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wizkiddx · 3 years

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living and reviving II

yep when I said three parts I think I meant 4 oops

summary: an overdue conversation that has to happen - like it or not

warnings: cheating, swearing, pregnancy talk, lots more angst, think thats it?

tomhollandxreader

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So with a new sense of dread and fear and complete and total isolation you uttered three single words before hysterically running away.

“Don’t follow me.”

Not now, not ever.

That had been three weeks ago.

And it still fucking hurt like hell.

It had ended up that Yamna had taken you back to hers, where you had stayed for a couple nights. During that couple of days, Tom had tried. He had tried to apologise, tried to explain, tried to fix things. But it just wasn’t that easy.

Whatever he said, it didn’t take back from the fact that he had in that moment meant it. So no amount of sorrys could ever take that back.

After everyone had realised just how serious their situation was, Tom had moved out of your shared flat - so you could at least be in the place you were comfortable. Afterall the nursery was built in your flat and clearly it was you doing all the baby stuff for the moment. Thankfully Yamna, having been cut loose so without job, offered to move in with you. Which was probably the only thing keeping you going.

Well, that and ben and jerrys ‘phish food’. Honestly the shop must think you’re running some sort of ice cream black market at the rate you’re getting through their tubs.

Everyone kept parroting that it wasn’t good for the baby. Too much ice cream . Too much heavy lifting. Too much stress.

And yes, it probably was. But that was out of your control . The stress and lack of man in the household meant you had to do the heavy lifting of shopping from the car up the stairs. Shopping meaning ice cream, which you only depended on so much because of the stress.

It was a vicious cycle of hell.

Even Yamna, the person you were relying on keeping you sane had started walking on eggshells. It was as though you were literally about to pop, she always had to have at least half an eye on you. You were even banned from locking the toilet door - just in case.

It felt like you were a captive animal, people kept coming to observe you, giving sad looks before gleeing the scene.

You hadn’t been sleeping well either. Of course, being 3 weeks of your due date didn’t help - but neither did the lack of Tom. In fact, for the first time since shit had hit the fan, you had actually been managing to get some decent sleep when Yamna knocked on your bedroom door, quietly calling your name.

“I’m asleep” Groaning, you pulled the covers further over your head, praying to god that she’d leave you alone. But of course that wasn’t happening, she just lightly chuckled before you felt the bed dip - she had perched on the edge… Toms side.

“You never normally sleep talk.”

“I’m never normally this sleep deprived.” She sighed, whilst you still stubbornly kept your eyes closed.

“I’m sorry I woke you…. but this is important.”

“What?” Almost grunting, you threw the covers down looking up at her in anticipation. That was another thing about pregnancy - you were always on high alert, always worried.

“Toms here.”

“Tell him to f off.” Quickly you stopped caring about what your bestmate had to say.

“He’s saying that he’s the little ones dad and that he deserves to be involved and…. and I think I might agree.”

“I deserve a boyfriend who stays loyal to me so clearly neither of us are getting what we want.” You weren’t angry at Yamna and snapping at her wasn’t the answer. And yet you still did it.

“Y/n….I love you and I am completely on your side. I just think that maybe, perhaps, you should at least manage to be civil before baby arrives. Otherwise… thats going to be a lot to deal with all at once.”

It was your turn to sigh, deep and heavy (or at least as deep as the baby let). Most infuriatingly she was right. The conversation had to happen at some point. With a baby there too it would only be even more traumatic.

“He’s here now?” It only dawned on you how broken you actually sounded when the words croaked out of you.

“Yeh hunny… I didn’t let him inside so he’s standing outside the door looking like a dickhead right now.” The image cheered you up a little, enough to sit up in bed and be wrapped in Yamna’s arms. Her actions said it all, she really only meant the best for you and knew how hard this would be. After a moment she leant back. “I almost considered calling the paps so they could get a picture and label him as a groveling dick.”

“You should of.” Of course you didn’t mean it, but the answer had you both laughing. It took a minute to calm down before she changed subject slightly.

“You want me to make myself scarce? I can hide in my room or go to the shops or-“

“Text the guy from the bar - you deserve a night off ‘babysitting Y/n’ duties.”

“I’m not babys-“

“Yes you are. Go out with him and have some fun, I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeh”

That was a bare face lie - but Yamna had been almost too good to you. She really really needed a break. Especially as the current plan was she’d be helping with the newborn too. Right now you wouldn’t have wished a baby on yourself - never mind your best mate.

“Okay, get ready then babe - but do it slowly, leave him waiting outside in the cold for as long as possible.”

“Obviously.” You laughed, hauling yourself out of bed, where she gave you one more encouraging hug before leaving.

After hearing Yamna leave, and brushing your hair and throwing on a new pair of trakkies and hoodie, you slowly walked towards the door. It felt as though impending doom were on the other side and every fibre of you wanted to scream and run the other way. But it just had to happen at some point. Why not now?

With a final sharp exhale, attempting to pull yourself together, you opened the door. Immediately your heart sank, seeing nothing. Had you really been that long? And even so, was a 10 minute wait enough for him to give up? You could already feel the hormonal pregnancy tears starting to spring, when a grunt drew your attention.

What you hadn’t considered was the fact Tom was ready to camp out, sitting on the floor beside your door. Springing to his feet, he seemed shocked you’d actually opened the door - makes two of you. When Yamna left she had told him you were coming, but seeing really is believing.

“Y/n! I-I… I wasn’t sure you were ever going to answer.”

“You and me both.” You replied dryly, still leaning on the door. “Do you er…. do you want to come in?” Again he seemed shocked, as though he wasn’t sure you meant it.

“Is that-that okay?” Shrugging you just nodded, stepping back so he could get in. He did pay half the mortgage afterall.

“You want a drink?” He quickly declined your offer, not vocally but instead rushing past you to the kitchen and turning the kettle on himself.

“Your the pregnant one. Go chill on the sofa, I’ll bring you a cuppa.”

And a bit taken a back by his forcefulness you followed instructions, from the sofa watching how effortlessly he danced round the kitchen. It wasn’t shocking, it was technically his kitchen too. But seeing him there felt so alien, almost transporting you back to much much simpler times. Seemed a lifetime ago.

After a couple of minutes, he rounded the sofa with a hot chocolate in one hand for you (because caffiene is bad for the baby) and a cup of Yorkshire tea in the other.

“So… how have you been?”

“Ate a lot of ben and jerrys” You answered without really answering, except he knew you all too well.

“That bad?” He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his brow “how about the baby?”

“I don’t tend to carry an ultrasound on me but she’s been keeping me up all night kicking - so normal I guess.”

“Thats good” He spoke before realising what he said. “Sorry no I um-I don’t mean it like that!” You all but laughed in the face of his flusteredness, only making the tips of his ears go pinker.

“I assume you had something to say and that you came here for a reason rather than just pity me?”

“I want to make things right Y/n - I-I mean your having my kid.”

“OUR kid”

“ Exactly! And-and I love you too and-“

“Bullshit” You may have murmured it under your breath but you had intended for him to hear.

“Oh come one Y/n, you know that!”

It was like the man was asking to be yelled at.

“Don’t sit there trying to patronise me! I THOUGHT i knew it but then I saw you all over another girl. So yes, I’m calling bullshit.”

“Ugh I… If your not going to even try to hear me out then…”

“Then what Tom? You gonna kick me out. I mean this is your flat after all! Maybe you’d like to dump the mother of your unborn child homeless on the street and forget about us - how’d that sound? I’m sure your fans would blindly applaud you.”

“Listen! Please would you just listen to me.” His voice was loud and tone harsh, making you flinch a little. Not because you were ever worried he’d hurt you - but how this wave of uncomfort shuddered through your body, baby even squirming in discontent. So focused on that you just nodded, shifting back into the sofa.

Tom had noticed your reaction and seeing you seemingly scared of him like that, well it broke his heart. Even more.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to shout, I just…. I really need to try and fix this.” He leaned closer, letting out a thankful breath when you just nodded, as if to say go on.

“I’ve really really missed you… these past couple of weeks I’ve never felt so gulity in my life. Not because of what I did! Well yeh that but-but more how much it hurt you and-“

“Fuck.”

You couldn’t help but let out that little curse of pain as a new wave of pain, which seemed to originate from your lower back, shuddered through you. Tom looked up from where his eyes had been nervously wringing his palms whilst he spoke. Rubbing a hand over your belly you shook your head and motioned for him to continue.

She was just kicking really really hard. Right?

“Uhm yeh so I just wanted to properly tell you everything that happened that night so at least we are on the same page? A-And I’m not going to try and use this an excuse but I had been drinking so-“

Seemingly baby disliked the end of that sentence too, causing another rippling wave to echo through your body, feeling as though a band was pressing tightly round your stomach. With another small curse it forced you to stand up, in the hope that’d ease her. Clearly she was as done with his shit as you were.

“Need a water.” You muttered, already waddling to the kitchen, where you heard Tom follow you immediately - like an inpatient dog.

“Y/n sit down I can-“

He was silenced by you freezing and grabbing his arm tightly - a physical contact he hadn’t been expecting from you.

“Tom… get your phone.” You spoke slowly, still not having dared to have moved an inch - fingers almost white from how tightly you were squeezing his forearm.

“Wha-are you-are you okay?”

