark reminder of the authority he wields over you, a symbol of your recklessness and his control. The mercenaries' laughter and whispers fade into the background as Pierce touches you. He's lost in a primal surge of need, his mouth trailing a path of fire along your neck, each bite and nip fanning the fire between you. "You want my attention?" He mutters against your skin, his voice a mixture of aggression and want. "You've got it now." Your breath hitches and his words sear right through you. The room buzzes with a raw intensity.

As his teeth release their grip on another bite, his fingers trail a path of fire down your spine, his touch a promise that resonates within your very bones. The bite marks on your neck throb with a mix of pain and pleasure and you grind down against his lap, silently begging for more.

You find yourself seated in Pierce's lap, his fingers digging into your hips as his prosthetic hand keeps you still, a firm and unyielding grip that leaves you breathless with a mixture of excitement and vulnerability. His flesh hand, warm and demanding, slips lower, fingers trailing along your thighs. Your breath hitches as his touch ignites a rush of sensation. The mercenaries watch with keen interest, their eyes a mixture of amusement and excitement.

Pierce's lips brush against your ear, his voice a low, sultry whisper that sends shivers down your spine.

"You always did have a way of getting under my skin." He murmurs, his fingers inching lower, pressing against the inseam of your pants. A whimper escapes your lips, a mixture of need and embarrassment that only seems to spur him on. His flesh hand teases the zipper of your pants, a reminder of the exposure you're facing in front of the watchful eyes of his band of mercenaries.

He chuckles darkly, the sound a rumble of amusement that seems to echo through you. "Look at you." He taunts, his voice carrying a teasing edge that both excites and humiliates you. "All worked up, on display for everyone to see." Your cheeks flush, the mixture of sensations overwhelming as you struggle to catch your breath. "Is this what you wanted?" He purrs, his lips trailing a path of fire down your neck, his voice a sultry caress that leaves you weak-kneed and needy. You can't find the words to respond, your breath hitching as his fingers deftly unbuckle your pants and slip inside, his touch igniting sparks of pleasure that leave you trembling in his grasp. The mercenaries watch with varying levels of interest, their smirks and knowing glances adding to the heady mix of sensations.

Pierce's laughter is low and rich, a sound that resonates through you as his fingers wrap around your aching cock. "You're a mess." He chuckles, his voice a potent blend of teasing and dominance that leaves you feeling both exposed and exhilarated. As he slides his hand along your length, your body betrays you with a needy whine that escapes your lips. The mercenaries' amusement seems to intensify, their reactions a heady mixture of fascination and enjoyment. Pierce's grip on your hips tightens, his fingers branding your skin as his touch becomes bruising in its intensity. "You like this, don't you? Filthy, fuckin' slut." He murmurs, his voice a dangerous promise that sends a surge of arousal coursing through you. The mercenaries, the audience, holler and jeer, crude suggestions slicing through the air and leaving you feeling exposed.

"Fuck his ass, boss!" "Choke him out!"

You can't help the flush that rises to your cheeks, the mixture of embarrassment and arousal a heady cocktail that leaves you feeling both electrified and vulnerable. The mercenaries' comments range from lewd suggestions to raucous laughter, their enjoyment evident in the way they revel in the spectacle you've become. Pierce's lips curl into a cruel smile, his laughter a low rumble that mingles with the chaos of the room. He addresses the hecklers, his tone dripping with amusement.

"Seems like you all have a lot to say." He taunts, his voice a challenge that only seems to spur them on yet his gaze stays solely on you. The mercenaries respond with a chorus of laughter and cheers, their crude remarks growing even louder. The weight of their attention is almost suffocating, the combination of their words and Pierce's grip on your body leaving you both humiliated and helplessly turned on as you buck up against his hand, handcuffs digging into your wrists. "Enjoying the show, baby?" He purrs, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice an irresistible mix of cruelty and desire. A whimper escapes your lips, your body betraying your need as his words send a shiver down your spine.

The mercenaries' comments continue to escalate, their laughter filling the room as they revel in your discomfort. Pierce's laughter joins theirs, a symphony of mockery that only serves to heighten your arousal. He stands and you follow suit, feeling him shove your pants down your thighs and spin you, so you're facing the crowd, before pulling you back down into his lap. What feels like a hundred eyes settle on you and you go bright red. Pierce fumbles for a second and you're left exposed and confused but then you feel the slick, blunt head of his cock press against your rim and you whine.

Pierce's voice cuts through the tension, his words dripping with a teasing edge as he sinks you down onto his cock. "Take a good look, gentlemen." He calls out, his voice carrying an undertone of amusement that resonates with the crowd. "He's all riled up and ready to be put on display." The room seems to close in around you as you're fucked in front of your colleagues, the focus of their attention and desires. Pierce's breathless laughter joins the chorus of anticipation, his amusement a stark contrast to the rush of sensations that swirl within you. His grip on your hips is a steady anchor as he lifts and drops you on his cock, letting it fill you completely. "Already so close to cummin', aren't you, baby?" He continues, tugging your bound hands away from your crotch and letting them see the way your dick twitches and leaks with every thrust. "He's beggin' for it, aren't you?" Pierce's voice carries over the crowd, his words a mixture of dominance and desire that leave you both exhilarated and exposed.

The room pulses with a charged energy, a heady mix of excitement and anticipation that electrifies the air. You're at the centre of it all, your body responding to every touch, every glance, as you chase your climax that promises to consume you entirely. Pierce's grip on your hips is firm, his touch guiding you, urging you to surrender to the sensations that rush up and down your spine. The crowd watches with eager eyes, their anticipation palpable, their cheers and jeers fuelling the fire within you.

As Pierce bucks up into you, your body responds with an eagerness that you can't deny. You're driven by a deep desire to please him, to put on a show that satisfies both your own cravings and the voracious appetites of those watching. The knowledge that their eyes are on you, hungry and expectant, drives you to push yourself to the limit. Pierce's voice is a low, sultry whisper in your ear, his words both a command and a promise.

"That's it, baby." He huffs against your ear, his voice laced with desire. "Give 'em a good show." The encouragement resonates within you, spurring you on as your movements become more urgent, more desperate, grinding down against Pierce's cock, desperate to cum. The tension builds with every touch, every gasp that escapes your lips, until you're on the edge.

And then, with a surge of ecstasy that's almost blinding, you cum. The pleasure washes over you in waves, leaving you trembling and breathless, your body a vessel of desire that's finally been sated. Thick ropes of white land on the dirt in front of you as your body is consumed by shivers. But you're not alone in cumming. As you reach your peak, so does Pierce, biting down on the crook of your neck as he pumps his load deep inside you. The room erupts in a chorus of cheers and applause, the crowd going wild for the electrifying display.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment, but beneath it all, a sense of pride swells within you. You've pleased not only Pierce and yourself but also those who've watched you with such hungry eyes. As the applause and cheers echo around you and you collapse back against Pierce, he reaches round to uncuff you. The experience has left you exposed, yes, but also empowered by the raw, unfiltered connection you've shared with both Pierce and your teammates. "Good boy... Was it worth it?" He whispers, chest heaving as you lay your head back on his shoulder.

"More than you know."

#character: donald pierce #source: logan #type: reader #misc: chariot writes

[sexyvampkitty]

RP Starter FIC: My Name Is Sarcasmic

I step off of the bus in Mystic Falls VA, and look around, not really sure where to go next. A new town, a fresh start, maybe this is just what I need. My name is Sarcasmic, and before you ask, I picked that name myself, but I guess I'm getting ahead of myself a bit. I take the tourist brochure out of my purse and glance at it once again. This town looks a whole lot different from where I used to live before, obviously. I used to live in Los Angeles, California. I also used to work for a vampire named Josef Kostan. He owns Kostan Industries and he's a hedge fund trader. He's also the richest guy I know, kind of like the Donald Trump of the undead. A few years back, what seems like a LONG time ago now, I applied for a job with Josef's company. Little did I realize then, I was actually applying to be one of his freshies; the actual job part only came later. Oh, a freshie is what Josef calls a willing blood donor for vampires. He has literally hundreds of girls constantly on rotation to feed from. I was his Wednesdays and Fridays girl. I even got cash in exchange for my blood. Most girls prefer wrist bites; I was more for neck nibbles. Let's just say, neck bites tend to get me more...excited...which wasn't always a good thing, but that's a whole other story. We were allowed to choose our own blood donor names, so Sarcasmic, or Sarc for short, is what I decided to go with. It's a combination of sarcastic and orgasmic. My real name isn't important, but if you ask really nice, maybe I'll tell you. I lived at home for awhile until I finally decided to move into Josef's mansion. I worked for Josef for a few years...until...it happened. Recession. Downsizing. I lost my job, but I still lived with him and still got cash for feeding him my blood...now my only source of income. Not long after, I started to down spiral, sinking into a deep depression, going to any nightclub I could find, begging any vampire I saw to turn me, which almost got me killed once. I was verging on suicidal. It took me quite a while to pull out of my destructive mood. Finally, Josef decided it was time for me to move on. Reluctantly, I agreed. Although, I wasn't ready to go back to Florida, which is where I was originally from. I wanted to try someplace knew. Plus, I was looking for vampires. What can I say? I've always had an obsession in that area, which is why I decided to become a willing blood donor in the first place, even though, at first, the idea of getting bitten kind of freaked me out. I asked around, and a friend of a friend of a friend told me, that if you're looking for vamps, Mystic Falls is the place to be. Apparently, that place is literally crawling with vamps. So, I hopped on a bus, and here I am. Although, as I sit here on a nearby bench, at night, staring at nothing in particular, I start to think that maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. What do I do now? I have very little money left. I pretty much used the rest of it just to get here. I have no job, not to mention no place to stay. Perfect. And what about the vampires? Are they friendly, like the one I lived with and worked for? Or will they kill me in five minutes or less just for looking at them the wrong way? I mean, I don't mind sharing my blood, but I only have so much to go around, and I would like to still be alive after the sharing is done. And as much as I used to like the idea of becoming like the objects of my obsession, I don't feel that way anymore. I still carry a stake around with me, just in case. Though, currently it's not in my back pocket, where I usually stash it. This time, it's in my somewhat over-sized purse. I figured walking onto the bus with a stake visible on my person would've been a little...awkward...to say the least. I take the brochure out of my purse once again and flip through it. Damn, I think, this town looks about as boring and dull as the place I grew up in. Wait. The Mystic Grill. That sounds promising. I put the brochure back in my purse, stand up, sling the purse over my shoulder and start to walk. You know what? Screw it. I could really use a drink right about now. Or possibly several. Then I need to figure out what I'm going to do about finding place to stay...and getting a job. And if any vamps mess with me right now, I've got a stake on me, and I'm SO not afraid to use it. One problem. How do I explain to the vampires in this town about being a willing blood donor? If I go about this the wrong way, it will end up being a bad thing. Hmmm...maybe I could put out some kind of online ad.

#moonlight #tvd #roleplay

[globalhappenings]

New York Post mocks Donald Trump: 'Florida man makes announcement'

New York Post mocks Donald Trump: ‘Florida man makes announcement’

The right-wing tabloid New York Post reacted with biting sarcasm to the renewed presidential candidacy of ex-US President Donald Trump. The paper, which is part of the Murdoch media empire, simply wrote “Florida man makes announcement” at the bottom of its front page on Wednesday – and referred its readers to page 26. There it says in a short text full of irony: “Just 720 days before the next…

View On WordPress

[clownmoontoon]

🦆 watching this scene for the first time:

"Aww haha Donald is asking this bc Scrooge is old and the triplets are so rambunctious! He's wondering if Scrooge can handle them! Classic family comedy."

🦆 REWATCHING THIS SCENE AFTER FINISHING S1:

D,,DONALD,,,

#DONALD PLS.... #donald duck #scrooge mcduck #disney #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #clown honks #moonime #disney ducks #video #moon video #SUDDENLY THE PLEADING WAY SCROOGE SAYS OFC HE CAN MAKES SENSE #AND DONALD'S BITING SARCASM #I CRY SO M U CH ;;;;;; #apparently hyperfixating makes understanding much easier IM REWATCHING W MY MOM AND SHE CANT UNDERSTAND ANYTHING HE SAYS LSKDLKJD #I ADDED THE SUBS FOR ANYBODY WHO CANT UNDERSTAND DONALD ASDJLKSD

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

A Case They’ll Like

Characters: Raymond Reddington x Reader (platonic)

Warnings: None.

Summary: You and Reddington drop by the ‘Post Office’ to deliver a delicious case to the team...

Reddington looked around the Post Office and chuckled at the various personnel wandering about doing their jobs. He hadn’t paid a physical visit in so long that he almost forgot how much they reminded him of worker ants.

He leaned over to you, ready to repeat his thoughts when you spoke first. 