“I think my waters just broke. Get the phone. Now.”

~~~ feedback is really appreciated + would love to know what u think as still in the process of writing so can be guided / helped by asks !!! ~~~

taglist: @maraudersandco @@minejungwoo @sippin-on-tea @thegirlintheswivelchair @lovehollandy12 @hollandlover19 @thefernandasantana @hunnybunimdun @hallecarey1@cedricdiggorysimpp @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @pandaxnienke @crossyourpeter @thegirlwiththeimpala @tom-softie @sunwardsss @spiitfiiires @radcloudenthusiast @ladykxxx08 @prancerrparkerr @wildxwidow @arctic-monkcys @ownbauer13 @tomhollandlol @marvelsbitch8 @peterr-parkourr @lizzyclifford13-blog @user1683 @elishi03

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland angst #tom x reader #peter parkqueue #tom holland oneshot #tom holland x reader #tomholland #dad!tom #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x pregnant!reader #Tom Holland fluff #tom holland fluff

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

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Replies on Scott Pilgrim Gets It Together Review

@panur

i get the feeling that a lot of the shit that happens in the background that is just brought up casually like the kiss, ss finding out he's gay, kim getting a guy then being cheated on is just to illustrate that.... scott's just the main character of his own story, everyone else has their own shit going on, not everything is scott pilgrim vs.

panur

i do wish that had included ramona tho, other than her job and dropping that she goes to the gym, we know nothing of her that's not directly tied to scott, she doesn't seem to have friends of her own or anything

panur

i also find interesting scott never acknowledges that ramona cheated on him here. i know he doesn't have a leg to stand on given what he did, but just the fact he hears it and never thinks about it, especially after the fact nat cheaty

panur

*cheated on him and it v ery obviously messed him up. i guess what i'm saying is, with all he's repressing, i'm not surprised negascott is a thing

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In order * I see where your coming from and for the most part I do like that aspect of the series: That the rest of the cast DO have lives , histories and stuff outside of Scott’s orbit. Kim has her relationship with Jason and as I noted in the review, clearly looks a lot happier.. and next volume has that crumble horribly and Hollie, who when we have seen her has been Kim’s closest friend, utterly betray her and destroy her friendship, her job and everyhting. Stephen is dealing with his affair with jospeh, mentoring knives, and STILl dating Julie. We also never get a clear answer as to why they’ve stayed togehter so long.

A scene I think exmplifies this, and I wish i’d thought of this during the review, is the fight at the restraunt between him and Julie. For Stephen’s story, this is clearlya big moment as she assumes he’s cheating, if with the wrong person, things are very bad with them and falling apart, his relationship clearly ended for a while after this and only gets better at the end and entirley off screen. But we don’t see the whole thing because Scott isn’t part of it: He , and for once given his issues with avoidance wisely, gets the fuck out and we focus more on his and Ramona’s fight and the things after. BEcause i’ts HIS story. Same with Knives.. she clearly catches feelings for someone given her last scene, probably Stephen given she’s the ony one that knows he’s gay out of the main group before the big reveal, but we don’t get any of that or her getting a job. But I now realize her being out of it is because she’s slowly detaching from Scott’s orbit. This volume has her pretty much on her own, still obessed but not as, while next volume has her firmly break after Stephen’s hipocritical rant.... i’m going to tear into him over that one next time. By 6 she’s still his friend, but has firmly moved on and dosen’t need him anymore. It’s part of her progression that for once her story isn’t around him and it’s her DAD whose the one driving thigns.

THat being said.. the kiss dosen’t feel like something that WOUDLN’T impact scott or any of them and it feels like it had none whatsoever on anyone. These other things all happen in the background but stuf still happens. Here we get two fo scott’s exes, two fo the leads, one of whom is just as older as scott was which creates it’s own can of worm and neither who have shown intrest in women making out.. and it just never comes up other than Scott being a dick or changes either. It just feels weird to include something that seems like i’td be that big and important and not have it be important. IN contrast Kim and Stephen’s arcs have reasons for being largely off screen and both still impact Scott’s narrative: Kim’s falling out with Hollie leaves her homeless and rudderless and she decides to go to college, taking her out of the narrative and leading to Scott’s sabatical in the woods that ultimately changes him for the better, while Stephen’s affair with Joseph causes the band to impolode as he stops carring about Sex Bomb Omb and creates a whole other project and abandons Scott basically. It just feels really odd to have something that clearly would change Knives a bit not do a damn thing. Before I move on to Ramona I DO like how they weaponize this though with Neil. Neil grows increasingly bitter and dickish until volume 6, when Scott makes a concious effort to pull the guy into his life. But it’s because HE’S left out of EVERYTHING, with everyone just kind of forgetting about him and not carring about the fact he’s left out. I will go into this more in volume 5 but I think part of why he hates Stephen so much is Stephen is very clearly his best friend.. and he abandons Neil to go be with Joseph. It’s why he gives the facepuncingly dickish “Captain Homo” comment. He feels hurt.. dosen’t make that RIGHT mind you but I can at least feel worse for him than Stephen who, even with grappling with being in the closet and that’s sympehttic and all, is still a dickhead.

* As with Ramona.. your right. They really don’t do that with her AS MUCH they do a little as she works a lot, has a really nice place (It’s two stories for fuck’s sake), and clealry has stuff going on. I do think the lack of friends is okay as it’s deliberate: She keeps people at arms length, and friendship requires letting someone in a least a little. it’s just EASIER to be friends with Scott’s friends. It also honestly helps with the Roxie plot here: because she has no one else to turn to, it explains how Rox got into her head so easy. She IS friends with Wallace and Kim, but both are still linked to Scott, so she can’t exactly vent to them. Or at least feels she couldn’t, let’s face it both of them could use it too.

I think she’s just focused on work most of the time and it was easier to just make friends with Scott’s friends and be around him than it was to build a life. Plus her job really dosen’t give her time to make friends outside Scott’s circle. Also I DO think that Stacey was supposed to be said friend... but that fell out as O’Malley stopped wanting to use the character and simply didn’t write anyone in to replace her. I do think Ramona does get sufficent character development though, and while it is DUE to her relationship, we do see a genuine progression in how she acts throughout the series good and bad and like Scott, she ends the series a better person. But If the series is adapted into a streaming show down the line and it REALLY needs to be, this is something i’d fix up, and given there’s a rather sizeable chunk of background characters, as well as Kim and Stacey, it wouldn’t be that hard to give her seomthing else to do.

And yeah I think he just repressed it, that it was just hard to deal with and like all the thing sin his life that are hard to deal with he choose to ignore it rather than talk with her.IT is indeed why Nega Scott exists.

#scott pilgrim #panurr

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d2kvirus · 3 years

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Dickheads of the Month: January 2021

As it seems that there are people who say or do things that are remarkably dickheaded yet somehow people try to make excuses for them or pretend it never happened, here is a collection of some of the dickheaded actions we saw in the month of January 2021 to make sure that they are never forgotten.

Once again, we knew that Donald Trump wasn’t going to take losing well, but when a legion of his most boneheaded supporters storm the Capitol demanding the election result be overturned because a certain thin-skinned orange gobshite had spent several weeks screaming about electoral fraud and, by the way, also set the date of January 6th for some major event, even Mike Pence couldn’t sanction his buffoonery any longer - especially when said buffoonery involved him saying “I love you” to people who were guilty of sedition and, by the way, murder - all of which led to him finally, finally, getting the boot from various social media platforms

...all while Lauren Boebert appeared to be trying to help out the insurrectionists by livetweeting the location of Nancy Pelosi, presumably because Boebert forgot about that Glock she claims to take to work with her every day and was looking for a convenient meat shield, which naturally has nothing to do with her tweeting the day would be like 1776 earlier that morning

...but the real victim in all of this was Melania Trump as it interrupted a photo shoot she was doing, which she somehow thought it was a good idea to mention several days later in a statement riddled with two opinions: “both sides” and “me, me, me” which shows she didn’t realise the optics of rearranging the china as Washington burned around her

...but according to Laura Kuenssberg it was merely a “scuffle” at Congress, as opposed to an organised group attempting to stage an armed insurrection against the government complete with at least one member carrying zip ties

...and finally, we had Ian Austin reminded us that he’s still alive by saying the exact same thing would have happened in the UK with Jeremy Corbyn supporters storming parliament, as if that happened in the four years Corbyn was wishing Austin would go away, then did go away, but sadly didn’t go away

Once again the Tory government think they know better than virologists, epidemiologists and pharmacists with their one-two punch of thinking they can just mix and match the various vaccines available rather than give people two doses of the same vaccine, but they further weaken any chance of vaccination succeeding by ignoring Pfizer’s recommendation the second dose be given within three weeks of the first by adopting a policy of the second dose is given three months later, and it it’s just as likely to be the less effective but cheaper Oxford vaccine they get a dose of

...swiftly followed by the BBC did their bit to encourage people to get vaccinated by reporting a story of a nurse getting a dose of Covid six weeks after her first vaccination jab not by reporting how she was three weeks overdue for the second dose (or, if you prefer, six weeks before her second one) but simply saying that people vaccinated can get Covid, which goes beyond the BBC’s sociopathic inability to criticise Tory fuckups into being downright fucking dangerous - as does their putting sentient testicle Toby Young on Newsnight to say how we’re all overreacting as it's not as bad as all that

Of all the things proven liar Boris Johnson should have said when the UK’s Covid death toll officially passed 100,000 (as opposed to unofficially, which would have been last December), “We have done our best” was not it, because if their best includes not going into lockdown in order to protect landlords, having Dominic Cummings dictate herd immunity in spite the fact that you need vaccinated people for it to work, refusing to have quarantine at airports until July, thinking it would be a bright idea to tell people it’s their patriotic duty to go to the pub, giving them £10 vouchers to go to restaurants, putting children going back to school ahead of any concerns about every single school could become a petri dish and countless other horrifically mismanaged instances, then we should be kept up at night dreading what their worst would be

The fact that Chartwells were given a contract to provide free school dinners with a budget of £30, and the supposed lunches that arrived had £5 worth of food in them which begged the obvious question where the other £25 went, is appalling - but not surprising, as the Tory government gave them the contract and, equally unsurprising, Chartwells was founded by a Tory donor, and equally unsurprising their response to their grift being exposed was to tell all the public school clients they cater to a pack of lies while hoping nobody found out about them doing so...which worked about as well as you can guess

Something possessed the EU to ramp up the row over the AstraZenica vaccine not passing the rigorous tests for over-65s by threatening to trigger Article 16 and limit the number of vaccines that Northern Ireland received, and that something was it was hopelessly misguided as it allowed the Tories to get their hapless response to the pandemic off the front pages for a few days and let the Leave headbangers say this is why we left the EU...in spite this threat would have never been in play if we were still in the EU

There is no way to make jokes about Kellyanne Conway posting what was, in effect, revenge porn photos of her 16-year old daughter, because that sentence is so far out there that it is borderline incomprehensible

In the space of less than twenty seconds proven liar Boris Johnson claimed that there was no prior warning of the new strain of Covid, he had the SAGE paper stating it was coming which was handed to him last September held up in his face, and then said the government acted accordingly. Yes, you read that right, he claimed the government acted accordingly to something they had no prior warning about, which is literally impossible, all in the space of ten seconds

In the latest hire by the BBC which is cause for both comment and concern, they announced their new chairman would be Tory donor Richard Sharp, whose credentials for the position are being Rishi Sunak’s ex-boss at Goldman Sachs, donating at least £400,000 to the Tory party, and having no background in journalism whatsoever

Smirking bully Priti Patel said that the UK should have closed its borders in March 2020 in order to prevent the spread of Covid. Presumably she forgot that she was a.) Home Secretary in Marsh 2020 so could have done that, and b.) Home Secretary when she said that the borders should have been closed as that indicates she doesn’t know what’s going on