“Don’t compare them to worker ants today.” You advised with a small shake of the head.

Reddington couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the comment and bite his tongue as you both approached your favourite team of agents.

“A house-call?” Ressler smirked. “To what do we owe this displeasure?”

His sarcasm was noted by the criminal and Ressler found himself pinned under a very unamused glare.

“Donald, if you want to continue this partnership then I’d suggest toning it down.”

Noticing the way that the agents smile dropped slightly, you shot Ressler a quick wink before tapping your hands on the table and drew attention to yourself.

“I know you’re wondering why we’re here, but I think you’ll really like this one.”

Reddington clapped his hands, rubbing them together and laughed. “Oh, boy - I recently learned that the Great Star of Africa was being transported back to England. I had organised a heist to lift it at the docks before it reached its destination but when my people got there, the shipment was missing.”

There was the sound of speed typing from behind Aram’s computer and the large screen lit up to display a large tear-drop shaped diamond beside the Crown Jewels.

“You want us to help you steal that?” Elizabeth scoffed and Reddington shook his head.

“Good heavens, no. My sources say that the lucrative Prism Brothers have a hand to play in this so I’m meeting with a contact at the Como Shambhala Estate in Ubud to get their location.” He explained and reached into his coat pocket, pulling out two rectangular pieces of paper. “And as it so happens...”

You smiled brightly, eyes glimmering with anticipation. “Here it comes.”

“I was kind enough to pick up two extra passes - so which of you want to take a spa day?” Reddington asked as he gently waved the tickets. The man then quickly added that it had all been approved by the director in case they had any qualms in regard to their jobs over the next two days.

Elizabeth smiled at how excited Reddington was but then sighed, “As much as I’d love to join you on this little ‘retreat’ in Bali - I can’t leave Agnes without a nanny.” She replied, reminding everyone that her duty to her daughter came first.

Turning to the woman, Reddington gasped as if he had forgotten something. “Ah yes, I have a solution for that.” He gestured to his side and you sent a small wave to Elizabeth. “Y/n’s staying grounded while I’m away and, from what I hear, Anges adores Y/n.”

“I can’t just expect them to drop everything and...” Elizabeth began to argue but you stepped forward.

“Honestly Liz, I was going to order in and watch movies until Red got back. Staying with Agnes is a much better plan and besides, you deserve a small break.”

Elizabeth went quiet as she considered her response. She trusted her daughter with you more than Reddington so she knew that Agnes would be kept safe. Plus, two days away would help her focus on a strategy to find Ilya Koslov.

“Okay, I’ll come along.” The agent finally replied. 

Reddington chuckled and looked around at the others.

“Excellent. Who else?” He wondered aloud, eyes landing on Ressler.

The blonde-haired agent realised and quickly shook his head. “Parks and I have a lot of paperwork to get through after your last Blacklister. Why don’t you take Aram? He could do with a spa day.”

The man behind the computer swallowed nervously as all eyes turned on him.

“Well, I do enjoy the occasional sauna.”

Reddington was grinning now that this has been sorted. “Wonderful, I’ll have Dembe pick you all up tomorrow morning so pack light.”

Masterlist here

#theladyofmanyfandoms #theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction #gif is not mine #reddington x reader #raymond reddington x reader #reddington imagine #raymond reddington imagine #donald ressler x reader #donald ressler imagine #ressler imagine #ressler x reader #blacklist imagine #the blacklist imagine #the blacklist x reader #the blacklist fluff

[therattale]

Bonus day: Free Theme (Worth more than that)

A/N I couldn’t think up something for Crazy Love, so I just jumped ahead to the free theme and went with ‘worth’ XD I’m not getting full marks! But I hope you all enjoy! ______ Today is a bad day. He feels drained and sick, he should go home, but all he can think about is asking Red if it would be alright to hold him for a while.

He barely understands how it happened.

How Red, criminal, murderer and possible mad-man, snared Donald into his jagged-claw-hands, plucking him over the edge of sanity to stumble straight into that consuming darkness and by extension, into his bed.

It’s not entirely surprising on his part. He’s always had a strange attraction for the man – something he’d tried to hide under veils of snark and sarcasm. But to have Red act on it so… passionately, so intensely has always surprised him.

He still works for the FBI, chasing criminals down like a rabid dog, breaking them down in the confines of the interrogation room, or slamming the doors shut on their cages. But at night, when pale moonlight guides his way, he glides unsteadily into Red’s new luxury apartment, cabin or hotel room, and straight into his arms. They are always frantic. Hands grabbing and gripping on clothes and skin, mouths desperate and wild. Sometimes he believes if he lets go for even a breath, it will suddenly slip away and he’ll never be able to catch it again.

But he has reason to feel like this. Because he knows it can – and it will. Red has no reason to keep him around, no reason to truly care.

Donald is the definition of a convenient fuck.

He sometimes feels like a stray cat Red has decided to give food to when he knocks on the door. There is no reason for Red to keep giving him anything beyond basic affection. Yet he finds himself hungering for it, to the point that his stomach aches at the thought that one-day he will knock and Red will be gone.

So, he treads carefully, hoping to keep the inevitable at bay for as long as possible. He just has to stick to the rules.

He is only allowed to visit during certain hours of the day (8-12 pm at night) – certain days in the week (Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday). He is never allowed to touch Red on his back, and he is never allowed to stay the night. That last one stings, leaving him gaping and bleeding when he prods at the wound too long. Donald likes to hold people. Enjoys the feel of their skin against his, their breath over his face, their warmth seeping into his own. But once they are finished, Red stands, kisses him on the cheek and gives him the privacy to get dressed and leave.

He wishes he was worth more than that.

Today is a bad day. Three agents dead and all because he made the wrong call. Cooper has told him to go home, Liz gave up hours ago trying to coax him out for a drink and all Donald can think about is to visit Red, and hold him until this feeling of absolute agony leaves him.

He’s not supposed to. It’s Friday, Red is busy, he can go tomorrow.

But his feet decide for him, his hands in cahoots with his legs. They guide the car without much consent to the street he longs to be. And before he knows it, he is standing outside Red’s door, hand hovering over the dark wood.

You can’t risk angering him, he knows this, knows it in his bones. Their ‘relationship’ is made up solely of convenience and contract, if he breaks it Red can shut him out. He will stop giving the cat its food. And Donald will starve.

His hand lowers. How the hell has he gotten into the mess? When had he become so desperate for the kindness of a criminal?

When you fell in love with him.

The realization is not surprising or rightfully new, but the clarity of it sends a spring of tears into his eyes, making his breath shudder. Idiot. You’re a fucking idiot.

He turns and storms down to his car. Jumping in he drives back home at some speed. He got himself into this, he’ll get himself out. It won’t be hard, he’s done it before, and he’s seen himself through tougher times than this.

At home he rips open the door only to slam it, drops the keys in the bowl, rips off his jacket and pulls out the phone Red gave him at the start of this thing. He won’t be needing it anymore –

“Ah! Donald!”

He freezes, in the kitchen on his way to the trash. Red is standing in the living room, jacket removed, smiling with a glass of brandy in hand. Donald has no words; speech having fled into ether. Red takes a languid sip and walks closer, “I heard what happened today,” taking a final sip he places the glass on the counter and reaches up, “I thought you might want some company?” to touch his shoulders, to touch his face, and finally to kiss him softly.

Donald feels the air rush out of him in a pained gasp, and before he can think, he’s buried into Red’s shoulder, biting back loud sobs. He half-way expects Red to push him away, to hold him for a moment and then pick up his brandy again, but he doesn’t. He holds on, whispering soothing words into his ear, which seem to pierce straight into his soul.

Donald holds on, breathes him in, and lets the agony his worries seep out of him - at least for today.

#the blacklist rare ships week #TBLRSW #Resslington #donald ressler #raymond reddington #the blacklist

[northwestofinsanity]

Well, this is what I spent 5 hours of yesterday drawing.  Thanks to a challenge concept on another site some of my mutuals might know me on, I can’t stop thinking about how many odd quirks in common three of my favorite keyboardists have -all of which likely never have/had crossed paths in their lives, but oh well.  Neal Doughty of REO Speedwagon, Donald Fagen of Steely Dan, and the late, great Allen Lanier of Blue Oyster Cult.  These three have/had varying forms of sarcasm constantly running, and in certain pictures and interviews, have this shrug they do where they toss their hands out to their sides or up in the air limply (sometimes it’s just one hand, but I went full-fledged for this cartoon).

I referenced a Canadian TV interview from 1987 for Neal, where he deadpanned a troll response to an interviewer asking how REO seemed to have avoided some big trends (he got Kevin Cronin so riled up with that! XD)... his sarcasm is mostly harmless and playful, really.  I did use a picture reference for Donald, albeit I feel like I’ve seen him do that in so many photos and interviews my dad showed me growing up -all but two of which I suddenly can’t find anymore when I want to reference them (anyway, he has the most biting form of snide here by contrast, so he doesn't even need to say anything to get his message across with it).  Allen is of course portrayed as he was in the Tom Snyder interview about hearing damage, telling off critics for unfairly jumping all over rock and roll about problems that can apply to any genre -he must have tossed his hands up at least five times in a thirty second clip there while mimicking the critics (you tell’em, Allen!)

[the only thing that could have made this better was if Neal had been in a video interview doing that shrug in 81 or earlier so he’d have his signature hat and could have created some symmetry with Allen... oh well.]

#my art #band comics #do not repost #life as we don't know it

[oboeist3]

Hollow

[[A joint fic/art collab with the amazing @drakotts! also available on ao3. Hope you all enjoy!]]

The Supercell had changed quite a bit over the decades since its original inception. The outer walls were fortified with stronger materials, and the interior was made less cartoonishly imposing, which was only fitting considering it was supposed to be the Mad Ducktor's home for multiple life cycles. There was a bed, a chair, a partially obscured bathroom. The section was still filmed, cameras embedded deeply in the walls so he couldn't pry them open for parts, as had been his escape two versions ago, but his presence was reviewed by a highly sophisticated Mad Ducktor detecting algorithm. The rest of the footage was examined by guards, twenty-four of them, each taking an hour a day. They were to alert Gyro of any irregularities immediately. Nowadays though, they didn't have much to report.

The Mad Ducktor was behaving. He was reading books, watching television on the projected screen, eating and sleeping regularly. For more than a handful of hours! Strangest of all, he wasn't insulting the guards through the cameras, picking apart their lives until they quit or demanded a leave of mental health. He was being a model prisoner, and no one knew why.

Gyro considered several options. Maybe the resident of the Supercell was a clone, or had mentally transferred out, or was trying to lull them into a false sense of security so that someone could come in person and he could escape. He sent a doctor to examine him, and Mad Ducktor complied with her tests, didn't steal any of her equipment, and didn't impersonate her. When her tests came back, they proved the chicken locked in the Supercell was the original. Well, the original clone.

In the end, there was only one thing to do. Mad Ducktor was many things, an overdramatic, narcissistic, unhinged lunatic, but he never lied to Gyro. He always told him the truth, or what he believed was the truth. If Gyro asked him what he was doing, he'd answer. He supposed he could have done it over the phone, project himself onto the wall and demand to know what was going on. But more than the structure of the prison had changed over the years. They'd built a decorum between them, an unspoken agreement of respect, even in their adversarial interactions.

It didn't feel right, not doing it in person.

So, Gyro took two flights, a boat, and a robot-powered dogsled to the Supercell. He input the five random alphanumeric passwords reset daily, and had the facility scan both his nucleic and mitochondrial DNA, his eye color, and his lack of lip makeup, which Mad Ducktor could never resist, even in disguise. He sighed in relief as he was allowed access, the warm air rushing over his feathers. Little Helper jumped down from his shoulder and undid his - mostly decorative - scarf.

"Be good while I'm gone." he instructed the little robot, handing him his cell phone, calculator, and spare glasses. Anything remotely mechanical wasn't allowed near his alter ego, as well as all basic office supplies. Little Helper gave a solemn salute, filament narrowed as if he was squinting at the door to the Mad Ducktor's cell, ready to keep a careful guard over his newly acquired cache. Gyro hid his smile in the ruff of his jacket, and after a deep breath, opened the door.

He wasn't sure if he had much in the way of expectations, but Mad Ducktor sitting crossed-legged and calm on his cot wasn't one of them. He didn't even open his eyes until Gyro cleared his throat loudly.

"Oh, look what the Antarctic wind has blown in. Gyro, darling." he said, his beak twisting up into a playful smirk. "Come to bask in your victory? I must say, that's not very heroic of you. What will your husband think?"

"He's not with me, if that's what you're asking." he said, automatically tracing the ring with a finger, feeling the etched detailing. He'd told Donald of his whereabouts, after all if Mad Ducktor did succeed in hoodwinking him and escaping those few hours notice could be crucial. But they'd agreed that his presence would be unlikely to produce anything fruitful.