The terrifying world which Alison Pearson lives in has now started to cross over into our reality due to her responding to one of the four people she hasn’t blocked on Twitter calling her what she is - namely a liar - by siccing the Torygraph’s lawyers on them claiming libel, doing the usual cry bully tactic of learning the person she is harassing works for GlaxoSmithKline so promptly went to their CEO demanding he be fired, and howling about the hate campaign being waged against her - while telling the person, who was saying he was thinking suicidal thoughts after the pile-on that Pearson had instigated even after he had deleted the tweet and apologised , that “You’re finished”

Someday in the future, scholars will study Ted Cruz responding to Biden rejoining the Paris Climate Agreement within hours of getting his feet under the Oval Office desk by pontificating about how terrible it is that Biden is more interested in the citizens of Paris than the jobless of Pittsburgh and wonder just how somebody who doesn't know why the Paris Climate Agreement was named the Paris Climate Agreement ever got to be a senator

...and judging by how Lauren Boebert also latched onto this brainless rhetoric, not only can it be asked how she got to be a senator when she had the opportunity to actually realise Cruz’s mistake, she also begs the question how she can be a senator after her publicly trying to use Nancy Pelosi as a meat shield during the Capitol riots

Unifying force Keir Starmer stated that Labour should be devoting their time to fighting the Tory government rather than fighting court cases, somehow forgetting that by breaking the guidelines of the EHRC report (which he pledged to follow without question months before it was published) is the reason that they’re fighting court cases, and just so happens to be the reason why people are asking how a meeting attended by Starmer, Angela Rayner, Len McCluskey and others either didn't have a single person taking notes, which is David Evans’ entire defence, or they did take notes by quite conveniently lost them

Oh boy, did Wall Street cheerleaders not take it well when r/WallStreetbets exposed to the entire world that the stock market is little more than a game people play with other people’s money - because the teams the Wall Street cheerleaders support started losing, and all it took was a few Redditors investing in Gamestop and Bed Bath & Beyond

Nice of Shaun Bailey to remind everyone that he’s a Tory by giving his suggestion for how the homeless could get on the property ladder, namely by saving a minimum of £5000

Clearly Marjorie Taylor Greene didn’t get the memo about the Streisand Effect, as the first thing she did after taking her seat in the House of Representatives was go on a mass deleting spree of Facebook posts - which only served to draw attention to her video saying that Nancy Pelosi be executed for treason, her track record of spreading conspiracy theories about the Parkland and Sandy Hook shootings, and her claims that a Jewish space laser is responsible for the 2018 California wildfires

Insufferable self-promoter Jess Phillips got her 2021 off to a good start by tweeting out that, as Britait has happened, we should shut up and accept it. To the surprise of nobody other than insufferable self-promoter Jess Phillips, this led to a lot of people saying that, no, they will not accept an advisory referendum somehow being bolted onto the Ten Commandments, especially as numerous things that were promised wouldn’t happen such as a border in the Irish Sea, leaving Erasmus, losing freedom of movement, leaving the Common Market have all happened

It is wrong to say that smirking bully Priti Patel has lost 150,000 police files. The actual figure is closer to 400,000 - which begs the obvious question as to what those files were, for example if those files also happened to fall under the same category as the ones that 55-year old ex-minister Mark Francois might want to have disappear for the sake of convenience

At last CD Projekt Red took some responsibility for Clusterpunk 2077 being such a cyberfuck...if by “taking responsibility” you mean “taking responsibility, dumping it all on the QA testers, and saying that everyone should blame them for everything” - and then with perfect comedic timing CD Projekt Red released an update for Clusterpunk 2077 that was so broken they had to release a hotfix for their broken patch

Expenses-fiddler Robert Jenrick decided that the most important thing to protect in the United Kingdom at this exact moment in time is...statues. Not key workers, not the vulnerable, not any human life at all. Statues.

So either Rafael Behr wrote a column for The Guardian where he tried to blame Jeremy Corbyn for his heart attack which saw Guardian higher-ups remove that passage from their print edition but forgot to remove it from the online version of the article, or The Guardian deliberately left the passage in the online version of the column in order to get some form of engagement from rage clicks while allowing Behr to act as if he is suffering some great injustice

Of course it wouldn’t take long for Steve Baker to try and claim some spurious victory for Britait, namely him claiming that tampon tax he spent so long fighting against being abolished is proof of the sunlit uplands of our post-EU nation...which ignores the fact that a.) It had nothing to do with the EU in the first place, and b.) The fact that Baker voted to keep it in place in a 2015 Commons vote

Employer of the year WWE went for an interesting twofer, as one minute they were proudly stating that WrestleMania would go ahead with a prospective 30,000 in attendance without any concerns for social distancing or any other Covid preventative measures, and the next telling the wrestlers on their roster that they would not be supplying them with Covid vaccines at the exact same time the NBA were floating the idea of providing vaccines for all their players

Make no mistake, the criticism that Erik Lamela, Sergio Reguilon, Giovani Lo Celso and Manuel Lanzini have received due to the four of them flouting lockdown regulations to attend a New Year’s party is justified - however, the fact that Duncan Castles tried to chase a headline by claiming that Lo Celso and Lamela had tested positive for Covid in a swiftly-deleted tweet is a new low for the noted barrel scraping rumour monger

Self-awareness sceptic Laurence Fox was entirely predictable in his response to the news that talkRADIO had been booted from Youtube for repeated violations of their ToS, specifically the part about spreading Covid misinformation, screaming the usual things about being “cancelled” - and then, within hours, responded to the BBC announcing a plan of educational programming to help during Lockdown III by saying he will be shielding his children from being “indoctrinated” by the BBC’s “left-wing bias” - which not only means he’s cancelling the BBC, but also had people remember that Billie Piper has custody of his children so it's not like he can even enforce his rules on what his children can and cannot watch

...by the way, Fox said nothing about Lord Sumption appearing on the BBC’s Question Time (the same show where failed actor on the grift Laurence Fox announced his new career as a clueless right wing irritant) where he told a woman with bowel cancer that her life wasn’t valuable, it was merely less valuable as she has less life left. Yes, that is eugenics getting free airtime on the BBC, thanks for noticing

Somehow the best choice of words the BBC could find when reporting the death of Phil Spector was “talented but flawed” as if murder is some character flaw instead of, oh I don’t know, a criminal activity?

You would have thought that Twitch would have simply retired the PogChamp emote permanently in the wake of Gootecks going all insurrectionist, but no, instead they thought of having a rotating cycle of emotes of various creators, in spite of those creators telling them this would be a bad idea - and those creators were proven right when Critical bard was inundated with racist and homophobic abuse in his chat that led him to close his social media profiles when he was selected for rotation, with Twitch doing fuck all about it

Fashion editor no matter what she claims she is Hadley Freeman had a really clever take about The Sopranos...actually, no she didn’t, she had an absurd belief that it’s the exact same show as Sex in the City but people overlook it Because Misogyny, and when she was lambasted for missing the point so badly she had noted dipshit David Baddiel rushing in to her rescue to mock those getting “triggered” by her insipid take while saying he never liked The Sopranos because, as he isn't an Italian-American mobster, the show did not speak to him - in other words, he made himself a subject of equal mockery

...but there was no sign of Baddiel when Hadley Freeman then jumped on the BidenErasedWomen bandwagon alongside the TERFs of Twitter as soon as Biden got his feet under the desk, which also happened to show hard centrist extremist Freeman say how she thought Trump did far more for women than Biden ever has, which as takes go is so bad that the best explanation is that she briefly forgot the difference between the words “for” and “to”, before she then deleted the tweet and tried to deny ever posting it with increasingly nonsensical explanations that rapidly looked uncannily like gaslighting

...although David Baddiel wasn’t quite done being a bellend, as he was soon yukking it up with professional victim Rachel Riley about his latest book which accuses the entire progressive left of antisemitism

The oppressed underclass known as Manchester United fans really showed their colours, first by responding to a loss to Sheffield United by sending racial abuse to Axel Tuanzebe and Anthony Martial on social media, and a couple of weeks later responded to a draw with Arsenal by sending racial abuse to Marcus Rashford, because apparently when your team drops points the most important thing is to look for which member of your team you can racially abuse

And finally, oh so finally, we have Donald Trump and his discovery of electoral fraud at last - electoral fraud that consisted of Donald Trump calling Georgia Secretary of State Brad Raffensperger demanding he change the result and all he needs is Raffensperger to “find” 11,780 votes while also saying that he had proof of vote-counting machines being removed early...and when told they were still in Georgia, changed his lie to say the inner workings had been removed without anyone noticing. By the way, the only reason anyone knows about this is because Raffensperger told Trump that he wouldn’t release the call to the public if Trump didn't say anything about it - so, of course, the Orange Overlord took to twitter, ran his mouth, and the Washington Post had one hell of an exclusive as a result

#dickheads of the month

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ladyoutlier · 5 years

Text

Earth Angel

In which Crowley accidently miracles a love song for Aziraphale

Read on AO3 | Listen to the song for context

________________________________________________________________

Crowley didn’t spend much time across the pond. Didn’t matter much whether he wanted to or not. The fact was that he didn’t need to. Ever since the colonies broke off and forged their own path ahead (a path that was quite destructive to anything and anyone that wasn’t an ex-settler), they had done quite the good job of spreading evil into the world themselves.

For Hell’s sake, the Americans were doing Satan proud with their segregation laws. Dehumanizing people because of how much melanin was in their skin. Crowley thought it would be a real kick to let them all know that Adam and Eve had been black, but his lot probably wouldn’t be too happy with the miracle it would’ve taken to convince these stubborn Yanks that he was telling the truth. He didn’t much feel like outing himself as the demon that caused humanity to fall anyways.

Still, he wasn’t in much of a mood to be partaking in these backwards American habits, much like how he wasn’t all that interested in involving himself in the horror of the previous World War. Minus, of course, a small dip in with his angel friend. So he found himself in the most progressive diner in Los Angeles which wasn’t saying much with the segregated seating, bathrooms, and drinking fountains. 1954 America was a mess, and Crowley couldn’t wait to get out of it.

He wouldn’t even be having nearly as bad of a time if Aziraphale were here. But no, Crowley had lost the coin flip, and as their Arrangement stated, he was the one to go to America on both their behalves. It’s not that he hated the country. Rather it was a case of the wrong place at the wrong time. He actually appreciated the American spirit with their rowdiness and party-going nature. It’s just he wasn’t in the mood to enjoy it.

The location hardly helped either. Los Angeles of all places: the closest Earth had to a Hell of its own and the one place that literally translates to “The Angels.” Wasn’t he already homesick enough? He had a right mind to think this was all some sick practical joke She was playing on him. As if She hadn’t tormented him enough these past 6000 years with Aziraphale.

He didn’t even really understand what he was supposed to be doing over here. Something about inspiring a witch hunt, but that nonsense had burned out centuries ago. He would’ve thought it was just another case of Hell being behind the times, but they threw in some major keywords that’d shown up on almost every newspaper he came across. Some dickhead named McCarthy and this looming “Red Scare.” As far as Crowley could tell, nothing about the States seemed all that red or all that scary, but humans always made a bigger fuss of things than he did.

“Can I get you anything, dear?” A waitress pulled him out of his self-pity session. “Coffee perhaps? Or well, I guess you folks are more fond of tea, aren’t you?”

“Coffee’s fine.” He gave her a wide smile that all but added on: Now, go away.

Truth be told, Crowley didn’t feel much like socializing with humans, well, ever, but specifically not today. What was the point of chatting any of them up when their short life spans meant they could croak before you’d get a chance to finish your thought?

Really, he wanted to head back to his hotel room and sleep until this McCarthy guy did something evil enough for him to be able to go home. And that’s exactly what he would’ve done if it wasn’t for the simple fact that he had to handle Aziraphale’s miracle as well.