"My my, how naughty of you. Is that why you came? Because I'm not in the mood." he said, though the way his eyes traveled over Gyro didn't really lend much weight to the words. He flushed in spite of himself, Mad Ducktor was just trying to get a rise out of him, distract him from his actual purpose.

"I'm just here to visit." he stated, and tossed the bag he'd been clutching into his lap. "I brought you some muffins, your favorite."

As soon as the little baked good was in the chicken's hand, his expression changed. The playful amusement evaporated, the flirty, searching stare went sharp and calculating. Instead of descending upon the food with all the haste of a harpy, as was usual, he carefully placed it on the pillow, unwrapped and untasted.

"What is this, some sort of pity?" he sneered, his voice as cold and biting as the howling winds outside.

“It’s a gift, you know, like normal people bring each other when it’s been a while.” he said, reverting into sarcasm because he wasn't sure he'd ever heard him so furious, not when attacking Scrooge or Paperinik, not when his schemes were foiled, not when he objected at the wedding.

“When have we ever been normal?” he snorted, which wasn't exactly wrong.

"You've been playing the part lately. Haven't had to hire anyone new in months."

"Isn't that what you've always wanted? Me in prison, far away, and you off with your happy, domestic little life. If this isn't it, I don't know how to please you Gyro, I really don't."

"I want people safe and you happy in that order. If you're done with escaping and evil you don't have to live here anymore. You could go to a lower security prison, or house arrest in a few years." he said, encouraging and supportive. But the Mad Ducktor merely sneered, standing up and marching towards him, each word punctuated by his descent.

"Oh Gyro, bello Gyro. Don't you understand? I don't have my own happiness, I'm part of you. The part of you that believes you deserve better and your enemies deserve worse. I'm not a person, I'm an idea with a body.  And I'm smart enough to know when I'm not needed anymore. You made your choice, and I've accepted it. So stop pretending you care!" The bravado of his words crumbled on the last sentence, as he stopped a few feet from Gyro.

The scientist closed the distance with his clone, wrapping his arms tightly around him. The sort of bone-crushing hug of a too long reunion, appropriate in feeling if not quite in the reality. Mad Ducktor was stiff for a moment, but soon returned the action, tucking his beak against Gyro's neck and preening the feathers there. He'd done it a few times when he thought Gyro was too sleep deprived to remember it. Certainly he never acknowledged it in waking hours. Several minutes passed before he dared to speak.

"You...you've really felt that way? All these years?"

"It's not a feeling, it's a fact." he mumbled, fingers gripping at Gyro's shoulders. "I'm hollow. A fragment of someone more complete. Why do you think I always came back? You might not need me, but I've always needed you. I'm useless on my own."

"That's not true! Even if you started out as a fragment of my ego, you've changed. You like muffins, you wear makeup, you listen to classical music. That's all you." he pointed out, earning a non-comital grumble. "I don't want to need you, because I don't want to need anyone, but when you're not trying to hurt my friends and family, I like having you around."

"What would I ever do without a reason to tie you up in a basement?" he asked, sounding genuinely puzzled.

"You could visit. Bring a bottle of wine, help me with my latest gadget, try not to kill my husband for a few hours."

"You'd really want me there. In your lab, in your life?" he said, pulling back, incredulous.

"Of course. Geniuses have to stick together." he said, and caught sight of the glint off one of the cameras. "Oh dear, I'm going to have to erase all of this." Not to mention possibly bribe the guard to not report him aiding and abetting a dangerous criminal.

"No need. There's an EMP generator in my tongue bar. I activated it as soon as you came in." The Mad Ducktor said, sticking out his tongue the reveal the blinking gadget.

"When did you -? You know what. I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that." he said, tossing his hands up. "I'll see you sometime soon, if you can get out of this latest version." he teased, and the purple-haired chicken grinned wide.

"Gyro darling, I'm going to beat you there."

#paperinik #mad ducktor #gyro gearloose #ducktales #oboeistwrites

[didsomeonesayventus]

okay long time spending in gestation but I imagine that someone out of the followers I have wants to know my onion on KH3 is 

Overall, good!

so consider wordbarf of very repeated and tired onions no one actually actively asked for below:

Alright so I’ve been trying to figure out how to make these words and what my opinions even are considering this game has been out for almost a year now (KH3 existing is wild imagine it turning a year old) so this will be. mostly bullet points + incoherent and unorganized rambling forgive me

BAD THINGS FIRST lets get the salt out of the way

Literally everything with Kairi was oof. I still feel her relationship with Lea is incredibly rushed given the last time they were interacting in canon he was literally kidnapping her but go off I guess nomura they’re brother/sister friendsy now at least the fandom can sell me on that better than you can. I seethe with rage recalling that they didn’t even try to hide that killing her off was a classic case of fridging (“You lack motivation” FUCK OFF) and I have been angry since the day I was spoiled by leak stuff accidentally. I wouldn’t have minded her getting her ass handed to her if they made it look like she tried and gave us some moments where she did defend herself and get some victories and not conveniently cut away from the actually badly needed training montage (surprise! this is why we have training montages!!!!) and I get she was instrumental in rescuing everyone and the fact she wasn’t THAT bad speaks for how much she improved but it still just. bites that she still feels more like a satellite love interest than ever. 

Kairi was bad enough to get her own thing but tbh everyone who isn’t Sora also.. really suffers. The writing is really Sora-centric here and that’s not inherently bad (see good list) but it leaves a lot to be desired, especially since they dog pile the extended cast moments in at the end. There was no big confusion at Ven and Roxas sharing a face, no talks between characters who would have interesting interactions given their histories and circumstances, no obvious sign of development from anyone except maybe sea salt family and Aqua. They’re here to be more one-note than usual and resolve their arcs. Ven in particular (I’m totally not biased clearly /sarcasm) I feel is a big example given he was kinda in a really rough mental state at the end of bbs?? and 3 is exceptionally vague on just how conscious ventus was during his nap so I can’t even answer if he was able to give himself therapy the past 12 years or whatever

Anti Aqua is a damn cool concept but ultimately kinda pointless and I think we could have received it better if it wasn’t spoiled in trailers and wholly out of left field. Plus Sora coming in after what was pretty clearly set up as a Riku moment- while it gave us the incredibly gay press triangle to Sora + use a big keyblade made from ur love moment -was uh! really cheap!!!! and ruined what was clearly set up for being Riku’s thing with an almost nonsensical SIKE ITS SORA (it’s saved from being wholly nonsensical by 0.2′s opening foreshadowing + it still kinda makes sense for sora to at least help but damn if the narrative wasn’t leading us towards a riku moment)

Also everyone was hit really hard with the nerf effect in-narrative so unless you’re the dream team you’re screwed I guess and that. doesn’t quite work since it makes everyone else look... not great. And I think this is kinda a miscommunication on part of Nomura and the fans (IM MAKING ASSUMPTIONS TAKE WITH SALT) in that we kept saying we wanted people “saved” but meant having their arcs resolved in a reasonable way that preserved their agency and power and relationships, but got interpreted literally as “alright Sora comes in and solves every problem, is tough on stains, and makes julienne fries”

And yet there’s also a lot of mean spirited “oh no sora’s dumb and helpless w/out a second braincell” which was kinda funny the first couple times and I failed to pick up on it first go I’ll admit, but honestly? Yeah. they pick on sora too much. Donald and Goofy are the most guilty, and everyone else by virtue of not seeing Sora that much actually in-narrative are off the hook from me because they probably didn’t know how much teasing he’d been getting from his pals, but it felt kinda like they didn’t know what to fall back on between the three besides “oh donald and goofy pick on sora” which is cute once or twice but the amount he gets and how it clearly leads to his breakdown at the end is uhHHHHhhhHH hm.

As always the pacing is pretty awful where the disney worlds are somewhat relevant at best and then the end is 0-1000 but that is a usual KH gripe so its pretty low on the bar

Attraction flow is cute and neat at first but it gets.. really wearing towards the end and in the serious fights at the Keyblade Graveyard BOY are they a mood breaker

the “repeat the plot” worlds- Tangled, Frozen, Pirates -REALLY stick out like a sore, ugly thumb compared to the worlds that went out and did their own creative thing, and Big Hero 6 was.. cute? but kinda maybe too much of a breather.

Frozen also get an extra award for “Audio mixer most in need of firing!” because who the hell allowed the do you want to build a snowman scene.

They did nothing with Scala and I want a refund on that aesthetic if they’re not gonna do anything besides a framing device with it

HEY WAIT THERE WAS GOOD THINGS TOO!

Good news point that may or may not come to pass: Re:Mind DLC might fix some of the above salt! We shall see and probably know by the time this post is a year old sfjhdsakjgh

SORA! Sora was actually a character again!!!! holy cow they pulled up from the utter nose dive that was DDD!! god i love this dork and it was really fantastic to see him back to normal.

The graphical upgrade lost a lot of the squish and stretch that the OG graphics had but you know what? pretty. tastey. good graphics and better at doing more subtle emotions and hey have i mentioned Pirate’s glow up? Pirate’s glow up. The details in Olympus to recreate the swirly aesthetic of the clouds and explosions and lava is a great touch.

Worlds as far as levels go?? really good! They feel legitimately like worlds and explorable and with their own flavors and I LOVE battle and field themes x2 its really great I’m down for less worlds if they keep the quality. Hell we have NPCs!! maybe even too many npcs.

Writing OVER ALL/ON AVERAGE I’d say has improved a lot! It’s still not a literary masterpiece or anything but I found the disney worlds really cute and easier to get invested in even if long term they were less relevant than I hoped they would be. In every world there was at least one scene I found myself actually invested in. Like there was something to the writing that was legitimately more endearing than usual on average, and toy box and monstropolis were strong contenders for really good overall imo

honestly there were moments that- as moments -were incredible. Wayfinder reunion scene will haunt me, and Sea salt’s was good too, final world and rescuing everyone was jaw dropping, getting the LoD Back was also good, Union X, Xigbar exiting left stage pursued by a bear, wayfinder trio making a grave for eraqus, all the gummi ship scenes had great chemistry, beach party ending, hanging out with rapunzel for the first half of Corona is adorable as hell, all the nods to scenes in the movies, the easter eggs, like the game is not consistently amazing but it is peppered with stuff that I feel in a bubble ignoring surrounding context just work really really well

Damn if the end boss rush wasn’t thrilling as hell and honestly??? really good. Hard to parse out first flush but I think this was a good decision and added a lot of blood roaring urgency and wild turns, and even if I want to overhaul a number of things about the endgame I think this can definitely stay

Kingstagram is a beautiful gift man

OST? A fucking banger all around and I love how they’ve made cutscene-specific tracks that play with the leitmotifs throughout KH’s illustrious musical history

Over all there’s some really glaring issues, but overall it’s KH really at its best. I’m not sure if it’s my favorite entry and I’m still really mixed + befuddled on just how exactly I feel and I think a lot of that is I had pretty high expectations and my own ideas of how it would play out since like. 2012. it’s really hard to detach from those feelings and ideas sometimes. But KH3 wasn’t bad! It could’ve really been worse, and the fact that it got out the door in the state that it was is a good deal

now here’s to the wait for Re:Mind and to see if it’s basically the content we’d get in Final Mix that could definitely bump up my opinion

#Katie rambles #long post #((in case this fucks up on mobile which it likely will)) #but yeah I'd say 7-8/10 #solid entry did remarkably well for what it needed to do but not really amazing favorite entry ever sort of love #got its pros got its cons. its solid and good and enjoyable for what KH is #anyways obviously this is my opinion and you're not obligated to agree but yeah! KH3.. exists.. its a thing.....

[dentalrecordsmusic]

EP Review: Abi Ooze - "Bad Egg"

There’s apparently this “egg punk vs. chain punk” meme that’s been going around for years and I’ve been blissfully unaware of it up until now. According to Know Your Meme (an extremely reliable source), "Although the definitions of these terms are somewhat unclear, 'chain punk' generally refers to punk in the edgier or traditional sense while 'egg punk' evokes a softer, goofier or more off-center character.”

Abi Ooze, ex Poser and power pop punk monarch, released her bedroom session EP Bad Egg with a wink and a nod; the fact that the record’s artwork (by fellow Philadelphian Low Level) features chains and little cartoon eggs is perhaps a direct ode to the internet meme while also pointing a middle finger at the labels, expectations, and norms that bind us. Either way, Bad Egg shows off some of Abi’s obvious talent for writing catchy songs, as well as her firm grasp on bold declarations intended to make you stop and think.