Do general goodness. That was it. That was all he had to go off of. When he had expressed his annoyance to Aziraphale, he had just shrugged and said that sometimes it was about finding where miracles were needed rather than where they’d be the most profitable.

Couldn’t he have given him any tips? For Satan’s sake, he was a demon after all. Picking out where good was needed wasn’t exactly his expertise. Sure, he hadn’t asked Aziraphale for advice, but a demon would think after 6 millennia he wouldn’t need to.

So he was stuck in this sorry excuse for a place to grab a bite, surrounded by these no-good Americans for Aziraphale. Er, well not for Aziraphale. For their Arrangement. Which he purely posed for self-gain and not at all because he wanted a reason to see the angel more. Not at all that.

He was making a bigger fuss out of all this than he should have, and he knew this. Finding someone in desperate need of a miracle wasn’t all that hard. He could probably walk in any direction for less than a minute and find some poor homeless bastard that would consider even a week’s worth of wages to be the greatest miracle they could receive. Everyone needed something after all.

The problem was that Crowley was quite good at lying to himself. Well, not good at it. He had been failing to lie to himself about his feelings towards Aziraphale since the beginning of time itself. So deep down, he knew his difficulty with providing a miracle had absolutely nothing to do with him being a demon or with the company he found himself around. It actually had everything to do with the fact that he wanted to impress his angel. THE angel. Impress the angel. Not his.

It was quite the internal conflict. His feelings of course, but also deciding on a miracle. What he wanted to do was snap his fingers and end this whole racism thing, but even if Hell didn’t figure out it was him that did it, Heaven would be pretty pissed at Aziraphale for abusing his powers. A bunch of bollocks, wasn’t it? That an angel could cause too much good. How stupid did that sound?

No, he had to find a way to do something that would make Aziraphale beam without completely redesigning this awful country. Something that would make Aziraphale look at him the same way he had back in 1941 after Crowley had saved his books. It was a once in a lifetime look -- well, a once in a 6000 years look -- that Crowley really wanted to see again.

Maybe he would just drown himself at a bar and start fresh tomorrow. It’s not like the atmosphere was doing him any good. The air was just not putting him in a good mood tonight.

Usually, that had never mattered. Aziraphale could make a war zone enjoyable. Not that Aziraphale was required for him to have a good time. But it did help. Or no, it didn’t. He got along perfectly fine on his own. Aziraphale was completely optional, and Crowley couldn’t care whether he was there or not! Yeah, couldn’t care less.

“Oi, hun!” he called to the waitress. “Why don’t you make that coffee something a bit stronger, yeah?”

The waitress gave him a nod and ducked into the kitchen.

Crowley sat up in his booth. Enough of the internal sob story. There had to be someone here that needed a miracle, right? The next Charles Dickens, or more likely the next Mark Twain, that he could help along on their path towards success. Aziraphale had been really fond of him throwing Shakespeare a bone back in the day, so he just needed a modern day literary genius he could do the same thing with. Simple.

The diner was a lot more lively than when he came in. He must have been lost in thought for quite a while. Businessmen sat at the counter reading newspapers with cancer sticks smoking from their lips. Crowley did wonder when humans were going to figure out that cigarettes weren’t all that healthy. Influencing them into breaking bad habits would count as a miracle but that was hardly all that special.

A group of teens were tucked into the corner, drinking milkshakes. What could he do for them? Help them with their homework? Point them in the direction of a good college? Yeah, boring. Wasn’t going to work.

Four young men sat over in the segregated section having a rather intense conversation. The two guys closest to the door were leaned over the table. One of them tapped on it as he spoke. Crowley figured a bit of eavesdropping couldn’t hurt. Plus, it was in his nature with the whole demon thing.

“Okay, how about this? It’s you, you, you my dear. Always been you-ou-ou.”

The one across from him shook his head. “Too much like The Ames Brothers. We need our unique sound.”

The first man sat back down against the seat, and the guy next to him spoke up. “Duncan, it’s not like either of us know that much about love. We both had, what? One date for all the school dances we went to back at Fremond?”

“But love songs are what’s popping. What the people wanna here!” The man now known as Duncan replied.

Crowley rolled his eyes and turned to look out the window. Funny that humans thought they knew anything about love when he still hasn’t figured it out in the whole time humanity has existed. Maybe they did know more about it than him. They had a good 60 or 70 years to figure it out before they’d have to deal with never knowing. Maybe that made all the pins click into place quicker.

He, on the other hand, wasn’t on much of a time restraint. Sure, there was the whole End of the World thing Hell was so dead set on rolling into action, but if he had to guess, that wasn’t going to occur for another millennium or two. Not really the same as a human that barely gets used to the world around them before needing to figure out the whole love thing.

All he knew was that he was indeed capable of feeling love which was something he didn’t know he could say about the other demons. If he couldn’t feel love, then why the Hell did Aziraphale make him–

Nope. That thought ends there. Not entertaining that at all. He was not going to think about any of that. Not about their first meeting in Eden where Aziraphale had surprised him not only by giving away his flaming sword but by also telling him about it. Or about how Aziraphale was the only angel in all of Heaven that seemed just the tad bit concerned about drowning the human race. Or-or even about the little things like the bashful smile he’d oftentimes wear on his face. Or how his fun hobby of book collecting had turned into a full blown obsession. Or how he straight up refused to modernize because God damn it he had found something he liked and was going to stick with it. Of course, Aziraphale would never put it that way. Blasphemy and all. But the point still stands! And even just the way Aziraphale says his name. It was enough to make him forget he was a demon at times. And oh, oh in the name of Lucifer. He didn’t just do that, did he?

“Guys, if I haven’t just had a stroke of genius!” Now Duncan was the one leaned over the table.

One of the four passed by Crowley on the way back to his group. “What’s buzzing, cousin?” he asked, taking a seat.

“Got the song and it’s a real good one,” Duncan replied.

“Let’s hear it then.”

Just a coincidence. Surely he didn’t.

“Earth angel, earth angel.”

Fuck.

“Will you be mine?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“My darling dear. Love you all the time.”

“Hold up, Duncan. Let me write this down. It’s gold. The Penguins are going international!”

Yes, he had done it then. He had just accidentally miracled a love song. And an all too personal love song at that. God’s really got it out for him, doesn’t She?

If Aziraphale was here he surely would’ve said that Crowley’s mistaken miracle was ineffable, and if Crowley wasn’t too busy trying to conceal his embarrassment, he would’ve sneered in response because of course that’s what Aziraphale would say.

But the angel wasn’t here, and Crowley instead promptly left a wad of cash on his table and got up to leave. He’d most certainly overpaid, but who could be bothered to figure out American currency when the Americans couldn’t even be bothered to figure out equality? He’d count it as Aziraphale’s miracle anyway. The waitress could probably do with a bit of extra money.

As he left the diner, Duncan continued, “I’m just a fool. A fool in love with you.”

The door slammed behind him. Surely he had nothing to worry about. Yeah, he had accidentally given away 6000 years worth of secret emotions as inspiration to this band of musicians, but on the other hand, he had never even heard of The Penguins. They’d become a local phenomenon at best. Whatever this song was, it wasn’t going any further than Los Angeles. Definitely not past California.

He’d keep Aziraphale out of the whole country until the turn of the millennium just to play it safe. He’d rig their coin flips for future American assignments if he had to. As much as he wasn’t fond of coming back any time soon, he hated the idea of Aziraphale finding out about this song all the more.

He’d just blacklist the whole western hemisphere. Didn’t exist to him. Really, he didn’t even have to be this extreme! The song was NOT going to be popular!

When “Earth Angel” came out that following October, it definitely didn’t stay local. By the following year, all of America was spitting out Crowley’s love song. The Penguins were happy with their first, and to be only, Top 40 hit, but Crowley sure wasn’t.

It was an absolute nightmare, and though the song was still mostly American-based, Crowley had no plans of facing Aziraphale until he was sure it was dead. He’d wait another century if he had to, and perhaps he would have if the angel hadn’t approached him first in 1967.

When Aziraphale left him with a thermos full of holy water in his Bentley with the words: “you go too fast for me” still crisp in the air, Crowley wondered if he had heard the song after all. Even if he had, he wasn’t planning on asking.

Flash forward 42 years. The Antichrist was born. The End of the World came and sputtered out before it could really begin. An angel and a demon got comfortable in each other’s skin and were now faced with the rest of their lives without any sort of guidance. And when faced with infinite choices, they chose to continue what they already had been doing. 6000 years makes any habit hard to break.

While Aziraphale had always loved the Earth, he found himself appreciating it all the more post Armeggedon’t. Although it had been two months since Adam had quite literally told Satan that he wasn’t his real dad, it might as well have been yesterday as far as the angel was concerned. Two months was hardly a lot of time when one has seen the rise and fall of civilizations.

In his reawakened joy of the world, Aziraphale found himself outside his bookshop more often. The blues of the sky were brighter. The giggling of children was all the more heartwarming. Even the crisp, cool air of autumn felt refreshing. The Great Plan had been weighing him down for some time without him realizing it, and now, that weight was finally gone.

And after his and Crowley’s stunt, he was more-or-less free to do as he wanted. No more waiting to hear word from Above. Yes, Heaven likely wouldn’t leave him alone forever as Hell wouldn’t with Crowley, but for the time being they were radio silent. The freedom strangely felt more heavenly than Heaven itself.

The park was exceptionally lovely with the birds singing up in the treetops and the few remaining bees buzzing from blossom to blossom. He watched one particular bumblebee lazily land on a hydrangea.

If Crowley was here, he would have made some off hand remark about how he couldn’t remember whether they were yellow with black stripes or black with yellow ones. Aziraphale would’ve told him that he was thinking of zebras, and Crowley would say but they don’t have a hint of yellow on them. Instead of further clarifying that what he meant was that zebras were the ones with confusion about their base color and not bees, he would say quite right, dear boy and they’d keep on walking. But Crowley wasn’t with him today.

They had spent a lot of time together since the End of the World that Wasn’t. Hardly a day went by where Aziraphale didn’t see the demon. Other than when raising Warlock, which hardly counted because they couldn’t be themselves, they had never spent so much time together. It wasn’t uncommon for years to go by in between their visits. Perhaps the past eleven years had made him used to it. Aziraphale found himself quite fond of the recent companionship.

He smiled a half somber sort of smile to himself as he left the bumblebee. Crowley would also say that this whole garden needed a good thrashing looking the way it does. And Aziraphale would remind him that it was fall after all and this is what happened to plants in the fall.

Crowley was to be seeing him this evening where they’d clink a few glasses in the back of his bookshop. Still, Aziraphale wished that they had decided to spend this afternoon together as well. He did enjoy Crowley’s commentary on things. In fact, he had been enjoying everything about Crowley. Maybe now with how things were, that was okay.

Now that he wasn’t under the pressure to behave like a proper angel, he could pay a bit more attention to those feelings that had been swirling much more violently within him for the past 78 years. He and Crowley were on their own side now. There was no longer any ifs, ands, or buts about it. They only had each other to depend upon for the rest of eternity. Maybe this should have been a scary thought to Aziraphale, and not too long ago, it probably would have been, but now, it was more of a comfort than anything else. The rest of existence with Crowley was hardly a bad thing.

When he really looked back on it, Crowley had been the only one there for him in all his time on Earth. Whether he needed rescuing to keep his miracle numbers to quota or someone’s company over lunch, Crowley had oftentimes been there. He couldn’t say that about his fellow angels. Whenever he had seen them, it was strictly business. Crowley had proven himself as a friend, and although Aziraphale had denied it in the past, they were friends. And perhaps there was more to it than that.

There had to be a reason he would find himself lost staring at Crowley’s face or found himself taking a quick glance to the demon to read his thoughts on the situation. A reason for why he chose to sit beside him at a table rather than across from him. Why he’d catch himself smiling at the sight of Crowley without meaning to. The demon meant an awful lot to him. That much was certain. But how much. Now, that was an actual scary thought to think.

“...angel. The one I adore. Love you forever and ever more.”

Well, that most certainly brought him back to his stroll in the park. What was, that is, who sang that? At such a—such an odd moment no less! He turned back to the source.

An eldery couple sat on a bench. A man holding a woman’s hands. He continued singing. “I’m just a fool. A fool in love with you.”

Aziraphale cautiously approached them and, seeing that they were at a break in the song, spoke up. “Excuse me. I’d hate to interrupt such an intimate moment, but please, what is that song?”

The woman turned to him. “Oh, this was the song we met to. I was on holiday in America. Went to a party and this lovely man asked me to dance.” She kissed the singer on the cheek.

“Why that’s very lovely.” Aziraphale fumbled with his hands. “But what’s the name of the song? When-when did it come out?”

The man answered him this time. “‘Earth Angel’ by The Penguins. Was early on in their career because they never wrote a song like that again. Although I may be a bit biased.” He glanced to the woman and back. “Couldn’t have come out earlier than 1954 though. That’s when we met.”

“1954. America. Earth angel…” Aziraphale replied, becoming rather lost in thought. “Yes, thank you.”

As he walked away, the older gentleman picked his serenade back up. “I fell for you and I knew… The vision of your love-loveliness. I hoped and I pray that someday… I’ll be the vision of your hap-happiness!”

Just a coincidence, obviously. That—that this song would be sung as he passed by. And that this song would just so happen to have come into existence when Crowley was over in America. Just a coincidence that Crowley had been rather scarce on the details on what he had done over there even though he was usually a bit more thorough regarding the miracles he did on Aziraphale’s behalf. And it was nothing more than odd that he had been the one to next engage Crowley who then wouldn’t engage him again until the Antichrist was born. Just a strange set of events that only seemed to be related but weren’t.

He really wanted to believe that, but he was an angel, and when it was this obvious, he could tell when God had placed pieces in a certain order. It was entirely what he was thinking, and if he didn’t admit that it made his heart jump just the tiniest bit, well that would be a lie. Feeling were so much easier to admit when reciprocated.

Crowley met up with Aziraphale just like they planned. They had gone into the backroom where Crowley had noticed a new edition of a vintage record player. Odd, but he didn’t mention anything about it. Within the hour, he had completely forgotten all about it as he and Aziraphale finished off a bottle of Bordeaux wine.

“Crowley, I heard the strangest song today,” The angel said, swirling his glass.

“Really?” Alarms began to go off in the demon’s head although he didn’t exactly know why.

“Well, it was quite nice actually, but I found myself perhaps reading into it a bit much.”

“Yeah, how so?”

“You were in the States in the 50s, weren’t you? You were there for both of us.”

Ah, so that’s what the alarms were for. Crowley sat up, straightening his shirt. “I, uh, fail to see how that’s related.”

“This particular song is American and released a few months after your visit.”

“So?”

“I was wondering if you, perchance, had anything to do with its creation.”

Trapped. Completely and utterly trapped. Aziraphale had figured it out, and Crowley was not going to be able to talk his way out of this one. He needed some time. He hadn’t expected to ever actually have this conversation, and now, it was all moving too fast. Too fast, huh. Funny that.

“I uh hardly remember anything I did over there. America really was rubbish at the time. Just wanted to get our jobs done and leave.”

“It’s really sweet.”

“Say again?” He blinked rapidly. Fuck, where were his sunglasses when he needed them.

“The song. It’s really sweet.”

“Oh, then it must not have anything to do with me then.”

“I think that means it has everything to do with you.” Aziraphale smiled.

“Angel, how many times do I gotta tell you? Sweet, nice, good-hearted is absolutely as far from me as you get. I’m scary nightmare fuel. Black demon wings and snake eyes and—”

“Crowley, I love you too.”

That shut the demon up. In that short moment, Aziraphale’s heart fluttered, and he worried he’d gotten this whole thing wrong, and it really was a set of coincidences that led him here, but then Crowley spoke up.

“You really mean that? You’re not just throwing me some sympathy for making a fool out of myself?”

“Yes, I really mean that.”

Crowley stood up. A bit too quickly for the amount of alcohol in him, but he held his balance. “I’ve been wanting to hear you say that, angel, since the dawn of time.”

Aziraphale stood as well. “So, are you going to say it back then?”

The demon stumbled over to his angel and pulled him into his arms, breathing onto the back of his neck. “I love you so goddamn much.”

“Language, dear,” Aziraphale replied, wrapping his arms around Crowley as well.

“Oh, shut it.”

They stood like that for a while. Perhaps only a few minutes or perhaps hours. Perhaps long enough for the world outside to have become completely new. Just holding one another and making up for 6000 years of never embracing. It was a still silence, but not that of an awkward variety. The kind of silence that is more comfortable than anything else. A silence that let’s one know they are exactly where they need to be. One where they’re free to melt into each other and become one and let souls entwine in a never-ending dance that’s stronger than any marital bond. It felt like hardly a moment had passed when they finally pulled away.

“The song then?” Aziraphale asked.

“Yeah.” Crowley stared into his angel’s face as if it was his whole world which was hardly a jump from the truth. “It was one of mine.”

“Oh, well, would you like to dance to it?”

“Dance to it?”

“Isn’t that what songs are for?” The softest smile painted Aziraphale’s face. “For dancing to?”

“Suppose.” He couldn’t help but return the smile. “Do you even know how to dance to a song like that?”

“Modern dances aren’t that complicated. Nothing like they once were. Isn’t it little more than swaying back and forth?”

“Angel, only you would call a song from the 50s modern.”

“Relatively speaking, it is. So would you like to? Dance that is.”

“S’pose.”

Aziraphale snapped his fingers and a record appeared on the player. The disc spun, and the song began to flow. The two grabbed onto one another once more.

“Funny that Shakespeare thought he knew what star-crossed lovers were.” Crowley swayed as he laid his head on top of Aziraphale’s. “Romeo and Juliet? Pah. I’d say we’re a better example.”

“We have a happier ending too,” Aziraphale hummed from the demon’s chest.

“Always been a bigger fan of the funny ones.”

And they were silent once more, listening to a song that was little more than a happy accident. An accident Crowley most certainly no longer regretted. Eternity really wasn’t all that scary anymore. If every day was like this, he’d be just fine. He fell back into the lyrics his heart had written for his angel 65 years earlier:

“Earth angel, earth angel

Please be mine

My darling dear

Love you all the time

I'm just a fool

A fool in love with you-ou (you, you, you)”

________________________________________________________________

Special thanks to my test readers:

@avuck @justkeeptrekkin @fandomens @booklover223

#Good Omens #Good Omens fic #ineffable husbands #my writing

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chobit92 · 5 years

Text

Small World: Joseph/OC Part 30

Joseph finally finds Jacob. John continues to struggle with drink and drugs and Lillith finally has enough...

Warnings: Domestic Violence, Sex, Drugs, PTSD

(Joseph is about to leave the New Dawn homeless shelter and clinic when an old man walks over to him. The man is filthy and reeks of body odour and urine. His hair is scraggy and his face sunken.). Man: I hear you’re looking for your brother? Joseph: Yes. Man: Jacob. Joseph: Yes. Man: There was a guy called Jacob here. About 3 months ago. He was in bad shape. Joseph: How bad? Man: Spent most of his time lying in bed. Didn’t want to talk to anyone or eat or anything. Gave up on life he did. Joseph: He did? Man: Yeah. Probably dead now I reckon. He got kicked out of here. Got into a fight with another guy, Gus. Ah I can’t blame Jacob really. Gus was a real dickhead. He was always annoying Jacob. Guess Jacob had enough and he thumped him. Actually he put him in intensive care. He was booted out of here. Last I heard the police were looking for him for the assault. Joseph: Did you ever hear his last name? Man: Yeah. He had it written on the beat up old army jacket he always wore. Seed. (Joseph sighs.). Man: You okay? Joseph: Y-Yes. Fine. Thank you. Man: He’s your brother isn’t he? Joseph: Yes. I have been searching for him for years. Man: Hm. You Joseph or John? Joseph: Joseph. He spoke about us? Man: Nah. He didn’t talk to no one. Only time I heard him say a word was when he was asleep. He got nightmares real bad. Ah yeah. (The man takes a swig out of a hip flask.). Man: He always called out your name in his sleep. Always calling out for Joseph and John. (Tears sting Joseph’s eyes. He reaches into his pocket and hands the man a few bills.). Joseph: Thank you. Man: Much obliged. (Joseph heads for the door.). Man: You know you might want to check St Augustine’s. Joseph: St Augustine’s? Man: Yeah. Lots of homeless war vets end up there. The broad that runs the place tries to help ‘em best she can. Erika. Bless her. Her father was a war vet. Why she started the shelter in the first place. It’s three blocks away over on main. You can’t miss it. Joseph: Thank you. (Joseph leaves the shelter heading off up the road.). * (Joseph walks into John’s apartment. It’s just gone 9pm. He had no luck at St Augustine’s. Jacob wasn’t there. But he is getting closer to finding him he is sure of it. He can’t have gone far. He sees two wine glasses on the coffee table along with an almost empty bottle. He then hears Lillith giggling down the hall. They must be in bed. He then hears soft thumping and Lillith moaning loudly. It would seem that she has forgiven him again. Joseph goes to the kitchen and makes himself a cup of herbal tea. He sits on the sofa thinking about where to look next for Jacob. He takes his list out of his pocket and crosses off the places he visited today. He then stares at the floor awkwardly as John and Lillith become even more vocal. The walls must be made of cardboard. Joseph turns the TV on and turns the volume up. He decides to put the news on. He has never liked watching the news. It fills him with horror every time. About a minute later he hears the door open down the hall and Lillith walks through the lounge to the kitchen. She is wearing a very small silk black nightie and nothing else.) Lillith: Hey Joe! Joseph: Evening. Lillith: How did the search for Jacob go? Joseph: I am getting closer. I met a man today that knew him briefly. Lillith: Really? That’s great. Hey John! John: What?! Lillith: Get out here! Your brothers home! (Lillith gets another bottle of wine from the fridge and picks up one of the glasses from the coffee table. She pours herself another glass and takes a sip. John appears wearing nothing but a pair of shorts. His usually perfectly groomed hair is sticking up all over the place and some of it has fallen into his eyes.). John: Are you stealing all of my wine? Lillith: Not all of it. You’ve drank most of it! (He chuckles before squeezing her hips and kissing her.). Lillith: Ummm. I think I’ll get you drunk more often. John: I thought you hated my drinking. Lillith: Only when you have too much. (She kisses him and squeezes his ass making him flinch.). John: Hey! (She turns to pick up her wine and he slaps her ass making her giggle. John picks up the bottle and brings it to the lounge pouring himself another glass. Lillith sits down and sips her wine.). Lillith: Joe was just telling me that he met a man that knew Jacob today. (John stops mid sip and looks at Joseph over his glass.). John: Oh? Joseph: Yes. He told me that Jacob was at the New Dawn shelter 3 months ago but that he got kicked out for fighting. He said that... (Joseph doesn’t know whether he can bring himself to tell them the rest of it.). Lillith: Joe are you okay? (Lillith puts her glass down and moves closer to Joseph putting her arm around him.). John: What is it? He isn’t dead is he? Joseph: No. No. He misses us John. John: What? How do you know that? Lillith: Of course he misses you. He’s probably been looking for the two of you for years too. Joseph: I don’t think that he has. The man told me that Jacob is...Broken. The army has... Lillith: Oh. Joseph: He said that he had given up on life. He hardly ate and when he did sleep he would have nightmares. The man said that he always called out for us in his sleep. (There is silence. Lillith takes another sip of wine.). Joseph: I’m going back out tomorrow. I will find him. Lillith: I’m sure you will. John: Did the man say why Jacob had been fighting? Lillith: That’s your only question? John: Well I’m just curious. Joseph: He said that one of the other men was always winding him up. John: Hm. Must run in the family. Lillith: What? Everyone loses it once in a while. John: Hm. Lillith: It’s okay John. We’re gonna find him. We should all go out and look. John: I have to go to work. Lillith: Coz that’s more important than finding your brother? Joseph: It’s alright. I can look. Lillith: Well I think we should all be looking. (There is silence.). Joseph: It’s alright. I would rather find him on my own. I think it will be overwhelming enough for us to be reunited after all these years. But to meet you and...I’m not saying...Of course he will want to meet you Lillith- Lillith: It’s okay. But if you want our help looking just say so. Joseph: Thank you. I’ll be fine. Lillith: We should probably get to bed. John: It’s not even ten. Lillith: Well you’ve got to be up for work haven’t you? John: Well yes but... (He sighs.). John: I will help you look for Jacob. Is that what you wanted Lily? Lillith: Well yes...But that isn’t what I meant. I just meant that if you stay up too late you will end up sleeping in then you will grumble that you are tired and late for work. (John sighs.). John: Yes. You’re right. As always. Lillith: A woman is always right. (Joseph smiles.). Joseph: Have you set a date yet? Lillith: A date? (Lillith frowns.). Joseph: For your wedding. (Lillith swallows hard and looks down before taking a large gulp of wine.). Lillith: No. (John says nothing. Joseph looks at him and raises his eyebrows.). John: What? Joseph: You should set a date. (John finishes his glass of wine and gets up picking up the bottle and putting it back in the fridge.). John: I need a shower. (He then disappears down the hall. Lillith sighs.). Lillith: I don’t know why he doesn’t just tell me that he doesn’t want to marry me. Joseph: I’m sorry. Lillith: For what? Joseph: He shouldn’t be treating you like this. Lillith: It’s