“App 4 That” features just the beginning of Ooze’s lo-fi goodness. It’s only a noisy guitar and her signature blaring vocals that lead it, but what makes this opening track so special is the general vibe and tone — the bare minimum and simplicity allow it to shine in its own unique way. The lyrics, "Oh sweetie, I’ve been searching / This phone for a way to get you back to me / There’s not an app for that…” gives off hints of sarcasm but it’s deeply relatable at the same time.

Drums start to pound in the final few seconds and merge perfectly with “KUT” which is cutting, vulgar, and crude. Hearing the lyrics to a song with a title shortened for "Kill Urself Today" is shocking, but when examined a little more closely we find the bold irony at play. Ooze makes her personal demons known with some clever caper belting out, "Sometimes it’s hard to get out of bed / With the weight of the world in your head / Just stay, just stay there / You don’t know and you don’t care / Sleeping in is easier than being dead.”

“INTO” (standing for “I’m Not The One”) brings us halfway through the album and it starts with a bold sample from 1982’s Ladies and Gentlemen, The Fabulous Stains featuring the character Corinne who could fool anyone into believing she invented the riot grrl movement with her monologue (and honestly? She may have). This is the most pop-centric song on the record with a sugar-coated melody and Ooze’s upbeat attitude as she bops and spits, "I’m not the one / You keep saying you want something, I want nothing,” ridding herself of all responsibility.

“I Don’t Wanna” features a particularly cringe-y sound bite from President Donald Trump belittling a female journalist before it fires straight into a rowdy power pop party; I imagine Ooze stomping around and emotionally belting this while wearing her signature faux leopard coat. She delivers “I don’t wanna” with such conviction and spunk that it’s hard not to get the words stuck in your head. 

Finally, “Bad Egg” finishes this record off and lyrically it’s highly personal. The sample at the beginning sounds off Aileen Wournos shouting, “I know I was raped, you ain’t nothing but a bunch of scum, putting someone who was raped in jail” as she’s escorted out of the courtroom after receiving her third life sentence for murder. Instrumentally, this is the most involved and fearless track on the album with the end getting more and more hostile as it wears on.

Abi Ooze strips away simile and metaphor on the Bad Egg EP leaving us with an exposed center riddled with gutsy and courageous themes; it is equally daring and nervy.

You can listen to “Bad Egg” on Bandcamp here. Additionally, you can purchase it on cassette tape from Aklasan Records here. 

Aklasan Records is a DIY, independently run label with the decided purpose of distributing and providing exposure to Philippine and Filipino American hardcore and punk. 

Abi Ooze will be playing the only Filipino American punk festival in the United States, “Aklasan Fest 2019,” in San Francisco this August 2nd and 3rd. The festival will be in its sixth year. Check out her Bandcamp page for additional show dates. 

Catherine Dempsey is 100% an egg punk. You can follow her on Instagram and Twitter. 

Follow DRM on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter.

Subscribe to the DRM YouTube channel.

Support small, independent music blogs by supporting us on Patreon.

#abi ooze #bad egg #bad egg ep #aklasan records #diy #power pop #punk #catherine dempsey #album review

[basmathgirl]

1, 2, 12, 33 or you can just answer them all if you want to!

Hello kind Anon!

Thank you so much for falling into my trap allowing me to air some sarcastic remarks. Please note that some answers are missing because someone else asked for them.  :D

1.     what’syour favourite way to dress?

One foot at a time.

2.     ifyou could change anything about yourself, what would it be?

The type of wedding cake we had. Why, youmay ask? Because I never got a single bite of it.

3.     whatmovie/game/etc. helps you calm down?

A decent one.

5.     doyou like to organize?

In what context do you mean? I might like to shuffle papers about, and keep notes about everything; don’t mean I couldn’t give it up if I wanted to...

6.     whatkind of music would you listen to if you could only choose one?

One that paid me to listen to stuff I adore.

7.     whatsong is your aesthetic?

Oops, sorry! I thought you said “anaesthetic”then and chose something else entirely…

8.     whatcolour do you think goes best with your personality?

One that matched my eyes.

10. whatdo you wish you hated, but actually like?

Stupid questions like these.

11. vagueabout your crush(es)

*strikes a vague pose*

12. isthere someone you have mixed feelings towards?

Yes and no

13. talkabout an au or story you came up with

Once upon a time there were three little pigs…

14. doyou like makeup?

No, they’re just someone I used to know.

15. doyou prefer space or the ocean?

I’ll wait and see who talks to me first.

16. ifyou could pick any planet besides earth, where would you live?

Not been anywhere else yet to make such a decision.

17. whatform of government do you like the most? (capitalism, socialism, etc.)

One that isn’t influenced by Donald Trump

18. whatanimal would you keep as a pet, if you could?

Tentoo; most definitely. *ruffles his hair*

20. doyou believe in god(s)?

No! What did they say?!! *leans towardsyou* Do tell.

21. isthere a song you can’t handle listening to, even though you like it?

When I find a song with a handle, I’ll letyou know

22. whatex do you miss the most, if you have one?

I’ll have you know that I was very goodwith a dart back then and hardly ever missed…

23. doyou like soft, fluffy blankets or rough/smooth blankets?

There is only one blanket in my life: myTARDIS one.

24. whatis your favourite thing to learn about?

How to extend my sarcasm.

25. whatcountry’s history do you find the most interesting?

My own.

26. whatdo you think about genderbent ____ (insert someone here)

No idea who they are. Sorry, love. And I wouldn’tpublicly shame them in this way if I did.

27. whatbreakup was the hardest, if you had one?

I can remember being rather huffed aboutthe Beatles splitting up…

28. doyou have someone where you can’t decide if you like them romantically or justas a friend?

I promised myself that I wouldn’t mentionhubby during these answers, sorry.

30. whatinstrument do you wish you could master?

The pink oboe. Probably the piano.

31. howeasy is it for you to be honest?

Extremely easy.

32. doyou have any strange interests?

Not to me they ain’t!

33. doyou have any strange fears?

Ditto. D’uh!

34. whatfood do you binge on when you’re lazy?

Cream crackers; in a “this is my 4th one and I can’t face anymore” sort of a way.

35. whenyou get angry, how do you show it?

Can’t you see it now? Never mind.

36. doyou have any impulsive movements? (twitches, ticks, flapping, etc.)

Yes. it’s called being a klutz or a bull in a china shop.

37. whatdo you listen to music on?

Well, I tried my stomach but using my earswas so much better.

38. areyou left brained or right brained?

According to some people I’m always right (see answer no. 28).

39. earbudsor headphones?

For what? The next Pope? Sorting out Brexit? Weird question…

40. doyou like light blankets or heavy blankets? 

No, I refuse to fat shame blankets. And myduvet would get jealous if I mentioned something else.

#kind Anon #obscure asks #meme #questions #Thank You #I had a lot of fun answering these #:) #Anonymous

[apocfetau]

I’m waiting for this arc in Ducktales, Scrooge has a lot of making up to do with Donald, having thought about it (I’m writing a Duck Avenger 2017 Ducktales Fanfic right now) It’s occurred to me that their relationship is much like the one in the Uncle Scrooge comics, Scrooge drags Donald into all sort of situations and calls Donald all sorts of derogatory things and hurts Donald quite a bit and Donald bites back at him with sarcasm, calls him out when he’s being an idiot and yet always stays there because Scrooge is family.

Much like the relationship where Scrooge throws Donald into a freezer that could likely have killed him, forced Donald to be baked into a cookie (when honestly anyone of them could’ve done it) and other such horrible scenarios and laughed it up with Della at the end of all of them. “Della’s a wee bit more like me.”

....

...

Okay... I’ll stop reading the comics, I’m starting to hate Scrooge because of how he treats Donald, either they give the “redemption arc” in the series or...

#DonaldDuck #scrooge mcduck #duck avenger #ducktales

[chuuseokies-blog]

My Heart’s On Fire (how about yours?)

Summary:  The entire team that works on “Romeo and James”, a retold version of Shakespeare’s masterpiece “Romeo and Juliet” is full of lovely, funny and kind people that Dan actually enjoys spending time with.But evil takes human form in Philip Michael Lester, the only person on planet earth that Dan would very gladly gift a one-way ticket to Mars, so that he shall never return. (Phil, and Donald Trump perhaps.)

Or: The one where usually, people don’t fall in love with the person that caused their life to fall apart, unless they’re in a cheesy rom-com. Then again, usually people aren’t Dan Howell.

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: internalised biphobia, mentions of cheating, use of the f-word (only once)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the people mentioned. Any smiliarity to real persons (except the YouTubers) is purely coincidental.

Read it on AO3!

It’s here! My (not very) long awaited PBB fic that I spent months annoying my friends with annd about a year and a half working on (”but Lucie”, I hear you say “how is it only 7k words when you were writing it for that long?” well, I’m very good at keeping things short and compact. Also, depression and graduation and uni.)

And yes, the title is a line from “All Star” by Smash Mouth, I have a problem, sue me.

A massive THANK YOU goes to Vivi for the absolutely amazing and stunning art she did. You can check it out here, but I’ll link to it again at the end so you can avoid spoilers.

Another THANK YOU to Skipper, my amazing beta, support system, one-woman-motivational-team and friend, who did an amazing job picking out all the mistakes I made (a lot) and telling me to get off my arse and write. You’re a true hero.

Shoutout to the granny phannies gc for enduring me being annoying with this fic, you’re all amazing!

For Monica - because god knows, I’ve been spoiling and teasing you enough.

Dan Howell has not signed up for this. Okay, maybe he had signed up for a casting, and he has definitely been happy to actually get the role (honestly, playing Romeo Montague in the actual fucking Globe Theatre was something he had never dreamed could become true), but he has not signed up to having to deal with him.

The entire team that works on “Romeo and James”, a retold version of Shakespeare’s masterpiece “Romeo and Juliet” is full of lovely, funny and kind people that Dan actually enjoys spending time with.

But evil takes human form in Philip Michael Lester, the only person on planet earth that Dan would very gladly gift a one-way ticket to Mars, so that he shall never return. (Phil, and Donald Trump perhaps.)

And if fate hadn’t already fucked with him by having his girlfriend decide to break up with him on the day of his 26th birthday, it is certainly laughing its arse off now, as Phil plays Dan’s counterpart, James Capulet, meaning the two have to act like a goddamn loving couple for extended periods of time- and Dan’s about to lose his mind.

See, Dan doesn’t mindlessly hate Phil, oh no, he actually has a fairly good reason for his vitriolic demeanor, even though Louise doesn’t seem to believe the entire mess is Phil’s mistake. It isn’t exactly like Dan had asked Phil to become inappropriately jealous of the younger one’s success and decide to ruin his entire life based on the director’s choice of cast, leaving Phil to play the- in Dan’s opinion- slightly less important role of Romeo’s lover, despite having auditioned for Romeo as well. Dan just had been better, and Phil is obviously a bitter bastard with too much envy.

Speaking of the devil, the door to Dan’s dressing room opens and the blue-eyed bastard enters, without having made the effort of knocking, which pisses off Dan just a tiny bit more. Not that he’d ever show it, he’s an actor after all.

“Uh, Hazel told me to remind you that we’re starting rehearsals again in ten minutes,” the other man says, and there’s a short silence before Dan harshly nods once, not bothering to look at Phil.

“I know. Close the door behind you.”

Phil simply sighs and leaves again. Needless to say he does not close the door, which makes Dan’s anger rise even more.

He doesn’t know why Hazel has decided to send him, of all people, to get Dan. Everyone working in the theatre knows about their disliking of each other, despite being able to act all lovey-dovey on stage. Dan likes to think that they were both very good actors, being able to pull that off.

With a bitter taste in his mouth, Dan angrily chucks his half-eaten apple into the bin besides his mirror and all but stomps out of the room to get to the rehearsal on time. Bloody Phil, bloody director, bloody three flights of stairs that he has to run down in order to get to the stage.

                                                           ***

Upon entering the theatre, Dan’s greeted with a picture of pure chaos. Hazel is stood on her director’s chair yelling at the background extras to concentrate and please stop staring at Phil, the main stage light keeps going out, causing the chief light technician to let out an array of curses. It’s honestly a miracle nobody has started crying and/ or set something on fire yet.

“Dan, there you are.” Hazel says, clearly relieved to see him, before switching back to her professional voice: “Okay everyone, let’s go through the first meeting scene again. Ladies, please try to concentrate and not to stare at the actors, thank you. Places please!”

This is easy for Dan. He walks up the stage, to his position and immediately falls into the role of Romeo. The lines fall off his lips as if he actually were at that party, his movements fit those of his counterparts, and all the hate he has for Phil turns into love, the hardness into softness. Their interaction is soft, gentle, warm, nothing like the cold looks they shoot each other off stage.

The scene ends with them standing very close together, chests almost touching, and as soon as Hazel yells “cut!” they take a few steps back, cross their arms and go back to glaring. It’s almost like the temperature has dropped a bit as they listen to their director point out the tiny mistakes they did make, but Dan’s used to that by now. After all, he really hates Phil Lester.

                                                        ***

At lunch, Dan sits alone, like he usually does. Hazel is talking to Jack, Dodie and Evan are out to grab some Starbucks and even Duncan is gone, probably calling his wife. Dan’s about to bite into his sandwich when he sees someone sitting down across from him. It’s Phil, of course it’s Phil, the universe hates him.

“What, is that table your property now?” Phil asks in response to Dan’s confused yet angry glance. “Everywhere else is full.” He adds and sets his cup of coffee down on the wood.

They eat in silence for a few minutes, and Dan thinks he could cut the tension with a knife if he had one right now. It’s awkward and uncomfortable and Phil is shifting on his chair like a schoolkid that’s scared of being caught without homework.

“You know,” he starts suddenly, causing Dan to look up in surprise. “You did really well, I’ve never seen anyone nail their performance at the first real try.”

Dan lets out a small huff. He really doesn’t like to admit it, but Phil is an incredible actor and this is a huge compliment, coming from him. So, Dan hides the fact he’s actually humbled under twenty layers of narcissism and sarcasm: “I am a professional, after all.”

Phil rolls his eyes in annoyance. “As am I, but you’re still incredibly good.”

“Thanks.” Dan simply mutters and to him, that indicates the end of this conversation.

The following silence is more awkward and tense than the previous one, if possible, and Dan really, really wants to leave. But before he can, Phil gets up.

“I’ll go to my dressing-“ he starts, and that’s when it happens. His elbow hits the half-empty cup of coffee, knocking it over and sending the lukewarm liquid right over Dan’s script.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Dan yells, jumping up, furiously dabbing at the soaked paper with his bare hands. The script is ruined, he thinks, and then he realises what is going on here.

“You’re trying to sabotage me!” he accuses, looking at Phil with what can only be described as white fury. “This is all just a spiel, complimenting me and then ruining my script on purpose! You’re jealous I got Romeo’s part, that’s why you- you. Ugh!”

Phil, now visibly pissed, interrupts him: “I am perfectly happy with my role, thank you.” He snarls. ”And how often do I need to tell you, what happened that night-“

“Yeah whatever. Fuck you.” Dan cuts him off, not believing he would dare to bring up that night right now, and stomps off, almost steaming.

                                                        ***

“It’s like his only goal in life is to ruin mine!” Dan exclaims, plopping down on Louise’s couch and angrily hitting his pillow. His makeshift bed isn’t exactly comfortable to sleep on, but he has to make do with what he can get, after what happened. And currently, his best friend’s couch is the only place he can crash.

Louise sits down next time him, hands him a cup of tea and starts patting his back: “Okay love, calm down. I’m sure he didn’t mean to knock that water over and “ruin” your script. Besides, didn’t you say you knew all your lines by heart anyways?”

“All lines, but that’s beside the point. The thing is-“

“No Dan,” Louise interrupts, ”you were wrong to go off on him like that. I’ve met Phil, he’s actually a really nice guy, there’s no way he’s trying to sabotage you.”

Dan lets out an exasperated sigh. “But-“

“No buts, Dan. You’ve overreacted, quite a bit actually.” Louise says again, and now she has that stern look in her eyes, that one only Mums can pull off. Dan hates when she does that to him.

Maybe she is right, he thinks. After all, there’s no reason for Phil to purposefully ruin his script, Jack wouldn’t change his mind about the cast. And it did look like he was trying to apologise before Dan started yelling obscenities at him.

Later that night, when everyone else is asleep, Dan almost seriously considers apologising to Phil the next time he sees him, but then remembers what he did to Dan, how badly Dan had been hurt, and how messed up the whole thing had been.

So no, Dan thinks, Phil Lester doesn’t deserve any kind of apology from him, not after what he’s done to him.

                                                        ***

The next few days go by uneventfully. Their rehearsals fly by, the whole crew works like a well-lubed machine by now, even the extras have stopped staring at Phil and start doing what they’re supposed to do.

It’s almost a miracle, but everything is so good for once that Dan catches himself laughing at a few jokes Phil makes and starts acting warmer, sometimes even outright friendly, towards his colleague.

Everything seems perfect, for a little while, until that one fateful day at the end of July.

It starts calm and harmless, like any day does. Dan gets up, eats breakfast with Darcy, Liam and Louise, takes his goddaughter to school and goes to work. Nothing seems unusual.

That is, until Dan hears a sharp knock on his dressing room door and gets up to open it, and he almost shuts the door again when he is met with her face.

Her. Laurie. His ex-girlfriend.

“What do you want?” he asks, not even trying to conceal his disgust.

“Why so brisk, love? I found some of your things in my flat, you know, like those childish games you love so much, and I thought I’d give them back to you, because that’s just how nice I am.”

She almost purrs those words, voice sweet as sugar, almost sickening. Dan feels like throwing up into her extensions. Instead, he takes the box, almost rips it out of carefully manicured hands.

There’s a moment of silence, Laurie smirking at him, her eyes wandering up and down his body, almost predatory.

Dan sighs and rolls his eyes. “What more do you-“

“Dan, can I talk to you? I just have a short question about the-oh” Phil’s stood in the doorway. Of course, as if nothing worse could happen, Phil is now in the same room as Dan and his ex. Fuck.

Laurie, upon hearing Phil’s voice, turns around and leans into him, strokes his upper arm as if to feel his biceps.

“I guess I’d better go.” Phil says, but before he can make a single move, Laurie starts talking again, voice thick with fake affection.

“Why go, sweetie? You’re always more than welcome here, right Danny? I’m sure we can make ourselves at home and get real comfortable, what do you say sweet pea?”

She starts circling Phil like a cat, never taking her eyes nor her hands off him, stroking his chest, his back, his shoulders. Dan goes from wanting to throw up to wanting to cry while throwing up. And also murdering someone.

“Laurie. Leave this theatre, now.” He all but growls, feeling the anger rise in his chest, threatening to spill over. Miraculously, Laurie gets the message and turns to the door, but not before giving Phil a wet, obnoxiously loud kiss on the check.

“Call me, handsome.” She winks and with that, she’s gone.

Dan clutches the box and turns around, facing the wall. He can hear Phil coming closer.

“Dan, I am so sor-“

Dan drops the box on his table with a loud bang.

“No, you know what? This is your fault. This is all your fucking fault! If it weren’t for you bloody arsehole, my girlfriend never would have cheated on me! Phil I KNOW you did this on purpose! You fucking arsehole seduced my girlfriend and slept with her and let my sorry ass catch you in the act! Honestly, go fuck yourself!”

Phil, who had looked genuinely concerned, furrows his brows in anger. It’s almost like he grows two feet as he raises his voice and starts screaming at Dan: “I should go fuck myself? If anyone here did anything on purpose, it’s your slut of an ex-girlfriend! She seduced me, Dan! I had no clue she was anyone’s girlfriend, let alone yours, until you barged into the room and started yelling profanities at us! And I tried, I bloody tried to explain myself to you, and to apologise, but you just wouldn’t have it! Your fucking head is way too far up your own bloody arse to even think, for one second, that the world doesn’t revolve around you, damnit! I’m so done with you and your shit!”

With that, Phil turns and runs out of the dressing room, slamming the door behind him. It’s eerily silent for a second, before Dan starts sobbing, sits down on the floor and hugs his knees to his chest.

He feels awful. Not only because after so long, he had to face the woman that ripped his heart out, but also because he fully well knows Phil is right. He knows Laurie had been cheating for the better part of a year before he had caught her in the act, and he understands none of the men she slept with had the slightest idea she had been in a five year relationship.

Dan knows all of this, and feels worse than ever before, as his sobs silence and he stands up with shaking legs to seek out Phil, to finally apologise to him.

                                                        ***

Dan finds Phil sat on the stage, legs dangling off the edge, arms crossed. He’s shaking as he sits down next to him.

“What?” Phil asks briskly, voice cold and hateful. Dan takes a deep, long breath.

“I wanted to apologise for my behaviour. It was wrong for me to accuse you of doing this whole thing on purpose when I fully well know you hadn’t met her before… that night, but it hurt so bad that I let my anger out on you, and I’m sorry for that. And I’m also sorry for not listening to you when you tried to explain and apologise.”

Phil lets out a surprised huff.

“I guess… I guess I should apologise once more, for what I did and for not understanding why you were so angry at me. I mean, dating someone for what, six years, and catching them in the act with someone else? I’m so incredibly sorry you had to go through that, and even more sorry that I’m indirectly responsible for this.”

Dan nods in understanding. They fall silent, barely daring to breathe. It’s incredibly awkward, almost painful.

Dan sighs quietly.

“So… ugh this is such a cliché, but can we start over?” he asks quietly, staring at the tips of his shoes.

At that, Phil lets out an actual laugh, a happy one, full of relief. He turns to Dan, looks at him and extends his hand.

“Hey, I’m Phil.” He says, smiling. Dan takes his hand, shakes it, introduces himself with a nervous laugh and lets Phil’s hand go again.

So, there they are, sat next to each other on a stage in an empty theatre, too uncomfortable with the situation to say anything, too nervous to just get up and leave.

Dan mentally scolds himself. How could he think this would all be resolved with one encounter, one small apology? Sure, he realised that the whole incident isn’t Phil’s fault, but their issue, Dan thinks, isn’t over yet. Nobody can go from spitting obscenities at each other to becoming friends within mere minutes, after all.

                                                        ***

The following rehearsals are awkward, to say the least. Phil seems to think that their talk on the stage a few days ago makes them friends, all of a sudden, but Dan still has to swallow down bile every time he looks at Phil’s lips and remembers the way they had looked sucking on Laurie’s collarbones, has to suppress disgusted gagging whenever Phil’s slender fingers touch him and he imagines the way they made his girlfriend, his one true love, scream in ecstasy. It’s still easier said than done, looking at the man that ripped the floor from under his feet that night and completely ruined him. It’s even harder to act in love around him, trying to push the image of Laurie and Phil together aside, despite said memory being ingrained into his mind forever.

The others notice, of course. Hazel has a stern chat to him about concentrating and getting whatever is bugging him out of his system, even goes as far as threatening to let his understudy take over (PJ, in Dan’s humble opinion, is an amazing actor but doesn’t get Romeo’s character quite as much as Dan himself does). Duncan keeps asking if he’s okay and then offering Dan to come over and distract him with Mario Kart. Evan makes bad puns, as usual.

After a particularly bad rehearsal, Phil pulls Dan aside, a concerned look on his face.

“Are you okay?” he asks and, oddly enough, sounds genuinely worried about Dan’s wellbeing.

And so, because Dan can take only so many messed up or even forgotten lines, he starts explaining. And as he admits how he still can’t get that night out of his head, how badly he’s trying to forget it, the look on Phil’s face changes from concern to understanding.

“I should’ve guessed.” He mutters, when Dan finishes. Then, Phil takes a deep breath.

“When I was in uni, I caught my then-boyfriend in bed with someone else. We broke up immediately, obviously, but the guy he had cheated with and I shared a few classes. Every time I saw him I wanted to punch the living daylights out of him, even though I knew it hadn’t been his fault. Me and my ex had never told anyone we were dating.”

Dan stops properly listening when Phil says the word boyfriend so nonchalantly. Instead, he cocks his head to the side and raises an eyebrow questioningly.

“Boyfriend?” he asks, properly confused. How can Phil have been with a man before but then sleep with a woman?

“Yes, boyfriend.” Phil says, taken aback at Dan’s reaction. “This really isn’t important but I’m bisexual, Dan, I like men and women.”

At that, and he really doesn’t know why, Dan feels his heart skip a beat. He remembers the way Laurie would snarl at two girls kissing in a café back when they were in second year, remembers how she’d always dismiss it as “just a phase” when someone in their course had been dating people of both sexes. Phil’s honesty and openness startles Dan quite a bit.

“Okay, cool, cool cool cool.” Dan stutters, voice hoarse. Why is he so taken aback by this? He’s not a homophobe, for god’s sake!

“Anyways, I get it,” Phil starts, unbeknownst of the thoughts racing through Dan’s head.

“It can’t be easy for you to see me all the time but please, let’s at least try to get to know each other a bit better, maybe even become friends or something; we can’t let this get in the way of our acting. Let’s go for coffee together and chat a bit and then we’ll see, okay?”

Days later, after they’ve somehow gone for coffee twice a day, the image of lips-on-collarbone starts to be replaced by an image of lips-on-cup, lips-around-straw. Dan stops remembering that harrowing night every time he looks at Phil. Instead, he’s reminded of the way his tongue pokes out when he laughs, and how the small lines around his eyes get more prominent every time Phil smiles. Hatred and disgust are slowly being replaced by a feeling of familiarity, joy, and what Dan can only describe as friendship.