okay. I always knew we would never get married. I think he only proposed because he had seen me looking at the ring and he felt bad for cheating on me when I had done so much for him. Joseph: You deserve better than this. Lillith: Do I? Joseph: Of course you do. (She smiles.). Lillith: He ordered pizza and we drank wine. Then we made love and now we are drinking more wine. He even sang to me after dinner. We watched my favourite movie too. Now I’m gonna go and shower with him then he will probably make hot chocolate with marshmallows and snuggle with me in bed. (She looks at him and smiles again.). Lillith: It doesn’t get better than this. (She gets up and takes her wine glass to the kitchen.). Lillith: Night Joe. Joseph: Goodnight Lillith. (She smiles at him before going down the hall to John’s bedroom closing the door behind her. The bathroom door is open and she can hear the shower running. She goes into the bathroom and walks over to the shower opening the door. He turns and looks at her. She slips the nightie off letting it drop to the floor. His eyes travel downwards and he smiles. She steps into the shower with him and wraps her arms around him kissing him.). Lillith: Today has been awesome. John: It has? Lillith: Yep. I love you. John: Ummm. (He kisses her back then turns her pressing her up against the glass side of the shower. He starts kissing her neck. She sighs as his hands travel downwards. He presses himself against her and she moans, her hands sliding down the glass as he continues to kiss and nip at her neck.). Lillith: John. John: Sssh. Don’t speak. (She moans again as his fingers slide into her. He bites her shoulder.). John: You are so beautiful. Lillith: Ummm. (She cries out as he suddenly presses into her. Her breasts press up against the glass and he slides his hand in between her legs making her cry out.). * (Lillith wakes up. She is a little cold so she snuggles underneath the duvet. She feels John behind her. He moves closer to her and puts his arm over her.). Lillith: Ummm. John: Morning Lillith: Morning. What time is it? (She hears him pick up his phone and put it back down.). John: Just gone 7. Lillith: Um. It’s too early. John: Well some of us need to get up for work. Lillith: Is that you trying to hint that I should find a job? John: No. You don’t need one. You have me. Lillith: But that’s not fair. You shouldn’t have to support me. John: Well...I do. (She rolls over to face him and he kisses her.). John: Now I need to get ready for work. Otherwise I won’t be able to support anyone. (She smiles then kisses him sliding her hands through his hair. He then gets out of bed.). Lillith: Come back. John: I need to get ready. Lillith: Hm. (He goes into the bathroom and minutes later she hears the shower running. She starts to drift back off to sleep when there is a knock on the bedroom door.). Lillith: Joe? Joseph: I’m heading out to look for Jacob. I have a few more shelters to search. Lillith: Okay. Do you need help? Joseph: No. I’ll be fine. Lillith: Okay. Good luck. Joseph: Thank you. I’m not sure what time I’ll be back. Lillith: Do you have your key? Joseph: Yes. Lillith: See you later. Joseph: See you later. (Lillith closes her eyes and thinks about what to do for the day while everyone’s out. Maybe she’ll go see Franky.). * (Joseph leaves the canteen of the Samaritans homeless shelter. He walks down the hall. Nobody really wanted to speak to him and the staff were not very helpful either. He is heading for the exit when he hears something that makes him stop. He turns to see a door that has been left ajar. At first he thinks that his mind has played a trick on him. But then he hears it again. A man’s voice. A man’s voice calling for Joseph and John.). * (Lillith walks into John’s apartment and throws her keys on the kitchen counter. She spent the afternoon with Franky. She pours herself a glass of wine and sits down on the sofa switching on the TV. Her phone vibrates and she takes it out of her pocket looking at the text message. It’s from John. He’ll be home late. His usual excuse about being stuck in meetings. She wonders if it’s true or not. She never knows what to believe with John anymore. She sighs and downs the glass of wine before pouring herself another.). * (Joseph looks down at the man lying curled up on the small cot. The man calling for Joseph and John. The man that Joseph is sure is his older brother Jacob. He’s found him. He’s finally found him. But Joseph wonders if he really has found him. The man lying before him is nothing like the man in the picture John found in Jacob’s service record. This man is far from the soldier in the photo. He sits down as the man opens his eyes and blinks up at him.). Joseph: Jacob? (The man stares at him. Tears sting Joseph’s eyes as he looks at his brother. There is nothing left of him. Joseph slowly reaches out and takes Jacobs hand. Jacob flinches away from him slightly.). Joseph: It’s Joseph. I’m sorry it took me so long to find you. (Jacobs arm suddenly comes up pulling him closer and they end up in each other’s arms as Jacob starts to sob.). * (Joseph walks into John’s apartment. He sees Lillith curled up on the sofa asleep. Jacob was reluctant to come with him. He is still at the shelter. Joseph told him that he would be back tomorrow with John and that they would leave together. Jacob seemed happy that they have found each other but he also seemed reluctant. Joseph sighs. He makes himself a cup of herbal tea and goes to the lounge. Lillith stirs and sits up.). Lillith: Hey. Joseph: Evening. Lillith: Is John back yet? Joseph: He isn’t here? Lillith: Clearly not. (She sighs and looks at her phone. She has another text. He is going to be late tonight as the meeting overran and he has case notes to go through. She sighs and shakes her head.). Joseph: He’s working late? Lillith: That’s what he tells me. Though I won’t be surprised if he smells like a bar when he gets back. Joseph: Hm. You should call him. Lillith: No point. He probably won’t answer and he hates it when I call. (There is silence as Lillith gets up and opens another bottle of wine before pouring herself a glass. She sits back down again taking a sip.). Joseph: I found Jacob today. (Lillith turns to look at him in surprise.). Lillith: That’s great! How is he? Joseph: Not good. Lillith: Oh. How come he didn’t come back with you? Joseph: I’m not sure. I don’t think he’s ready yet. Lillith: Not ready? You’re his brothers. Joseph: Yes but Jacob is...Not himself. Lillith: What do you mean? Joseph: He is broken. Severe PTSD would be my guess. Lillith: Oh Joe. Joseph: I have found one brother full of rage and the other completely hollow. His eyes are what will haunt me tonight. They were...Dead. (Lillith sighs.). Lillith: Well we need to get him back here with us. Then we can take him to the doctors. I’m sure John won’t mind paying whatever price to get him some help. Joseph: I can help him. Lillith: You’re not a doctor Joe. Sounds like Jacob needs some serious therapy. Joseph: Therapy. That’s what they call it. But it isn’t. The world just hides people like that. They ask questions not because they are trying to heal but because they are trying to work out how much of a danger they are to society. Lillith: That’s a pretty negative view. Jacob just needs support and to talk about things. That’s the mistake people make. Especially men. They don’t talk to anyone. Joseph: You are an expert? Lillith: Franky had a brother. He was in the army. He had PTSD and he didn’t tell anyone. He hid it from everyone. It was the worst thing he could have done. It only got worse. Me and Franky knew something was wrong. Franky looked up PTSD and we read all about it. We tried to get him to understand that he had a problem and that he needed some help but he wouldn’t listen. He said there was nothing wrong. Joseph: What happened to him? Lillith: He killed himself. Joseph: That will not happen to Jacob. Lillith: You don’t think that it will but how do you know? He might have already thought about doing it. That man you met said he wasn’t eating and that he had given up on life didn’t he? Joseph: Not now he has us. He has something to live for. Lillith: So did Franky’s brother. He had a three year old and a wife and he still killed himself. Joseph: I have faith. Faith that everything is going to work out. Lillith: Hm. Must be nice. To be so sure of everything. (She leans back and closes her eyes. They sit in silence for a while. Then the door opens and John stumbles in. Lillith looks up and sighs.). Lillith: I fucking knew it. (John is drunk and he smells of booze. His eyes are red and bloodshot and his nose is running.). Lillith: He’s been on the drugs again too. For goodness sake. (She gets up and takes John’s hand leading him towards the hall.). Lillith: Come on. John: No! (John yanks his arm away from her.). Lillith: Come on John you need a shower then you need to go to bed. (He has a cut on his forehead and she touches it.). Lillith: Have you been fighting again? John: Hm. (She sighs and takes his hand trying to lead him to the hall again but he yanks himself away from her and hits her sending her wine glass to the floor where it smashes. Joseph surges forward.). Joseph: John! (But Lillith surprises both of them. She punches John in the face.). Joseph: Lillith! (John is staring at her. He looks a little bewildered.). Lillith: Stop fucking hitting me! Now get in there and have a shower! You pathetic useless man! (Lillith regrets the words as soon as she has said them. John is staring at her sadly. He then turns and slowly pads down the hallway and they hear the bedroom door close. Tears roll down Lillith’s cheeks as she goes to the kitchen and fetches the dustpan. She sweeps up the glass and dries the puddle of wine with some kitchen towel before getting another glass and pouring herself another.). Joseph: That isn’t going to help. Lillith: Don’t you dare judge me. Joseph: I was not. You shouldn’t have hit him. Lillith: It’s about time someone bloody did. I am not putting up with it anymore Joe. I am not being someone’s punching bag! (Joseph sighs.). Joseph: My child. You need to calm down. This will not help anyone. Lillith: What do you know? You’ve only been here five minutes. I’ve known John for years. It’s about time I hit him back. Joseph: I understand. I do. But it’s not the way. (Lillith leans against the side sipping her wine. A few minutes later John emerges from his room. He walks slowly into the kitchen. His hair is wet and he is only wearing his silk pyjama bottoms. He goes over to Lillith and wraps his arms around her.). John: I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. (He starts to sob.). Lillith: No you’re not John. John: I am. I am. You can hit me again if you like. Lillith: I don’t want to hit you. But I don’t want you to hit me either. I am sick of putting up with it. John: I’m sorry. Joseph: You need to learn to control your anger John. Lillith: And you need to go to your counselling sessions. John: Okay. (John suddenly peppers Lillith with kisses.). John: Come to bed with me. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me alone. Tell me you love me. Love me please. Just love me. Joseph: You are loved John. This is the drink and the drugs. You shouldn’t keep doing this to yourself. It only makes things worse. Lillith: I do love you John. Go to bed then. I’ll be there in a minute. John: Okay. (John turns and staggers back up the hallway. He falls into the wall twice before disappearing and they hear the bedroom door close. Lillith sighs.). Joseph: Now that I have found Jacob I can focus my energy on bringing them back to themselves. Lillith: John is himself. This is John. This is who he is. He’s never going to change Joe. Joseph: But he will. We just need to make him see. Lillith: Tried that haven’t we? He won’t go to the counselling. He won’t listen to me. You can only help someone if they want to help themselves. If they don’t...Then there’s nothing you can do. Joseph: Maybe when he sees Jacob tomorrow he will feel differently. Lillith: Do you really think it’s a good idea for him and Jacob to be under the same roof right now? Joseph: What do you mean? Lillith: Well from what you’ve told me Jacob has his own issues and- Joseph: What are you saying? (Joseph suddenly looks angry. Lillith has never seen him look angry before. It scares her slightly.). Lillith: I just meant...It’s hard enough dealing with John. Having Jacob here too...I want him here of course I do. John’s family are my family but...I’m scared Joe. Joseph: Of what? Lillith: John losing it. I fear that seeing Jacob after all this time and realising that he’s...Broken like you say might just push him over the edge. One stress too many and then he’ll be broken and I can’t- (She lets out a sob. Joseph wraps his arms around her.). Joseph: No. No. That will not happen my child. You must have faith. We are finally going to be reunited. This is a good thing and I m sure that John will be thrilled to have Jacob back. Together we can help Jacob and I can help John. I have faith. You must have faith too. Soon the world as we know it will no longer exist. Soon we will be gathering followers. Gathering those that understand what most of the world does not. Those people will be saved. We will be saved. We will march together into the new world. But you have to have faith Lillith. (Lillith stares at him. She sighs.). Lillith: Okay Joe. (She pats him on the shoulder then turns and goes down the hall. Joseph sighs. She doesn’t believe him.).

#My Writing #Writing #Far Cry 5 #Joseph Seed #Homeless Joe #original character #Small World #Chance Meeting #Rome Georgia #Atlanta Georgia #John Seed #John Duncan #Lillith Duncan-Seed #Jacob Seed

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takeenata · 5 years

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Those Folk

( By request of @kryptonitic, reuploading an old story about a group of Doppelgangers.)

Walked into Demetri’s restaurant the other day. He owns this classy diner called the Chez Tzaz, one of those places that need a reservation planned days prior; portions are smaller than a sardine can but cost like they’re made of gold; it’s considered rude to not be wearing your finest suits and ties. I personally don’t give much thought on suits and ties; most of my suits don’t fit since I last wore them, and I think the only time I wore something formal was to my wedding and to a friend’s funeral.

So naturally I walk into this high class establishment in my cargos, boots, red flannel, and leather jacket. In my hands was a copy of a newspaper, and a caramel latte for Demetri if he had so happened to be here this morning. But he wasn’t, so I guess the latte was just gonna go to whoever wanted it now; I can’t drink coffee, leaves a bad taste in my mouth. So when I noticed that Demetri wasn’t here, I started to head out the door. I was then halted by the hollering of someone with an almost heinous french accent.