Perhaps they’ll be okay in the end, Dan hopes.

                                                        ***

As it turns out, they are okay, until Dan goes and fucks it up.

Everything goes smoothly until the first rehearsal of that scene, the one scene Dan had guessed from the beginning would give them the most trouble, if for vastly different reasons than they end up being.

It’s the first day of dress rehearsals, the first time everyone is wearing their full costume (until now, most of them had merely worn their characters jacket or hat, or had brought important props with them on stage), and Dan staggers into the theatre, slipping on his lacy, fingerless gloves and glancing downwards to see if the rips in his jeans are still in good placement (they are).He shows up five minutes late as usual.

“Dan!” he’s greeted by a very cheerful Phil, who looks- well- absolutely angelic in his costume.

It’s all held in various shades of blue, contrasting with Dan’s own mainly black dress. Phil’s jeans are embroidered with roses, the chestpiece adorned with silver glistening threads in a fishnet pattern. The jacket he’s wearing almost looks like a gown, with the way the soft, sheer fabric flutters around him.

“Looking good, Lester.” Dan says, clearly astonished. He’s seen all of those pieces before, but never together. It’s odd, really, how clothing that could look so out of place when paired with other things, can look so amazing now.

“Not so bad yourself,” Phil answers, smiling, and tugs at the strings on Dan’s sleeves. “Ready to climb some vines and snog me?” he then adds, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively. Dan snorts.

“You’re too full of yourself,” he grins, and Phil opens his mouth again to answer, but is interrupted by a yelling Hazel.

“Okay everyone, we need full concentration here. This is THE scene, the one scene everyone knows. This has to be spot on, every single time you perform this, okay? Places please!”

The lines come easy to Dan, almost like second nature. He gets into the character, moves swiftly along the stage, climbs the fake vines moving up the balcony with ease. The scene goes amazingly, the chemistry between Dan and Phil on point.

And then, seemingly suddenly, Dan surges up and plants his mouth onto Phil’s- and almost pulls away again.

The moment his lips touch the other man’s, he feels a shiver run down his spine. Phil tastes like mint, tea and something very sweet that Dan can’t quite place. His lips are soft against Dan’s own chapped and bitten ones, moving in synch.

Dan feels something he hasn’t felt in years, something almost like lust and longing. Suddenly, he feels Phil grab him by his collar and pulls him up a bit, almost hungrily.

They kiss with a passion Dan has never felt before, and all he can think is closer and more and yes, never stop.

Too soon there’s a piercing shriek of “James!” coming from the nurse, their cue to break the kiss up, but Dan can’t bring himself to do it. It’s Phil who remembers to pull away, firmly pushing to keep Dan from chasing him. His eyes are wide in shock, glistening with something, his lips wet with spit, bruised, quivering. He stammers out his next line, voice shaking, breathing heavily. Dan answers, barely even remembering his line, mixing up words.

They catch themselves and make it through the rest of the scene, somehow, both furiously blushing, still with shaky hands and shaky voices.

When the scene ends, and before Hazel can lecture them sternly, Dan walks over to Duncan, to bring a distance between himself and Phil. He can’t bear to look at the other man, let alone stand directly next to him. He feels painfully awkward, hunches his shoulders in defence, starts picking at his nails.

What was that? He thinks, What did I do, why did I feel that?

And then, sharp and cold, a single thought burns into his mind:

Did I mess everything up?

                                                        ***

A few days later, Dan finds himself on Louise’s couch again. She gives him a mug filled to the brim with hot tea and gives him a serious yet worried look.

“We need to talk”, she says, and Dan immediately feels panic rise in his stomach.

“Oh my god what happened? Is the baby alright? Are you alright?” he asks in quick succession and sets a hand on Louise’s belly.

She just smiles gently and bats hits hand away: “Actually, this is about you, not me or the baby.”

She turns to him, that distinct Mum Look on her face that Dan’s only seen when she scolds Darcy.

“Listen, I love you, but you’ve been acting really weird lately,” she starts, softly. “First you’re all angry at this Phil guy, and then suddenly everything is glitter and rainbows, which was good- you deserve happiness! But you’ve been so distant and distracted these past few days, I can’t help but wonder… did something happen?”

Dan can’t bring himself to say anything, can’t bring himself to admitting what happened, refuses to even think about it (although he does, every second of his waking moments, and then dreams about it).

Louise sighs.

“You know, I’m always here for you. If anything happened, you can tell me! We’re friends after all, and-“

“It was the kiss, okay?” Dan bursts out.

At that, Louise merely raises one of her perfectly groomed eyebrows, suspicious.

Dan can hear the desperation in his own voice as he tries to explain himself: “I… I don’t know, I just…we rehearsed this really big kissing scene the other day and I just felt… weird doing it,” he admits, shoulders hunching up with every word he says.

“Disgusted-weird?” Louise inquires, her voice soft and caring. “Did you have a problem with Phil being a guy?”

Dan just shakes his head.

“Maybe you were scared?” Louise suggests and at that, Dan’s heart skips a beat.

He starts to think, starts to remember the last time he’s felt something even remotely close to what he’s felt when his and Phil’s lips locked, and suddenly he has something like an epiphany.

Dan remembers being 20 and seeing this beautiful, stunning girl. He remembers how he’d always try and be close to her, impress her with his intellect, woo her.

Then, he remembers the way he felt when she did finally kiss him, how he’d wanted nothing but her, how his only thoughts had been closer and more and yes, never stop.

He gasps, shocked, his voice shaking and barely audible as he mutters his next words:

“I… I think I might have feelings for Phil.”

                                                        ***

It takes a while for Dan to fully admit it to himself, but he does have feelings for Phil.

The same Phil that he once hated with everything he had, the same Phil that always pouts and demands an “all or nothing” whenever Dan beats him at Mario Kart.

Phil, who’s a man.

And honestly, that’s the part that freaks him out the most.

Dan’s not homophobic, he really isn’t. He has an array of jobs playing gay men to prove that.

Still, it unsettles him that suddenly, he himself now has feelings for another man. It makes him lay awake at night, legs hanging off Louise’s too short couch, remembering those days in school when people would push him into the lockers, spit at him, call him “faggot” and other, equally bad slurs, all because he had joined the drama club and was unfortunately tall.

Dan is absolutely and utterly torn up about his feelings because ultimately, his bullies were right.

But he’s not gay, is he? After all, he has liked women in the past, loved them even. He’s never felt anything for any other man before that surpassed friendship even in the slightest, and suddenly Phil comes along and makes him question everything? It’s unfair, really.

So, because Dan is Dan, he goes on a Wikipedia Odyssey at three in the morning, and what he finds surprises him.

There’s just so much. Dan knew about homosexuality before, has even heard of bisexuality because Phil mentioned it once. But pansexuality? Demisexuality?? The Kinsey Scale??? Those are all fully new to him.

He takes several online tests about the scale, finds out he’s most likely a 1. “Incidental Homosexual Behaviour”, one website calls it. Dan snorts and calls it “Philsexual”.

He reads article upon article, lands on a YouTube playlist about coming out, reads the synopsis of some ground-breaking anime about ice skating (mentally adds it to his “to watch” list), reads up on Tom Daley and his experiences with being out in the public eye.

There’s so much, and it’s so incredibly interesting, an hour passes like the blink of an eye.

Dan doesn’t sleep that night.

                                                        ***

The next morning, at rehearsals, Dan is so exhausted and sleep-deprived, he forgets that he’s supposed to feel awkward around Phil and talks to him like normal. Phil seems confused at first, at the sudden reappearance of their friendship, but goes along with it.

It takes four hours, five rehearsals of the ending scene (five times of kissing Phil, who sadly isn’t allowed to show any reaction) and six cups of mediocre coffee for Dan to open his mouth and mess everything up.

Phil’s sat next to him on a bench and does nothing but eat a sandwich, but Dan is completely and utterly mesmerised by him, can’t help but stare at his blue eyes, let his gaze wander along his jawline…

And that’s when it happens.

“Do you maybe want to go out with me?” he blurts out, and upon realising what he just said, immediately clasps a hand over his mouth.

Phil stares at him, eyes wide, mouth slightly ajar, a bit of lettuce on his chin.

“Uh, I mean, uh…” Dan stammers out, when suddenly Phil’s eyes crinkle and his lips form a bright, happy smile.

“You mean as a date?” he asks, and now it’s Dan’s turn to gape at Phil like a fish out of water. He can’t do anything but give a small, weak nod.

“Good”, Phil grins: “I’d really like that.”

                                                        ***

“Daniel James Howell, if you don’t stop throwing clothes around, I swear to god! You’re worse than Darcy!” Louise scolds, hands on her hips, angrily staring at the mess Dan has made in her living room. Various shirts and button-ups are strewn around the room, a bottle of cologne lying on the carpet, open and slightly leaking. Dan stares at the two pairs of jeans in his hands, a wrinkle between his eyebrows as if deciding which to wear is the hardest task mankind has ever had to face.

“I just don’t know what to wear!” he exclaims, desperate for help and maybe a glass of wine. Or two, really.

“Okay, let me just-“, Louise plucks one pair out of Dan’s grasp, folds it and lays it neatly on the couch. Then, she crouches down and plucks a black button-up out of the mess.

“Here, wear this.” She says, in her no-nonsense mum voice. Dan complies and goes into the bath to change, fix his hair and maybe do something about those damn bags under his eyes.

An hour later, he finds himself waiting outside a small café close to the theatre, nervously stepping from foot to foot. Phil’s late. Like, really late, at least ten minutes late. Without him even being able to do anything about it, Dan’s thoughts start spiralling. What if Phil changed his mind? What if he actually just agreed to go out with Dan as a spur-of-the-moment thing and ultimately doesn’t want to? What if he got run over by a bus or bitten by a goose? What if-

“Dan!” shouts someone, and Dan whirls around to see Phil jogging towards him, wearing a ridiculously shiny silver coat and clutching something that almost looks like flowers.

Before Dan can react, Phil reaches him and pulls him into a short but firm hug.

“These are for you”, he adds, smiling softly, and handing Dan the bouquet of lilies.

Dan feels a blush crawl up his cheeks and ducks his head. “Thank you”, he murmurs, almost inaudible, and smiles at the ground.

When Phil removes his coat inside the café, Dan almost chokes on his own saliva. His shirt is satin black but adorned with a floral pattern, his long legs clad in equally dark skinny jeans. He smiles one of his glowing smiles and puts his coat next to him. In all honesty, Phil looks like sex on legs, and Dan’s heartbeat immediately quickens as he takes a seat across from his date (his date), who’s already scanning the menu. Oh god, Dan thinks, I’m going to hell.

Conversation, Dan’s surprised to find, flows quite easily. They quickly get into their usual banter about the West End, their families (Phil excitedly tells Dan that his brother, Martyn, is planning to propose to his girlfriend, Cornelia), what they did before they landed the roles in Romeo and James.

Now, there’s just the added bonus of coffee, cupcakes being shared between them and the golden October sun illuminating Phil’s eyes though the slightly stained window.

Phil is in the midst of talking about something particularly funny that happened back when he was in Uni, when he suddenly stops in his tracks, leans over the table and glides his thumb along Dan’s upper lip. “Frosting”, he whispers, staring into Dan’s eyes and licks the cream off his own finger. Dan sees his gaze flicker down to his lips again, feels himself leaning in, ready to close the gap and-

“Would you like any more coffee?”

Dan internally groans. Phil, as if awoken from a trance, snaps back and stares at the waitress.

“No, just the bill please”, he says, pupils blown out so wide his blue iris nothing but a small rim. “I’m paying”, he adds, leaving no room for Dan to protest.

He turns back at him and smiles, but the moment, the chemistry and tension from before, is gone.

                                                        ***

“I’ll walk you home”, Dan says when they’re outside again, about to part ways. “It’s the same direction anyways.” (It’s not. Louise’s flat is on the other side of London- but Phil doesn’t need to know that.)

Phil nods, smiles gratefully and leads the way. Conversation goes as smoothly as before, but Dan can’t help but feel like something’s off.

Deep within his own thoughts, he almost doesn’t realise when Phil stops in front of an apartment building and pulls out a key.

“Uh, I live here,” he says awkwardly. Then, he takes a large breath as if he’s bracing himself for something: “Do you maybe want to come up for a glass of wine or something?”

Oh. Well, that certainly comes as a surprise. Before Dan can think, before he can panic because this is Phil, and Phil is a guy, and there’s so many things that could go wrong just now, he gives a simple, quick nod. Phil exhales, a breath Dan didn’t realise he’d been holding, relieved.

The flat is quite spacious, Dan notes as they enter, and looks around wonderingly. “I do YouTube on the side,” Phil mentions as he sees Dan’s reaction. “It pays okay, I mostly do it for fun though. You’d be quite good at it too, I think,” he adds from another room, and returns with two glasses of wine in his hands.

“Cheers”, he smiles as he hands Dan one, sits down on his couch and pats the space next to him, signalling for Dan to sit down as well.

For quite some time, Dan anxiously awaits some kind of move from Phil’s side, expects the older to lean in or lay an arm around his shoulders or do anything leading up to what Dan knows will happen, but there’s nothing. They talk, and talk, the sun sets and then they’re both on their fourth glass, giggling happily at something unimportant.

“Shhhh,” Phil suddenly says, looks at Dan, then laughs again. He takes Dan’s hand into his. “D’ya hear this?” he whispers and lays Dan’s hand on his own chest. “You make my heart-“, he hiccups “you make my heart do that… flippy-over thing.”

Phil smiles, and Dan smiles, and then Phil’s lips are on his, a bit sloppy but still soft and gentle, so different from that very first kiss they shared on stage. He tastes like wine and cherry lip balm and something that Dan can only recognise as Phil, because his head is swimming, and he doesn’t even know if he feels this giddy because of the alcohol or because of Phil, finds himself wanting more and more and more, unable to form any coherent thought.

He’s kissing Phil, for real, without an audience, and it’s the most wonderful thing he’s ever done.

                                                        ***

Epilogue.

Islington, London, England

June 2020

Phil Lester, awoken by the impending rays of sunlight streaming into their bedroom window, yawns and rolls to his side, facing the sleeping form of his boyfriend Dan. He smiles fondly and tugs a curl behind the younger one’s ear.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he murmurs quietly and presses a chaste kiss to Dan’s forehead. “Get up, today’s a big day.”

When his boyfriend finally stirs and opens his eyes, the usual spiel of “nooo, it’s too cold” and “five more minutes love, please!” begins, but Phil is used to that by now. In fact, he kind of loves having to bribe Dan with promises of breakfast and cuddles, although he’d never admit that to anyone but himself.

Minutes later, Phil’s in the lounge, clutching a steaming mug of coffee while Dan quite literally blocks the bathroom for half an hour like he does every morning. There’s still confetti and glitter from the surprise party they held for Dan last week. We need to clean up; Phil thinks and smiles when he hears Dan sing in the shower, because even after three years this domesticity still gets to him. It’s a miracle, really, that someone like Dan could love someone like Phil back.

Today’s a big day. It’s opening night for the new play Dan has the lead in, a modern piece about two people who fall in love over the internet and build a career together (a bit unrealistic, in Phil’s opinion), and Phil remembers the box, safely tucked away inside a rolled-up shirt he very well knows Dan hates, at the back of Phil’s drawer. Tonight, the box will be taken out of its hiding place and the ring placed inside it will hopefully adorn Dan’s fourth finger.

Yeah, today’s a pretty big day.

If one had told Phil of three years ago he would, at one point in his life, put on his finest button-up to propose to Dan Howell, of all people, he probably would have laughed and gone upon talking about how annoying Dan was, and how far he must have a stick up his arse. Current Phil, however, doesn’t really feel like laughing when his heart is pumping this fast with nerves. By now, he would use any word but “annoying” to describe Dan, and the only thing he has up his arse is Phil himself.

This is it, he thinks, as he locks the door to their flat and lets his hand glide over the bulge in his pocket. Taking Dan’s hand in his own and mirroring the younger one’s excited smile, he knows that he wants nothing more than this.

Three hours later, he feels like he knows nothing anymore. Dan is backstage, getting ready for the play, and Phil is quivering in his seat. They’re in the first row. Dan loves spoiling his loved ones almost as much as he loves being spoiled. His fright doesn’t go unnoticed by Louise, who’s seated between him and Darcy, holding her daughter’s hand.

“Are you alright?” she asks, turning to Phil and laying her free hand on his arm. Phil merely shakes his head.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” Louise’s husband, Liam, now asks, leaning over to him, brows furrowed. Phil lets out a breath he hasn’t realised he’s been holding.

“I’m going to propose to Dan tonight,” he whispers, voice barely audible and threatening to break. Good god, he is terrified.

“Phil, oh my god, that’s amazing!” Louise whispers excitedly, a grin spreading across her face. “How are you gonna do it?”

Phil smiles, happy to tell her about his plans.

Hours later, when the premiere is done and the actors have bathed in the applause, Phil will take Dan out to a restaurant, one of those incredibly fancy ones that require reservations a year in advance. He will use the new play as an excuse because of course, Dan will ask questions.

After dinner, they will take a walk along the Thames, water glistening in the moonlight, and Phil will briefly wonder when they did become such a cliché.

He will stop Dan, suddenly, look at this wonderful, wonderful man in front of him, take a deep breath and start talking:

“You know, every time I think back to that time we met, when we really didn’t get along I ask myself, how didn’t I already love you back then?” He’ll start, and smile at the memory. “Because now, it seems impossible to me to not love you, you’re perfectly imperfect in everything you think and do and are, and I don’t want to spend one day without waking up next to you, or hearing your laugh or looking at your ethereal beauty because… I love you, so much. More than I have ever loved anyone or anything in my whole life so-“

Then, Phil will get down on one knee, seeing the surprise on his lover’s face, will hear his beautiful gasp and see him tear up.

”- Daniel James Howell, love of my life: will you marry me?”

And then, Daniel James Howell, in his ethereal beauty, will whisper a single word, the happiest of all words:

“Yes.”

                            And they lived happily ever after.

So, this is it, thank you so much for reading!

I hope you enjoyed it, feel free to reblog, leave comments or message me if you want to, I’d really appreciate it!

Again, you can find the art here, please show Vivi some love, she truly deserves it.

Find me on Twitter! (feel free to follow for Top Bants)

Find Skipper on Tumblr and Twitter

Find Vivi on Tumblr, Twitter and Instagram

Thank you, again!

- Lucie

#phandom big bang #pbb #phanfic #dan howell #phil lester #danisnotonfire #amazingphil #dan and phil #phan #phanfiction #actor!dan #actor!phil #shakespeare #theatre au #enemies to friends to lovers #dan howell/phil lester #daniel howell #philip lester #oneshot #7k #fluff #angst #mentions of cheating #vivianadichiara #phanart #strangely-skipper #betad #fanfiction #fiction #romeo and juliet

[dailynewswebsite]

Lincoln Project’s anti-Trump ads show power of biting satire

If he's laughing, it's most likely not on the Lincoln Challenge's satire. AP Picture/Ross D. Franklin

The narrator in a current Lincoln Challenge advert tells listeners, “In six months, COVID-19 has killed extra Individuals than any illness in 100 years. Donald Trump lied about it, rejected science, and nonetheless has no plan to avoid wasting Individuals.”

The narrator tells listeners that, in contrast to Trump, Democratic challenger Joe Biden has a plan for the virus, whereas a second voice, within the background, reads the names of a few of those that have died of the coronavirus.

The advert ends with the narrator saying, “On November 3, vote like your life is dependent upon it.”

The Lincoln Challenge’s ‘Names’ advert makes use of components of satire to extend its impact on viewers.

The adverts, which air on tv and on-line, have been created by the Lincoln Challenge, a political motion committee based by longtime Republican strategists and staffers, together with Steve Schmidt, who ran John McCain’s 2008 presidential marketing campaign; Rick Wilson, advert maker for politicians Rudy Giuliani and John Kasich; and George Conway, legal professional and husband of Trump loyalist Kellyanne Conway.

The PAC has spent US$28 million – most of that cash on adverts – to defeat Trump, who, it says, has destroyed GOP rules and, within the course of, is destroying America. The adverts painting Trump as unfit for the presidency – a draft dodger who calls troopers who died in wars “losers.”

I’ve written a e book on editorial cartooning and served as a Pulitzer Prize decide within the class of editorial cartooning. As a scholar of satire, I’m not inquisitive about whether or not the Lincoln Challenge movies are good politics or unhealthy politics; I’m inquisitive about whether or not they’re good satire.

They’re.

This Lincoln Challenge advert makes use of sarcasm and mock.

Satire is a harmful artwork

Satire is the usage of ridicule, sarcasm and irony to assault or expose the vices and follies of society. Satirists see themselves on the surface of society, trying in at an unjust or immoral world with mean-spirited, corrupt or inept leaders.

Efficient satire should resonate with readers in a approach that’s intimate, private and sometimes uncomfortable. A satirist desires the reader to grimace or howl at his or her description of a politician’s deadly flaws, and never chuckle comfortably as when watching a “Saturday Night time Dwell” character parodying a politician.

An instance of fine satire that’s an exception to the common “Saturday Night time Dwell” sample of ridicule can be Tina Fey’s spoof of Sarah Palin, which was meant to mock John McCain’s 2008 working mate as wholly insufficient for the job of being vp.

The satiric custom contains historic writers like Aristophanes and Horace; distinguished writers of previous centuries like Jonathan Swift, Mark Twain and “Doonesbury” cartoonist Garry Trudeau; in addition to Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert’s televised depictions of right-wing excesses.

Tina Fey’s portrayal of Sarah Palin on ‘Saturday Night time Dwell’ was glorious satire.

A satirist takes his or her sense of indignation and tries to shake the viewers out of its sense of futility or indifference to confront the injustice.

Hitting the mark

For satire to be efficient, it should assault somebody or one thing that’s readily identifiable. This usually contains utilizing somebody’s personal phrases to make a idiot out of them – because the Lincoln Challenge adverts usually do with Trump. One solution to measure satire’s effectiveness is within the response of the particular person being satirized.

The adverts actually struck a nerve with Trump, who referred to as the Lincoln Challenge “the Losers Challenge.”

If Trump meant to break the venture, it backfired. The group acquired $2 million in donations within the two days after his remark, which additionally impressed the creation of extra adverts that have been designed to poke enjoyable particularly at him.

Enjoying off his bragging of getting the “most loyal folks” working for him, one advert quotes John Kelly, Trump’s former chief of workers, calling Trump “an fool”; Rex Tillerson, the previous secretary of state, calling Trump “a f—ing moron”; and John Bolton, the previous nationwide safety adviser, saying, “I don’t suppose he’s match for workplace.”

One other advert focused navy households and veterans, exhibiting American troopers carrying the flag-draped coffin of one in every of their fallen comrades whereas the narrator reads out the phrases Trump has used to explain troopers: “losers,” “suckers,” “dopes” and “infants.”

The Lincoln Challenge adverts have occupied the eye of the information media. The New Yorker and “60 Minutes” have printed current tales on the PAC, selling its goal to defeat Trump.

Promoting Age reported that the adverts have turn out to be a sensation in the course of the 2020 marketing campaign. One advert, referred to as “Hospital,” opens with a picture of a affected person in a hospital mattress that then shortly fades to black as we hear the beep of a coronary heart monitor. There isn’t a narrator. The phrases on the display say, “A demise from COVID is the loneliest demise possible.”

The advert finishes by linking the accountability for these deaths to Trump with the next phrases: “Over 200,000 Individuals have misplaced their lives to COVID. We might have stopped it. His mendacity is killing us. We’ve got to cease it. Vote him out.”

The Lincoln Challenge makes use of lots of the similar methods of satire, however provides them a totally fashionable chew by utilizing slick videography. The adverts go viral on social media to audiences that won’t watch tv adverts.

The Lincoln Challenge attacked Trump’s dealing with of the coronavirus pandemic.

One Lincoln Challenge advert was posted after Trump was identified with the coronavirus. The advert criticizes Trump for reportedly infecting staffers as a result of he refused to put on a surgical masks and he mocked those that did. The advert, referred to as “Covita,” reveals a montage of a maskless Trump at White Home features as a singer delivers a parody of the phrases from “Evita”:

“Don’t cry for me, White Home staffers. The reality is, I’ll infect you. All by my tweeting, my mad existence. I broke my promise. Received’t hold my distance.”

The Lincoln Challenge could or not accomplish its goal to defeat Trump on Nov. 3. Nevertheless it already has made a contribution to the custom of political satire.

[Insight, in your inbox each day. You can get it with The Conversation’s email newsletter.]

Chris Lamb doesn’t work for, seek the advice of, personal shares in or obtain funding from any firm or organisation that might profit from this text, and has disclosed no related affiliations past their tutorial appointment.

from Growth News https://growthnews.in/lincoln-projects-anti-trump-ads-show-power-of-biting-satire/ via https://growthnews.in

#Growth News

[dipulb3]

Why Pete Buttigieg's Fox News appearances keep going viral

New Post has been published on https://appradab.com/why-pete-buttigiegs-fox-news-appearances-keep-going-viral/

Why Pete Buttigieg's Fox News appearances keep going viral

“I don’t know why you would want to be in a room with other people if you were contagious with a deadly disease and you care about other people,” Buttigieg said to “Fox & Friends” host Steve Doocy last Thursday. “But maybe the President doesn’t care about other people.”