“Hey lumberjack!” This voice shouted across the diner, drawing the attention of everyone in the diner. At first I thought it was Deme bringing out his inner heritage, letting loose and fully accepting his french self. I laughed, a friend making a joke at my looks is nothing but funny to me. I turned around, seeing he wasn’t there. All eyes were drawn to the back corner of the diner, where a group of fancy schmucks were sitting.

So I just grunt and head back for the door, but the same voice calls for me again. “Where you going beardo?” Twice now he had attempted to insult me. Had it been Deme, I wouldn’t have cared since he’s my pal. But I didn’t even know this joker. Twice was more than enough to send me over to this table to confront him. Good lord was I surprised with what I had seen.

The prick was blonde. He wore some fancy looking shades that tried to hide his eye color, but I had a good guess they were a shade of blue. The frenchman had a crisp and clean white collared shirt with his sleeves neatly rolled up, not some chopped-up-jumbled “made-in-a-minute” rolled sleeves, fitted with a tie and gold clasp. He also wore a belt and suspenders, which confused me why when you only needed either or. He looked exactly like Demetri, but a human. I’m confused as all Hell when I seen it.

I tried to say something that wasn’t going to be taken rude, it went in the lines of “You called me over?” Odds are it came out as “What’re you wanting?”

Regardless of what I had said, he still said something. “You know this is a regal restaurant,” he said with a smug look on his face, drinking some fancy bullshit from a tiny glass cup.

I scanned him over. I missed that he was wearing a watch with a gold frame around it, odds are some high-class brand that I had no clue existed, or could even say the name right. I made eye contact with him, and with an angry glare I said “What’s it to you?”

“Don’t understand? I figured as much.” He would laugh, and so would his little group of hellions with him. “This is a fancy place. Everyone is wearing their expensive clothes and enjoy everyone else’s expensive clothes. You come in here looking like that and it throws off the vibe and ruins everyone’s time.”

“I don’t see how being in here for more than a few seconds makes everyone uncomfortable. I’m just lookin’ for-”

I started to lose my mind when he cut me off by raising his hand, like he was in charge of the whole world or something. “See here, Mister Lumberjack. You come in here, and you look like you're wearing clothes that a bum donated to like a lesser-tier Goodwill for even worse-off homeless people.“ There’s no chance he just made that up on the spot. “And what’s that, a newspaper? You know phones exist; are you stuck in the 90’s?”

“Now hold on a second.”

“Oh! Mr knife ears needs a second to think of something to say?” That was all it took for me to say fuck this place and leave. I wasn’t about to start a fight with a bunch of random people, let alone random strangers in Demetri’s restaurant. He’d probably try to make me pay for any at all damages done to the place, and believe me if there was a fight here there would’ve been damages to everything. Namely the pricks.

…

Trying to tell my friends what happened the other day. They all think I’m overreacting to basic schoolyard bullying. Demetri was more upset with the fact that I wore flannel into his establishment, instead of a suit. Him and that guy that looked like him, it’s weirder than hell to think that there’s now a successful doppelganger running about with Demetri’s look. It’s weird to think that there’s an entire group of people that have successfully managed to pull off the looks of a few friends of mine, and myself. And yes, from the group of six each one looked like some alternate reality versions of us.

There was one that looked like my good friend Archer with his pale skin and dyed blue hair, even had a lot of piercings dangling from his ears. Another male was taller than the rest of his group, had a thick beard that connected to a mane of curly hair, and oddly enough he was wearing plaid inside the diner when I first went in there. Why is it acceptable to wear plaid but not flannel in that place? Fuck that guy.

There was a mighty minotaur there. He had red fur, big black horns on the sides of his head, all the works of a beast. Though down his face was a navy blue colored paint that went to his arms, like he was apart of the Braveheart cast. To add stranger parts to him, he wore a pair of goggles on his forehead. I could tell that he was this group’s version of Baku, the youngest friend of mine that enjoys telling puns that make me rethink why I’m friends with him.

There were a few gals there too. One that was a reasonable height with some sort of violet shade dyed into her hair, her eyes were brown, and she was sitting rather close and tight to the blonde guy that was insulting me. It was safe to say that was the Oola of this clusterfuck. Another one of the ladies was shorter than the rest of the bunch, her hair was kind of like a light blue, damn near snow white colored. She was loaded with rings around her fingers and on her ears, and I’ll be damned if these rings weren’t made of silver and sapphires. There was also a woman with long brown hair, green eyes, and the way she glared at me with death in her eyes has kind of stayed with me.

I’m going to try to talk to Demetri about seeing these people in person. I went to my bar last night to unwind from all that but guess who was there?

Them.

…

That went as well as you’d expect.

Managed to convince both Demetri and Oola to join me in meeting the group of comedians that hung around the Chez Tzaz. Had to put on some sort of formal attire, which irked me. As said, a lot of my old formal wear don’t fit around my arms and chest as much as they used to, since I’ve gotten bigger since I last wore them. Thankfully, Demetri said it was acceptable to wear a turtleneck to a formal restaurant like this.

Demetri wore his usual outfit. No shirt, but suspenders and a tie nonetheless. Of course he would’ve worn his sunglasses inside, after all they’re designer and “meant to be worn and shared with the world,” right? Oola wore a nice yellow dress that really brought out her golden eyes; I always counted on Oola to make up for the lack of shirts that Deme gave. But I guess he can wear whatever the hell he wants in his own place.

We three entered the building. Almost instantly Demetri and Oola were asking me where they were the last time I seen them. All I had to do was look for another guy wearing sunglasses indoors. Sure enough; I gazed into the back right corner and spotted the seven. I wanted to start calling them the seven sins, but to be frank none of them represented anything sinful. Yet.

We stood in front of the group. I was recollecting on what had happened the day prior to really say anything that wouldn’t come off as rude, so Demetri took the floor. "Heeeey guys. Hope you're enjoyin' the food. I'm Deme, by the way- the Maître D'emon 'round here. Quick question- I heard you were giving my buddy a rough time yesterday?"

I had expected an answer that would’ve thrown Demetri over his limit. Instead, this dickhead responded with “Oh Hello! Fine domicile you’ve thrown together Monsieur Marquette. But yes, I am afraid I did give your friend a hard time yesterday morning, but it was all in good fun really! Not everyday you see an elf, right?”

"True. Tak is..." Demetri ran his eyes over me again. "Something. But you'll get enough of him the first time someone vaguely mentions "working out."" The two frenchmen would share a laugh at that, as well as Oola, and the group of humans, plus a minotaur. Fuck me.

"Alright, quit teasing poor Tak and let's get to ordering,” Oola said, trying to calm down her laughter. Yeah she always did join in on teasing me for being old and weird looking sometimes, but she was always the first to stop and say sorry. So everyone halts their laughter and gets their menus out.

Everyone ordered something unique, namely involving some kind of meat and sauce. I didn’t want to spend about thirty-bucks on a steak when I can go home and roast a fat piece of meat for free, and even feed my family in the process. But what bothered the shit out of me was my doppelganger that wore plaid ordered from the vegan menu…

I’ve nothing against vegans. But like I said, it bothered the shit out of me when he ordered from the vegan menu, only because this guy looks like me, talks like me, almost dresses like I do- but chooses from the vegan menu. I’m not afraid to admit I’m ignorant about the vegan culture, but buddy how did you get tree-trunk-arms when you’re eating salads all damn day?

So for next hour or so they’re all joking and having a good time. I’m only listening to bits and pieces of the conversation, sitting there watching everyone with my arms crossed. I was absolutely furious that I was being showed that I was wrong, and I was slowly starting to think my friends were right. Maybe I was just overreacting to all of this. Maybe I was getting old, even for an elf.

I had learned their names by now. There was Dominici; Demetri. Ulla; Oola. Dona; Donaugh. Anthony; Archer. Leo the Minotaur; Baku. Linda; Sek, which didn’t make much sense to me but whatever. Then there was mine; Timothy.

I had looked up after a blank moment and noticed that Oola wasn’t with us anymore; her seat was empty but the purse she brought with her was still in her seat. So I lean over to Deme and ask “Where’d Oola go?”

“Oh she went to-”

Deme would’ve been cut off immediately by the salad eater.. “Off to go burn a village down probably.”

“Excuse me, what?” Though I couldn’t really see past his black tinted sunglasses, I could at least see the sudden rise of his brows in question.

I was surprised too. I narrow my vision at Timothy, eyes scolding him before my mouth could. “The hell do you mean by that?”

“What, she’s a dragon.”

I’d stand up and slam my hands down on the table, shaking everyone’s plates and cups. I didn’t care if it caused a scene, I’d scream at this boy. “That don’t mean shit!”

Deme soon stood up too, putting a hand on my shoulder in his attempt to calm me down. “Tak chill, you know this can be considered harassment?”

The other frenchman would shout an audible laugh at us both from the other side of a white coffee mug. “You’re harassing our eyes with this catastrophe you call your tenue.” I was stunted a little bit. I know he was speaking french but I had no honest idea what the hell he was saying. Demetri understood, and it wasn’t exactly well. I came to find out later that tenue meant outfit. “At least you tried though, but honestly. Wearing Hermès from last season? Try to catch up.”

Without a word, Demetri committed to a face full of anger and exploded. Exploded as in, combusted; returning home to Hell. Not exploded like yelling at these brats, which I would’ve loved to have seen more than anything. Oola soons returns from her stop in the bathroom, asks me where Deme was. I had told her Deme left to go back to the office odds were. Without further questioning she takes her purse and thanks myself and the group for their company for the night, then walks herself out the door. I told the group nothing, but gave them a strong finger before I left.

Hope Deme’s alright. I’ve never seen Deme up and leave like that before, maybe what these folk had said might’ve hurt him a little. I’ll talk to him when I get the chance. Looking back now I realize that Deme didn’t pay for his food or Oola’s food, probably leaving the bill to the gathering.

Ha! Yeah. Fuck those guys.

#takeenata

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skiinggray5-blog · 5 years

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‘The joke is always on us’: how People Just Do Nothing struck comedy gold

In a dimly lit room backstage at an underground club in east London, four men in their 30s share their masturbation secrets with me. Seapa finds it difficult at the moment: it hurts. Seapa also says (Seapa does most of the talking) that Steve does it with his legs behind his head, and that he spits on his... Well, I won’t say, in case you’re having your breakfast.

Anyway, he’s joking, he says. “We all wank perfectly normally.”

“Very healthy masturbation,” Asim confirms.

Until Seapa remembers Hugo. “Hundred per cent a fact: Hugo has to do it on his knees.”

They are proper friends from way back, with no secrets and no no-go areas

Rather than deny it, Hugo corrects him. “Not even on my knees,” he says. “Squatting on all fours.” He has an explanation, too, one that harks back to his teens and verges on the Freudian. “I think it’s when I had a family computer downstairs at this level,” he says, indicating its height. “Literally, the laptop’s there and my chin’s there…” I’m not totally picturing it, and not trying too hard, to be honest; the four of them crack up.

Apologies for sharing, but this is symptomatic of the entire 90 minutes I spend with Seapa, Steve, Asim and Hugo. These men know each other very well, are proper friends from way back, with no secrets, no no-go areas, and who cares if there’s a geezer from the Guardian here as well (“You’re a journalist, you’re not a human,” Seapa tells me). They relentlessly take the piss, out of each other, out of me; they’re boysy, rude, open, very funny – individually, collectively, all ways.

It has to be said that the line between fact and fiction isn’t always clear. I’d guess the story about Hugo is true, about Steve not (I hope). I’m not even sure how we got on to masturbation. Oh, yes, they were talking about “blazing” (smoking weed, something else they do a lot of, although there’s some talk of having stopped) and how it affects the senses, vision and touch, and it progressed naturally from there, do you see?

As well as being blazers and wankers, they – real names Allan “Seapa” Mustafa, Steve Stamp, Asim Chaudhry and Hugo Chegwin – are the creators, writers (principally Steve and Seapa) and stars of the award-winning BBC comedy People Just Do Nothing.

Big up PJDN

Confession: I’m a fan, big time. If you know the show, you surely will be, too – and if you don’t, you should get involved. A mockumentary sitcom centred on Kurupt FM, a pirate radio station broadcasting UK garage to not very many people at all in west London, it won a Bafta last year (beating Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s Fleabag), which Seapa doesn’t let you forget.

People Just Do Nothing is not a million miles from The Office – in actual mileage (it’s about 10 from Brentford to Staines), as well as in format and vibe. They’re massive fans of Ricky Gervais’ show: Seapa’s character, MC Grindah, is a kind of tower-block David Brent, while The Office producer Ash Atalla has become their executive producer. (As well as Gervais, they mention Alan Partridge, Brass Eye, Peep Show, Spinal Tap, Summer Heights High and documentaries such as the BBC Three series Tower Block Dreams.)

But PJDN is much more than The Office at 130bpm. It’s a heartfelt homage to a very different world – beautifully observed, authentic down to the music samples and trainer brands, because it’s a world its makers know inside out, having grown up in it. It’s more than a television show, too; as Kurupt FM, they have toured clubs and venues, played Glastonbury and taken over Radio 1Xtra.

You don’t need to know your UK garage from your drum’n’bass, or be a pirate radio aficionado, to appreciate People Just Do Nothing. Because, more than anything, it’s about people – not doing nothing, so much as doing the wrong thing.

4x4 - The Kurupt playlist

Styling: Tanja Martin. Grooming: Kristopher Smith at Terri Manduca. Shot at hangarlondonfields.com. Photograph: David Titlow for the Guardian

I realise this could be getting a little muddly: four different characters, being played by four different people. Usually, for interviews, as with their live shows, Kurupt FM remain in character. Today, they’re letting the masks slip, but it’s a blurry line between the real and the invented. So, for reference, your cast:

MC Grindah, convinced he’s the greatest MC on the planet, unwisely unwilling to let go of the dream, unrelated to the dating app; played by Allan “Seapa” Mustafa, 33, who also writes.

It’s tricky, because pirate radio is such a boys’ club. We’ve worked hard to get more of the female perspective in there

DJ Beats, Grindah’s lieutenant, loyal and loving, in spite of Grindah’s bullying (he is like a badly treated labrador); played by Hugo Chegwin, 33. Hugo, incidentally, is a nephew of Keith “Cheggers” Chegwin. Doesn’t play pop, though.

Chabuddy G, their sort-of manager, a wheeler-dealer Arthur Daley kind of fella and hopeless entrepreneur; played by Asim Chaudhry, 31.

Steves, basically on drugs, a “wiggy mess”. If they were the Happy Mondays, he’d be Bez; played by Steve Stamp, 33, who also writes.

***

Even if you’ve never tuned into a pirate radio station, let alone been to one, you will know one or more of a Grindah, a Steves, a Beats and a Chabuddy G. Know and likely also love, because, despite their absurd foolishness, there is lots to root for, too.

It’s also about jokes – ongoing jokes, such as Angel, Grindah’s daughter with his girlfriend (later wife) Miche, who clearly isn’t – biologically speaking – Grindah’s daughter, on account of the colour of her skin (she’s mixed race; Miche and Grindah are white). Then there are the smaller, more ephemeral jokes, such as Grindah’s definition of salvation: “McDonald’s on the horizon when you need a shit.” Or Chabuddy G’s devotion to Sean Paul Gaultier fragrance. Or Chabuddy’s explanation of what hormones are: “Little balls of anger that live inside women.”

Lily Brazier as Miche. Photograph: BBC

Yes, PJDN is undeniably blokey. “It’s tricky, because pirate radio is such a boys’ club,” says Steve, possibly the most thoughtful of the four, and definitely the tallest. “I think we’ve worked hard to try and get more of the female perspective in there.” This comes mainly via Miche (the brilliant Lily Brazier, who grows into the role and demands a place at the cast’s top table).

“One thing I would say, though, is the joke is always on the men,” Seapa says. “Grindah’s pretending to be this bravado guy, but he always gets bit on the arse and looks like a dickhead in the end.”

The show’s pilot and the first four episodes were only loosely threaded together. But from the second series, story arcs began to form, narrative rainbows over the concrete Brentford skyline – themes, issues, even. Not just male hopelessness, but loss and grief, addiction, bankruptcy and homelessness, abusive relationships. Prepare yourselves – in the fifth and final series – for gentrification. And, sadly, for everyone having to grow up. First, though, back to the beginning...

Midpoint reload

If you’re up to speed, you’ll know this means going back to the beginning halfway through – just as Grindah does in the middle of Grindah and Beats’s track, Heart Monitor Riddim (Lyrical Blow To The Jaw). “So me and Steve used to run a dogging company, out of a car park in Guildford,” Seapa says in the dingy backstage room (the club was the location for today’s cover shoot; this room, though horrid, seems entirely appropriate).

“We were on a forum, because we all caught the same disease,” Hugo adds.

Neither is true (I don’t think). But they all agree that Hugo was central to the beginning of what became a beautiful thing. “Hugo’s the clitoris,” Seapa says, taking it back down there. That’s Seapa’s role, as well as doing most of the talking, and the reminding about their Bafta.

Hugo – more of an introvert, less readable, equally comfortable with filth – goes with it: “And these guys are my orgasm.” Loads of laughing at that.

Here’s the actual truth (I think). Hugo grew up next door to Steve in Brentford, on the other side of the M4 motorway from the towers of the Haverfield Estate, as featured in the show. Hugo met Asim (from Hounslow) and Seapa (from Chessington) at Thames Valley College through a shared passion for smoking weed and creating music. Hugo would make hip-hop beats in his room; Asim rapped and made videos. Seapa ran a tinpot pirate radio station, and hung around squat parties and raves.

Photograph: David Titlow for the Guardian

When Seapa and Hugo dropped out of college, they used their student loans to visit Steve in Thailand; he was travelling having finished uni (English literature at Sussex). They went to beach parties, where Steve, who wasn’t really taking serious drugs, would pretend to be on pills just for a laugh. (This was the birth of his character Steves.)

Back in London, they continued to hang out, smoking more weed, messing around with Xbox Live and early camera phones, creating more characters. They used to make prank calls, too, which is where Asim’s character, Chabuddy G, began, partly inspired by his father, a bit of a hustler who once ran a business from a portable office.

Takeover of The Charlie Sloth Show.

I wonder if Asim – warm and instantly likable – has ever been accused of stereotyping, playing a comedy south Asian businessman with a finger in a lot of pies? “I’ve had a bit,” he says. “But you have to look at the detail behind it, the layers of research that go into it, and the real-life connection you have to it.”

Chabuddy G could be any race or culture, he says; it’s his self-delusion that makes him funny. This is nothing like, for example, Hank Azaria, a white guy, doing Apu on the Simpsons. “No one talks like Apu in real life, no one says [he puts on an Apu voice], ‘Thank you, come again.’ A lot of people speak like Chabuddy, a lot of people dress like Chabuddy, a lot of people are Chabuddy.”

Anyway, Asim, who had been camera operator (because he had a camera), was now in it, as Chabuddy G, even if he wasn’t clear what it was.

People just do something

What would become People Just Do Nothing was born, chiefly, out of experience, hence the pinpoint authenticity. But the irony of authenticity is that a lot of work went into it.

They created their characters, and improvised material that they posted on Asim’s YouTube channel. Some of the people they knew wondered why the hell they were doing it, investing all this time and energy into posting YouTube clips (this was before everyone starting spending all their time posting YouTube clips).

“We were about 24, and everyone else was working, and we hadn’t really achieved anything,” Seapa says. “We didn’t start out like, ‘This is going to be on telly and earn money’, we just did it. We were in shit, dead-end jobs, but we always made sure we were doing something creative.”

At one point, three of them were working in the same call centre. Hugo also worked at a will-writing firm, in accounts (if he were in The Office, he’d be Tim).

The wedding of Grindah and Miche. Photograph: BBC

“All I had on my CV were admin jobs that I wasn’t proud of,” Steve says. “If I wanted to get something I enjoyed, I would have to create my own work and show that I can do stuff outside the admin world. There always needed to be projects – writing.”

Steve always wanted to write. “I didn’t know if it was going to be scripts or...”

“Romantic novels,” Seapa butts in.

“Romantic novels,” Steve agrees, going along with it, a little resignedly at first, then raising him. “Erotic novels.”

“At one point, you were into Ukrainian erotic novels, weren’t you?” Seapa asks, not just seeing him, but raising him further. And they’re all off again: they were all into Ukrainian erotic novels and read them aloud together, sitting back to back, topless, but no one wanted to do it with Asim, because of his back hair. Make up your own mind about the veracity of that one.

Urban powerhouse/radio station/family

The YouTube episodes were not an overnight viral sensation; the viewers trickled in over a couple of years. But the producer Jon Petrie, who worked with Atalla at the independent production company Rough Cut TV, saw them and got the boys in for a meeting in early 2011.

“They basically said, ‘Are you happy for us to approach channels on your behalf and try to get you a pilot?’” Steve says.

They were keen to – and did – retain creative control, hanging on to the baby that had been conceived over a big chunk of their lives, in their bedrooms, blazing, back to back (maybe). But they also got some help with things like how to write a script, which they hadn’t done before: the YouTube webisodes were all improvised.

Today, there is still room for improv to sneak in: they reckon it’s about 70-30 script to improv in the final cut. “We’ve been in these characters since 2010, so we’re very comfortable with them,” Asim says. “We know how they’re going to react, what they’re going to say.”

After the pilot went out on BBC Three in 2011, a series was commissioned, followed by a second, then a further two. The Bafta came after a poignant third series that ends – on Valentine’s Day – with a birth and a death.

With Craig David. Photograph: BBC

There’s irony in their success, too, because, while in many ways their lives mirror those of their characters, they have also left them way behind. A big part of the ongoing joke is that, while Kurupt FM claims to be the biggest and baddest pirate station in the land, even the more conservative claim of “over 100 listeners” is hopelessly optimistic – it’s probably time to think about throwing in the mic. Whereas for Seapa, Steve, Asim and Hugo, things are kicking off big time. It’s not just the series, the live show and the real radio station takeovers (where they hold their own alongside Stormzy and Craig David); there is the hilarious sketch they did with very game “urban artist” Ed Sheeran on Comic Relief last year (they attempt to make him “less shit”); Chabuddy G has a comedy advice book out, How To Be A Man; and if you’ve taken a British Airways flight recently, you will have seen him as the lead in the (actually funny) safety video. After this final series, there’s going to be a film, which they’re working on (they’ve been talking to the Inbetweeners people, who successfully translated their sitcom to the big screen).

You don’t have to go to the Edinburgh festival, or be in a drama club, if you’ve got a camera and funny friends

About all of which, they’re dead proud – not so much about where they’ve got to, more where they started from. “Where I’m from, no one I know has come into this industry,” Seapa says. “I didn’t even know it was an option.”

“You don’t have to come through the conventional route,” Asim adds. “You don’t have to go to the Edinburgh festival, you don’t need to be in a drama club, you don’t need to do this – you’ve got a camera, you’ve got funny friends.”

“For the younger generation who’ve grown up with YouTube and stuff, maybe we can be a small inspiration,” Hugo starts to say, before being interrupted by Seapa: “Hugo Chegwin, motivational speaker!”

More than anything else, People Just Do Nothing is – at risk of sounding cheesy – a massive shout-out to friendship. “You can be talented, you can be creative, but if you’re not in the right circles…” Seapa begins, and by the right circles he’s not talking about media contacts or LinkedIn connections. “These are my best friends. We were all cruxes [sic; he means crutches] for each other, spurred each other on – that’s why we got through.”

People Just Do Nothing in collaboration with Ed Sheeran for Comic Relief.

Speaking of sic, they don’t say sick (with a k, for Kurupt FM), as in good, as much as they do on the show. Or trust me. Or bruv. But they do finish each other’s sentences, as only people who are close do. Mostly Seapa finishes them.

What is clear – while we talk, but also watching them arse about in the photoshoot – is they enjoy hanging out together, and it’s from this, and trying to make each other laugh, that the comedy comes. “These are my funniest friends,” Steve says. “The more I work with other actors, I realise that, even though we’re not actors, what we do in front of camera is impressive.”

Asim agrees, and says that for him it’s mainly about trying to make Steve crack up. Hugo talks of the journey, the experiences, the bond they’ve formed – something that a lot of music acts don’t have.

Are they the Beatles of Brentford? “I don’t know,” Seapa says. “Have they got a Bafta?”

Our time is up and Seapa has the last word, unsurprisingly. Nor is the direction he takes it in surprising. “Nice little chat,” he says. “Hope that was good for you.” And he laughs, they all do. “It’s like we just had sex.”

• The fifth and final series of People Just Do Nothing starts on BBC Two next month. Kurupt FM tour the UK from 9 November 9.

Opening shot: Asim wears jacket, Balenciaga at Harrods. Tracksuit bottoms, Stone Island at Browns. Steve wears sweatshirt, Palace. Allan wears vintage jacket, Stone Island. Tracksuit bottoms, Stone Island at Browns. Hugo wears Camo polar jacket, Stussy at Mr Porter. Cap, Lacoste. Tracksuit bottoms, Stone Island at Harvey Nichols.

Commenting on this piece? If you would like your comment to be considered for inclusion on Weekend magazine’s letters page in print, please email [email protected], including your name and address (not for publication).

Source: https://www.theguardian.com/tv-and-radio/2018/oct/27/the-joke-is-always-on-us-how-people-just-do-nothing-struck-comedy-gold

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