Even as Buttigieg called out a “weakness of [Trump’s] campaign,” Doocy — a reliable Trump ally on the President’s favorite morning show — nodded along in agreement as the former South Bend mayor spoke.

Fox News declined to comment for this story.

Buttigieg’s tone was measured, his message was coherent and the policies he espoused were centrist — qualities that were previously panned by younger, more liberal voters. TikTok users referred to Buttigieg as “Mayo Pete” because he was “bland and overwhelmingly white” like the condiment, according to MEL magazine. But his recent words on Fox News were cutting — or “savage” — earning him praise on Twitter and TikTok this time around.

On TikTok, the interview clip was overlaid with the song, “Pretty Savage,” by K-pop group BLACKPINK.

Cutting through the fog

Buttigieg has been making media appearances as a surrogate for the Biden-Harris campaign — showing up on national TV networks and on Instagram Live. But Buttigieg’s hits on Fox News have been gaining attention for his ability to cut through the fog of Trump boosters on the network.

“His threshold for doing a media hit at this point is, if it would be helpful to the Biden-Harris campaign, or for Democrats up and down the ballot, he’s eager to do it,” Buttigieg spokesperson Sean Savett told Appradab Business in the wake of his recent viral fame.

Buttigieg is effective because he answers questions in a straightforward manner, leading with facts and not opinions or hypotheticals. He speaks calmly, and he rarely raises his voice. But his internet appeal stems from his delivery: perfect sound bites that are easily edited, memeable and which embody the dry sarcasm that the internet loves. All of this makes for good fodder for people on Twitter and TikTok.

The post-debate Fox News appearance made its way around the internet, with celebrities and media observers taking notice and sharing the clip. Actor George Takei asked, “Sure, sex is great. But have you seen Pete Buttigieg shut down the Fox News panels?” Tech journalist Kara Swisher tweeted, “I gotta say @PeteButtigieg conducts a master class of how to appear on Fox News and stick the landing.”

TJ Ducklo, national press secretary for the Biden-Harris campaign, called Buttigieg an “extremely effective messenger.”

“We believe there are a number of Fox News viewers who are fed up with Donald Trump’s incompetence and his failed leadership to get this virus under control, and Mayor Pete has been an extremely effective messenger at laying out Vice President Biden’s vision for those folks in a way that’s not necessarily confrontational — given the often hostile environment on Fox — but that is rational and well-reasoned, and that we believe can appeal to a number of undecided voters across the country,” Ducklo told Appradab Business.

One of Buttigieg’s other recent viral moments happened on October 7 — shortly before the vice presidential debate — when he said Vice President Mike Pence’s beliefs are at odds with President Trump’s actions.

“There’s a classic parlor game of trying to find a little bit of daylight between running mates,” Buttigieg said. “If people want to play that game we could look into why an evangelical Christian like Mike Pence wants to be on a ticket with a president caught with a porn star.”

A TikTok user shared that clip with accompanying text, “Umm, I’d like to report MURDER.” A Twitter user wrote, “Pete Buttigieg – Fox News might not let you back after you destroyed their set like that.”

With the help of Buttigieg’s TV hits, the Biden-Harris campaign has been able to attract the kind of attention online that Trump has long dominated. In fact, in a Fox News interview on September 29 ahead of the first presidential debate, Buttigieg acknowledged Trump’s ability to dominate Twitter conversations.

“What we’re going to see tonight is two very different people with two very different ideas for what matters. We’re going to see President Trump turn on the distraction machine like he always does, think up something crazy to get the Twittersphere going, and Vice President Biden is going to be talking about us — not us political figures — us the American people,” Buttigieg said.

As campaign surrogate, he is focused on talking to viewers on Fox and elsewhere about why Biden is more qualified to serve as president, including to those who Buttigieg calls “future former Republicans,” Savett told Appradab Business. He has been a frequent guest on Appradab, MSNBC and CNBC as a Biden-Harris campaign surrogate. He recently appeared on “The Late Show with Stephen Colbert.”

Savett said Buttigieg believes it is important to “go on the shows that may not otherwise hear a Democratic perspective.”

“Something that Pete says a lot that always resonates with me is that we can’t blame voters or be mad at voters for not supporting our candidate if they don’t hear our message,” Savett added. “He knows we can’t win the general election just by preaching to the choir.”

No stranger to Fox News

While clips of his recent appearances have caught people’s attention, Buttigieg is no stranger to Fox News. When he was running as a Democratic presidential candidate, Buttigieg’s campaign pursued a press friendly strategy.

Lis Smith, the former top communications adviser for Buttigieg’s campaign, told Appradab’s Brian Stelter in March 2019, “It was important for us to be open, accessible and transparent with the media and to get him everywhere.”

Last Thursday, Smith retweeted one of Buttigieg’s recent Fox News appearances, teasing some political strategists who question whether Democrats should appear on the network.

Buttigieg isn’t the only Democrat or Biden surrogate to appear on Fox News. However, at least one candidate on the trail has spoken out against it: Sen. Elizabeth Warren made headlines during her campaign when she rejected an invitation from Fox News to participate in a town hall with the network, slamming the outlet as a “hate-for-profit racket that gives a megaphone to racists and conspiracists.”

“We need to be talking to everyone,” Smith told Stelter last year, when Buttigieg was still on the campaign trail. “Even if we don’t agree with folks on everything I think it’s important to go out, get your message out there, but also treat people with differing opinions with respect.”

During his run for president, Buttigieg also sat for interviews with Barstool Sports, TMZ and Charlamagne tha God. He continues to participate in interviews on Instagram Live and Snapchat, two platforms he appeared on during his campaign.

Smith did not respond to a request for comment.

As a candidate, Buttigieg was a repeat guest on “Fox News Sunday” with Chris Wallace. He also participated in a town hall with Fox News in May 2019 and again in January. The internet resurfaced some moments from those town halls, gaining new attention because of Buttigieg’s recent TV hits.

Trump, for one, has expressed dismay on at least one occasion about Buttigieg appearing on his home turf, chiding Fox for “wasting airtime” on those town halls.

[northamptoncouplestherapy]

We can discuss the first presidential debate between Biden and Trump from a multitude of angles. We can analyze it from the vantage point of history, political science, or social justice. We can fact check it or hone in on themes. We can comment based on our limited perspectives, personal values, and agendas.

Alternatively, we can think out-of-the-box and look at the dynamics witnessed during the debate from an entirely different viewpoint –from a couple's therapist's lens, applying the research gleaned by psychology's giants like John Gottman, whose work spans four decades. He's collected some of the most robust and insightful data to date regarding how conversations break down and what to do about it when they do. The implications of his research and similar findings by complimentary like minds such as Stan Tatkin bring a wealth of insight into how we understand communication fallout.

Relationship experts like myself devote thousands of hours to helping dyads when trust ruptures and fighting or shutdown ensues. We're experts at dealing with gridlock and not afraid to break up a brawl. Getting our hands dirty and halting conversation threads that derail more significant points is what we do best. We've perfected the art of questioning and are rarely distracted by belligerence, posturing, or sarcasm. Nor are we deterred by stonewalling. Like a hawk, we stay focused and can see through the chaos that is conflict –we latch onto the words and expressions that afford the most significant potential for real discourse and, in doing so, rise above the rest.

The easiest way to understand couples therapy, and in turn, to apply it to last night's debate is to imagine a playground with two kids sitting side-by-side. Let's suppose an adult's sitting with them, and since I can be indulgent, let's imagine this adult is a couples therapist –me, for example. I'm holding a bright blue ball, and I look at the boys, and I say, "Donald and Joe, I'm going to toss this ball to you and see how well you pass it back and forth. I'm going to look for when one of you takes the ball and slams it back at the other so hard they can't catch it. I'm also going to notice if you take the ball and run off elsewhere, or deliberately drop it and then blame the other. I want to see that you can pass the ball back and forth. Got it?" While I'm at it, I'm likely going to add some rules and say something like, "If at any point it becomes clear to me that either of you can't play ball, then I will need to jump in, and we will likely take a break, or even stop the game altogether, understood?" (Donald rolls his eyes and purses his lips, Joe nods and looks down at the grass).

This beauty of this is, it sets the stage for breaking down every interaction between Donald and Joe and scanning for micro-moments of trouble. We're no longer looking at the game as a whole. We aren't going to get lost in the details. The task is simple, and the question is straightforward. Are Donald and Joe tossing the ball back and forth? If not, what just happened, and how might we understand that through the couple's therapist lens?

Scenario #1: Donald slams the ball in Joe's face

In the Gottman lexicon, contempt is the equivalent of slamming a ball and is considered, by far, the most destructive behavior associated with conflict. At the core of contempt is self-righteous indignation, a tendency toward viewing the other as fundamentally more flawed than oneself. And while it's true that contempt frequently manifests as belligerence and name-calling, what is most interesting is how it looks non-verbally. Our bodies speak contempt, way before we open our mouths and put our foot in them. We sneer, roll our eyes, and purse our lips. If you want to use the debates as a means of determining who is the best candidate, go back and watch them with the volume turned off. Scan both Donald and Joe for signs of contempt, devote an hour to observing their body language. Ask your six-year-old who they'd want to play in the sandbox with (therapist note, this a great way to teach them how to discern good guys from bad guys). Spoiler: My daughter picked Joe.

Scenario #2: Donald won't play ball

Stan Tatkin, the author of Love and War in Intimate Relationships, speaks of two-person systems, relationships hallmarked by mutuality and fairness. If Stan was at the park with Donald and Joe, I bet he'd encourage them to make eye contact, to be mindful of their own and the other's facial expressions. He'd likely point out that there's little chance of catching a ball if you aren't looking for it or that if you aren't capturing your partner's ball (and returning it), you aren't playing ball –that it's no longer a two-person game. He'd likely point out that a game of toss characterized by one person dominating via grabbing the ball, refusing to toss the ball, not honoring the game's rules, or picking up a baseball bat is not playing ball at all. Lastly, Stan would notice if either Donald or Joe could make eye contact with him, or eye contact all. Again, go back to the debate and watch it with the volume turned off. Is Donald looking at you? Is Joe? If they are looking at you, what do you see? Is there a furrow in their brow, a plea, softness? (Hint - this is another scenario your kid will likely be able to lend insight into should you want a second opinion).

Scenario #3: Donald drops the ball and denies it; Joe gets upset

It's crazy-making to play ball with someone who breaks all the agreed-upon rules, throws a ball repeatedly in your face, and then proceeds to deny you are playing ball at all. In pop-psychology, we call that gaslighting. The thing about gaslighting is it's intended to drive one crazy and uses denial, misdirection, contradiction, and misinformation to destabilize the victim and delegitimize the other. Gaslighting at its root indicates narcissism and, in turn, an inability to be accountable. Joe did his best not to bite the hook when Donald did what Donald does best –deflecting, cheating, and hitting below the belt. But gaslighting is insidiously crazy-making, and there were moments Joe took the bait.

My advice to Joe is don't even play ball with Donald, keep looking in the American people's eyes, and talk to us –deep breaths Biden.

Scenario #4: Donald and Joe (and third-party adult) go outside of their window of tolerance, and nobody knows what's going on

In couples therapy, we recognize the limitations of physiology. We understand from Gottman's research that if heart rates go above ninety-five beats per minute, the train is off the tracks, and there's no bringing it back until it slows down. Elevated heart rates = stupid. When our HR goes up, our memory becomes impaired; we can no longer think clearly, and we cannot accurately discern what a threat is and isn't. It's the couple's therapist's job to put a break on when this happens, and in this case, it equals taking the blue ball away from Donald (who likely is the one clutching it) and mandating a break. It also means that the adult facilitating the game needs to know when to take a break. Needs to be able to identify their elevated heart rate. More importantly, it implies that whoever is the referee better be damn good at playing ball with the big boys –better know how to brake a train when it derails.

Am I declaring that couples therapy can save the world? Not so much. But I am stating that war, big or small, takes two and that couples therapy affords us a lens to understand what’s happening when things escalate, as they did in the debate. It’s easy to get distracted by drama. But unwarranted assault and retaliation (be it physical or verbal) are low-level forms of communication and indicative of desperation and wounds, both qualities that compromise one’s ability to lead, and indeed, not what America needs at this critical moment.

We have two more matches scheduled with Donald and Joe. Nobody wants to watch a repeat of the first debate, not even my twelve-year-old

Like what you’ve read? Sign up to receive my musings filled with heart, concrete tools, and cutting edge resources via my blog: Loving Well.